Chapter Text
Willow was sitting off to the side of the Halloween party in Home. Everybody from the neighborhood was there. Howdy, dressed as a butterfly, was talking to Poppy, dressed as a hen, trying to sell yet another kitchen appliance as a knitting product. Julie, dressed as a witch, Sally, dressed as a cat, and a rather sparkly pink ball were engaged in a rather interesting conversation about nothing. Wally, dressed as a little devil, and Baranby, dressed as a clown, were by the snack table, Baraby getting an apple for Wally while he recounted one of the many stories about his past.
Frank, dressed in a vampire costume, noticed Willow’s absence from the festivities. His brow furrowed as he turned to Eddie, who was dressed as a scarecrow. “Have you seen Willow anywhere?” he asked. “I saw her come in, but it’s been a while.”
Eddie reassuringly pat Frank on the shoulder. “I’m sure she’s here somewhere. Maybe she’s setting up a corner to tell spooky stories.” Eddie shuddered at the thought, Sally and Willow had a talent for making him scared with those stories.
Frank shook his head. “No, Willow said she’d host the stories at her library this year,” he took a drink of the punch in his hand, “and that’s not until later.” He let out a breath of worry, it wasn’t like Willow to not participate in events like this.
Eddie, seeing Frank’s worry, glanced around until he saw the top of Willow’s white hair off to the side, staring at nothing. “There she is,” he said, pointing at where Willow was sitting.
Frank turned his head in the direction Eddie pointed and felt himself calm down as he saw the short woman. At least nothing was too wrong. “I’m going to go check on her,” he told Eddie. “I’ll be back.” He walked by the tables with various activities scattered across them, dodging a game Juile had abandoned in favor of pumpkin carving.
Once he reached Willow, he could see she was just staring at her cup. “Willow?” he asked, lightly placing a hand on her shoulder, which seemed to snap her out of whatever daze she was in.
Willow shook her head, the veil of her ghost costume fluttering. She looked up at Frank, her eyes widening slightly. “Frank,” she said, her voice light and slightly airy as it always was. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Well, frankly, you’ve been acting weird lately, Willow,” Frank said, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s like you’re hardly fully here anymore. What's wrong? Are some books you ordered late?”
Willow shook her head. “No, all my books are on time, Eddie’s made sure of it,” Willow replied. “It’s just a little brain fog, writer’s block if you will.” She moved her hands as she spoke, revealing even with her costume on she hadn’t taken off her purple striped arm warmers. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. I’ll be right as rain in a day or so.”
Frank nodded skeptically. “And the days- no, weeks before?” Willow being off due to writer’s block was nothing new, she often had something going on in her head to the point where it was odd when she couldn’t come up with anything. But this time was different, with writer’s block she never spaced out like this.
Willow chuckled nervously. “It’s been a particularly bad streak of writer’s block, I will admit.” She rubbed the back of her neck as she watched Barnaby slip on a banana peel, sending Julie into a fit of laughter after she was assured he was okay. “I’ve been taking nature walks with Wally in the morning to try and alleviate it, but I’m finding it hard to overcome.”
“Well, if your walks in the forest aren’t helping, maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me in my garden,” Frank said.
Willow looked back at Frank. “I thought Julie was helping you,” she said.
“She is,” Frank affirmed, “and she can be a wonderful help, but it’d be nice to have somebody who doesn’t accidentally fumble my tulips because she thought they were tiny onions.”
Willow nodded. “Sure, I’ll help, but some other day. After this I still need to prepare for spooky story time,” she said with a hum.
At the mention of spooky story time, Sally quickly made her way over. “Willow, I’ve been recently informed that the spooky tales have been moved to your library. Is this true?” Sally asked with her usual dramatic flare.
Willow nodded. “Yes, it’ll be at my library and a bit later than usual. I don’t want to scare anybody who doesn’t want to be scared this year,” she explained. Looking up at the clock, Willow gasped. “My apologies, Frank, Sally, but I need to go back to the library if I have a chance at having everything decorated the way I want.”
As Willow quickly made her exit, Sally said, “I bet she’s cooking up a doozie for stories tonight.” She smiled widely at the thought.
“I don’t think she will.” Frank stepped next to Sally. “Willow’s told me she has writer’s block, and, frankly-”
Sally put her hand out to silence Frank. “I’m sure the block is from stirring up the most scary story she’ll ever tell!” She waved her hands around. “About ghosts and zombies and monsters of the night, something to top everything she’s done yet!”
“I hope not!” Frank said firmly. “It’d be no good for her to burn herself out over some scary stories that’ll only be heard once.”
“Burnt out?!” Sally asked, her eyes wide and her hand on her chest. “I didn’t think it would be that bad.”
“If you had let me finish, you would’ve heard my suspicions,” Frank replied, “either way, don’t be pestering her about telling a story if she doesn’t have one.”