A Look At The Haunted Woods Housing Market

     While prospective buyers in Neopia Central continue to compete fiercely over well-maintained properties with straightforward road access, and Merridellian buyers might *duke* it out over a studio in a converted palace, a quieter (though not necessarily silent) shakeup is underway some distance to the southwest. Homes in and around the Haunted Woods and Neovia are selling at a pace that would surprise many who have visited the area, and at prices that would surprise anyone who has stayed.

     "It's been unprecedented season," says Edgar Knell, a property consultant at Mourne & Knell Estate Agents, which has operated out of a partially collapsed building on the outskirts of Neovia for the past eleven years. "Of course we always see a bump around Halloween, but this year it kept rising all through the Advent season, and possibly into Spring. The appetite for properties with character is simply enormous right now. Buyers are sophisticated. They understand that a home with history is a home with *soul*."

     I suspect he may not be speaking figuratively.

          **What's Leading the New Demand?**

     The appeal of the Haunted Woods and surrounding region might be difficult to understand for those unfamiliar with the area. It receives minimal direct sunlight, few roads are well maintained, and the ones into the deeper woodland are better described as "suggested routes" than actual roads. Several properties currently on the market are listed as having cellars with contents that are, to quote one listing, "charmingly mysterious."

          "We're seeing a surge of interest unlike anything in recent memory," confirms Aldric Mourne, gesturing around the office, which features exposed stonework, a candle that has allegedly been burning since the building's construction, and a window through which nothing is currently visible. (It's worth noting that Mourne, a Ghost Kyrii, may have a more generous definition of "recent" than many of our readers.) "Neopians are finally waking up to what this place offers. The seclusion. The history. The feeling that the environment *knows things*."

     There seem to be several factors that seem to be at play here. The growing market of second-home seekers, with many priced out of coastal Meridell and Brightvale, have begun to look further inland, many citing an unwillingness to navigate the administrative complexity of purchasing in Faerieland, and a preference for remaining on the eastern mainland. A wave of artists, writers, and other creatives are drawn to what lifestyle publications have taken to calling "authentic spooky living" has followed. And a not-insignificant number of buyers, when pressed, admit they simply want to be left alone.

     The Wanderer's Camp, longtime waypoint for travellers passing through the region, has in recent seasons taken on the role of a first stop for prospective buyers scouting the area. Estate agents report an uptick in inquiries from visitors who have stopped for the night and found themselves, against all reasonable expectation, reluctant to leave.

     "We get a lot of 'I just want somewhere quiet,'" Mourne acknowledges. "Haunted Woods is excellent for that... Kind of. Depends on how you define it"

     **The Listings**

     A glance through Mourne & Knell's current portfolio reveals the full creativity of language that an estate agent possesses.

     A two-storey stone cottage in the Neovian outer district is described as offering "original detailing throughout, including hand-carved crown moulding, ancestral wall treatments, and a dining room that retains its authentic candlelit ambiance at all hours of the day." (The electricity, one gathers, is not operational. The candles appear to light themselves.)

     A larger property deeper into the woods (four bedrooms, a large cellar, and "mature, established grounds") boasts "a living landscape". The garden, according to a note appended, "sometimes expresses opinions on planting schedules."

     A third listing, described as ideal for buyers seeking a "private retreat with genuine connection to the local community," sits directly adjacent to the Forgotten Graveyard. Graveyard adjacency, it turns out, is now a selling point. Some even claim to share a bit of land. "It was a nightmare at the start figuring out property lines, but once we had a system down, our buyers appreciate the neighbours," says Mourne. "Very quiet neighborhood. People like to retreat early. Rarely any noise after dark." He stops, makes an indistinguishable "hmph" that trails off as he reconsiders.

     The Author would like to note that the desire for proximity to the Game Graveyard would be a lot easier to understand.

     A fourth property (a stone tower conversion on the woodland's eastern edge) is listed as offering "uninterrupted views of a nearby castle of considerable historic significance, ideal for the lexically nimble buyer." It is directly adjacent to the castle. The castle itself is not included in the sale. Rumor has it that interested parties should be aware that correspondence with the castle's long-term occupant tends to arrive in a form that requires some patience to interpret.

     Across the listings, certain phrases recur with enough consistency to suggest an industry standard. *Well-preserved original gloom. Steeped in history. Unique acoustic properties. An atmosphere that must be experienced to be fully appreciated.*

     What these phrases mean in practice varies by property. "Unique acoustic properties" may refer to a charming echo. It may also refer to whispering that continues when the house is empty. Both, in Mourne's view, are features. "It's character!" He says enthusiastically.

     **Who Is Buying?**

     The buyer profile for Haunted Woods properties is, by any measure, eclectic.

     There are the romantics (typically couples from sunniest areas of Altador or Mystery Islanders looking to really change things up on the mainland), who have visited during one of the region's picturesque fogs and decided that living inside a vintage painting would suit them. These buyers tend to purchase quickly and arrive with ambitious renovation plans.

     "The renovation plans are always ambitious," says Mourne, with what might be sympathy. "Of course, any structural modifications are subject to review by the local heritage office, which has a rather full docket at present. We advise buyers to appreciate the property as it currently stands. Most properties tend to prefer that, in any case. Sometimes, even redecorating proves troublesome. You start loading your furniture in, and as soon as there's nobody left in the room with it, it's seems to find itself back in the truck."

     There are the historical enthusiasts, a category that encompasses everyone from serious scholars of architecture to Neopets who simply enjoy owning things that are very old and slightly alarming. These buyers, Mourne notes, tend to ask excellent questions during viewings and take extremely detailed notes. Several have been observed lingering at the Brain Tree for extended periods, asking increasingly specific questions, a bit of a mixup from the usual pattern. "They want to understand the history," Mourne says. "if they're lucky, the history understands them back."

     There are the artists and writers, drawn by the aesthetic value of fog, the productive quality of isolation, and the rent prices relative to, say, Shenkuu. They hope to find inspiration in the mist. As a result, a burgeoning creative community is popping up, but no art shows quite yet.

     And then there are the small group of retirees who embrace the homes and yards that seem to have a mind of their own, doing their own thing, who just "want somewhere peaceful, self-contained, and okay with things that aren't low-maintenance."

     "Low-maintenance," he repeats, in a tone that suggests this is a feature that is very hit or miss.

     A recent buyer, a cheerful Zafara named Pemba, is an interior decorator. She (partially) relocated from a perfectly fine apartment in Neopia Central falls somewhere between the romantic and the heritage enthusiast categories. She shares the home with her partner Aggie, who visits as often she can. Aggie, a journalist like myself, often spends weeks on location doing research. She maintains the Neopia Central apartment as a home base, but joins Pemba during any breaks longer than a weekend, where two two can retreat. Spending so much time apart just made them really want a secluded home of their own.

     But you can tell it was Pemba's love of the old that really drove the decision. She purchased a home near the Neovian district eight months ago and agreed to speak with us from the parlour. "It was the listing," she says. "The way it read '*sweeping views across the ancient treeline, intimate dining room, a residence that rewards those who appreciate its character.*'... I thought, that's exactly what I want. Somewhere with a bit of mystery. A bit of atmosphere." After a pause she adds, "There is *a lot* of atmosphere."

     Pemba reports that the sweeping views are occasionally obscured by a localised mist that appears inside the house. The intimate dining room seats four. There is room for six chairs, but the previous owner informed her, only after purchase, that two seats should always remain empty, though they needn't have a table setting. The character of the residence, she says, is very much present.

     As an interior decorator, Pemba arrived with many strong opinions about the furniture. Eight months on, she has fewer of them. The property came fully furnished, and the armchair in the living room, a large, dark thing positioned beside the west window, has been relocated by Pemba to the opposite wall on four separate occasions. Each time, she has woken the following morning to find precisely where it started. She has tried to move the coffee table. She has tried the lamp. She once moved every piece of furniture in the parlour simultaneously, as an experiment. "It was all back by morning," she says, with the equanimity of someone who has fully run out of other reactions. "In exactly the original arrangement" This, of course, has proved challenging for a decorator, but she's started to make peace with it, learning to love the challenge of which personal touches are allowed to stay, and which are not.

     She insists she remains broadly positive about the purchase. "The architectural details are genuinely beautiful. Plus, I appreciate the solitude," she says, "and I have plenty of that, during the day. I miss Aggie of course, but I still like a quiet life. The evenings are more social than I'd expected". The community (most of the living portion of and some of the not) has been welcoming.

          A recent transplant, a young Ixi, when asked what she wished she knew before moving in. She explains that properties in the eastern woodland are in proximity to a notable local entity known as the Esophagor. The Esophagor's requests are consistent and well-recorded, and residents describe the arrangement as manageable. "It just wants to be fed," one resident explained. "It's very straightforward once you accept that." She pauses, then adds. "It is extremely hungry, though."

     A Wocky resident, who agreed to speak with us on the subject of neighbourhood relations, raises a more specific concern. "There's Edna," she says. "Up in the tower. She's perfectly pleasant. But she always needs something – an ingredient, an item, a favour. Newcomers think it sounds exciting at first. A local witch! How charming! How authentic!" She pauses. "By the third trip to fetch some odd food item in a fortnight, the excitement has generally faded."

     A Lupe remarks on the excitement of living so close to something as fun as The Deserted Fairground. A place that anybody who has been to once (outside the most serious of risk-takers) knows loses its charm almost as quickly than your neopoints. The true locals know the real fun is at The Game Graveyard. It's where games of considerable historic significance, once-beloved entertainments, have been laid to rest. Visitors describe the experience as nostalgic and, for reasons difficult to articulate, quietly moving. Beyond that, The giant hedge maze provides a more active option for buyers who enjoy structured outdoor pursuits and hold a relaxed attitude toward arrival times.

     "By spring they've usually worked it out," the Lupe says. "The ones who stay have made their peace with things. The ones who don't–" he shrugs. "The house finds someone else eventually."

     "...oh and the ones that want to commute!" The Wocky adds. Many people think that proximity to Neopia Central means it'll be easy to keep up their job, but the commute from the deeper Haunted Woods to Neopia Central is not recommended for daily travel. Buyers treating these properties as primary residences should make adequate arrangements for remote work or local employment.

          **A Final Word From The Market**

     "We expect demand to remain exceptional," adds Mourne as a final note when we're saying our goodbyes. Outside the fog has become so thick I cannot see outside the window. Nobody else seems to notice. I gather my belongings and venture outside, not quite sure I've been convinced to take the leap myself.