Halloween, 1989. Three friends, one van, and a free weekend at Cabin 13, Crescent Lake, won from a flyer stapled to a telephone pole. Nobody has asked why it was free.
The man at the last gas station reads his warning off an index card. The cabin has a book that says DO NOT READ ALOUD. And somewhere in the fog, a seven-foot scarecrow with a candle in its head is walking. It never runs.
11 HOURS UNTIL SUNRISE.
HE FOLLOWS THE RULES OF A HORROR MOVIE. EXACTLY.
WHATEVER HAPPENS, DON'T SPLIT UP.
A horror comedy in five reels: a cabin dressed like a movie set, an abandoned summer camp, the only survivor of 1979, an all-night festival where half the town is dressed as the monster, a corn maze built to split you up, and a hillside of a thousand jack-o'-lanterns. Every cliché is a trap. Every time you play your part, he notices.
Don't Split Up is fiction and parody. Hollow Pines, its people, its films and its monster are invented. Any resemblance to real people, places or films is coincidental. Rated PG-13: scares, no gore.