Haunted House

“There’s a fly in my soup.” Consider yourself lucky if that’s all you find. Don’t complain to the staff unless you want your ear chewed off– and then served back to you with a side of fries.

From the roadside, Glutton’s resembles a typical greasy spoon diner. Once you enter that all changes. The smell that assaults you from the kitchen will make your eyes tear. It’s like summer roadkill set ablaze. Above the counter, what you first mistake as hanging fly strips, turn out to be disturbing folk art. It’s best not to ask what the pagan symbols mean.

You’ll find the staff perpetually moody, though in autumn you’ll be greeted with “Samhain blessings to you.” before their attitude curdles. They all suffer from peculiar skin conditions, grotesque blotches you’d expect on rotten bananas. There’s always a commotion, the barking of orders (and threats) to the kitchen, and the rush of trays to tables.

Are those two diners with beaded necklaces asleep? Why are they slumped over their food that way? They never move. The grisly sights through the kitchen window are brutal and violent. Unidentifiable meats are hacked apart then sizzled in their bloody bubbles on the filthy grill. Glutton, the proprietor, toils away in his gore splattered chef’s coat. What was that mess he just served? Was that a finger?

Behind the diner is the Slaughterhouse. Meat sourced from Crow Hollow hangs from rusty hooks. That rib cage didn’t come from a pig or cow. What animal has a head shaped like that? You wander into the processing area and your worst suspicions are realized. Human remains are being cheerily dismembered and deboned by a blood drenched lunatic. He stuffs the bones into bundles of straw and rags. He’s making scarecrows from human skeletons.

Head for the loading dock before you’re seen! Make your escape. Do not delay, or you may be tomorrow’s blue plate special. Your only chance at Gluttons is to dine and dash!

Haunted Attraction

The stories are all the same. Never go down to her shack. Don’t speak to her. And most important of all, NEVER listen to what she says.

There’s a broken down shack near Terpening’s farm on the outskirts of Crow Hollow. A haggard old woman dwells within, named Rose. Rumor has it that she was once the wife of a prosperous businessman in Crow Hollow, until he disappeared.

Most people believe Rose was to blame for his disappearance. Some say she offered her husband as a sacrifice to something ancient and unspeakable, and it rewarded her by showing her the future. Others say her husband was unworthy of sacrifice, and her visions are a curse inflicted on her as punishment.

Rose believes she can see into a person’s future, including the way they die. Many townspeople believe the same. Some claim to have seen her predictions come true. Farmers getting run over by their own tractors. Lumberjacks killed by the trees they were cutting down. On the surface these events seem mere tragic accidents, that is until you find out that Rose described the tragedies in detail years before they came to pass. Some of the poor souls who heard her predictions tried to change their fates. They switched careers, moved away, gave up bad habits, made peace with enemies. It was all futile. Their lives were taken just as Rose predicted. As Samhain approaches she’s eager to burden strangers with her fatal visions. She believes each death she predicts counts as a sacrifice to ancient powers, and they may in turn prolong her life. Rose foretells death, but she also fears it.

So if you happen to come across that old shack, cover your ears and clear your mind or she may tell you your fate. For some of you that fate is a long way off. But for many of you, it is just around the next corner.

Corn Maze

This land rewards its caretakers with pumpkins to carve, corn to reap, and souls harvest. These fields grow more than you know and take more than you may be willing to give.

As you make your way through the corn, keep your eyes open and your mind closed. Make no mistake, you’re being hunted. Don’t accept gifts from smiling strangers, especially if that gift is a necklace. You see, Samhain is upon us, and some who celebrate mark their chosen offerings with trinkets.

Your eyes haven’t deceived you, the scarecrows have changed positions. In this place they conspire against you. At this time of year they serve ancient gods with dark needs. If you fall you just may join their ranks.

The corn was healthy and strong this year, but a price must be paid for such bounty. There is no life without death. There is no escaping the pacts made long ago. For every stalk of corn in this place there is a tale of woe.

Don’t let your story end in this soil.

Haunted Attraction

Lucy Fear and her band of freaks welcome you to their humble circus. Each autumn they return, emerging from the night mist like a phantom parade. It’s said they’re summoned by the first jack-o-lantern lit in Crow Hollow each year, and that Lucy’s entire camp vanishes at dawn the morning the last carved pumpkin rots. One thing is certain, Lucy Fear and her troupe have become as much a part of the Hollow’s Samhain rites as the sacrificial bonfires.

From Lucy’s tattered tent you’ll hear no child’s joyful squeals, nor the oohs and ahs of guests. These sounds have been replaced by the wails of mothers looking for lost offspring, the shrieks of victims offered to the old gods, and the cackles of Lucy’s lunatics. The only joy to be found here is that of the sadistic performers. The only audience are dark and invisible forces.

Those who march and perform under Lucy’s banner include the Deformed, the Deranged, the Distraught and the Deadly. The Deformed ask sympathy from passers by, but rob them of far more than can be endured. The Deranged are cursed to carry out every one of Lucy’s sinister requests. The Distraught search for loved ones who disappeared into the shadows beneath Lucy’s tent. The Deadly are clowns that once brought joy and laughter to children of all ages, but who have become chuckling Dealers in Death. All have answered the call to satisfy twisted hungers of ancient beings. The old gods play with their food. Lucy is their Jester and their Chef.

Will you emerge from the tent with your mind intact? Or will the horrors you endure fill Lucy’s troupe with glee as they offer your agony to their masters? The show never ends. No refunds.

Haunted House

“Fear the Dullahan, the harbinger of doom. He is the messenger of Death and the wrath of the old gods. To fail in proper sacrifice is to provoke his release upon all who you hold dear.”
-The Crow Hollow Book of High Druids, Author Unknown

At the edge of the cornfields, just beyond the old ruined chapel there lies a tomb shunned by all. What’s buried within lived and died as a man, but is a man no longer. The thing entombed in this unholy place is now a vessel of death and destruction. It has become the sword arm of gods ancient and forgotten, the punisher of those who violate ancient covenants. Many know this being as the Headless Horseman of local legend. Others call it dullahan, a headless spirit from old world myth that brings terror and annihilation to all with the misfortune to lay eyes upon it. Both beliefs are true, at least to the residents of Crow Hollow.

The origin of this particular dullahan goes back to the American Revolution, when a particularly bloodthirsty Hessian mercenary was decapitated with a cannonball fired by a colonist. The spirit of the Hessian refused to stay at rest, rising from the grave around harvest time each year to seek vengeance on those responsible for his death. Some claimed the horseman had made a bargain with supernatural forces and would only rest each year after claiming an ever increasing number of souls.

Word of this supernatural peril reached a group of druid’s in Europe who saw it as a sign to come and settle nearby. Their ancient and esoteric beliefs convinced them it was their sacred duty to placate and contain the Headless Horseman through devout sacrifice to their ancient gods. Those druids crossed the ocean to found the town of Crow Hollow. It is said that during Samhain, proper sacrifice to the old gods fulfills an ancient pact. The blood of the few protects the many, and those that survive this season of offerings are blessed by prosperity so long as they are willing to die when chosen. To fail this sacred duty, to break this ancient pact, would release the dullahan as punishment and no one would be spared.

If you stumble upon the Horseman’s crypt, beware. Don’t dare disturb his peace, and be ever watchful for those that serve him, for they will do you harm.

Walk Thru Maze

There on the hilltop, you see it. A structure surrounded by an eerie fog. People in these parts call it The Crow’s Cage, for this is the place where the town of Crow Hollow exiles those who refuse the ancient ways and are unworthy of becoming proper Samhain offerings. It is a cursed place, built for suffering to amuse petty forgotten gods.

It’s said that those who built the maze created only a single safe path to escape it. Because the old gods like their sport, a slim chance of survival is offered as a cruel joke. No one has ever gotten out alive. Not everything that lurks in the maze is human. The barrier between the realms of the living and the dead decays during Samhain, and the suffering in the maze draws the undead like flies to carrion.

Haunted House

Tucked away at the edge of the forgotten farming town of Crow Hollow lies an overgrown greenhouse, its shattered panes glinting like broken teeth beneath the moonlight. It was once a place of promise, run by a reclusive botanist named Dr. Elias Grinshaw once hailed as a genius in agronomy and plant pathology. But his obsession with crop resilience, disease resistance, and genetic manipulation took a dark, irreversible turn after the death of his only child.

Grinshaw’s daughter, Clara, died from a rare fungal infection contracted after a picnic in their family cornfield. Wracked with grief and fury at nature’s cruelty, he locked himself inside the greenhouse and vowed to bend nature to his will. The locals whispered that he had gone mad muttering to his plants, feeding them blood, and tending to them in the dead of night with syringes and scalpels.

He began experimenting with a mutated strain of corn smut fused with parasitic cordyceps. This bio-engineered fungus could lie dormant in the seed, waiting. His goal was to create a crop that would never succumb to blight or pest immune to drought, disease, and death itself. But instead, he cultivated The Hollow Blight, a pathogen that did not feed on the corn… it fed on the consumer.

Haunted House

Once a bustling epicenter of medical progress and innovation, this esteemed facility now lies shuttered and dormant. Slowly being reclaimed by the land, Crow Hollow's old hospital now stands as a shell shrouded in secrecy and speculation.

The facility was on the verge of a breakthrough, developing cures for countless infections and disorders. Before they could reach the end of their research, hospital staff announced unexpected exposure risks to the surrounding sleepy town. This appeared to be more than a virus; it was a new contagion that seemed to defy explanation and was spreading rapidly from patient to staff. Hospital representatives cited the risks and symptoms, including hallucinations, unprovoked aggression, and accelerated breakdowns and decompositions of tissue. Infected patients seemed to be rotting while they were still alive, dissociative, but unpredictable.

To risk further exposure, the facility was quickly shuttered.

Dozens of hospital staff members seemed to disappear with it, sparking rumors that this infection, parasite, or contagion was more dangerous than they let on. The location is considered a live biohazard and is quarantined to this day, decades after the outbreak.

Yet somehow, there seems to be some form of life inside.

Maybe it's just the darker corners of your imagination—or maybe the infected never really left.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Haunted House

This house is alive and it longs for a family of its own. It spies on visitors through cracks in the plaster with its jealous, watchful eyes. Some say the place is possessed by the former owner, a lonely old outcast desperate to be loved. She committed horrific acts in the name of dark forces and made terrible sacrifices, all in hope of being rewarded with a family of her own. She died alone anyway, but perhaps something of her seeped into the foundations of this place.

Whatever the entity in the walls of this house is, it has taken every misguided idea it has about family to create its idea of the perfect mother. The Unmother yearns for a child of her own to squeeze and hold. It longs for someone to stay here and be loved forever. But it’s a selfish love, a violent, controlling love. A child is fragile and can only be held just so tightly before it breaks. The Unmother is always on the hunt for a replacement.

Welcome to your new home, your forever home. You’ll never feel alone again. Won’t you take comfort in Mother’s arms?

She’ll keep you safe.