Hand-painted on a natural baroque pearl, with a tiny ghost, a pumpkin bag, and eyes that tilt just slightly — like a cat watching from the corner of a room.
Halloween Limited · Pearl Ghostling 2025
Little Ghost of October
A small ghost for a dear friend — carrying a pumpkin bag, a hint of mischief, and just enough light to make October nights feel softer.
Little Ghost of October was painted as a gift, not as a product — a baroque pearl
turned into a quiet Halloween companion. The ghost leans slightly to one side,
just like the cat that walks across her keyboard at 2 a.m., pretending not to care
while secretly watching everything.
The pumpkin bag is not only a Halloween prop. In my mind it collects small, invisible
things: late-night worries, unsent messages, and wishes that feel too shy to say out loud.
When she clasps the pendant, the ghost keeps one eye on her steps, and the other on the
paths she hasn’t walked yet.
Piece Details
The Collector's Story · A Little Ghost for a Friend
That year, instead of sending my best friend a quick “Happy Halloween” message or a box of something sweet, I wanted to give her a small, quiet talisman — something that could stay with her long after October ended.
I kept thinking about the things she shares with me: cat photos in the middle of the night, voice notes when she is tired but still gently joking, tiny updates about her day that arrive like lanterns in my inbox. I wanted this ghost to carry all of that — our shared warmth, and the way we keep each other company even when we live far apart.
So the ghost became a little cat-ghost. Its body follows the curve of the baroque pearl, round and a bit clumsy in the most endearing way. Its eyes tilt softly to one side, just like her cat when it stares at the world from the sofa. It wears a tiny metal hat and clutches an orange pumpkin that is much too small to be practical, but just right for collecting feelings.
In my mind, the pumpkin doesn’t hold sweets — it holds things that are hard to name: unspoken anxieties, half-finished plans, tiny sparks of courage. When she wears the pendant, I imagine the ghost sorting through them quietly, turning some of the heavy ones into something a little lighter.
The first time she put it on, she laughed and said, “It really does look like my cat. It even leans the same way when I walk.” In that moment, I felt the piece leave my desk and move into her everyday life: into coffee runs, long commutes, and quiet evenings on the sofa with a sleepy cat beside her.
Little Ghost of October will never be for sale. It belongs to a very specific person, on a very specific October. But it opened a small doorway for this series — Pearl Ghostling 2025 — where ghosts are not meant to scare, but to keep watch over the soft, ordinary days we don’t want to lose.