The Night of the Hollow Hunt

Dedication & Prologue

For my Discord friend group—you guys are the reason these ideas flow so easily. Thank you Toopie, Noah, and Frog for inspiring the characters that brought this story to life.

The sun was setting over Chula Vista, casting long shadows across the fairgrounds. The soft hum of carnival rides and the sound of laughter echoed through the warm evening air, mingling with the scent of deep-fried food and sugary cotton candy. Families wandered from booth to booth, children clutching oversized stuffed animals, and groups of teenagers daring each other to brave the rusted, rickety rides that had seen better days. For most people, this was just another evening of fun, a break from the monotony of everyday life.

But for Antonio, this night felt different.

Sitting on the edge of a graffiti-covered bench near the back of the fairgrounds, Antonio watched his friends. Fawkes was leaned up against a metal railing, the lights of the Ferris wheel glinting off his glasses, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he teased Jaxon. The younger boy—short, dark curls bouncing as he shook his head—was always the butt of Fawkes's jokes, but he took it in stride. Wren was standing a few feet away, her ginger-red hair glowing like a beacon under the orange hue of the setting sun. She had her arms crossed over her chest, staring out at the dwindling crowd, the faint outline of her tattoos peeking out from under her leather jacket.

"We're all just wasting time," Wren said, her voice low but cutting through the idle chatter. "This fair is lame."

"Come on, Wren, lighten up," Fawkes chuckled, pushing himself off the railing. "It's tradition. We hit the fair, grab some greasy food, and laugh at all the idiots who think this is fun."

Jaxon laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, and it's better than sitting at home doing nothing, right?"

Antonio looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. He wasn't sure why, but something about tonight had him on edge. The fair was always the same, a harmless escape, but there was a tension in the air that he couldn't shake. Maybe it was the way the crowd had thinned out faster than usual, or maybe it was the fact that the night felt... off.

"Alright," Antonio finally spoke up, pushing his thoughts aside. "How about we head back to my place, grab some beers and roll something up? This place is dead."

"Now you're talking," Fawkes said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get out of here."

As the group made their way out of the fairgrounds, Antonio couldn't help but glance back at the fading lights of the carnival. It was a strange sight, watching the once-lively fair slowly turn into a ghost town, the rides creaking and swaying in the breeze as if they, too, were ready to shut down for the night. The unease settled deeper into his stomach, but he brushed it off, chalking it up to nothing more than his imagination.

The walk back to Antonio's house was filled with their usual banter, the group of friends falling into their natural rhythm. Fawkes led the charge, his long dark curls bouncing as he spoke animatedly about the latest conspiracy theory he'd read online. Jaxon kept trying to keep up, his eyes wide as he absorbed every word, while Wren stayed a step behind, occasionally rolling her eyes at Fawkes's more outlandish claims.

By the time they reached Antonio's place, the night had fully settled in. Antonio unlocked the door and motioned for everyone to head inside. "Grab whatever you want from the fridge," he called, tossing his keys onto the counter. "I'll set things up."

He disappeared into his room for a moment, pulling out a small tin and a grinder. The sounds of his friends rummaging through his kitchen and cracking open beers drifted down the hall. By the time he returned to the living room, Fawkes was already sprawled out on the couch, a beer in one hand, his phone in the other. Jaxon was perched awkwardly on the arm of the chair, flipping through the channels on the TV, and Wren was leaning against the wall, sipping her drink in silence.

Antonio set up the rolling tray on the coffee table, grinding the weed while Fawkes watched with an eager grin. "Man, I needed this," Fawkes said, stretching out. "Perfect way to cap off a boring night at the fair."

Antonio expertly rolled the blunt, licking the edge of the paper and sealing it up before passing it to Fawkes, who took the first hit. Fawkes inhaled deeply, his eyes closing for a moment as he held the smoke in, and then exhaled with a satisfied sigh, passing the blunt to Wren.

"So," Fawkes began, his voice slightly deeper from the hit, "anyone want to talk about something spooky?"

Antonio groaned, flopping into a chair. "Dude, it's too early for your ghost stories."

Wren took a slow drag from the blunt before passing it along to Jaxon. "Ghost stories?" she echoed, her voice low and unimpressed. "I thought you were over that phase, Fawkes."

"Ghost stories?" Fawkes smirked, leaning back as he stretched his legs out. "I'm talking about something real. Something local."

Jaxon, already looking slightly hesitant, took the blunt and inhaled tentatively. "Like what?" he asked, exhaling smoke slowly.

"Like the Chula Vista Ripper," Fawkes said, his voice dropping to a mock-hushed tone. "You know, that psycho who was running around here a few years ago? Killed a bunch of people? Yeah, they say he escaped from prison and no one ever found him. Urban legend says his house is still standing, untouched, like he left it on purpose."

Antonio shifted uncomfortably as Jaxon passed him the blunt. He took a long drag, feeling the smoke fill his lungs as he tried to calm the uneasy feeling creeping up on him. Wren rolled her eyes, but Antonio could tell she was listening closely, despite her outward disinterest.

"You don't actually believe that, do you?" Wren asked, her voice steady but low.

"Believe what?" Fawkes shot back. "That he's still out there? Who knows? Maybe he's gone, maybe not. But that house? That's real. And I bet none of you have the guts to last a night there."

Jaxon's face drained of color as he looked between Fawkes and Antonio. "Wait, wait, wait—you're not suggesting we actually go there, are you?"

Fawkes grinned, leaning forward to grab the blunt from Antonio, taking another hit before speaking. "What? Scared, Jaxon? I thought you were all about adventure."

Antonio sighed, blowing out the last of the smoke. A small part of him couldn't help but feel drawn to the idea. It was stupid, reckless even, but maybe that's exactly what they needed. Something to break the monotony, to shake up their routine.

"What's the bet?" Antonio asked, cutting through the tension, passing the blunt back to Wren.

Wren took another hit, her green eyes narrowing at him. "Antonio, don't tell me you're actually considering this."

Fawkes's grin widened as he exhaled smoke in rings. "Simple. We all go to the Ripper's house, and the first person to bail loses. The last one standing wins."

Jaxon shook his head rapidly, but Antonio could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. Wren sighed, glancing at Antonio as if to say, Are you serious?

But Antonio nodded, feeling the excitement growing in the pit of his stomach. "I'm in."

Fawkes clapped his hands together, already relishing the challenge. "What about you, Wren? Jaxon? Are you gonna let me and Antonio show you up?"

Wren stared at him for a long moment before shrugging. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when this blows up in your face."

Jaxon looked between them, fear and doubt written all over his face. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Alright. But if we die, I'm haunting all of you."

Antonio chuckled, passing the blunt to Fawkes again, but the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at him all night still hadn't gone away. Something about this bet felt wrong, but it was too late now.

They were all in.