You step over the hilltop, your foot reluctantly carrying you over to the downslope. In front unfolds a town shelled in a dark haze. You amble down a short distance more, pausing lest you step into a puddle. What you find in the distance seems incredible: a house made from a pumpkin, another house resembles a pear. The town has no streetlights, but you can trace the flicker of candles on the windowsills of the unpeopled houses.