That’s right. You can’t leave, can you?

I remember seeing you lurking in Town Square and watching the townspeople. You’ve been watching my neighbors. You’ve been watching us all, and you probably didn’t expect anyone to be watching you.

But I notice you. I always notice you.

You came around the same time Fallon returned to Weeping Hollow.

She really shook things up, didn’t she?

Don’t be shy, come out of the shadows.

Let me give you a hug. It’s been a while.

Watch your step. Gus Hobb was supposed to fix that crater in the sidewalk weeks ago. Augustine Pruitt, high priest of Sacred Sea and acting mayor, if you will, turned that obnoxious gasbag into his errand boy. A tree branch blew through Gus’ grocery store window during a storm a few months ago, leaving him in debt. Working for Augustine was the only way to get his grocery store back. Odd jobs here and there. You’ve seen Gus around, I know you have. He’s the grumpy geezer with a limp who curses that the world is conspiring against him.

That’s what happens when you hold your glass half empty. Everyone is out to get you when you’re drunk off a negative mindset. And Gus Hobb is always cutting corners and looking for a handout. When you live life taking shortcuts, it will catch up to you as it did for Gus, but he never learns. Take my advice. When money is easy and fast, it doesn’t last.

There you go, come on in.

It’s good to be inside, isn’t it? Winter has arrived, it’s almost December, and do you know what that means? Founder’s Day is soon underway, with the annual lighting of the fire in Town Square, and the annual ball at the Cantini Manor. That’s right. Founder’s Day is only weeks away, and I can’t wait for you to see what we have in store!

It’s cold out there. I’ll close the door before the snow returns.

I haven’t seen you in the shop before.

Welcome to The Strange & Unusual Bookstore!

And don’t let the name of this place scare you away. Strange and unusual is the norm here, and we want you to stay awhile. For as long as this town will let you.

I’ll light a fire and brew a cup of joe. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. The couch in front of the fireplace is just fine. That thing you’re wearing won’t fight the chill this time of year. Grab an extra blanket. It’s right there.

If I were you, I’d head over to Oh My Stars Boutique and get yourself something warmer when the snow stops for when it starts again. Adora Sullivan has an eye for design. She’ll make you something custom, and you won’t find her clothing anywhere else. I would say she’s Weeping Hollow’s best-kept secret, but, as you can see, everything is a best-kept secret when the whole town of Weeping Hollow is.

How did you find us, anyway? How did you even get in?

It’s different here. December is almost with us, which shouldn’t make a difference. Flatlanders should be walking around as if autumn never left, but Weeping Hollow is a ghost town lost in a fierce winter. Like we’re trapped in a snow globe.

Oh, that reminds me. Do you like sugar in your coffee?

Sure, you do. Everyone with a sweet face like yours wants sugar.

When Mina Mae from the diner asks, “Would yah like coffee with yah sugah?” it always makes me laugh. I’ll tell you what, the only good thing left in this town is that woman’s hotcakes. She makes them just right, on time, every time. Fluffy and butter-soaked with the crispy edges. You would think she’s a witch, able to flip pancakes that delicious, but Mina Mae is nothing but a flatlander and a damn good cook.

If I’m being honest, the syrup has changed over the years. For better or worse? No one will admit it. Not even me. The gossip trio right outside the window, sitting on the bench next to the gazebo, in their marshmallow coats and puffy earmuffs, would tell you she made a deal with a Heathen. That Weeping Hollow’s fairy godmother stopped using Pruitt’s maple syrup, and now we’re pouring Goody Farms over our hotcakes. They’re always whispering about it between judgmental glances and trash-talking, but Mina will deny, deny, deny. Some have taken it as far as boycotting the diner. However, you’ll see them at Mina Mae’s, hiding under hoods and eating her pancakes because no one can resist them.

Mina Mae is a good one.

Oh, you like that, yeah? Watch it now. This music box is older than your soul. There are many things I’ve collected over the years, but the one you’re holding is definitely something special. It belonged to a witch named Circe. Wind it up and put it to your ear. Listen closely.

Hear that?

Such an eerie yet hypnotizing sound.

Careful, though. Listen too long, and everything’ll fade around you, and you’ll get lost in it. Better yet, let me just put it away. It’s not for sale, anyway.

This book? Not for sale either.

Well, if you must know, come here, and I’ll tell you.

A little closer.

Closer …

This book holds all the answers to breaking the Curse of the Forbidden Girl.

Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m telling you it is.

I’ve read the book many times.

There’re hidden clues tucked between the pages, but I could never figure them out.

Look! Over there, through the window and across Town Square.

Officer Stoker stands on those damn Town Hall steps between nine and noon every morning. The police station is too small to manage the daily crowd, and the crowd grows and grows each day that passes. From here, Officer Stoker looks like a respected man with a good head on his shoulders, but others would tell you otherwise. He’s as useless as the H in anchor or a grave robber in a crematorium.

No, Carrie Driscoll isn’t here anymore, but I have a feeling you already know what happened to the mysterious blonde who was close to Sacred Sea. It’s a shame. She was a young, beautiful woman who disappeared from town, just like River Harrison.

Well, come here, and I’ll tell you a secret.

A Hollow Heathen killed them both just before burning their bodies, leaving their ashes scattered throughout this town. Hey, you don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to, but you could find out for yourself. You’d have to travel back in time to another tale, another story. But I must warn you, time is a bit tricky here.

Speaking of time, no one notices, but Kioni Ali—you know, the young artist who sells paintings in her grandmother’s fortune tent during events—is the one who graffitied the side of buildings. Once, she painted a white moth mural on the brick wall of the hardware store, and Jeremy Clayton covered it up with a fresh coat of white paint. Jeremy’s the hardware store owner who lost his daughter, Beth Clayton, back in September. And not long after, sweet Beth died. Everyone knows those moths are the bringers of death, and if I didn’t know any better, Kioni tried to warn him.

She returned soon after and painted a bouquet of black balloons with a quote I can’t remember. He did not bother to repaint it that time since he had no care left in him.

The painting is still there to this day. When you get a chance, take a stroll by the hardware store and take a look for yourself. And before you ask, I know it’s Kioni. I see her do these things. I see everything around here.

Ah! You’re asking about the latest issue of The Daily Hollow.

Things have changed, wouldn’t you say?

After the Heathen’s curse broke, they canceled all nighttime social gatherings outside of Founder’s Day. Without sound music, good times, and Mina Mae’s Poisoned Apple Cider flooding the streets, there isn’t much else to talk about other than townies dying. Sure, many people have died over the last few months, more than usual, but this is different.

Our days are shorter, our nights are longer.

It’s not your usual winter blues hours, either.

It’s something else.

After the sun sets around three in the afternoon, the streets are abandoned, and Town Square is deserted. Shutters are closed, doors are locked, which doesn’t do much to keep the townies safe. Still, it’s better than being left outside all alone. Anyone who doesn’t make it inside before nighttime is forced to fend for themselves, and no one wants to be left behind.

Decades from now, this thing going on in our hometown will be printed in the history books for future generations to see.

The Panic started the day the Heathen, Julian Blackwell, broke the Curse of the Hollow Heathens. The same curse that kept their faces hidden generation after generation because if you saw what lay beneath, you’d only see your greatest fear, and your heart would stop.

He almost killed Fallon and himself, too. Some say he pushed Fallon off the cliff, and she took him down with her. Others say he jumped in after her, but you and I know the Heathen would die for the moon girl. We were both there that day on the cliffs. At least I think I saw you there, but you look a bit different now. Have you cut your hair?

Anyway, you know what they say about conspiracy theories. They’re only true if you believe them. And Julian broke the curse by bringing Fallon back to life, restarting this town with the moon’s heartbeat.

Ah, that’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time? You wanted to know whether the curse was broken. All you had to do was ask.

The curse is broken, but you won’t catch those Heathens walking around without a mask. You won’t see them walking around at all. No one has seen them aside from the Order. They held a closed meeting that day, and only the Order, four Hollow Heathens—Zephyr was missing—and Fallon were there.

Well, I was at the meeting, too, but no one saw me watching. And I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Julian Blackwell was acting as if he was hiding something. Like he was protecting someone.

You know more than one desires, anyway, always creeping between buildings and spying on townies as if we were pages of some book. If I had all the answers, I wouldn’t tell you. And you should keep quiet, too. Secrets are like currency here. The more you know, the richer you are. If you give away what’s in your pockets, you’ll become useless and deemed untrustworthy. Keeping your mouth shut keeps you safe. If you talk, you may even get called a kook, and no one will believe you. Look what happened to Crazy Jasper.

Though, I’d have to admit. You’ve been here for a few months now.

Whether you like it or not, you’re one of us.

I will say that Augustine told Julian Blackwell that if he broke the curse, he would be pardoned for his crimes. Augustine couldn’t hide the lack of confidence on his face. No one believed he could do it. But despite it all, Julian broke the curse.

After that, Augustine had no choice but to grant Julian freedom.

The Order can never go back on their word.

That’s right. By breaking the curse, Julian avoided the Wicker Man. He accomplished what no one could. You won’t see him boasting about it, though, especially with everything that has happened since.

The Heathens are in hiding.

And Fallon Morgan goes by Fallon Grimaldi now, taking Benny’s last name. She’s still working at St. Christopher’s Funeral Home.

Geneva, a young and hell-bent journalist fresh out of the academy, cornered Fallon at the intersection of Bram Boulevard and Main, asking her about the event on the cliff a few weeks back. Fallon kept a tight lip. According to the article printed in The Daily Hollow, Fallon fully supports Norse Woods Coven, even though she hasn’t been officially initiated.

If Fallon is anything like her mother, she’ll become a lone wolf, too.

Since the curse broke, the brave, early risers who make it through the night and to The Bean are high on Wicked Death Wish by nine-thirty. They catch Fallon driving that hearse up and down Main Street, picking up the aftermath from the frightening hours of the night—the people who lost their lives.

If you thought the curse could break without consequence, you were wrong. There’s always a consequence—a balance.

The Shadows living inside those Heathen’s faces had to go somewhere, and the moon girl has been busy chasing their deadly trail for weeks.

What are the Shadows, you ask?

Do you remember I talked about the days being shorter, the nights longer, and townies locking their doors at night, all the death surrounding the town? With only six hours of daylight, we’re spending eighteen gruesome hours fighting the Shadows—five spirit-like silhouettes released into our hidden coastal town after they left the Heathens’ faces. Some say they cause the blackout nights and the messing with time we’ve been experiencing lately.

We were all wrong when we thought breaking the curse would bring the covens together. The town is more divided than ever. Breaking the curse of the Hollow Heathens was only the beginning.

You’re lucky you haven’t come across the Shadows yet. No one makes it past their first encounter, and the Shadows’ desperation is only spreads and stains this town.

You can’t kill them, either.

These Shadows aren’t trapped inside a face anymore.

They creep in the dark, on standby until that moment comes when you think you’re safe. They hunt you like a swirling black predator, stalking you until you can no longer keep your eyes open. And once you close your eyes, the world is forgotten. Only darkness. When you close your eyes, you are all alone, even when you’re not. This, my friend, is when they strike, whether it be a dream or a nightmare.

For now, that’s all we know.

Take it from me, don’t be stupid. Sleep with both eyes open.

If you thought the town was living in fear before, you’ve seen nothing yet.

Ah, would you look at that? The snow stopped just in time.

You should hurry before it returns, but don’t use the front door. Leave through the black door in the back, between the two bookcases. I promise we’ll see each other again. In the meantime, let’s keep this conversation between you and me a little secret.

My name?

Oh, you know my name, darling. You’ve heard it before.

I’m Freddy in the Mourning.