Bartholomew's Big Idea

My nose was practically glued to the faded parchment, the ink swirling like tiny, grumpy spiders on the page. Grandma’s “spicy” spellbooks were less about fiery spells and more about… well, complicated stuff. Like how to un-spook a spooked squirrel or how to make sure your pumpkin familiar didn't decide to run for mayor of the Whispering Woods. Bartholomew, naturally, qualified for both. He was currently slumped against a pile of dried leaves, looking decidedly unimpressed with my research efforts.

“Anything good in there, oh wise one?” he drawled, his voice like a rusty hinge. “Or are you just memorizing recipes for spooky-root stew?”

I didn’t look up. “This is important, Bartholomew. This Grumpy Ghost fellow isn’t exactly known for his polite exit strategies. He wants to turn the entire forest into a never-ending Halloween party. Think about it. Constant trick-or-treating. Endless candy corn. Never having to put away the cobweb decorations. It sounds like a nightmare.”