31 Days of Halloween

Welcome to Crandalholme

Crandalholme Castle, home of eternal torture and pain, rampant violence at the hands of Draven Crandalholme. From the dungeons where his captives were held chained to the walls, suspended from the ceilings, and on occasion, left to die of malnutrition and thirst. The castle, surrounded by a moat and wrought iron fence, on which the decapitated heads of his foes and prisoners were displayed with pride and warning, high on the spires. No one crossed Draven Crandalholme and lived to tell the tale. That is, no one except Hamlyn the Bold, the gallant and chivalrous knight who vowed revenge against Crandalholme for the death of his father.

The sky had grown dark with ominous clouds roiling above, tree branches and limbs lashed out as the wind whipped through the valley, Hamlyn felt it in his bones, no good would come from this night. As the drawbridge lowered over the moat allowing his returning men to enter the castle keep, Hamlyn quietly fell in line behind the last of them. Having stolen chainmail and the helmet of one of his men, he didn't stand out and moved freely about the castle. Finding his way to the spiraling stairs which led to Draven's private quarters, Hamlyn pressed his body against the stone wall and slowly began to ascend the staircase. Keeping in the shadows to avoid any unwanted attention, he found himself at the end of a long hall.

Doors on either side of the corridor were offset which meant his journey down the hall would be a perilous one. Moving from door to door along one side of the wall, he listened for movement or sound before proceeding to the next. Reaching the door at the farthest end of the hall, he had evaded capture. Suddenly aware he now stood outside of his nemesis' door, which happened to be open, he waited for his crowning moment, and he held the element of surprise.

"Draven Crandalholme, tonight you die!" his words echoed thunderously in the stone chamber.

A bloody battle ensued, leaving both men mortally wounded. As enemies, Hamlyn the Bold and Draven Crandalholme were destined to walk the halls of Crandalholme Castle, along with the many tortured souls claimed by Draven, for all eternity.

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Halloween rapidly approached, the local haunts doing a booming business, one local radio station went one step further. For nearly eight centuries, Crandalholme Castle, empty, abandoned, sat crumbling. The castle, recently acquired by a property management firm, was in desperate need of repair. In an attempt to draw more interest, they knew Halloween would be the first place to start. With its paranormal activity, a favorite of ghost hunters, the new owners decided to open it up to more people for the month of October. Everything was at your own risk, including any interactions with the unworldly. Radio station KCTA received permission to offer a contest to their listeners, a group of seven strangers to spend the night in Crandalholme. Those who stay the entire twenty-four hours would win five-thousand-dollars cash. Those who did not, received nothing but the memories, if they wanted them or not.

Sebastian Lewis, a down on his luck writer, happened to be caller thirty-one on the last day of the contest. He needed the money and knew regardless of what occurred in the castle, he would stay put. Ghosts and spirits weren't real, demons weren't real. When you're dead, you're dead. With one phone call, maybe his luck had started to turn around. The radio station employee informed him he could bring one bag. A pillow, sleeping bag or blanket, flashlight, jacket, and something to snack on and drink. Contestants were responsible for bringing out everything they took in. Then there were the standard warnings: KCTA nor Crandalholme Castle, nor Lockley Property Management were responsible for any loss, including personal property, injury, or death.

Death? He scoffed. His Halloween would not involve handing out candy to bratty kids and parents, but staying overnight in the most haunted castle still standing. Wondering who the other six contestants might be, he couldn't help but hope they weren't scared of every creak and screech in the night. All the required paperwork signed and faxed back to the station, all he had to do was wait. Three days and he would be five-thousand richer. Gathering a sleeping bag, a large flashlight with an extra battery, packed some warm clothes and waited. Temporarily unemployed, he again was thankful for the opportunity. Speculation led him to believe the property owners and the radio station were going to do everything they could to keep from having to pay out.