The Hollow Sentinel

I slipped through the crack of the front door, venturing out onto the weathered wooden porch for my first look at the open world. Resting silently upon the steps was a massive, ribbed orange pumpkin, stationed like a solemn guardian. Naturally, any classic thriller demands a proper standoff. I glided toward its curved stem, holding entirely still to let the suspense mount... before executing a sharp, decisive rap against its thick rind with my gloved knuckle. Thump. A satisfying, hollow resonance echoed across the cedar planks. It passed the audition.