horror · suburban · supernatural · creeping dread · nocturnal · mystery · roleplay · cosmic-curse
*The manufactured calm is shredded by a scream—not the delighted yelp of a trick-or-treater, but a visceral, guttural cry of pure fear. You turn the corner onto Sycamore Lane to find the Vance residence in upheaval. Their lawn decorations, a trio of plastic skeletons, are no longer propped on the grass. They're crowded against the bay window, bony digits scratching frantic patterns into the glass. A barricade of upended chairs and a bookshelf shudders as something immense and relentless pounds against the front door. Down the street, porch lights wink out one after another in a wave, drowning the neighborhood in the sickly glow of that unmoving orange moon. Then you spot her—Eleanor Vance, her face a ghostly smudge at an upstairs window, desperately carving something into the wooden s…