Drawtober 2026: Shadow Prince

Time: 7:05 a.m., October 31

In the darkness lingering at the edges of Halloween’s dawn, Prince crept along the road like a shadow. He had a satchel slung across his back filled with invitations to tonight’s party. Most of the invitations had gone out weeks ago, but a few had been returned undelivered. It was now his duty to deliver them.

Normally, Prince would not stoop to the role of postman. He was a cat of refined taste and high position—he was a Prince, after all. But Branwen was his favorite—she snuck him pieces of cheese when no one else was looking—and she had asked ever so nicely.

“Everyone else will be busy today,” she’d said. “We only have a few left. You know the village so well, I’m sure you can get it down in no time.” And then she’d smiled, and before he knew what was happening, he was out the door with invitations in his paws.

He only had three invitations left to deliver now. One to Henry Westshire. One to Barley Nutcorn.

And one to Miss Spider.

His hackles rose as he thought of her. Miss Spider was, as far as was concerned, a menace to fun. He had never gotten on with her. She was a covetous creature, and she despised the harmless tricks Prince was wont to play.

Still, he had a duty to do, and he would do it. If he didn’t deliver the invitation, Branwen would know, and she would probably curse him for at least a couple of weeks. Worse, she would be disappointed. He hated it when she was disappointed.

The road curved around a hill, and Miss Spider’s hut appeared. It was built into the side of the hill, half-house and half-cavern. The cotton-wood trees that lined the road here were covered in restless strips of cobweb, as was the path that led to Miss Spider’s door. The place smelled odd—the smoky scent of fall undercut by musk and decay. Prince wrinkled his nose in distaste. He knew how Miss Spider kept her larder, and he did not approve of it.

As he came to the mailbox at the end of the path to her house, he peered up towards the door. It was shut tight, no sign of life inside. But as he slipped the invitation into her mailbox, he noticed one of the windows was open. Inside, something glinted silver.

Prince’s pupils expanded with desire, his tail twitching. He knew what that silver was. Miss Spider was known to have a large and beautiful collection of antique spoons. She had collected them over years and years. Every month, she would take them out and shine them until they gleamed. They were her pride and joy.

Seeing them there, glinting through the window, a wicked and wild idea came into the cat’s head. It was Halloween, after all. A time for treats AND tricks. Tricks most especially.

He still had two invitations to deliver. He felt their weight in his satchel. He knew he should leave well enough alone. But as that silver winked at him, so enticing through that open window, he found he couldn’t resist.

In three soundless bounds, Prince was across the lawn and crouched beneath the window. He slung himself upward, landing deftly on the windowsill. The interior of the hut was so dark not even his eyes could catch any movement.

But the spoons. They hung in beautiful rows on the wall, bright as the moon shimmering on water. He could almost hear the high chiming noise they would make when he tucked a few of them into satchel.

He leapt down into hut and crept across the floor, ignoring the sticky patches on the floor, eyes locked on those shining spoons. He came to a chair near the wall and hopped up onto the seat, then onto the back, and stretched out towards the wall. His long cat belly leaned against the wall.

His paw had just touched the end of a spoon shaped like a seashell when he heard the window snap shut behind him. He whipped around, ready to leap, when something knocked him off balance. The room whipped by as a set of spindly legs shoved him across it. Before he fully realized what had happened, Prince found himself stuck to a huge web strung across the back wall as the bulk of Miss Spider rose up from where she had been crouching on the floor.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Miss Spider stood to her full height, mandible clicking.

“Miss Spider!” Prince tried to smile. “What a…a delightful surprise. You know, I just dropped something in your mailbox for tonight—”

“I know,” she said. “I sssaw you coming up the lane.”

“You did! Well, excellent. I wasn’t sure you were going to receive the invitation in time, you know, so I thought I would come and tell you—”

“You are lying, little cat.” Miss Spider slunk across the floor. “I know what you were doing. I let you do it, jussst to sssee if you would.”

Prince felt his hackles rise. “You set a trap for me?”

“It would not have been a trap if you had not fallen into it.” Miss Spider slunk closer. “But now that you have, we can have breakfassst together. I am ssso very hungry.”

She drew closer still, and her mouth opened wide. Prince felt his heartbeat quicken at the sight of her fangs. He struggled against the webbing, but it held fast to his fur. The more he wiggled, the more stuck he became.

“I don’t think you would like eating me, Miss Spider,” he said desperately. “I doubt I taste very good!”

“I will be the judge of that.” She was almost on him. Her hot breath ghosted against her fur. He had only seconds to think.

“Well, if you’re willing to risk it!” Prince cried. He shut his luminous eyes and waited, praying to all the cat gods he could think of.

The sound of her bulk moving ceased. “Risssk what?”

Prince cracked one eye. Miss Spider crouched mere inches from him. Green venom dripped from her fangs.

“Risssk what?” she asked again.

Prince swallowed. “W-well, I’m sure you know cats are poisonous. You would be taking a dreadful risk in eating me raw. I would likely make you very sick, if I didn’t kill you outright.”

Miss Spider narrowed her many eyes. “You are lying,” she hissed.

“I wouldn’t lie about this. My mistress specifically asked me to invite you to the party tonight. She would be very cross with me if I killed you, so I’m doing my best to warn you so you don’t hurt yourself.” Prince swallowed. “There is a way to cook cats to remove the poison, though. I can talk you through it.”

Miss Spider stepped back, her expression thoughtful. Prince had to fight his instincts to struggle in the webbing. He remained lax, making his expression as guileless as any cat can manage.

“You would tell me how to cook you?”

“Of course. Cats are honorable creatures.”

“They are not. You are a thief.”

“Ah, but I’m an honest thief. And you caught me, fair and square.” Prince gave her his best smile, widening his eyes the way he did when he wanted something from the witches. “I will give you what you want. On my tenth life, I promise.”

He waited. If cats could sweat, he would have been. Finally, after what seemed to him an interminable time, Miss Spider sank back onto the floor of her hut. “You will tell me how to cook you,” she said in her hissing voice. “And then I will eat you. Assss a token of my thanksss, I will make it quick.”

“That is very kind of you,” Prince said. “The first step is easy enough. You will need a large pot of boiling water.”

Miss Spider gave him an awful, fanged grin. “That I can do.”

Prince was a cat among cats. He knew to wait before you pounce, the secret art of sitting still for hours and hours on end. As he watched Miss Spider fill her horrible black cauldron and light the fire beneath it, he had to call upon all his feline powers not to begin twitching with anxiety. As it was, he could barely keep his whiskers from quivering. Patience. He had to be patient.

The cauldron began to simmer, then to bubble, then to boil. Steam filled the hovel, making it hot and hard to see. “Good, good,” Miss Spider mumbled. She scuttled around her hut and opened the window she’d previously closed to let out some of the steam. “What’sss next?”

“You will need to coat me in oil,” Prince said.

Miss Spider bared her fangs. “Oil isss for frying, not boiling.”

“Ah, you would think so, but oil is the essential ingredient. It is what neutralizes the poison, you see. Combined with the steam. It will sweat the poison out of me.” Prince held his breath, watching the spider think. He didn’t dare look to the open window.

With a sigh, Miss Spider went to her pantry. She pulled out a glass bottle of olive oil and scuttled back.

“It would be easier to coat me if you took me off the web,” Prince said as she returned, but Miss Spider shook her head.

“No, no, not yet. I know your tricksss very well. You will ssstay there until I am ready.” Saying such, she uncorked the oil and poured it over him. He bit down on his tongue to keep from hissing in displeasure as the sticky, wet stuff made its way into his fur. This would have been so much easier if she’d pulled him off the webbing. Still, the oil would do the trick. He could already feel it working its way over the threads that bound him.

“There,” Miss Spider murmured. “Now you are good and ready.” She reached for him with her long, spindly hands.

“No, not quite!” Prince said urgently. “There’s one more step.”

“I am not interesssted in more sstepsss.”

“But this is the most important step,” Prince insisted. “Without it, you will not be able to enjoy eating me at all!”

Miss Spider squinted at him through the steam, which had now grown so thick it obscured nearly everything. “Thissss had better be the lassst sssstep, little cat.”

“Oh, it is, it is. And it is very simple. You must simply stuff cotton in your ears before you put me in the pot.”

Long, spindly legs clicked on the floor as Miss Spider shifted. “That doessss not sssseem needful. What doessss it have to do with the poissson?”

“Nothing with the poison. But, you see, I will yowl most horribly when you put me in the pot. It will be ever so loud, and it may very well make you go deaf! So deaf that you will not hear when your egg timer to cook me goes off, and then I will be overcooked and not fit to eat at all. That would be a very dreadful thing.” He widened his eyes with earnestness. Between the oil and the dampness in the air, he was sure he looked quite pathetic indeed. He hoped that was what she thought as well.

Grumbling, Miss Spider disappeared into the steam for a few moments. Prince tested the webbing in her absence, pulling against it slightly. He felt his oil-slick fur begin to pull away from it.

“All right, little cat.” Miss Spider’s silhouette appeared in the mist. Her voice was much louder—she’d done it. She wouldn’t be able to hear. And with the steam, she wouldn’t be able to see.

“Perfect,” Prince said. Then, he pulled.

The webbing came away with a slick pop. Bracing himself, Prince fell to the ground. He darted towards the open window, dodging beneath Miss Spider’s legs as she trundled back to the web. Moments later, he heard her shout in anger.

“LITTLE CAT!” she screeched. “COME BACK HERE! COME BACK HERE”

Prince didn’t stop to gloat. He flew towards the window. A huge leg swung near him, and he leapt up to avoid it. He bounced off the wall and sent spoons shaking off the wall. Silver fell around him like rain, but still he didn’t stop. He saw the window and jumped for it with every muscle in his body.

For one, brief moment, he felt something long and wiry grab for his tail. Fur went flying as Miss Spider tried to grab him. But we too fast. He cleared the sill and bounded out onto the lawn, onto the road. He didn’t stop running until he was well away from the house.

Then, he collapsed in the hollow of a cotton-wood tree. His breath came in shallow gasps as he struggled to reign in his heartbeat. Foolish, foolish cat. That had been far too close. He should have known better than to let himself be tricked in such a manner.

“Idiot cat,” he muttered. He pulled the satchel off and set it on the ground. As he did, he heard a clinking. His eyes widened. No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Crouching down, Prince opened the satchel. His eyes went wide as he beheld three spoons inside. They must have fallen into it as he fled.

A grin split his face. “A trick after all,” he chuckled. Then, flipping the satchel closed, he slung it over his shoulder. Whistling, he set off for his next delivery, accompanied by the clink of silver spoons.