Where the fog curls low and the wind whispers secrets, a single pumpkin appears each Halloween night. It has no face, no flame, only a smooth form. Locals say it marks the boundary between the living and the shadows. Those who dare to touch it claim they hear faint whispers, stories of spirits long forgotten. Some believe it’s a guardian, others a warning. But one thing is certain: when the pumpkin is gone at dawn, something always lingers in the darkness it leaves behind.