Meet Cate by Fiona Barnes

satisfied with the scratch scratch sound her pen made as it marked the white sheet. Hot cider cooled, forgotten, in the clean white mug beside her right hand. The warmth of the mug had heated Cate's heart as she carried it out to the table, both hands laced around the thick china. The spicy scent of crisp apples, warm vanilla and thick cinnamon sticks drifted slowly toward her nose. The chunk of milk chocolate she'd popped in her mouth moments ago melted on her tongue, delighting her taste buds. The sweetness of it calmed and comforted.
    She'd have grapes for eyeballs, an old favorite. Add a twist , Cate jotted quickly, tapping the pen to her lip as she thought. Toothpicks speared through them? With− what? she wrote, underlining and circling the word several times for emphasis.
    Cate could do menus standing on her head while being fed grasshoppers. Grasshoppers! she wrote . Chocolate delicacies for the parents. The dads could gross out their daughters. Perfect.
    She added to her list: cider, cold/hot. A long party grinder, she'd do her cooking spot on that, Cate decided. A quick spin-through: how much meat, mayo and toppings (lettuce, tomato, onion and pickle) to add per person. Of course, she'd offer pizza alongside the sandwich. Homemade potato chips, or donated? The pen tapped again as she thought, eyes skyward.
    So far, she had several main courses, a few sides, and drinks. Cate scrawled coffee, water. Lrg fruit/veg plate. Dessert.
    Now she wanted to think about ambiance. Jotting atmosphere across the top of another clean sheet, Cate tapped a rhythm on the wooden tabletop with the end of the pen.
    Maybe she'd leave the effects to the crew. She knew she wanted fog, cobwebs, creepy mirrors and a staircase. (Why was a staircase to nowhere such a fabulously Halloween-y thing?) A large table to set her creations up on−she'd ditch the kitchen for the first part of the episode: too homey and comforting. A set that resembled a creepy old house, implying the haunted. A large cauldron she could stir, with dry ice buried deep in the bottom, for a spooky effect. Her team could pour in some interesting liquid−should she add something to it for those brave enough to peek? Small rubber bats? She'd add wonton soup to her menu to go along with the sandwich. She'd call it bat stew, Cate decided with a grin that was mostly evil.
    Cate pictured herself smiling in a traditional witches costume. A tall, pointed hat, a tea-length, airy (for under the lights), black (for customary) gown, striped stockings and dark, pointed clunky shoes. Warts. She'd add spiders and an overall mess to her hair. What about a stench−the pen tapped her lip again, eyes searching the clouds−could she make her hair smell like earthy soil, for effect? She'd have to ask Bel. Hair could smell good; why not a yucky scent that made little boys and girls giggle?
    She'd offer them treats, of course−her favorite part. Maybe a costume parade for the youngest ones, picking viewers out of the audience to open doors up on stage (each set with a different curb appeal) as if they were trick or treating. Cate listed the candy she'd add to bowls for each "home". Maybe she'd create some of her own sweets and showcase them in a second show.
    She'd arrange a spooky reading of her favorite Edgar Allen Poe tale−in a cemetery, pre-taped. She could offer it to the older children who wanted to be on camera. Melissa would nix that one but it was a fun thought.
    Scary story contest, she noted instead .
    Bobbing for apples, caramel apple-dipping. Cate often found a return to the most innocent and simple was the key to the happiest shows. Who among them didn't like to pamper their inner child? She'd light beautiful candles and offer creepy makeovers for the adults.
    Before she knew it, Cate had enough for a week's worth of shows with no end in sight. Sipping the cooling cider, Cate knew Melissa would want to turn the shooting into a video package. John would want a book out of it.