NowTime Newsletter: October 30th, 2026
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Vol. I: Issue 045 October 30th, 2026
Breaking news out of Whiskview, where ghoulish fiends have seized control of the NowTime News Center! Before we begin, I must offer my sinister gratitude to my young progeny, Deuce Hyde, whose spectral talents in makeup alchemy helped reanimate the creatures you see before you. A father could not be more horrified… or more proud.
Now gather close, my little creatures of the night, as your old friend Duke Hyde spins a chilling yarn about the apparition known as… THE BELLTOWER GHOST!
Tomorrow marks 230 years since Frostfield’s iconic Belltower was completed. But on the eve of its grand unveiling, the magnificent new clock suddenly stopped. The mayor at the time was said to be a corrupt and foul-tempered brute, and he was none too pleased. He ordered the clocksmith back into the tower and demanded that the mechanism be repaired before sunrise. To make sure the poor fellow stayed put, the stairwell was locked from the outside and a guard was posted at the door. How considerate.
The clocksmith worked alone through the long, cold night, tinkering away high above Frostfield. But when morning came, the guard unlocked the stairwell and discovered something most peculiar. The clocksmith was gone, with no trace in sight. Yet the clock was running perfectly, and according to local legend, it has continued doing so for 230 years without ever needing a repair, adjustment, or replacement.
Then came the sightings. Every year around Halloween, townspeople began reporting a strange glowing figure moving behind the Belltower windows. Some believe it is the missing clocksmith himself, still tending the mechanism he was never allowed to leave unfinished. Quite the commitment to unpaid overtime.
But thirteen years ago, this old ghost story took a deliciously strange turn when Papa’s Cupcakeria opened inside the old Ganachmann House, where legend says the clocksmith once rented an attic room while working on the tower. Soon after, sightings of the Belltower Ghost began appearing beyond Frostfield. Ever since, whenever Papa Louie opens a new restaurant in another town, that familiar glowing figure seems to turn up around Halloween.
Coincidence? Perhaps. Maybe after two centuries of gears, bells, and frozen tower walls, our restless clocksmith finally developed a taste for travel. Or maybe… even the dead cannot resist Papa Louie’s cooking.
So if you find yourself near the old Belltower tomorrow night, keep an eye on those windows. And if you are standing outside a Papa’s restaurant somewhere far away, you may want to glance over your shoulder.
Where will I be, you ask? I’ll be lurking in the shadows, watching for anything that creeps, rattles, or glows in the night, because even on Halloween… Duke’s Gotcha covered!
Hiya friends!
It is definitely getting spooky around here, and that story about the Belltower Ghost just kicked things up another notch! I’m getting into the spirit myself this year as La Llorona, the legendary wailing ghost of the river. Makeup is courtesy of Deuce Gotcha—or should I say Deuce Hyde today—and my veil and dress were custom made by the wonderfully talented, Indigo. Later today we’re all getting together for a festive little photoshoot for a NowTime News press release, and I cannot wait to see how it turns out!
Now, for this week’s weather, let’s head over to Maple Mountain and see what all those trick-or-treaters can expect tomorrow night.
And friends, bundle up! Saturday is looking cloudy and chilly, with temperatures dropping into the upper 20s overnight and even a few light rain or wet snow showers possible. After that, the cold sticks around, with lots of clouds, crisp mountain air, and even a stray flurry possible before things brighten up a little early next week.
So if you’re heading out for candy tomorrow, make sure there’s room for a warm layer under that costume. It is looking like a properly spooky—and pretty chilly—Halloween up on Maple Mountain!
The Mumph here, and I am all set for Halloween tomorrow.
When I was helping my parents clean out their storm-damaged place after Hurricane LePunch, I was pumped to find this little number had survived. This is the original costume my grandfather, the OG Mumph, wore while filming the horror classic The Legend of Spring-Heeled Jack. He played the title baddie, terrorizing folks around colonial-era Philly Heights, and somehow the costume made it through all these years and a hurricane.
Now let’s get into the swing of things with this week’s baseball matchup.
New Pepperton came out swinging with three runs in the first, but San Fresco chipped away and tied things up 3-3 in the third. Then came the fifth inning… Seven runs.
That one frame blew the whole game wide open, putting the Percolators up 10-3. San Fresco managed one more in the eighth, but that was all they could muster.
Final score, New Pepperton Percolators 10, San Fresco Urchins 4. Coffrin in center field takes MVP honors.
My two cents, you can survive a three-run inning. Seven? That is when you start looking for the nearest exit, preferably one that Spring-Heeled Jack is not standing in front of.
On this Halloween Eve, I decided to dress for the occasion. What you are looking at is not a costume-shop robe, but the ceremonial garb of the long-gone Mystic Order of the Pyramidions, an antique I managed to scoop up on HeadCase Marketplace last year. Quite possibly the find of my lifetime. And yes, I checked. It is real.
The Pyramidions have fascinated me since I first learned about them in a college history class, mostly because researching them is like trying to investigate a hole in the record. Very little was ever written about the Order, apparently by design. At their height, their plain, almost deliberately forgettable lodges could be found in nearly every major city across the Continental Concordia. Officially, each carried a numbered designation, something like Lodge 24, but among the members themselves, every lodge was simply referred to as The Capstone.
Then, roughly sixty years ago, every one of them closed.
Not gradually. Not one chapter at a time. All of them. What exactly happened inside those Capstones is still debated. The Order originated in Tricksylvania, where legend credits its earliest members with constructing the great pyramids of the Hudstone Valley. Some old accounts go even further, claiming the Pyramidions possessed tools or technology so advanced for the period that witnesses described their work in terms usually reserved for witchcraft.
Of course, legends have a habit of growing taller with age.
What bothers me is what happened much later. When the Order disappeared, nobody stepped forward to explain it. In fact, practically nobody admitted to having been a member at all. Think about that for a moment. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of people would have been needed to fill those lodges across the Concordia, and yet when the doors closed, an entire secret society seemingly vanished with them.
And for the few known members, they were never heard from again.
Investigators entered abandoned lodges expecting records, furniture, ceremonial objects, anything that might explain what had happened. All they found were empty rooms.
No archives. No membership rolls. No farewell message pinned to the door. Just buildings that looked as though the people inside had decided, all at once, to erase themselves. That is probably why I have never been able to leave this story alone. Most mysteries give you something to pull on. A document. A witness. A contradiction.
The Pyramidions left almost nothing. Almost. After all, somehow this robe survived.
And tonight, standing here wearing it, I find myself wondering who wore it before me, what they knew, and why an organization powerful enough to spread across the Concordia worked so hard to make sure we would never know where they went. Either way, you know that I’ll keep digging.
And that’s The Scoop.
Welcome back to Wendy’s Wheels! Here we showcase the amazing karts created by Wendy at the Greasy Gear Garage in Maple Mountain.
