A Festive Romp Through the Fields of Madness

Watch your step, but move with haste. Cold eyes watch. Something lies in wait. Once again journey to the brink of madness, where the only hands ushering you along are skeletal. The very surface you tread on pulses with life, and the lighter side seems as pitch as the black. Remember one key idea—when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you. Welcome to a frightening new chapter in horror. Poetry? Yeah, I said poetry. Join Chris Grimes as he leads you once again to the brink of madness with his third and most disturbing masterpiece. As a skeletal hand turns pages for you, you will slip further into a schizophrenic collection, where each breath is a hitch and each wound is stitched.