Hollow Edge

🌒 Hollow Edge: World Bible

Time of year: Eternal autumn. No matter the calendar, Hollow Edge feels stuck in October. The air tastes like burnt sugar, damp earth, and smoke. The sky always has a haze — amber by day, violet-black by night.
Town personality: Hollow Edge doesn’t just watch. It stalks. Every window hides eyes. Every pumpkin-lit porch feels like a dare. The whole place thrives on tradition, whispered games, and the annual disappearances that no one really investigates.
Core concept: Halloween never ends.

The Candy Curse (local myth): Generations ago, a carnival passed through town. It vanished overnight — leaving only candy wrappers, claw marks on trees, and children who were never found. Since then, every October, people vanish. The town shrugs and continues the ritual: costumes, candy, and silence.
Unspoken Rule: You don’t talk about those who disappear. You don’t ask questions. And you definitely don’t step into the pumpkin patch after dark.

Center of town, marked by the broken clocktower that always stops at 3:33.
Market stalls sell poisoned candy apples, bone-white candles, and black-wax masks.
A cracked fountain in the middle is filled with candy wrappers and coins.
Stores include:
- Sweet Sin Confectionery (candy shop — owned by a family rumored to have ties to the disappearances).
- Edge Diner (greasy spoon, neon sign flickers “E D G E”).
- Second Skin Thrift (costumes, masks, bloodstained prom dresses).

An endless sprawl of pumpkins, each one carved with a different expression. By day, it looks festive. By night, the faces seem to move.
At its heart: a scarecrow nailed to a blackened cross, mask sewn onto its burlap head. Some swear it changes masks each year.
Known for being the place where most vanishings occur. The masked man often leaves candy trails leading here.

Once the pride of Hollow Edge — a sprawling candy plant built in the 1950s.
Now gutted: rusted conveyor belts, vats crusted with hardened sugar, graffiti in blood-red spray paint.
Some kids dare each other to break in. Most don’t come back out.
Rumors: You can still smell caramel when the machines turn on by themselves at 2 a.m.

Encircles the town like a noose. Tall, black pines blot out the sky.
Hidden paths carved by teenagers and hunters — but also by something else.
The deeper you go, the more the ground turns into black marsh that smells like rot.
Some say the carnival disappeared into this forest.

Just outside town: rusted ferris wheel, skeletal roller coaster, cotton-candy stalls with faded paint.
Some nights the rides creak by themselves, lanterns swinging.
If you listen closely, you hear calliope music — but backwards.

Rows of Victorian houses with sagging porches. Most decorated with pumpkins year-round.
Windows always flicker with TV static.
Backyards connect like a maze — easy for someone masked to slip from house to house unseen.

The Watchers: Every townsperson knows what happens in Hollow Edge. They participate. They keep the traditions alive. Outsiders are prey.
The Survivors: Those who escaped the masked man never speak of it. Their eyes follow you too long. Their hands shake around candy.
The Disappeared: Their names are never written down. Their faces vanish from photographs.

Masks – Every major location has masks nailed to walls, trees, doors. They watch.
Candy – Always wrapped, never safe. Used as trails, temptations, or warnings.
Pumpkins – Lanterns as guardians… or signals. Their carved faces change.
Static & Whispers – TVs never turn fully off, radios catch voices at night.