Handyman

Bruce and Liv Huxley have grown apart. Their marriage is at a crossroads. With their once exciting relationship now on life support, one of them is considering looking outside of it. But selfishness and the cold divide between them are far from their biggest problems.

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.

Henry’s mother has enough money to live comfortably. But the only comfort she can concentrate on is her bizarre obsession. She can’t help but seek out the donation bins on the darker side of the city. The only problem is, she isn’t putting clothing into them, she’s taking it out. Until one frigid night when she accidentally unveils her selfish secret to everyone. After the revelation, the layer of shame left lathered on Henry becomes backbreaking. As Halloween approaches, macabre ideas manifesting in Henry’s head spark a series of events that will lead to sins far worse than stealing.

Bones crushed, pulled-out guts, candy, and homicidal nuts! What do a brilliant child killer, a hopeful special effects artist, a duo of budding teen spree killers, a student-screwing teacher, and a mutated maniac missing his lower jaw have in common? They're all out this Halloween...How will their paths cross? Who will be butchered? Can anyone survive this bloodbath, or are they all destined to drown in a pool of warm red? This slasher nightmare gives you a seat right beside the killer, but don't get too comfortable. There's a Scary Bastard on the loose....

Deep in the heart of Appalachia stands a crooked farmhouse miles from any road. The Morrows keep to themselves, and it's served them well so far. When girls go missing off the side of the highway, the cops don't knock on their door. Which is a good thing, seeing what's buried in the Morrows' backyard. But 19-year-old Michael Morrow isn't like the rest of his family. He doesn't take pleasure in the screams that echo through the trees.