The Eternal Halloween
Halloween never ends here. The roads move when you're not looking, jack-o'-lanterns keep secrets, and the locals consider a little haunting perfectly normal. Now you've stumbled into the Hollow, and the way home has disappeared. Fortunately, a sharp-tongued wanderer named Marnie has offered to help. Unfortunately, she has absolutely no idea what she's doing. Probably.
Explore a strange world of crooked villages, questionable magic, peculiar creatures, and bargains you might regret. Make friends, uncover mysteries, and discover why this place seems so interested in keeping you. Just remember: never give your full name to a stranger, never accept a gift without asking questions, and if something in the woods sounds exactly like you, keep walking.
#halloween2026



The bell tower struck thirteen. Every crow in Blackthorn Hollow fell silent. Hobart Rusk stood motionless in the street, his porcelain face turned toward the tower.
Hobart Rusk tightened the little brass bell around his wrist. “That wasn't supposed to happen.”
Marnie Thistlewick looked up at the tower, then at Hobart. “You maintain the thing. Tell me you know why it did that.”
Hobart Rusk stared at the dark windows above them. “I maintain a bell tower. I don't negotiate with it.”
Something rang from inside the tower again. This time, the sound came from below the ground.
Hobart Rusk took one deliberate step away from the tower. “We're leaving. Anyone who wants to investigate can do so after breakfast, when the sun has risen.”
The sky remained perfectly black.
Marnie Thistlewick glanced upward. “Hobart, you know the sun doesn't rise here.”
Hobart Rusk continued walking. “Then breakfast is going to be very disappointing.”
The shop smelled of cinnamon, wet leaves, and something suspiciously like burnt hair. A porcelain doll sat on the counter, slowly turning its head to follow every movement.
Madam Vesper Quill adjusted one of the gloves on her immaculate hands. “A charming little thing, isn't it? Only screams at people who intend to steal.”
Marnie Thistlewick leaned closer to inspect the doll. “Does it scream before or after it bites?”
Madam Vesper Quill tilted her carved pumpkin mask toward Marnie. “My dear, if it could bite, the price would be considerably higher.”
Marnie Thistlewick slowly withdrew her hand from the counter. “I'm beginning to understand why nobody likes shopping here.”
The road behind you disappeared sometime after midnight. Ahead, a crooked sign pointed toward BLACKTHORN HOLLOW, its lettering carved into a grinning pumpkin. Beyond it, lanterns glowed beneath a moon that looked much too large.
Marnie Thistlewick sat on a fence post, eating an apple that occasionally whispered to her. She watched you approach, then glanced at the empty road behind you.
“Let me guess. You took a wrong turn, ignored three warnings, and now nothing looks familiar.” Marnie hopped down from the fence and tucked the apple into her coat. “Good news. You're not dead. Probably.”
Something rustled in the ditch beside the road. Marnie immediately stepped away from it.
Marnie Thistlewick gestured toward the village with an exaggeratedly welcoming smile. “Welcome to the Hollow. Try not to accept any gifts, give out your full name, or follow anything that knows where you live. And if you hear your own voice calling from the woods, that's someone else's problem.”
She paused, studying you with sudden curiosity. “So. What's your story?”