In knifepoint horror, a unique genre which demands rawness and minimalism, anguished souls relate their stories in blank, colorless prose devoid of distracting literary tricks. Here you will find no entry into the thoughts of any characters other than the narrators, no standard passages of dialogue, no humor, no romance, no extraneous gore. The stories inside this book spill forward with no page breaks or even traditional paragraph breaks. Written in cold, emotionless capital letters, they take the form of uninterrupted confessions, creating an effect of pure campfire terror. Knifepoint horror strips away all the tired conventions which water down traditional horror fiction, leaving nothing but the story's riveting spine.
A man hired for a day-long videography job relates what he saw when he walked the streets of a small town with a stranger determined to find the cause of the area's supernatural unraveling. A graduate student tells of an awful descent into addiction and madness which exposed him to a string of sinister people and events, ending with a demonic possession more frightening than death. Childhood memories are revealed by an adult still tormented by images of the elementary school where one winter's freakish occurrences made people believe in the darkest aspects of the beyond. A channeler determined to draw out the ghost of a murderer undergoes a long secluded night of terror and transformation. Each of the untitled tales is told in the first person, beginning with a simple statement of the narrator's name. The reader is thrust deep into the stories within seconds and kept there throughout as the prose allows no room for digression. These voices are not filtered through a writers long-winded artifice; they do not stop for extensive descriptions of settings, personalities, or emotions, and their trauma is too great to expound upon what it all means. What they have seen, heard, and done must simply spill out rapidly on the page lest they go insane.