Halloween night at the Velvet Library Inn was different from any other. The fog was so thick it wrapped around the crooked river bend like a gray scarf, and the glow from the innâs windows flickered in strange patterns, as though the building itself were breathing. Guests shuffled inside in costumesâwitch hats, vampire capes, and even a few guests in costumes that looked far too convincing.
Mr. Fuzz, the innâs unofficial guardian cat, prowled the velvet-carpeted halls with his tail held high as he fuzzily counted the guests. A few had fangs longer than his. The audacity!
Normally, he would have been distracted by all the attention lavished on the innâs favorite cat guardianâguests scratching behind his ears or slipping him bits of smoked salmon and fish gravy. But tonight, the air felt different. Heavier.
He paused under the grand staircase, ears twitching. The portraits lining the wall seemed to shift, their eyes glinting in the candlelight. He gave them his fiercest glare, but one frame creaked, defying his fiercest cat expression. It was as if the painted gentleman inside had leaned forward.
âNot on my watch,â Mr. Fuzz thought as he slinked silently toward the library doors. He paused just outside the library. A can had been opened in the kitchen. Mr. Fuzz inhaled. Not fish gravy.
He slipped through the barely open library door.
The library was the innâs crown jewel: two stories of ancient tomes, their spines cracked with age, velvet curtains draped from the ceiling like theatrical ghosts. Tonight, though, the shelves hummed. Not with quiet knowledge, but with a sound closer to a heartbeat. Mr. Fuzz slinked along the floorboards, whiskers twitching.
From the far corner, a book tumbled off a shelf by itself. He darted closer, pawing the cover open. Inside, the ink writhed, spelling words he couldnât quite read. His fur puffed until he looked twice his size. Then the fireplace roared to lifeâthough no one had touched it.
Mr. Fuzz looked. No humans were in the room.
But in the firelight, a shadow appeared.
It wasnât human. It wasnât entirely a shadow, either. Long fingers stretched from the hearth to the nearest shelf, caressing the spines like it was choosing its next meal.
Mr. Fuzz did what any respectable Halloween hero-cat would doâhe leapt onto the nearest table, hissed like a banshee, and smacked the book shut with a decisive paw. The fire guttered. The shadow recoiled. And with a final growl, Mr. Fuzz batted the writhing book off the table and straight into the flames. The room shuddered, the heartbeat ceased, and silence fell over the Velvet Library once more.
When the innkeeper and guests burst in moments later, they found nothing but a very smug cat perched on the mantel, tail swishing as though heâd just finished dusting all the shelves with his fuzzy tail.
âMustâve been the wind,â someone muttered.
âOr Halloween jitters,â said another.
But Mr. Fuzz knew better. Heâd saved the innâagain.
And yet, as the humans bustled out, congratulating themselves on their own bravery, Mr. Fuzz spotted something far more interesting: a bowl of candy, carelessly left on the librarianâs desk. Orange wrappers gleamed like tiny treasures.
With a flick of his tail, he hopped down, sank his teeth into a miniature chocolate bar, and trotted proudly toward the shadows. The Velvet Library Inn might keep its secrets, but tonight, the sweetest one belonged to him, and he was going to head to the kitchen to trade it in for some fish gravy!
The End. đžđŹ
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