- Puss-veined blood lapping against the rafters. Clots and less wholesome things float on its waves like icebergs.
- The chef. The smell of cooking meat and the grinding of a turning spit. A zombie is skewered like a pig over the fire while the chef slices thin portions of meat onto a plate for his guests. It stares back in mad silence.
- A ghoul breeding pen. Females are tightly chained by their necks to the wall while a single male has the liberty of a longer chain pinned to the centre of the room. D3 ghoul babies lay abandoned on the floor awaiting collection.
- Bottles and jars and tubes and racks. In the middle of it all sits a wizened man in a metal chair, pipes coming from every vein and orifice. A number have come loose or been pulled out. It would be a simple matter to put them back in.
- My heart's desire. Your childhood sweetheart, the one you left behind, the one you couldn't save. S/he stands there naked with arms wide open. Only from behind can you see what a thin veneer of humanity they hold, flimsy skin covering crooked hooks and pulsating coils of rotten flesh.
- Nothing. Sweet, merciful nothing.
I went to the basement and what did I find?..