halloween

by Bill Tiepelman

The Harvest Watcher

The Harvest Watcher’s Halloween Havoc It was Halloween night, the one night when The Harvest Watcher, a tiny elf with a sass level rivaled only by her height (about three inches, but don’t tell her that), had to keep a sharp eye on her pumpkin patch. She loved her job, really. Guarding pumpkins was her calling. But tonight, the forest felt different. The wind howled louder, the trees seemed darker, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted in a way that sounded suspiciously like laughter. This wasn’t just any Halloween—it was the full-moon kind, and every nutty ghoul and clueless mortal was about to waltz right into her patch. “Not on my watch,” she muttered, cracking her knuckles and adjusting her hat, which was festooned with berries, leaves, and enough autumn flair to put a Pinterest board to shame. She had barely settled onto her favorite stump when she heard a rustling in the bushes. Her heart sank. "Who goes there?” she called, her tiny voice echoing with a surprising authority. Out of the shadows slunk a group of costumed kids, about ten of them, carrying flashlights and candy bags already half-full. “Look, there she is! The forest elf!” one of them squealed, pointing right at her. Oh, for pumpkin’s sake. The Harvest Watcher sighed. She was hoping for at least another hour before the Halloween thrill-seekers showed up. But there was no stopping them once the stories got out. She glared at them, hands on her tiny hips. “What do you think you’re doing here? Don’t you have houses to egg or candy to steal?” she demanded, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We’re looking for the legendary forest treasures,” one particularly bold kid declared, flashing an annoyingly toothy grin. “We heard the elf would grant us a wish if we found her!” The Harvest Watcher snorted. “A wish? The only thing I’m going to grant you is a swift kick in the keister if you touch a single pumpkin.” But the kids only giggled, clearly unbothered by her threats. “Alright, last warning, kiddos,” she hissed, grabbing her trusty staff—a tiny twig but enchanted to pack a punch. They weren’t scared, so she figured it was time to give them a taste of her power. With a flourish, she waved her twig-staff, and the pumpkins began to glow with an eerie orange light. Their carved faces twisted and grinned, and the forest seemed to whisper, "Turn back…." Most of the kids screamed and took off, but one stubborn kid—the one who probably still believed in Santa at age fifteen—stood his ground, staring her down. “I’m not scared of you, tiny elf!” he taunted. “I’ll just take this pumpkin here and…” Before he could finish, the Harvest Watcher flicked her fingers, and the pumpkin he was reaching for came to life, sprouting vine-arms that wrapped around his legs. “HELP!” he yelped as he struggled to break free. The vines held firm, dragging him backwards as his friends yelled, “Leave it, Todd! She’s real! Run!” With a smirk, The Harvest Watcher released him, and he bolted after his friends, his dignity left somewhere between the forest entrance and the nearest pumpkin. Good riddance. She dusted off her hands. But the night wasn’t over yet. Far from it. Just as she was about to settle back down, she heard another rustling sound—this time from behind. “Please, let this be another raccoon in a witch hat,” she muttered, turning around. But what she saw made her jaw drop. Out of the trees sauntered three full-grown adults dressed as vampires. And not the classy, “I-hung-out-with-Dracula” type vampires. No, these were the bargain-bin, black-lipstick, ripped-fishnet-wearing kind. And judging by the bottles in their hands, they’d been celebrating since sundown. “Look, it’s the elf,” one of them slurred, leaning on his friend. “The one from the legends, right? If we catch her, we get a… a… prize or something?” The friend shrugged, mumbling something about how they “didn’t come all this way to get spooked by a forest pixie.” The Harvest Watcher groaned. “Alright, boys, turn around and head back to your party. I’m not here to entertain drunken vampires.” But they kept advancing, circling her pumpkin patch like wolves around a chicken coop. “Fine,” she said, cracking her knuckles again. “You want a Halloween scare? You’ve got it.” She chanted a few words in an ancient elfin tongue, and suddenly the pumpkins erupted into a roaring blaze of orange and green fire, illuminating the forest in an otherworldly light. The three men froze, their faces pale under the flickering glow. But that wasn’t enough for The Harvest Watcher. She flicked her wrist, and one of the pumpkins sprouted legs, hopping over to the lead vampire and letting out a tiny but menacing roar. “AHHH!” he shrieked, dropping his bottle and scrambling backwards. “And don’t come back!” she yelled after them as they stumbled and tripped their way out of the forest, half of them babbling apologies and the other half screaming about “demon pumpkins.” By now, the forest was quiet, and she was almost ready to call it a night. But Halloween had one last surprise for her. From the shadows, a cloaked figure emerged, small but dignified, with a pumpkin head carved with an elaborate, toothy grin. “Watcher,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. The Harvest Watcher narrowed her eyes. “Jack. You’re late.” Jack-o’-Lantern, the spirit of Halloween himself, shrugged. “Busy night, you know how it is. I just wanted to stop by and thank you for keeping things in order here.” “All in a night’s work, Jack. But you owe me. These mortals are getting more obnoxious every year.” Jack chuckled. “Fine. Next year, I’ll send you some reinforcements. Maybe a few werewolves to liven things up.” He gave her a wink, his carved face casting eerie shadows in the moonlight. And with that, he vanished into the mist, leaving The Harvest Watcher alone with her pumpkins and the lingering smell of cider and firelight. She gave one last look around her patch, satisfied that she’d held her ground. “Happy Halloween,” she whispered to her pumpkins. “Now rest up…there’s always next year.”    As the night grew quiet, The Harvest Watcher finally leaned back, content that her pumpkins were safe for another Halloween. But for those who wished to bring a piece of her pumpkin-protecting magic home, she’d left behind a few enchanted treasures of her own. Celebrate the spirit of Halloween year-round with The Harvest Watcher collection, available in charming forms: Throw Pillow – Bring cozy, whimsical charm to your space with this delightful pillow featuring The Harvest Watcher herself. Puzzle – Embrace a magical challenge and piece together this enchanting autumn scene, one pumpkin at a time. Tote Bag – Carry a bit of Halloween magic wherever you go with this sturdy, stylish tote bag. Tapestry – Transform any room into an autumn forest with a tapestry that captures all the whimsy and wonder of The Harvest Watcher’s realm. Whether you're a lover of Halloween, a fan of fantasy, or simply want to enjoy a touch of fall magic, The Harvest Watcher collection is here to bring a little enchantment to your everyday life. Happy Halloween…and remember, keep an eye on your pumpkins!

by Bill Tiepelman

Crisp Leaves and Curious Eyes

There’s something special about the pumpkin patch at night. Sure, it's a wholesome place by day—filled with giggling kids, hayrides, and apple cider—but come dusk, it changes. Maybe it’s the shadows from the jack-o'-lanterns flickering just a bit too long, or the way the wind howls through the cornfields, whispering secrets like it’s in on a joke you don’t quite get. For Evie, it was more than just a patch. It was her escape. An escape from the grown-up nonsense of bills, laundry, and men who couldn’t text back within a 48-hour window. Tonight, though, she was here for one thing: answers. Her straw hat was tipped low over her face, a ridiculous scarecrow get-up she borrowed from the bottom of her attic’s Halloween bin. The patch wasn’t open to the public at this hour, but Evie wasn’t exactly the rule-following type. So, under the guise of “blending in,” she figured scarecrow attire would be just inconspicuous enough. Because who questions a girl holding a black kitten, after all? She didn't name it—cats weren’t her thing—but it showed up one day, eyes glowing like it was auditioning for a Tim Burton movie. The damn thing followed her everywhere now, like a fuzzy, judgmental shadow. "Alright, mystery pumpkin patch," she muttered to herself, kicking a random gourd with the tip of her boot, "what are you hiding?" Evie wasn’t entirely sure why she’d come back. Maybe it was the weird note she’d found stuffed in her grocery bag last week. “Your answers are in the patch. Come alone.” She'd chuckled when she first read it, thinking some loser from the dating app was trying to get creative with his pick-up lines. Or worse, some MLM hun trying to sell her organic pumpkin spice oils. But curiosity got the best of her, as it often did. As she crept deeper into the field, the pumpkins seemed bigger, more sinister. The moonlight danced on the orange skin of each one, giving them a strange, almost human expression. She caught herself staring a little too long at a particularly squat one that looked like it could pass as her high school gym teacher. "You judging me too, Coach Johnson? Yeah, well, screw you. Your crossfit circuit was a joke," she muttered under her breath, glaring at the gourd. The kitten meowed, as if in agreement. Or maybe protest. Who knew with cats? A Rumble in the Patch Suddenly, there was a rustling in the rows of corn nearby. Evie froze, her heart doing that weird skippy thing it always did when she felt like she was about to be caught doing something she shouldn’t. The kitten, on the other hand, seemed utterly unimpressed, licking its paw like the possibility of danger was an afterthought. "Who’s there?" she called, her voice wobbling only slightly. She might be a grown woman, but cornfields at night had a way of bringing out the nine-year-old in anyone. There was no answer, but she could feel eyes on her. And not just pumpkin eyes. Evie tightened her grip on the kitten, which, again, seemed more annoyed than protective. She spun around, her gaze darting from one oversized pumpkin to the next, half expecting one to stand up and start chasing her like a scene from a B-movie horror flick. Then, from behind a particularly large patch of sunflowers, a figure emerged. "Well, well, if it isn’t Little Miss Scarecrow. You really went all out, huh?" The voice was annoyingly familiar. It was Todd. Of course, it was Todd. The only guy she knew who’d break into a pumpkin patch for kicks and who, for some reason, believed showing up unannounced was 'quirky' and not just downright creepy. "Todd? Seriously? The note was from you? What the hell?" Todd smirked, stepping forward into the moonlight, revealing a mismatched pirate costume—complete with an eyepatch that seemed to be slipping off his head at an unfortunate angle. "Yeah, yeah, sorry about the theatrics. But I needed to get your attention. You haven’t been answering my texts." Evie rolled her eyes so hard she was sure they were going to pop out of her skull. "You can’t just lure me to a damn pumpkin patch with some cryptic-ass note, Todd. And your texts? What part of 'we broke up three months ago' didn’t get through to your tiny, pirate-infested brain?" "I thought it was romantic. You know, like an autumn mystery? You like mysteries." "I like mysteries involving crime, Todd, not my ex-boyfriend who can’t let go." The Real Mystery Just as Evie was about to tear into him further—because if Todd deserved anything, it was a proper verbal smackdown—a loud rumble shook the ground. The pumpkins trembled. Even Todd, with all his “I’m just a cool guy” bravado, took a step back. "Uh... did you feel that?" Evie asked, her anger momentarily replaced by actual concern. "Yeah," Todd nodded. "Was that...an earthquake?" "In Ohio? Really? That’s your answer?" Before either of them could come up with a better explanation, the ground started to shift again. This time, it wasn’t just a tremble. Something—something—was pushing its way up through the soil. Evie’s heart leapt into her throat as a giant pumpkin began to rise, roots snapping, dirt flying everywhere. "Okay, WHAT THE ACTUAL—" Todd blurted, eyes wide as dinner plates. The giant pumpkin cracked open, revealing...a man. A man? No, not just any man. He was dressed in a suit, covered in dirt, and holding a clipboard. "Excuse me," the man said, adjusting his tie like this was the most normal thing in the world, "I’m here to conduct the annual Pumpkin Patch Inspection. You two are trespassing." Evie stared, mouth agape, the kitten meowing in confused irritation. "You mean...this is about zoning regulations or something?" she asked, unable to process the absurdity of the moment. "Yes," the inspector said, flipping through his clipboard nonchalantly. "This patch is in violation of several autumnal codes. You’ll need to leave." Evie and Todd exchanged bewildered glances. This night had taken a turn that even Evie, in her wildest mysteries, couldn’t have imagined. "So, uh, no haunted pumpkin conspiracy then?" Evie asked. The inspector sighed. "No. Just poor agricultural planning." With that, the giant pumpkin closed back up, sinking into the ground as if nothing had happened. Evie stood there, utterly baffled, wondering what the hell she just witnessed. "Well," Todd finally muttered, "at least you got your answer." "Shut up, Todd."    Bring the Magic of "Crisp Leaves and Curious Eyes" Home If you're as enchanted by the whimsical charm and autumn magic of Evie and her fluffy feline companion as we are, you'll love these unique products featuring the stunning artwork "Crisp Leaves and Curious Eyes" by Bill and Linda Tiepelman. Perfect for adding a touch of autumn to your home or to give as a quirky gift! Autumn Tapestry – Hang a piece of fall magic on your wall with this beautifully detailed tapestry. Wood Print – Bring rustic autumn vibes to your space with this textured wood print. Puzzle – Get cozy on chilly nights while piecing together this fun, detailed autumn puzzle. Tote Bag – Carry a bit of autumn wonder with you wherever you go with this charming tote. Explore the full collection and bring the playful spirit of fall into your world with these delightful pieces!

by Bill Tiepelman

Fur, Wings, and Midnight Stars

It wasn’t your typical night. No, it was one of those nights where everything felt just a little… off. The kind where the moon looked like it was hanging a little too low in the sky, the stars twinkled with an extra bit of sass, and the air smelled faintly of something suspiciously floral. As if the world had decided to add a hint of cherry blossom perfume, just to throw everyone off. Hanging from a thin branch, Bob, a bat with what he liked to call "above-average fur," swung upside down, wondering how his life had come to this exact point. Cherry blossoms? Really? How cliché. He’d been aiming for mysterious and edgy, not some kind of romantic backdrop for a Hallmark movie. Yet here he was, blending into an Instagram post waiting to happen, all fluffy and cute. Yuck. “Look at me,” he muttered sarcastically, squinting at the petals gently falling around him. “I’m a walking Pinterest board.” He flicked his wings dramatically, sending a couple of cherry blossoms fluttering to the ground like they had personally offended him. The moon, in its usual overly dramatic fashion, glowed as brightly as it could, determined to outshine everything else in the sky. “Oh, look at me,” the moon seemed to say. “I’m so big and round and full of myself.” Typical moon behavior. Bob rolled his eyes—at least as much as a bat could roll its eyes while hanging upside down. “Could you tone it down a bit?” Bob called out to the moon. “Some of us are trying to be mysterious over here.” The moon, of course, didn’t respond. It never did. Always too busy being the center of attention. Stars, on the other hand, twinkled mischievously in the background, as if they were in on some cosmic joke Bob hadn’t been invited to. “Oh yeah, sure, laugh it up,” Bob mumbled. “You’ve got one job. Blink. Real impressive. Meanwhile, I’m out here doing acrobatics, defying gravity, and hanging by my freakin’ toes. But sure, let's all focus on the big shiny ball in the sky.” At that moment, a particularly bold cherry blossom floated down and had the audacity to land directly on Bob’s head. He sighed heavily. “Perfect. Just perfect. This is exactly what I needed. A flower crown. I look like the poster bat for a hipster festival. Someone hand me a tiny latte so I can complete the look.” Bob had been hanging around this tree for a few hours now, waiting for something exciting to happen. And by exciting, he meant anything that wasn’t him accidentally falling asleep and almost plummeting to the ground. It wasn’t his fault, though. The nocturnal life could get... repetitive. You'd think a creature of the night would have some epic adventures—maybe an underground rave, or a thrilling chase with a vampire—but no. Mostly it was just endless nights of hanging out (literally) and listening to the wind rustle through the branches. “Why did I choose this tree again?” he asked himself. “Oh right, because the last one had that squirrel problem. Ugh, don’t even get me started on squirrels. One time I blinked, and they’d stolen my entire stash of perfectly good berries. And for what? To bury them? In what world does that make sense? Do they even remember where they put them? Spoiler alert: no.” Suddenly, a second bat—Vera—swooped in and landed gracefully next to Bob. She hung there, looking effortlessly cool, her sleek wings catching the moonlight in just the right way. Bob hated it when she did that. “You look... cozy,” Vera said, eyeing Bob’s accidental flower crown with a smirk. “Oh yeah, I’m living the dream,” Bob replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just me, my petals, and an overly enthusiastic moon.” He flapped his wings lazily. “Life doesn’t get better than this.” Vera chuckled, her amusement only adding to Bob’s misery. “You’re such a drama bat,” she teased. “It’s kind of adorable, in a ‘tragically misunderstood artist’ kind of way.” “Please,” Bob scoffed. “I’m not misunderstood. I understand myself perfectly. I’m just not sure why I bother.” They hung in silence for a while, watching the stars flicker and the wind carry the scent of cherry blossoms through the air. Every now and then, Bob would let out an exasperated sigh, as if the weight of the entire night sky rested on his little bat shoulders. “You know,” Vera said after a while, “you could always just... fly somewhere else. If the cherry blossoms bother you that much.” “Fly where? Every tree around here is basically a scene from a botanical calendar. There’s no escaping the pretty.” “Or you could embrace it,” Vera suggested, clearly trying to be the voice of reason. “It’s not so bad. You’ve got a prime spot, great view of the moon—” “Ugh, don’t mention the moon,” Bob interrupted, glaring at the big glowing ball in the sky. “It’s like a giant nightlight that won’t turn off. Ever.” “Or,” Vera continued, ignoring him, “you could stop being so grumpy about everything. Maybe try... I don’t know... enjoying yourself?” Bob snorted. “Enjoy myself? In this economy?” Vera sighed, but there was a fondness in her eyes as she watched Bob fume over the petals that continued to rain down. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” “Yeah, well, someone’s got to be the voice of reason in this overly-optimistic world.” Bob shook the cherry blossom crown off his head. “Besides, I hear being miserable is very in this season.” “Oh yeah?” Vera raised an eyebrow. “And where did you hear that?” “The stars,” Bob said with a wink. “They’re gossipers, you know.” Vera laughed, and for a brief moment, Bob let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all. Even if he did feel like a decorative ornament hanging in some picturesque scene. “Alright,” Bob sighed. “Maybe I’ll stick around a little longer. But if one more petal lands on my head, I’m burning this tree down.” “Good luck with that,” Vera replied, her voice dripping with amusement. “Let me know how that goes.” And so, with the stars giggling overhead, and the moon continuing to shine like the overachiever it was, Bob the bat decided to endure the night—flower crowns and all. After all, someone had to keep things grounded while the rest of the world floated away in its ridiculous beauty. Besides, the view wasn’t half bad.    Enjoyed the whimsical charm of "Fur, Wings, and Midnight Stars"? Now, you can bring a piece of Bob's night into your home! Whether you want to snuggle up with a cozy throw pillow or transform your space with a stunning tapestry, we’ve got you covered: Throw Pillow – Add a touch of moonlit whimsy to your couch with this fluffy bat-inspired pillow. Duvet Cover – Drift into dreams with this charming nocturnal scene wrapped around your bed. Tote Bag – Carry a piece of the night with you wherever you go, perfect for the quirky bat lover. Tapestry – Turn your wall into a dreamy, moonlit canvas with this beautiful piece. Explore the full collection and embrace the magic of "Fur, Wings, and Midnight Stars" today!

by Bill Tiepelman

The Harvest Hoot: Owl’s Autumn Adventure

In the heart of the forest, where the trees were ablaze with autumn colors and the ground was a patchwork quilt of crunchy leaves, there lived a very peculiar owl. His name? Well, he didn’t really care to tell anyone his name. To most of the woodland creatures, he was simply that owl, but to himself, he was known as Archimedes—a name he had plucked from a dusty library book left behind by a lost hiker. Archimedes wasn’t your average owl. Sure, he had the usual owl trappings: feathers, big eyes, and an annoying tendency to hoot at inopportune moments. But what really set him apart was his love for all things autumn—and not in the basic, pumpkin-spice-latte way. Oh no, Archimedes was a full-on fall fanatic, with a weakness for harvest festivals, crunchy leaves, and most importantly, pumpkins. It was mid-October, and the annual forest harvest festival was just around the corner. Naturally, Archimedes was feeling pretty smug. Every year, the animals gathered for the big event: there were the squirrels showing off their acorn-hauling skills, the foxes running their speed races, and the rabbits competing in some highly questionable pie-eating contests. Archimedes, of course, had long since declared himself the “Pumpkin Patch Overseer”—a completely self-appointed title that no one bothered to contest. Feathers, Pumpkins, and a Hat “Looking good, Archimedes!” a chipper chipmunk called out as she scurried by, her cheeks stuffed with what appeared to be at least twenty acorns. “Love the hat!” “Obviously,” Archimedes muttered, fluffing his feathers. He was indeed sporting a rather dashing autumn hat—a little number he’d “borrowed” from a scarecrow in a nearby field. It was adorned with miniature pumpkins, berries, and even a few fancy feathers. Not that he cared about aesthetics, of course. He wore it for functionality. Yes, it kept his head warm… in theory. “Nice hat,” another voice chimed in, this time from a passing rabbit. Archimedes let out an exaggerated sigh. “Why, thank you,” he said dryly, “because what I really needed in my life was more commentary on my fashion choices from woodland critters who don’t even wear pants.” The rabbit blinked, then shrugged and bounced away, muttering something about owls and their attitudes. The Pumpkin Problem As the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the forest, Archimedes turned his attention to the real reason he had chosen to oversee the pumpkin patch: the pumpkins themselves. These pumpkins weren’t just any pumpkins—they were enchanted. Every year, on the night of the harvest festival, something strange happened in the patch. The pumpkins, for reasons unknown to any of the animals, glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light. Some said it was magic. Others blamed it on the squirrels messing around with leftover fairy dust. This year, Archimedes was determined to find out what was going on. He fluffed up his feathers and perched proudly atop the biggest pumpkin he could find, ready to keep watch. Or at least he would have, if a gust of wind hadn’t sent his hat flying right into a nearby thorn bush. “For crying out loud,” he muttered, hopping off the pumpkin with a level of indignation only an owl in a fancy hat could muster. The Mystery of the Glowing Gourds As the night wore on, the animals began to gather around the pumpkin patch, waiting for the annual glow-up. Archimedes, having retrieved his now slightly tattered hat, was perched on a nearby tree branch, watching the crowd with a critical eye. “I don’t get the big deal,” one squirrel whispered to another. “They’re just pumpkins.” “Just pumpkins?” Archimedes hooted in disbelief. “These are the most mysterious gourds in the entire forest. You’ve clearly never seen the magic of Halloween.” Sure enough, as the moon rose high above the trees, the pumpkins began to glow. Softly at first, then brighter and brighter, until the entire patch was bathed in an eerie, magical light. The squirrels stopped chattering. The rabbits quit hopping around. Even the always-dramatic foxes fell silent. Everyone was mesmerized by the scene. “See?” Archimedes said, nodding to himself. “It’s magic. Pure, pumpkin-spiced magic.” But just as he was about to congratulate himself on a successful night of overseeing, something strange began to happen. One of the pumpkins—a particularly large one near the center of the patch—started to move. “Uh… does anyone else see that?” a nearby raccoon whispered, eyes wide. Before anyone could answer, the pumpkin wobbled, shook, and then—POOF—it exploded in a cloud of glowing orange mist. And from the mist, a tiny, rather confused ghost appeared, floating a few inches off the ground. “Well, that’s new,” Archimedes muttered, his feathers ruffling in surprise. A Hooting Good Time The ghost, who looked like it was just as surprised to be there as anyone else, blinked its big, wide eyes and looked around at the stunned animals. “Uh… boo?” it said, uncertainly. “Boo?” Archimedes scoffed. “That’s the best you’ve got? It’s Halloween, for crying out loud. At least try to be scary.” The ghost looked a little sheepish—or at least as sheepish as a floating, glowing blob could look. “I’m new at this,” it said quietly. “Clearly,” Archimedes said, rolling his eyes. “But I’ll give you points for effort. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a pumpkin patch to oversee and a hat to fix.” As Archimedes flew off, leaving the animals to gawk at the tiny ghost (who was now trying out a slightly better "boo"), he couldn't help but feel a bit of pride. After all, he had solved the mystery of the glowing pumpkins—kind of. Sure, the pumpkins were haunted, and maybe a ghost had accidentally exploded out of one, but who was keeping track? The important thing was that the harvest festival had been a hooting success, and once again, Archimedes had been at the center of it all—whether anyone appreciated it or not. The Real Magic of the Season As he perched himself back on a tree branch, watching the animals below chatter and laugh about the night's strange events, Archimedes allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Autumn really was the best time of year. The air was crisp, the leaves were crunchy, and there was always a bit of magic—whether it came from glowing pumpkins, tiny ghosts, or, in his case, a particularly dapper hat. “Next year,” Archimedes murmured to himself, “I’m getting a better hat. Maybe something with sequins.” And with that, the snarky owl settled in for the night, ready to dream about pumpkin pie, Halloween pranks, and possibly running for mayor of the pumpkin patch next year. After all, someone had to keep things interesting.    Take a Piece of the Harvest Magic Home If you’re as enchanted by Archimedes and his autumn adventures as we are, why not bring a bit of that whimsical magic into your own space? Cozy up to the fall vibes and show off your love for the snarkiest owl in the pumpkin patch with these special products: The Harvest Hoot Throw Pillow – Add a touch of autumn charm to your living room or bedroom with this adorable throw pillow, featuring Archimedes in all his hat-wearing glory! The Harvest Hoot Fleece Blanket – Wrap yourself up in this cozy fleece blanket and enjoy some fall comfort, perfect for chilly nights or snuggling up with your favorite autumn reads. The Harvest Hoot Tapestry – Transform your space with this vibrant tapestry, featuring our wise owl hero surrounded by pumpkins and fall foliage. It’s the perfect seasonal decor for your home or office. The Harvest Hoot Tote Bag – Take a bit of fall magic with you wherever you go! This charming tote bag is perfect for carrying your autumn essentials (or maybe a pumpkin or two). Each product brings the whimsy of the harvest season and the charm of Archimedes right into your everyday life. Whether you’re decorating for fall or just looking to add a little snarky owl flair to your space, these items are the perfect choice! Explore more seasonal magic at Unfocussed Shop, where autumn adventure meets cozy home decor.

by Bill Tiepelman

Hocus Pocus Tortoise

The Hocus Pocus Tortoise It was Halloween night, and Carl wasn’t feeling the spooky spirit. While his neighbors adorned their lawns with inflatable skeletons and fake gravestones, Carl preferred something quieter—Netflix and boxed wine. However, when he stepped outside to take out the trash, he noticed something strange at his front door. A tortoise. But not just any tortoise. This one wore a purple witch’s hat, with a buckle gleaming in the moonlight, and its shell was carved like a jack-o'-lantern. A small cauldron bubbled beside it, and Carl swore he heard... cackling? “Alright, I’ve seen weirder stuff after a couple glasses,” Carl mumbled. He approached the tortoise cautiously. “What’s your deal, little guy?” The tortoise blinked slowly, then—much to Carl's disbelief—spoke. “Not so little, are we now? I’m a magical tortoise, buddy. Call me Hexley.” “A talking tortoise. Yeah, sure, why not. How many drinks have I had?” Carl rubbed his eyes and looked around, but the street was empty except for Hexley. “Alright, let’s play along. What do you want, Hexley?” “Oh, it’s not what I want, it’s what you need,” Hexley said with a sly grin, his eyes twinkling beneath the brim of his oversized witch hat. “I sense you’ve been avoiding the fun, Carl. Don’t think I don’t know about your sad attempt at avoiding Halloween by binge-watching rom-coms.” “Wait, how do you know my name?” Carl stammered, stepping back. Hexley’s shell glowed faintly orange as he chuckled. “Buddy, I’m not just any tortoise. I’m the Hocus Pocus Tortoise! Halloween is my domain. And right now, you’re my project.” Chaos Unleashed Before Carl could object, Hexley waved a claw in the air, and suddenly, Carl’s once-boring front yard exploded into a full-blown Halloween carnival. Pumpkins swirled through the air, turning into enormous jack-o’-lanterns with flaming eyes. Skeletons danced on his lawn, and somehow, his trash bin had transformed into a candy dispenser shooting full-sized chocolate bars. “Whoa, whoa! Stop, stop!” Carl shouted, nearly tripping over a rogue black cat that dashed past him. “I didn’t ask for this!” Hexley grinned wider. “That’s the beauty of it. No one asks for a magical tortoise to ruin—or rather, improve—their evening. But here I am.” He waddled slowly toward Carl, his shell glowing with every step. “Now, how about we liven you up a little?” With another wave of his claw, Carl felt a strange tingle in his body. He looked down and—what the hell?—he was now dressed in a pirate costume, complete with a hook for a hand, an eye patch, and a bottle of rum. “I look like an idiot!” Carl yelled, though part of him found the situation strangely hilarious. “That’s the point, matey,” Hexley said, now perched atop a conjured treasure chest. “You’re supposed to let loose! Life’s too short to be boring. Besides, the neighborhood Halloween party starts in ten minutes. You’re going as Captain Carl.” “I don’t even like parties!” Carl protested, but Hexley just shook his head. The Wildest Night As if on cue, his phone buzzed. It was a notification from the neighbors: “Halloween Block Party. Join us, Carl! Don’t be a buzzkill this year.” Carl sighed, knowing Hexley wasn’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Come on, Captain Carl,” Hexley said with a wink. “It’s not every day you get invited to the party of the year by a magical tortoise. Let’s go make some chaos.” And so, with a combination of resignation and curiosity, Carl grabbed his bottle of rum and followed Hexley down the street. His neighbors were already gathering, dressed as zombies, superheroes, and werewolves, but none of them had a tortoise with a pumpkin shell casting spells left and right. Before he knew it, Carl was the center of attention, thanks to Hexley. The tortoise had turned the punch bowl into a fountain of margaritas, the party snacks into gourmet appetizers, and at one point, he enchanted the music playlist to only play ‘Monster Mash’ on a loop. But somehow, everyone loved it. By the end of the night, Carl found himself laughing more than he had in years. He’d won the costume contest (because of course, a magical tortoise’s creation would win), danced like an idiot, and even made a couple of new friends. A Bewitching End As the party wound down and the crowd began to disperse, Carl sat on the curb with Hexley beside him, nursing a final drink. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” Carl said, wiping his brow. “You were right. I needed this.” Hexley gave a slow nod. “Of course, I was right. I’m always right.” He smirked, tipping his witch hat. “Now, next year, we’ll turn it up even more. Maybe I’ll turn you into a werewolf, or a sexy vampire. We’ll see.” Carl chuckled, shaking his head. “No more surprises. One night of magical chaos is enough for me, thanks.” Hexley just grinned. “We’ll see about that, Carl. We’ll see.” And with that, the Hocus Pocus Tortoise vanished into the mist, leaving Carl to wonder if any of it had been real at all. Except for the fact that he was still in a pirate costume, and his lawn still had a skeleton breakdancing under the moonlight. “Next year’s gonna be even weirder, isn’t it?” Carl muttered, as he stumbled back inside, kicking a pumpkin out of the way. “Dammit, Hexley.”     Bring Hexley's Magic Home If Hexley's mischief has sparked your Halloween spirit, you can bring a bit of the magic home with you. Whether you're decorating or gifting, these Hocus Pocus Tortoise products will cast a fun spell on your home: Hocus Pocus Tortoise Framed Print – Capture the essence of Hexley’s whimsical charm with this high-quality framed print. Perfect for adding a spooky yet playful vibe to any room. Hocus Pocus Tortoise Puzzle – Love a challenge? Piece together this magical tortoise while sipping on your favorite Halloween treat. Hocus Pocus Tortoise Greeting Cards – Send some spooky fun to friends with these delightful greeting cards, featuring Hexley in all his Halloween glory. Hocus Pocus Tortoise Coffee Mug – Start your mornings with a bit of mischief! This mug is the perfect companion for sipping your brew and plotting your own magical adventures. Whether you're decorating for Halloween or simply love the idea of a magical tortoise making your life more interesting, these products are sure to make Hexley a part of your world.

by Bill Tiepelman

The Enigmatic Zombie Gnome: Brain on the Rocks

It wasn’t easy being undead. And for a gnome, it was especially awkward. Gerald, formerly known as “Gerald the Garden Defender,” now just went by “The Enigmatic Zombie Gnome.” Partly because it sounded mysterious, but mostly because no one in their right mind would mess with a brain-holding zombie gnome. Gerald, once a proud protector of suburban lawns, had been through some stuff. It all started when some dipshit sorcerer—probably fresh off his third Dungeons & Dragons campaign—decided he needed a few gnome corpses for "experiments." A couple of chants, a blood moon, and one botched spell later, Gerald and his fellow garden buddies were up and walking. Except now, they weren’t trimming hedges or scaring squirrels. No, they were dragging their sorry, rotting butts around, contemplating life’s bigger questions. Like, “Why the hell was Gerald holding a brain?” “This can’t be mine,” Gerald muttered, staring at the dripping, mushy mass in his hand. He squeezed it lightly. A satisfying squelch. “Feels a little too fresh to be mine, honestly. Or maybe I’ve just been dead too long to remember.” He scratched his cobweb-covered hat, which, let’s be real, was holding on to its last shred of dignity by a thread. Literally. Wandering around the garden, Gerald glanced at the other zombie gnomes. Steve—who still had a daisy growing out of his eye socket—was gnawing on a stick. Classic Steve. And Larry? Larry just stared into the distance with a vacant look, drool pooling on his chin. Probably thinking deep thoughts about existentialism or some crap. Or maybe he was just wondering where his pants went. It was a toss-up. “Right,” Gerald mumbled, tossing the brain up like a football. He caught it with an impressive splat. “Guess I should find the idiot this belongs to.” Gerald was no hero. He didn’t give two dead rat turds about whose brain it was. But he also didn’t want to be mistaken for some gory IKEA mascot lugging a squishy accessory everywhere. He had standards. Off to the Neighbors Gerald shuffled past the rusty garden gate and out onto the sidewalk. The sun was setting—thankfully, because zombie gnomes in broad daylight? Not exactly “incognito.” The first stop was Mr. and Mrs. Johnson’s place next door. They were old, weird, and smelled like prune juice, but if anyone’s brain had spontaneously vacated their skull, it was probably one of them. Gerald gave the doorbell a try, but his green, decomposing finger went straight through it. “Perfect,” he groaned. He was about to kick the door in when Mrs. Johnson opened it, staring wide-eyed at the gnome standing on her welcome mat, brain in hand. “Oh dear, what have you got there?” she asked, squinting through thick bifocals. Gerald groaned. If she had a brain at all, it was clearly on its last neurons. “Is this yours?” Gerald asked, thrusting the brain toward her like a broken UPS package. “Found it in the garden. Thought you might’ve dropped it. Though honestly, if it was yours, you probably wouldn’t even notice. No offense.” Mrs. Johnson tilted her head. “I don’t think so, dear. I’m quite sure mine’s still in here somewhere.” She tapped her temple with a bony finger. “Right. Yeah, sure,” Gerald muttered under his breath. “Well, if you happen to lose it, you know where to find me.” He waved the brain for emphasis, letting a chunk of it plop onto her doorstep. “Whoops. My bad.” And with that, he shuffled off down the street. The Bar Crawl Next stop, the local dive bar. Maybe someone there had misplaced their brain—Gerald certainly wouldn’t be surprised, judging by the clientele. The bar was dimly lit, reeked of stale beer, and was populated by the same two guys who had probably been glued to their stools since the Reagan administration. Gerald dragged himself in, brain still in tow, and plopped onto a stool. The bartender—a grizzled man who looked like he’d seen one too many zombie flicks—just stared. “We don’t serve gnomes,” he grunted, polishing a glass with all the enthusiasm of someone hoping for an early death. “Not here for a drink,” Gerald replied, propping the brain on the counter. “Unless you’ve got something that’ll make this less squishy. Got any formaldehyde on tap?” The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Buddy, if that’s your brain, I think you’ve had enough drinks already.” “Ha. Ha. Hilarious,” Gerald said with a roll of his milky, undead eyes. “But seriously. Anyone lose this? Saw some of your regulars out back, and let’s be honest, this brain probably has more function than half of them combined.” The bartender snorted, wiping down the counter. “Try the morgue, pal. Maybe someone there’s missing a few marbles.” Some Questions Are Best Left Unanswered By the end of the night, Gerald still hadn’t found the owner of the brain. And after running into a couple of particularly brainless joggers, he was starting to wonder if it was worth keeping around at all. He gave it a last squish, smirking at the satisfying sound. “You know what? Screw it,” Gerald decided, tossing the brain into a nearby hedge. “Someone’ll find it. Or not. Either way, I’m done being the neighborhood lost-and-found.” He stretched, groaning as his bones popped. “Back to the garden for me. Maybe tomorrow I’ll lose a limb and someone will return it. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll find out whose dog keeps crapping on my lawn.” As Gerald shuffled back to his post, he couldn’t help but smile. Being undead was a pain in the ass, but hey—at least he wasn’t completely brainless. Unlike Steve.

by Bill Tiepelman

Shadow of the Crescent Curse

There’s something about cats and moonlight that always felt... magical. But not the fairy-tale kind of magic. No, we’re talking about the kind that comes with a side of eerie glowing eyes, a faint whiff of brimstone, and the unsettling feeling that you’ve just made a very, very poor life decision. Meet Lucifer—yes, that’s his name, and no, he didn’t pick it. Blame the witch who adopted him. Lucifer was your standard black cat: sleek fur, a disdain for humans, and a penchant for knocking over things you’d just organized. He had it all. Until one fateful Halloween night under the crescent moon, when things took a turn for the weird. The Devil's In The Details Lucifer, already burdened with a rather dramatic name, woke up feeling... different. His reflection in the mirror seemed off. Not because he was vain (though let’s be real, he looked good), but because two small, very noticeable devil horns were now poking through the fur on his head. "Cute, right?" said the witch, cackling in the background as she stirred something bubbling and green in her cauldron. “It’s just a little spell I whipped up.” Lucifer glared. Cute? He was a demon now. Well, at least a low-level one with horns and a newfound fondness for spooking anyone who dared cross his path. Fractals and Wings, Oh My! As if the horns weren’t enough, things escalated. Slowly but surely, swirling fractal wings began to emerge, glowing with a soft, eerie light. Oh yes, now he was a full-on mystical creature. His wings stretched out, crackling with subtle, semi-abstract patterns that looked like they had been plucked straight from a Salvador Dalí painting on a hallucinogenic trip. Lucifer admired his new additions. "Okay," he thought, "this might not be so bad." The wings gave him an air of mystery—a sort of "don’t mess with me, I’m probably cursed" vibe that even the witch seemed mildly impressed by. The Evil Grin Then came the grin. It started small, a twitch of the whiskers, a little gleam in his eyes. Soon, it grew into a full, devilish smirk that would give even the most hardened Halloween ghoul second thoughts. And that’s when Lucifer knew: this was his moment. As he prowled through the witch’s cobblestone courtyard, his new wings casting faint fractal shadows on the ground, Lucifer embraced his new devilish identity. He was a creature of the night now—part cat, part demon, all trouble. The villagers would whisper of the black cat with glowing wings, an evil grin, and the aura of curses. It was everything he never knew he wanted. A New Beginning Under the Crescent Moon So, there he sits, perched beneath the crescent moon, with devil horns and fractal wings that shimmer in the darkness. The witch calls it the Crescent Curse, but Lucifer prefers to think of it as an upgrade. Why settle for ordinary when you could be the most sinister, most cursed, and oddly cute creature to ever prowl the night? If you ever find yourself out on a cold autumn night, watch for the faint glow of fractal wings under the moonlight. If you’re lucky (or unlucky, depending on your perspective), you might just catch a glimpse of Lucifer flashing his evil grin. But be warned—cross his path, and you might end up part of his next trick. Or treat. Or both. Happy Haunting!   Bring a touch of Lucifer's mysterious charm to your daily routine with the Shadow of the Crescent Curse mouse pad. Featuring the captivating artwork of the demon cat with fractal wings and an ominous full moon backdrop, this mouse pad is perfect for those who love a little magic and mystery in their workspace. The smooth surface offers precision for both work and play, while the non-slip rubber base ensures stability even during the most intense tasks. Whether you're a gamer or just want to add a dash of supernatural flair to your desk, this mouse pad makes every click a little more enchanting. Ready to invite Lucifer to your desktop? Grab your mouse pad now and let the magic begin! Lucifer’s tale doesn’t have to end under the crescent moon. If his eerie charm, glowing wings, and mischievous grin have cast their spell on you, there’s more to explore. Step deeper into the magic and let this feline trickster accompany you beyond the page. Every detail of the artwork brings Lucifer’s unique blend of whimsy and mischief to life—waiting to find a new home. Discover the full collection and see how the Crescent Curse continues to unfold in all its enchanting forms. Catch a glimpse of Lucifer's next move here.