Gracie was a bit confused as she set out for her Mischief Night, as there hadn’t been nearly as much damage as usual. One house had been egged, and not much else that she could find. Chris and Paige had gone radio silent, which was also odd, but since they typically liked to gloat, not hearing from them was a bonus.
She was still planning her own Mischief as she snuck up to the Varlo house that was blank and dull this year, but typically had a very targetable Halloween makeover. Maybe she could knock over the mailbox? But while she was still making her plan, someone else had already made theirs.
A pole erupted from the ground behind Gracie, and took her up with it. The next thing she knew, her feet were tied at the ankles, and hands at the wrists, as she felt light and stuffed, somehow unable to move.
“It’s so sad that your group has so terrorized the Varlo’s they no longer put up decorations. Well, now you’ll be a wonderful centerpiece for them.”
Gracie struggled and squirmed, but she had no strength left in her plushed body. She looked up to see a witch hovering in the air.
“Wait, but I didn’t do anything!” She said.
The witch was thoughtful at that as she lowered to the ground and stepped off her broomstick. “That is true. Can I truly punish you to the extent of the others when you were merely making the attempt to mischief, while they were successful? It is a philosophical conundrum.” She tapped her chin with her wand. “Well, let me ask you: is this the first time you’ve performed Mischief Night pranks.”
Gracie clammed up, realizing that neither a lie, nor the truth, would help her cause.
“Well, Mrs. Crow? What is your answer?” The witch beckoned with her fingers and a force drew forth from Gracie’s chest, through her throat, and finally, her lips:
“Five years.” She said abruptly, the truth forced from her. “I’ve been doing this for five years.”
“Then, this is five years of Mischief debt. I’ve already worked out a deal with Mrs. Calhoun over the fate of your pumpkin friend, and I believe I’ll extend the same arrangement to you. For the Week of Mischief, for the next five years, you shall return to your natural objectified form to be placed in a yard, as warning to all looking to cause grief.”
“But…what if they decided to cause grief to me?”
The witch smiled and stepped forward, so she could play with one of Gracie’s long yellow braids. “Dear Mrs. Crow, you’re a lawn decoration now; you’re under my protection."