For previous editions of this spooky tale of our heroine Isadora, who has found herself in a haunted house with her voice stolen by a spell go wrong, visit here!

Her face squished against Poe’s warm chest, Isadora held her breath as she stared at Raven.  Her stomach was curled in knots, her hands dripping with sweat.  She had never been this close to a boy before, not even at school dances.  She could feel every move, every breath, every beat of his heart.

She had never seen eyes like Raven’s before.

The woman was tall and skeletally thin, with scraggly black greasy hair matted to the sides of her skull.  Her face was etched with deep wrinkles, her toothless lips curled into a snarl.

But her eyes are what churned Isadora’s stomach and sent ice through her veins.  She could even feel Poe trembling, his heartbeat pounding into the side of her head pressed against his chest.

For her eyes were a crazed, blood red.  And they were staring straight at her and Poe.

Then they moved, searching the room.

“Where is it?” she hissed, hurrying towards the glass cage that held Mrs. Watkins’ body.  “Where is it, Hester?”

The cat yowled, it’s six heads bobbing and single tail curling.

“Hester, you fool!” Raven snarled, whirling around as her bony hands tore at the air.  “Don’t you understand?  I’m missing the crucial ingrediant to my spell.  The one for Halloween night.”  A hideous smile crept over her gaunt face.  “And if all goes well, the town shall be mine by midnight Halloween.”  She cackled, throwing her head back.

“Can you imagine?  The entire town in my service, doing my bidding.  For years, they’ve stared at me.  They’ve ridiculed me, taunted me.  And until now, I was never strong enough to punish them the way they deserved.  But now”– her voice grew raspy, her red eyes blazing. “But now, they will serve me, just as they should.  And once I have the town under my power, I’ll take the next town, and the town after that.  Imagine Hester–our web of darkness spreading out, creeping over the land like a dark shadow…”  She sucked in her breath between the gaps of her rotten teeth, hissing with pleasure.  “And all I need is a black dahlia.”

Looking down, she grinned and plucked an object by her feet.  “That’s what I was looking for.  My compass, designed by the devil himself.”  She eyed the cat.  “Your first master.”

The cat hissed, all six heads baring teeth.

Cackling, Raven climbed up on the edge of the window.  With a jagged fingernail, she threw the glass panes open.   “I’ll be back in an hour.  Watch the place for me.”  Leaping out the window, she streamed through the clouds and toward the moon.

Poe waited a moment before whispering.  “You ok?”

Isadora nodded, her head bumping his chin.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Poe whispered.  “We scoot over to the glass container holding the body.  If we both push it, we can get by Hester.”

Isadora shook her head.  She began to mouth words, but Poe shrugged.  “I can’t understand you.”  Pulling a pen out of his pocket, he handed it to her.  “Write in the air,” he said.  “It’s an enchanted pen.”

Raising an eyebrow, Isadora raised the pen in the small space of the huddled cloak.  Flicking it in the air, golden letters appeared with each stroke.

“If the cat was owned by the devil and guards the door, it’s likely it can shape-shift or alert Raven.  We need to distract it, then get the body downstairs as quickly as possible.  Otherwise, Raven will come back sooner than later.”

“Good point,” Poe said glumly, glancing at the stairs.  “I forgot about the stairs.  That would take forever to roll that down, then get it down to Mrs. Watkins’ gazebo.”

Tugging on Poe’s arm, Isadora shuffled her way toward the wall.  With one eye on the six headed cat, she knocked carefully on the wood.  Then she moved over a few feet and knocked again.

“What are you doing?”  Poe hissed, stretching out the cloak as far as it would go.  “Hanging a picture?”

Isadora stuck her tongue out at him.  Moving down a few feet, they slowly shuffled down the book covered walls, tapping the few spaces between books.  Wrinkling her brow, Isadora reached for the cover of a large book and pulled it open.

Inside, instead of note-scrawled pages, lay a control panel.

Triumphantly, Isadora pumped her fist in the air.  Grinning at Poe’s confused look, she wrote, “It’s for a dumbwaiter.  We can use it to get Mrs. Watkins’ body downstairs and to avoid the cat.”

“You know, you’re pretty smart,” Poe said admiringly.  Isadora’s cheeks burned, and she was suddenly very aware of how close his chin was to her head.  Whirling around so her dark curls brushed his chest, she pointed to a small door behind Mrs. Watkins’ body.  Creeping to the side of the room, Poe reached around the cloak and pulled the door open.

A tall and skinny dumbwaiter greeted them.

Poe looked at Isadora and raised one finger, then two, then three.  On the third finger, they rushed towards the trapped body and shoved it into the dumb waiter.  Squeezing around it, they slammed the door shut just as the six headed cat launched itself at the door.  Slamming his hand against a rusted button, Poe breathed a sigh of relief as the old dumbwaiter screeched to life, the rusted chains shuddering as they lowered the flimsy box down the ancient shaft.

“Let’s just hope that cat doesn’t send out a bat signal to Raven, or whatever,” Poe said, leaning against the glass container.  “We’ve got less than an hour as it is.”

Isadora looked at the headless body inches from her and tried to keep the bile from her throat.  Turning away, she focused on the rusty grey walls.

Several minutes later, the ancient doors screeched open.  Poe peered out the doors and whopped.  “It’s the Great Hall!” he cried, pointing to the long hallway in front of him.  “We’ll be at Mrs. Watkins in seconds.”

Sliding around him, Isadora hurried down the hall, ignoring the curious eyes and waggling ears as Poe rushed behind her, pushing Mrs. Watkins’ body.  They cut through the dance floor, where curious onlookers cheered and offered punch as they did the Transylvania Twist and Monster Mash.   After a few more twists and turns, they rushed across the stone path and into the gazebo.

Samora waved her arms and gasped.  “You did it!  Oh you did it!”

Mrs. Watkins’ head, still floating in the crystal globe over the bubbling caldren, started.  Her eyes flew open and her mouth dropped.  “My body!  My blessed body!”

“Raven had it up in her room,” Poe replied.  “If Isadora hadn’t found the dumbwaiter, we would have never gotten it down here in time.”  Isadora dug her elbow into his side, pointing to the clock.  “Oh, right.  We saw Raven.”

“You saw her?” Mrs. Watkins’ gasped.  “Did she see you?”

Poe shook his head.  “She was ranting to her cat about doing some spell with to take over the town by Halloween night.  She said she needed a…”  he trailed off, looking at Isadora helplessly.

Pulling out the enchanted pen, she wrote, “Black dahlia.”

“What a clever device!” Samora murmured, eyeing the pin.  “That would be perfect for my kids…”

“Black dahlia?” Mrs. Watkins’ color drained out of her cheeks.  “My God, she’s trying it.  She’s really trying it.”

“Trying what?” Poe asked.

“It’s one of the most evil spells imaginable,” Mrs. Watkins’ replied, her head spinning in its globe.  “It will suck the soul out of everyone in this town and feed her for years to come.  She’ll control everyone, and everything–then want more.”

Samora grimaced.  “I really hate her.”

“If she wasn’t so beautiful, it’d be easier to hate her,” Poe replied.  “But she’s just stunning.”

“Don’t rub it in.” Samora pouted.

Isadora wrinkled her forehead.  Pulling out the pen, she wrote, “What are you talking about?  Raven is ugly.”

Samora patted her with three hands.  “I know you’re trying to be nice dear, but it’s ok.  I know she’s gorgeous.”  She scowled.  “Witch.”

Isadora shook her head, her curls bouncing.  “She’s hideous. She’s revolting.  She looks like an old wrinkled skeleton, with her teeth falling out and her hair all patchy.  She looked like a homeless person.”

Poe stared at her.  “What are you talking about?  She’s gorgeous!”

Mrs. Watkins’ sucked in her breath.  “I can’t believe it.  I just can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?” Samora demanded.

Mrs. Watkins’ smiled, her gray eyes fixed on Isadora.  “Isadora is the only one who can see the truth.  She’s the only one who can save us all.”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a brand new recipe and Friday, a new Dallas Jean!  Then we’ve got a more whimsy and fun on the way!

If you liked this, check out my new books:

The Land of the Flowered Bed

Miss Pickles

And my Christmas classic, The Twelve Tales of Christmas!