Once upon a Halloween night, in the ghoul-infested hamlet of Whispering Hollow, lived an ambitious cat named Whiskers with a penchant for pulling pranks.
Not just any pranks, but ones that make cold sweats blossom and hearts throb like bass drums.
His favorite haunt, the pantry of the creaky old Mansion-on-the-Hill owned by wily yet kindhearted Old Widow Gumble.
Every year, Whiskers would tiptoe into the mansion, knock over Old Widow Gumble’s jam jars, sending her out into the night in a frightful flurry, her shrieks matching the chilling wind.
However, this Halloween, as Whiskers sauntered into the pantry, he bumped into something furry and squeaky. Each bump echoed an exaggerated “Eek!” that sent shivers down Whisker’s spine. Fear, a feeling unfamiliar, and quite distasteful to him, slithered into his heart.
Running out the mansion, his tail between his legs, he scurried with squeaky echoes following him, eyes shining through the inky night. The whole of Whispering Hollow heard of the “Ghost” that had scared away the fearless prankster Whiskers.
The following morning, a triumphant smile flickered on Old Widow Gumble’s lips as she clutched a small battery-operated toy mouse. “That’ll teach you a lesson, Whiskers,” she whispered, perfection meeting wicked glee.