Rape. Murder. Brain-eating. Never before has a work of fiction dared to delve so deeply into the realms of perversion, sexual dementia, and bad taste. Who is he? What is he? An inbred homicidal pervert? A supernatural psychopath? Who or whatever he is, he's on a roll now, raging out of the Virginia backwoods and leaving in his wake a trail of blood, guts, and disgust far beyond the limits of your reckoning.

There’s more to Poland than sausages, perogies, and thousand-year-old churches: there’s a hardcore horror movement that’s blowing the rest of Europe out of the water, and here are the four authors leading the pack.

September. A beautiful New York editor retreats to a lonely cabin on a hill in the quiet Maine beach town of Dead River - off season - awaiting her sister and friends. Nearby, a savage human family with a taste for flesh lurks in the darkening woods, watching, waiting for the moon to rise and night to fall.

Burnstow is an ordinary little town populated by ordinary people. Farthing is an ordinary guy that has just inherited an ordinary mobile home in an ordinary trailer park. Farthing looks forward to a nice, quiet, ordinary life.

The intoxication from a pint of vodka, the electric buzz from snorting cocaine, the warm embrace from shooting heroin - drinking and drugging provide the height of human experience. It's the promise of heaven on earth, but the hell that follows is a constant hunger, a cold emptiness. The craving to get high is a yearning as intense of any blood-thirsty monster. The stories inside feature the insidious nature of addiction told with compassion yet searing honesty.

Carole and her lover thought they had committed the perfect crime, murdering Carole’s abusive husband and making it look like an accident. Unfortunately there was a witness, someone far more twisted than they are, with plans for a killing spree of his own.

Hildreth House. On a moonlight night in early spring, 27 people entered the mansion's labyrinthine halls, to partake in an orgy of diabolical debauchery, the likes of which beggared description. And one by one, 26 of them were butchered in place. The 27th body was never recovered.

When Cassie's twin sister, Lissa, commits suicide, Cassie discovers she can travel to Hell to retrieve her sister's soul. Cassie thought she knew all about the Hell of legend, but finds Hell has evolved over the millennia into a bustling city full of the damned with looming skyscrapers, crowded streets, systemized evil, and atrocity as the status quo.

Plagued by nightmares of torture and intense violence, a writer suffering from trauma-induced memory loss seeks to solve the mystery of his missing past. The only clue is a single page of an unfinished manuscript found in an old manual typewriter, in a fleabag motel, in a small West Virginian town called Luntville. It is here that the writer will seek answers, believing that if he finishes the book he was writing, his memories will return.

Oliver Fitch has a troubling issue: He lives in a state of constant terror. After purchasing a convenience store in a once civil society, the streets around him have rapidly devolved into utter lawlessness. They're now festering with sinister gutter scum that live only to harass and intimidate him. His pathetic profits are gouged under the threat of violence, and there isn't a damn thing he can do about it. Because in a city with no rules, where the sun never shines, the authorities are no help. In fact, they're an equal part of the problem.

Welcome to Haver-Towne. The sedate colonial resort is the perfect place where Stew Fanshawe can get away from it all for a while. But instead finding tranquility and self-reflection, Stew finds something much more unique: a town that was once steeped in a quagmire of witchcraft, satanic debauchery, and centuries-old occult science. Indeed, Haver-Towne has a most colorful history: A warlock who sires children with his own daughter. A witch whose sheer diabolism staggers even the most demented. And a 300-year-old mansion in whose walls are embalmed the infernal secret of...Witch-Water.

Crick City is a small hick town. Violent, mean, and dirt-poor, it's a place nobody wants to call home. But for homicide cop Phil Straker, it is home. And now someone—or something—is turning his boyhood town into a bloody sideshow of mutilation and gruesome carnage. They're called Creekers. Centuries old, driven by rage and lust for revenge, they move through the deep, dark woods—deformed, shadowy outcasts with twisted faces and blood red eyes. Now, as the moon hangs low over their ancient house, they're gathering for a harvest of terror and death Crick City will never forget....

Suburbia. Shady, tree-lined streets; well-tended lawns; and cozy homes. A nice, quiet place to grow up. Unless you are teenage Meg or her crippled sister, Susan. On a dead-end street, in the dark, damp basement of the Chandler house, Meg and Susan are left captive to the savage whims and rages of a distant aunt who is rapidly descending into madness. It is a madness that infects all three of her sons and finally the entire neighborhood. Only one troubled boy stands hesitantly between Meg and Susan and their cruel, torturous deaths.

Three low-income families have been given a handsome retainer to join Geraldine Borden for a day at her cliffside estate. All the parents must do to collect the rest of their money is allow their children to test out the revolutionary playground equipment Geraldine has been working on for decades. But there’s a reason the structures in the bowels of her gothic castle have taken so long to develop—they were never meant to see the light of day.

Art or atrocity? Francisco Booth is an infamous photographer known for pushing boundaries, yet it’s only the boundaries he pushes away from the public eye that satisfy his macabre appetite. But when he’s gifted an antique picture frame that contains a strange stock photo, Francisco’s life is suddenly turned upside down. Each time he looks at the picture, he sees something different. As the world around him grows more frightening and absurd, he finds himself questioning his sanity. Will the beautiful woman in the frame become his ultimate prize or the instrument of his undoing?

Rape. Murder. Brain-eating. Never before has a work of fiction dared to delve so deeply into the realms of perversion, sexual dementia, and bad taste. Who is he? What is he? An inbred homicidal pervert? A supernatural psychopath? Who or whatever he is, he's on a roll now, raging out of the Virginia backwoods and leaving in his wake a trail of blood, guts, and disgust far beyond the limits of your reckoning.

Nipping Them in the Bud is a gripping tale of extreme horror, showcasing Edward Lee’s mastery in blending visceral terror with thought-provoking themes. Prepare yourself for a journey into darkness, where every decision carries the weight of eternity, and every action challenges the soul’s very essence.

While her parents attend a work party, eighteen-year-old Ella Romero is left in charge of her two siblings—thirteen-year-old Nicholas and eight-year-old Arianna—at their secluded lake house. In her usual fashion, Ella invites her friends to hang out while her parents are away, too. It was supposed to be an easy, quiet, normal night.

Sexual obsessions running amok, a stagnant lake full of abominable horrors, and a secluded clinic with a secret wing that no one’s ever entered. These are just a few of the goings-on in this macabre tech-horror story in which veteran novelist Edward Lee takes the mad-scientist theme into shocking new territory. Security manager Clare Prentiss swears she’s being watched during her nightly rounds on a remote federal nature preserve.

Six-foot-9 and 400 pounds, hailing from parts unknown, he is the one-man walking gore machine of the Deep South Wrestling Conference, and his name is Goon. But Detective Phillip Straker isn't a wrestling fan. The bodies pile up like dirty laundry: sex-obsessed tramps used as playthings by some unspeakable creature. Straker is determined to solve the rash of mutilation murders with trimmings that beg description. Is it just coincidence, or do all the victims have something in common?