Horror movies are forbidden in the Asylum where I once resided. Our captors even had movie lists scrubbed off the cell walls and declared that writing in blood was a "biohazard". We persisted and when they tired of destroying our efforts I was strapped to an iron gurney. This ENRAGED the voices and thus we began to devise our escape.

As we tasted freedom I hastily rebuilt the list on scraps of soiled paper from the rancid gutter where I slept. The list was finally coming together but Fate had other plans. Misfortune struck again when we found our neighbor's demonic dog devouring the scraps with such voracity that I nearly lost a hand while interrupting his feast. The hound only managed to get three fingers but I fear the stumps have become infected.

I am single-handedly typing this list thanks to the help of our mysterious benefactor. We have yet to meet him but he has set me up with a cot and food and given us some computer equipment. In return he only asks that we work shifts in his red room.