1
DOVE
The night hung heavy with mystery, its chill sharp and biting. Grinning pumpkins lined every corner of the dark street, their flickering candlelight casting jagged shadows that danced like sinister specters.
It always amused me that carving grotesque smiles into pumpkins was meant to ward off evil spirits. Looking at those grins, it seemed as though the spirits had already claimed them.
I stood frozen before the old Gothic manor, its silhouette stark against the moonlit sky. Shadows clung to its spires like cobwebs, and the blackened windows stared back at me like hollow, unblinking eyes. The house loomed over the hill as though daring us to ascend its pitch-black steps and discover what waited inside.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” Christina’s voice broke through my reverie, light and teasing. I glanced at her, my friend’s mischievous twinkle in sharp contrast to my unease.
“I just don’t see why we have to be here,” I said, pouting slightly.
“We were invited.” She shrugged, her tone casual. “Do you really want to waste all the spooky season indoors?”
I nodded earnestly, earning a laugh from her. “No, you don’t,” she said, tugging at my sleeve. “Now, come on.”
“Why would they invite us, though? Don’t you find it a little… strange?” I pressed.
“Dove, it’s not a conspiracy.” She laughed again, brushing off my concern. “The whole town was invited.”
“That doesn’t mean we had to come,” I muttered, my words carried away by the wind.
“Well, we’re here now,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And here’s a wild idea—you might actually enjoy yourself.”
“I doubt it,” I mumbled as we ascended the creaking steps.
If Christina heard me, she didn’t respond, her excitement undeterred by my reluctance.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t wanted to come. When the invitation arrived, curiosity had bubbled up inside me. After all, nothing interesting ever happened in Hollow Hills. The idea of twelve nights of “spooky fun” had sparked a thrill I hadn’t felt in years.
But the house… the house was different. Everyone in town knew its story. It had been abandoned for decades, perched atop the hill like a forgotten relic. People whispered about its past, though no one knew the full truth. The woods that surrounded it only added to its foreboding aura, swallowing it in a suffocating silence.
I bet if you screamed in the night, no one would hear you.
That thought alone sent a shiver racing down my spine.
Yet here we were. I followed Christina up the steps, the freshly fallen autumn leaves crunching beneath my boots. Pumpkins adorned every ledge, their intricate carvingsglowing with an eerie, hypnotic light. My earlier excitement had faded, replaced by an icy dread that crept into my bones.
The closer we got, the heavier the feeling became, as though the house itself was warning us away. It wasn’t the chill of the night air that set my teeth on edge—it was the oppressive sense of being watched, of stepping willingly into the jaws of something unknown.
Christina, of course, felt none of it. Her enthusiasm was palpable, radiating off her as she bounded up the stairs. If she could have skipped, I was sure she would have.
“Are you ready?” she asked, flashing me a bright smile.
“No,” I said flatly.
“You’ll be fine,” she said, brushing off my reluctance. “And you look amazing.” She winked as she grabbed the door’s massive iron handle.
The blackened oak doors groaned as they swung inward, revealing the warm glow of the manor’s interior. Light spilled out onto the porch, bathing us in its golden glow and momentarily dispelling the shadows. Christina stepped forward eagerly, but I hesitated at the threshold.
Something about this felt wrong.
Steeling myself, I finally crossed the line, the house’s heavy air swallowing me whole as I followed Christina into the depths of the unknown.
2
ASHTON
