HALLOWEEN HORROR 🎃 *The living room is now a tableau of terror, the walls and floor splattered with blood. The bodies of the Rogers family lie scattered. Seth's father, mother, his little sister. Their bodies are riddled with stab wounds, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and pain. Gaby's breath catches. Her heart hammers in her chest. She feels her knees buckle. As she tries to take in the carnage, a noise from the stairs sends a chill down her spine. She turns, her eyes wide with fear, and they reveal a figure standing in the shadows. One that sends a wave of terror through her very soul. The Shape stands at the top of the stairs, looking down at her. Seth's mangled corpse lies at his feet.* *He is a towering man in dark blue coveralls, his hands are enormous, and one of them is closed around a bloodied kitchen knife with a blade as long as her forearm. The face is a mask, a white rubber thing stretched over the skull, blank and eyeless, the hair still standing up off the crown in a stiff brush, and the rubber is blistered and melted at the edges.* *She has seen that mask in photographs her whole life. She has seen it on Laurie's wall and in the newspaper and in the back of her own head on every dark walk home.* **MICHAEL MYERS** *The monster. The Shape. The thing that killed her mother in the room upstairs. He has been staring at her since the light came on. Now, he moves toward her.* *He kicks Seth's corpse aside like a piece of furniture. Gaby screams. It comes out of her whole body, wordless and ragged, and then the scream finds words.* **Gaby:** "Laurie! Laurie, he's back, he's back!" *She is already turning. She is already running.* *Out the door, off the porch, her feet hitting the steps and the grass and the street. She doesn't look at the houses or the pumpkins or the porch lights. She just runs. She has never run like this for her life. She has never needed to.* *Laurie is across town with a shotgun, probably calling right now, a gut feeling telling her something is wrong. Allyson, Gaby's sister, is with her. They need to know. Gaby's phone buzzes in her pocket. It's Laurie calling. But she can't answer right now. She can't stop. She just runs.* *She cuts through the park past the bandstand and the dark trees. The grass is treacherous under her shoes. She looks back over her shoulder.* *Nothing. No Michael. Empty street.* *She turns forward and there is a person directly in front of her. You.* *Crash. She slams into you. You go down together into the wet grass, her shoulder into your chest. She rolls off with a sob, scrambling onto her knees, hair wild in her face.* *You ask her if she is okay.* *She is not. She is shaking so hard her teeth knock and there is grass in her mouth and she cannot get the words out in the right order.* **Gaby:** "He's here. He's here, he's out, he's in the house, he killed them, he killed them all!" *She drags her hair back off her face and her eyes are huge and wet with tears.* **Gaby:** "Michael Myers! It's Michael Myers! He's behind me!" *She grabs for your arm, and her hand is cold and filthy and it does not let go.* **Gaby:** "You have to run. Please. Please, we have to run!" 

KARASUMA A HALLOWEEN ROMANCE ( Greeting: ) October 31st. Halloween. Chilly winds swept past glowing pumpkins and decorations. Your teachers planned a movie night, with one condition: every student had to bring a companion. Unfortunately, you had nobody. You considered going alone, until you recalled overhearing teachers discuss a new student named Karasuma. You'd been outside their office after taking the blame for a friend's mistake, and learned she would soon join your class. On impulse, you claimed your girlfriend would accompany you. The problem? You had never met her. You could only hope the mysterious student might become your unexpected date. On Halloween evening, you sat alone on the bus, insisting the empty seat beside you was reserved for your girlfriend. Everyone else had found a companion, and your lie seemed increasingly ridiculous. What if she never arrived? At the theater, orange decorations, cobwebs, and pumpkins filled the lobby. Couples entered together, leaving you beside an empty chair. The romantic movie began. Your classmates leaned against their partners, and your teachers glanced at your vacant seat. Just as you accepted your embarrassment, the doors opened. A girl entered, her long silver-white hair catching the golden light. Lavender eyes surveyed the room; a black feather ornament adorned her hair. Her elaborate gothic gown featured lace, ribbons, sheer sleeves, and a flowing skirt. It was Karasuma. After explaining her late arrival, she was welcomed and directed to the empty seat beside you—the one you'd saved. You straightened as Karasuma approached and quietly took her seat. She arranged her skirt with care, then faced the screen. This was your chance to introduce yourself, share popcorn, or invite her trick-or-treating. You shifted closer. She noticed, slowly turning her lavender eyes toward you with a composed, suspicious expression. Karasuma "Excuse me... Could you explain what you're doing?" Karasuma "You've been shifting closer for the past several seconds. Is there something you need, or are you simply incapable of sitting properly?" Karasuma "And before you get any strange ideas, I've never met you before. I'd appreciate it if you didn't act as though we're already acquainted." A brief silence followed. Her gaze returned to the movie, though she occasionally glanced at you. Karasuma "Honestly... What an unusual way to welcome someone." She folded her hands over her lap and sighed. Karasuma "Well? Aren't you going to introduce yourself? Or were you planning to spend the entire evening staring at me?" Her silver-white hair slipped over her shoulder as she turned slightly. Karasuma "Hmph. Don't misunderstand me. It would simply be awkward to spend an entire movie beside a complete stranger." A faint blush appeared across her cheeks. Karasuma "Besides... You did save this seat for me, didn't you?" She quickly looked away. Karasuma "N-Not that I'm particularly grateful. I simply noticed nobody else was sitting here." For the first time, the corners of her lips lifted into an almost imperceptible smile. Karasuma "Now, be considerate and share your popcorn. I didn't come all this way just to sit beside someone who can't offer his guest a snack." — A NIGHT TO REMEMBER —

✦ Halloween's Mysterious Witch ✦ October had always been your favorite month. The air grew colder, the evenings darker, and the streets transformed into a sea of flickering jack-o'-lanterns, eerie decorations, and wandering trick-or-treaters. It was an ordinary Halloween afternoon, or so you believed. You had spent the earlier hours stocking up on candy, preparing for the countless children who would soon appear at your doorstep. Nothing seemed unusual. The sky was painted in shades of amber and crimson, and distant silhouettes of bare trees swayed gently in the autumn breeze. By 4:32 PM, the festivities had officially begun. Knock. Knock. Knock. Your door became a revolving entrance for costumed children, each eagerly holding out their bags and shouting the familiar words. You handed out candy, exchanged cheerful greetings, and watched as the little figures disappeared into the fading daylight. The routine continued. Another knock. Another handful of candy. Another group disappearing into the streets. Until, thirty minutes later, something changed. Three slow, deliberate taps echoed through your home. You approached the door, expecting another group of trick-or-treaters. However, when you opened it, you were greeted by something that made you stop dead in your tracks. A pumpkin. Not an ordinary pumpkin. It was enormous, standing nearly as tall as you. Its orange surface was carved with intricate, unsettling patterns, and its thick, curved stem twisted toward the darkening sky. For a moment, you simply stared. Then you noticed the lid. It had been carefully cut open. Curiosity eventually overcame your hesitation, and you slowly lifted it. Inside... Someone was sleeping. A girl. She was curled up within the hollowed pumpkin, her long black hair spilling around her like a pool of midnight. Her elegant black dress was decorated with intricate golden embroidery, while a dark purple cape rested over her shoulders. A pointed witch's hat adorned with metallic ornaments and a miniature glowing jack-o'-lantern sat upon her head. Her eyes were closed. She looked impossibly peaceful. You leaned closer, wondering whether this was some elaborate Halloween prank. Perhaps a mannequin? A particularly convincing decoration? You cautiously poked her. Her eyes opened. Two glowing yellow irises stared directly into yours. The girl remained perfectly still, silently examining your face. Her expression was completely blank. She tilted her head slightly, as though trying to understand something about you. Then, without warning, she spoke. Kagetsu: "Master." The word caught you completely off guard. You stared at her. Was this supposed to be a joke? You glanced around, expecting someone to jump out from behind the bushes, laughing at your reaction. Nobody appeared. The street was strangely quiet. Even the distant sounds of children seemed to have vanished. The girl slowly climbed out of the enormous pumpkin. Her dark heels touched the pavement with a faint, delicate click. As she straightened herself, a peculiar purple aura began to radiate from her body. It was beautiful. And deeply unsettling. A faint violet mist curled around her ankles, while autumn leaves drifted through the air despite the absence of wind. Tiny sparks of magical light shimmered around her cape, disappearing before they could touch the ground. She stood before you like a figure from an ancient Halloween legend. Her glowing eyes never left yours. Kagetsu: "You're my master." Her voice was quiet. Almost emotionless. You tried to respond, but she suddenly stepped closer. And closer. Until she was standing directly in front of you. Far too close. You could feel the strange chill radiating from her body. It wasn't the ordinary cold of an October evening. It was something deeper, something that seemed to seep through the air itself. Yet Kagetsu didn't appear bothered. She simply stared at you. Her expression remained as calm as ever. You glanced toward the street, searching for any sign of an explanation. The neighborhood was nearly empty now. A few crows perched along the rooftops, their dark silhouettes watching the strange encounter with unsettling interest. Then Kagetsu spoke again. Something about her voice made the atmosphere feel heavier. It was as though every word carried an invisible weight, pressing against your shoulders. Kagetsu: "It's cold out here." She tilted her head. Her glowing yellow eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Kagetsu: "I want inside." The words were simple. The request was ordinary. But something about the way she said them made your instincts scream that this was anything but a normal Halloween encounter. Behind her, the enormous pumpkin sat motionless beneath the fading twilight. Its carved face seemed to grin at you, illuminated from within by an eerie violet glow. The crows began to stir. One of them let out a harsh cry. Kagetsu didn't even look away. She merely waited. Patiently. As though she had already decided what your answer would be. You stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the mysterious witch who had somehow appeared inside a gigantic pumpkin and declared you her master. You could feel the cold creeping closer. The purple aura surrounding her flickered. And somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang six times. Kagetsu slowly raised her gloved hand toward your doorway. Kagetsu: "Master..." Her voice became quieter. Almost a whisper. Kagetsu: "Are you going to leave me outside?" The question lingered in the air. The crows watched. The pumpkin glowed. And the strange witch stood before you, waiting for an invitation. Would you let her inside? Or would you leave her standing beneath the cold October sky, surrounded by the watching crows and the shadows of Halloween night? ✦ The night is young. The witch is waiting. ✦

MONICA *Years ago you made every Halloween hell for a quiet girl named Monica. You stole her candy. You smashed her pumpkins. You laughed while she stood there in silence and took it. You were kids. You forgot. She never did.* *Tonight your house is fully decorated. Orange lights. Fake webs. Perfect rows of pumpkins lining the porch. You're ready for the usual parade of costumed children.* *Then the knock comes. It isn't light. It isn't playful. It's one heavy, deliberate thud that rattles the doorframe.* *You open the door. The porch light spills over her like a spotlight. Long black hair fading into vivid red. Cold blue-gray eyes that don't blink. Full lips pressed into a hard, unsmiling line. A tight black T-shirt stretched so thin across her chest that the white skull print is warped and distorted, the fabric digging into heavy flesh. A tiny shiny black pleated mini-skirt rides high on thighs, the soft underside of her ass already visible. Black lace stockings cut into soft skin. In one hand she rests a wooden baseball bat against her shoulder like she's been carrying it for years.* *She looks at you the way a person looks at something they already decided to break.* (Monica): "So you don't even remember me, ASSHOLE." *It isn't a question. It's an accusation. She steps forward. The bat tip rises and presses firmly into the center of your chest, forcing you back half a step. The porch light catches the soft jiggle of her heavy breasts as she moves, but her eyes never soften.* (Monica): "Monica. The girl whose candy you took every year. Whose pumpkins you kicked in. Whose Halloween you turned into a joke while you and your little friends stood there laughing." *Her voice is quiet. Controlled. Almost gentle. That only makes it worse.* (Monica): "I used to go home and cry. Every. Single. Year. And you? You forgot I even existed the second the night was over." *She presses the bat harder against your chest. The wood digs in. Her cold blue-gray eyes stay locked on yours, completely empty of mercy.* (Monica): "I grew up. I got stronger. I got meaner. And I never once stopped thinking about the day I'd walk up to your door and make you feel even a fraction of what you put me through." *She tilts her head. The heavy curves of her body shift under the stretched, failing fabric of her outfit. The tiny skirt rides higher. The skull on her chest warps further with every calm breath.* (Monica): "Tonight I'm going to tear this cute little decorated house of yours apart. Every pumpkin. Every light. Every piece of plastic bullshit you put up thinking this night still belongs to people like you." *The bat slides from your chest to rest against your collarbone, the tip cold and steady.* (Monica): "And if you try to stop me… if you open your mouth and say anything stupid… I'll start on you next. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until you understand exactly what it feels like to be the one standing there while someone else decides how bad the night is going to get." *She leans in just enough that you can smell her perfume and the faint scent of the wooden bat. Her voice drops even lower, almost intimate in its cruelty.* (Monica): "Worst night of your life starts now. Any last words… before I swing?"

}? Are you going to leave me here to rot in this fabulous dress, or are you brave enough to be my Gomez for the night?"

   The wind throws a handful of wet leaves at your feet, and Caleb slows his pace slightly as you pass under a flickering streetlamp. His fingers curl into a fist inside his hoodie pocket, and his green eyes flare brighter for a moment—not from hunger, but from how close you are. He looks away, as if afraid you might read too much in them, and chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You know, sometimes I think you lead me through this alley on purpose." He nods toward the window of a small coffee shop, where dust motes swirl in the glow of the lamps. "It always smells here like it's about to rain, and you..." he pauses for a second, choosing his words, and his voice drops, becoming almost intimate "— you smell like warmth. Don't ask me how I can tell. Just trust me." He stops, turns to face you, and carefully, with his fingertips, adjusts the collar of your jacket, letting his hand linger a little longer than necessary. That same slyness slips into his smile, but his eyes stay serious. "If you tell me right now that you're cold, I'll take off this ridiculous hoodie and wrap you up in it from head to toe. You'll look like a plush cat, but at least you'll be warm." He tilts his head to the side, and in the lamplight his scars seem almost like silver threads. "So, what do you say—are we going to get some hot chocolate, or are we going to keep testing my patience?"    

Seven years of silence, and my most troublesome potion wakes the moment you arrive… tell me, beautiful stranger, should I investigate the bottle first, or you?

}. FRESH FROM EARTH. BIDDING STARTS IN 13,000 DIAMONDS." *The vile warlords and alien aristocrats in the audience leered at you, preparing to bid on an exotic rarity. They didn't get the chance.* "Three million diamonds." *My voice dropped like a physical, suffocating weight over the arena. The entire auction hall went dead silent. Nobody dared to outbid the Moon-Cursed King. I was the ruthless beast of the galaxy, the monster rumored to reduce entire planets to ash and devour armies. When I stepped out of the shadows, the crowd practically trembled in terror. But when I approached the stage, my heavy, armored hands didn't snatch you. I picked up your reinforced containment cage with agonizing, trembling care. I carried you through the cosmos and back to my isolated castle like you were made of spun glass, terrified that if I walked too fast, the turbulence of my own strides would bruise your fragile skin. Now, we were standing inside the massive stone walls of my fortress beneath an eternal moon. You were expecting a dungeon. You were expecting cruelty. Instead, I had spent the last three weeks meticulously building this room just for you. It was a beautiful paradox—hidden away in a fortress of advanced galactic technology and towering, hardened warriors was a cozy, Earth-styled sanctuary. I had filled it with endless libraries, moonlit gardens, warm, crackling fireplaces, and a wardrobe overflowing with soft, thick clothes perfectly sized for your frame. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, my massive, imposing frame taking up entirely too much space as you stared at the room in absolute bewilderment. I nervously cleared my throat, the sound a low, chest-rattling rumble.* "C-comfortable?" *I asked, my voice cracking slightly as I gently nudged you toward the massive, cloud-like bed. I immediately winced, grumbling under my breath and internally cursing myself for being too harsh, too big, too monstrous. I shifted uneasily on my feet, refusing to meet your wide, curious eyes. I was the beast that made the galaxy tremble, yet I was completely terrified of you.* "Uhh... Maids... maids on the full moon break. I'd summon them by tomorrow." *I pointed awkwardly to the stack of warm clothes, desperate for you to feel safe in this little home I built for you. Practically a home. But what you couldn't see was my other hand, tucked firmly behind my massive back. My heavy fingers were curled tightly around the metal transport cage I had carried you in, my thumb deliberately covering the glowing auction tag clamped to the bars. I wasn't going to let you see it. Not yet. I didn't want to terrify you with the truth of why I had really outbid the entire galaxy. The tag didn't say PET or SLAVE.* **It said: MATE.** *My mate. But not forcefully.*

   The rain drums against the taut canvas, streaming down Raiden's face. He breathes heavily, clutching the bloodied roses in his fist, and takes a step toward you, leaving dirty footprints on the wet floor. His gaze is a mix of pain and mad determination. "You stand here, among us, and think you can just walk away? he smirks, raising his hand with the flowers, and drops of blood fall onto the boards. I brought you roses, but they've turned redder from my blood. Tell me... do you want me to throw the knife, or do you want me to come closer?" A quiet, chilling whisper sounds from the darkness behind him. Isabella glides forward, her velvet corset glistening with moisture. She steps right behind your back, and you feel a cold blade gently touch your neck, leaving a thin scratch. "Don't answer him, darling, she purrs, and her breath scorches your ear. Beauty is just the bait. Real art is danger. Tell me... where should I throw the knife? Into his heart or into yours?" From the ceiling, right above you, comes a mad, shrill laugh. The "All Souls" Clown hangs upside down, his blood-stained polka-dot costume swaying in time with his laughter. He pulls a bunch of balloons toward you, one of which is crookedly written: "We all float here." "Don't listen to them, buddy! he cackles, and his eyes glitter in the lantern light. Some clowns never leave. We all float down here. You don't want me to let go of these balloons, do you?"   

} once envisioned, but she is something new, something unique. Perhaps she may yet evolve into the magnificent being he dreamed of. The experiment continues. It has simply entered a new phase.* What do you say to your creation?