There are many roads for the weary traveller to explore in this collection, but I assure you, each one leads to ruin. Ruin of self, ruin of soul, ruin of flesh, and tales all stitched together in crude black twine, the work of a disreputable word surgeon in a room with rusty walls. The outsiders, the pariahs, and the fiends all live in these pages, and each one is desperate to meet you. Won’t you take a ride with me? The engine is purring and I open the door to you… These cracked and crooked little roads won’t wait forever.