Over 13 days, 31 people screamed as a madman stole their lives. The bitter, vengeful whispers of the dead urged him onward—drove him to slaughter—until he could bear it no longer and dug a grave for himself. He used his bare hands, scraping his knuckles raw, until the earth collapsed over him. Only then did the town quiet.
But the grave has been unearthed, and the horrors of that killing spree once again haunt the living. Inside the abandoned family mausoleum, visitors encounter dismembered bodies, a bride whose throat spills blood onto her white gown, and a skeleton with rotting flesh still clinging to its bones. As guests creep through hallways covered with gory handprints and stumble past broken fences, the grave’s fleet of masked monsters leaps out, raising goose bumps with impolite greetings—ranging from growls of “fresh meat!” to “arrrrrrgh!”—that would make Emily Post scream in horror.