The day started like any other Halloween. You woke up, got dressed, and went downstairs to eat breakfast. You had a perfect idea for a costume this year and were excited to show it off. When you stepped outside, however, you were shocked to find your town entirely devoid of people. There were no cars on the road, no lights on in windows, no sounds of conversation or footsteps. It was as if your town had never been occupied to begin with. Walking down the street near your school, you saw a flickering light from the next street over, and turning the corner, you found a trail of Jack-O-Lanterns leading toward the forest.
As you followed the trail into the woods, the expressions they wore began to change. At first, they were simple, with triangle eyes and half-circle grins pointing toward the town. The further you went, however, the more complex they became. Their teeth, once just a solid hole in their face, became defined, and the eyes turned from triangles to circles, then to a crescent shape. The expressions changed too, the teeth sharpening, the smiles turning to scowls, the eyes turning toward the path ahead. At the end of the path lay a staircase leading down into the earth, around which sat eight more Jack-O-Lanterns. Where the ones before had been complex, likely taking hours to carve, these ones were much simpler. Each bore a single, small, circular hole in the center, pointing toward the stairs, and nothing more.
With no other leads, you start heading down the staircase. As you descend into the earth, something strange begins to happen. You feel a slight force pushing you back, and soon realize that gravity seems to be turning to point back where you came from. The further you move, the more the force of gravity shifts, and eventually, you are ascending instead of descending. Seeing a light ahead, you race forward, only to surface in an identical copy of the woods you came from. The Jack-O-Lanterns around the stairs point outward now as if to guard them from any who would approach.
Following the trail out of the woods and into the strange copy of your town, you find it as devoid of people as your own. In their place, however, are hundreds of statues made from a strange orange stone. Many of the statues are of people you do not recognize, but you also see several of your friends among their grinning visages. The statues are all in different poses, some mid-run, some sitting, and a few sleeping. As you wander the abandoned streets, however, a pattern begins to emerge. No matter where they are, or what direction their body is facing, the heads of every statue are turned to face the clock tower at the center of town.
Making your way to the clock tower, you find the door propped open. You climb the old, rusty stairs, their creaking following you as you go. From the top of the tower, you hear glass breaking, and a string of curses rings out in a voice that sounds like your own, before falling silent. The door at the top is blocked with a padlock, but it is worn, and breaks off with a single strike. Pushing the door open, you see a man seated at a large wooden desk, lost in thought. On the desk sits a large, leather-bound book covered in strange symbols, and in the corner is a mirror covered by a sheet. Reaching out to the man, you tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, but the instant you make contact, he begins to turn into a statue just like the ones that litter the town. He only gets a moment to turn toward you before he is frozen, and in that moment, you realize that he has your face.
You jump back in surprise, hitting the mirror and knocking off the sheet. Spinning around, you are horrified when you see your reflection. Where your head should be is a Jack-O-Lantern carved with a single, small circle, pale orange light emanating from somewhere within. Your body is made of the same orange stone as the statues, and your clothes have been replaced with a long, dark cloak that masks your features. In the reflection, the book on the desk is glowing faintly. In a panic, you grab the book and fling it open, but the words on the first page make your blood run cold:
“The day started like any other Halloween.”
