Where the creepy-crawly slither. Leaving slimy trails on dusty concrete floors. Spiders climbing up the walls to spin their sticky traps. Bump. Creak. What was that? The sound of ghosts and monsters living in the room where no one of the human kind would ever call his home. Wooden shelves with rusty tools. Torture weapons for the sickest souls. A gurney in the corner – the one that put old grandmothers to sleep. A box of wooden dolls with doped eyes and blood-red lips. Waiting to come alive when the moon is full and the clock strikes twelve. They’ll dance and jeer and call down the little ones to play their demented games. While the cackling witch stirs her soupy cauldron, plotting her double date with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. And a werewolf howls. Scratches at the door. Begging to be let inside. Where ghouls and goblins take inventory of the madness and weave together a horrific tale within the darkest closets of our hostage minds.