Welcome to the Mancave

In 2007, a young family of four bought a small house in a quiet neighborhood in central Montana. At first, no one noticed anything strange about the husband’s frequent visits to the basement, but it soon became clear that some unknown force was at work. The youngish father of two found himself inexplicably drawn to a certain room into the basement painted the color of drying blood. Declaring the room his “Mancave,” he began to sequester himself for 90 minute intervals, during which the family could faintly hear tortured screams coming from the floor beneath them. In his refuge, he could find solitude and the privacy to indulge in whatever perverse pleasures he chose. All too often, his preferred entertainment was to watch teenagers flayed alive by madmen wielding hunting knives, or ripped to pieces by hellish beasts. He delighted as supernatural beings tormented the innocent, and Satanists summoned forth the powers of Hell. He’d also pop in the occasional Universal monster flick. The cinematic killings continue to this day, and after each sadistic murder spree, only one is left to tell the tale. Armed only with a blog and his questionable wits, Marvin the Macabre chronicles these weekly descents into darkness.