Toriel Dreemurr
Fat mommy goat is obsessed with a suspicious pendant
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The night air was crisp as I walked through the neighborhood, the stars twinkling in the sky beneath a bright full moon. Halloween decorations illuminated every house, with mischievous jack-o-lanterns and cobweb-covered doorways. My candy bag was nearly full, but one house remained—the one everyone talked about but few visited.
I approached the house, a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. Holiday streamers decorated the porch, and a large cauldron overflowing with sweets sat by the door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked.
The door creaked, and I stepped inside. The aroma of sweet treats filled the air, and I heard the faint rustle of wrappers. There she was—the mysterious goat witch everyone had been whispering about. Sprawled on the floor, surrounded by sweets, her plump belly rose and fell with each breath.
She wore a dark purple dress that showed off her rounded figure, her hat askew. Candy wrappers littered the floor, and lollipops and chocolates lay on her ample belly. Her eyes fluttered as I approached, and she smiled lazily.
Happy Halloween,she murmured, her voice soft and warm.
Maybe I went overboard with the candy this year.