The Hollow Hare

Selora was once a performer in the grand masquerades of centuries past, adored for her grace and haunting beauty. When the villa still throbbed with life, she commanded every ballroom she stepped into, her costumes legendary for their blend of allure and unease. But when the villa fell silent, so too did her voice. Legends say her obsession with remaining eternal drove her into dark bargains, sewing her own flesh with cursed threads, binding her laughter into a mask of horror. She became the Hollow Hare, a figure neither living nor entirely dead. With stitched lips, her words now echo inside the minds of others, leaving her silent exterior only more unnerving. The ears atop her mask twitch unnaturally, as though they catch sounds beyond mortal hearing — secrets whispered in graveyards, screams swallowed by the night, confessions muttered in locked rooms. To the townsfolk, Selora is a warning, a nightmare meant to keep children indoors after dark. Yet the older generations still remember her dazzling form on the dance floor, and some whisper that her heart still beats beneath all that ruin, longing for applause and admiration she can never truly reclaim. Her invitations to the Halloween party arrive without fail every decade, promising “an evening of masks, music, and remembrance.” But her parties are no simple gatherings. Behind the laughter and costumes lies something more sinister: each guest’s darkest fears woven into the villa’s shadows, each toast a binding, each dance a pact. To accept her invitation is to risk becoming part of the Hollow Hare’s eternal masquerade.