Chapter 6:
The Hollow Hall
The moon hung low over Crafteria, too close and too red, like someone had dropped it in a pot of jam.
Down in the valley stood the Hollow Hall, a crumbling mansion that leaned to one side as if it were tired of existing.
Its windows flickered faintly, though no candle burned within.
Boxy felt the map buzzing in his satchel again.
Gluebert rubbed his arms. “Oh no, no, no. I don’t like seasonal content. Spooky drafts. Haunted staircases. Jump scares.”
Pete raised a sign: BORING.
But the doors groaned open without anyone touching them. The map quivered harder, glowing brighter, and Boxy sighed. “Looks like we’re going in.”
They stepped inside.
The grand entrance was draped in cobwebs thick as blankets. The chandelier swung slowly though no wind stirred. Shadows stretched too far, and the air smelled faintly of old socks.
Something dropped from the ceiling.
BOOOOINNNGG!
A huge paper spider with springy legs bounced onto the floor. Its googly eyes spun in different directions. Every step went sproing, sproing, sproing.
Boxy yelped. Gluebert fumbled his staff. Pete held up a new sign: NOPE.
But instead of attacking, the spider boinged off down a corridor, leaving a glowing strand of web like a trail of fairy lights.
“I think…” Boxy said cautiously, “it wants us to follow.”
The spider bounced ahead. They crept after it.
Three small cotton-wool ghosts floated out from a doorway, squeaking with laughter. “Woo-oo-oo!” they sang, sticking to Boxy like marshmallows.
“Get off!” he cried, peeling them away. They clung stubbornly, muffled giggles shaking their fluffy bodies.
Before he could recover, three taller ghosts appeared, draped in white sheets with bulging, cotton-stuffed heads. They dangled across the corridor like a spooky washing line.
Pete tried to barge through. The ghosts tangled themselves together like knotted string. Pete bounced off with a wooden THUNK. His new sign read: RUBBISH.
Gluebert raised his staff. “Aha! A counter-curse!” He muttered something ancient and mysterious.
A rain of garlic bread fell from the ceiling.
“Oh not again,” Gluebert groaned, catching one. “I can’t stop summoning snacks.”
The sheet-ghosts cackled, but drifted aside, leaving the way clear.
The spider led them into a dusty library where towers of books leaned dangerously. On a table lay something small but pulsing with purple light… an origami vampire bookmark.
Pete reached for it before Boxy could warn him.
ZAP!
Purple sparks whirled around him. His wooden eyes glowed crimson. A black cape snapped onto his shoulders with a theatrical FWOOOSH.
Pete stood taller, trembling with strange energy. He turned to Gluebert, eyes blazing, and leaned forward.
“Uh oh,” Boxy muttered.
Pete lurched closer, as if about to sink fangs into Gluebert’s neck. But Pete, of course, had no mouth.
Instead…
BONK!
He headbutted Gluebert squarely in the forehead.
“OW!” Gluebert staggered back, clutching his spectacles. “That’s not how vampirism works!”
Pete swayed, eyes glowing again. He lunged once more. Gluebert ducked at the last second.
CRACK!
Pete smashed head-first into the wall, leaving a perfect wooden dent.
Boxy muttered under his breath, “This is officially the worst rescue attempt in history.”
Pete spun around, dazed, then tried again…
BONK!
The saucepan Gluebert had pulled onto his head rang like a church bell.
“HE’S USING ME AS A SNACK SUBSTITUTE!” Gluebert wailed.
They hurried on. From the rafters above came a squeak, then a flutter. A bat swooped down, but its wings were stiff lollipop sticks, clacking together as it dived.
“YIPE!” Boxy ducked.
Pete swirled his cape dramatically. The bat paused in mid-air, baffled. Then Pete spun to Gluebert again.
BONK!
The saucepan rang once more.
The bouncing spider led them into a vast dining hall. At the head of the table sat a glowing 3D paper pumpkin, perfectly round and eerily bright.
Boxy lifted it carefully and placed it on a pedestal. Gears rumbled beneath the floor. A hidden door groaned open at the back of the hall.
Cold air spilled out.
A throne room waited.
Upon the throne sat the Hollow King, tall, draped in tatters, his face a hollow mask with eyes like lanterns.
“You bring me… stickers,” he hissed. His voice echoed as if spoken from a cave. “They are mine. And when they are mine… Crafteria will no longer be Level One.”
Boxy froze. “Level one?” he whispered. But before he could ask, the Hollow King raised his arms.
The ghosts shrieked and swirled. The lollipop bat screeched. Even the chandelier tore free, swinging wildly.
Boingbert the spider leapt forward, scattering web like sticky rope. The marshmallow-ghosts clung to the Hollow King’s cloak, weighing him down.
Gluebert puffed out his chest. “Stand back! I’ll handle this!” He jabbed his staff. “Banana incantatum!”
Bananas rained from the ceiling. Again.
“Not again!” he groaned.
“Now, Pete!” Boxy cried.
Vampire Pete crouched low, cape flaring. He lunged straight at the Hollow King…
BONK!
The Hollow King staggered. Pete lunged again.
BONK-BONK-BONK!
The Hollow King reeled, flailed, and toppled backwards into a coffin. The lid slammed shut with a booming WHUMP.
The ghosts gasped and vanished into smoke. The bat flopped lifeless to the floor, turning into a paper cut-out.
The hall fell silent.
Pete’s cape fizzled out in a puff of purple smoke. His eyes dimmed. He slumped, back to normal.
He slowly raised a new sign: I MISS MY CAPE.
Gluebert rubbed the dents in his saucepan helmet. “I miss my skull.”
Boxy picked up the next sticker glowing on the throne. The map shimmered and shifted, pointing the way forward, but it pulsed uneasily, as if nervous.
As they turned to leave, Boxy glanced back. For just a heartbeat, he thought he saw glowing eyes peering from the cracks of the coffin lid.
The Hollow King wasn’t gone. Not yet.