It was a terrible fate to be the only pumpkin left in the pumpkin patch on Halloween night.
All the other pumpkins had been plucked by shrieking children’s gleeful hands or boxed up by mothers needing PTA decorations. Some had even been taken home to be turned into pies or bread by old fashioned country ladies who couldn’t stand using a can.
But only one pumpkin was left in the patch that night.
The curtain of dusk had been whisked back, revealing the cold black night. Alone in the empty field, the pumpkin sat on a lone wooden box, a pathetic excuse for a haystack beside him. There was no whisper in the wind, no twinkling among the stars.
Although the pumpkin couldn’t be sure, he was pretty sure this was the first Halloween ever.
His only Halloween, in fact.
At least, so he thought.
As the pumpkin sat there feeling quite sorry for himself, a pair of green hands grabbed his fleshy orange sides. ”Yes, yes.” A voice hissed, his stem trembling. ”You shall do. You shall do, pumpkin.”
Tucked under an arm, his captor loped one leg over a broomstick, her long black skirts dragged over the haystack as she floated in to the air. Balancing precariously on the broomstick, the pumpkin grimaced at the terrifying face in front of him.
“That’s right, pumpkin!” the witch crowed, swooping through the air. ”You and me are going to give the kiddies a fright!”
The pumpkin had definitely not anticipated spending his Halloween like this.
Sweeping towards the ground, the witch’s shrieks filled the air. ”Come, little children!” she cackled. ”Follow me to your doom!” Hoisting the pumpkin over her head, she began to chant words he had never heard before. His face burned, lines slashing through his orange front. Two triangle chunks tumbled to the ground, the sharp pain lasering across his lower half. Golden light spilled from his new face, glowing across the vacant eyes of the children stumbling toward them, awakened from a nightmare they didn’t quite understand yet.
“That’s right, little pretties!” The witch cackled, her black nails digging into the pumpkin’s side. ”Just a little bit closer, a little closer! Then I’ll swoop you up and make you into mince meat pies!”
The pumpkin looked at the children’s terrified faces, their feet marching forward without them. As the witches broom glided over the sidewalk, her lips spewed a dark spell. The pumpkin waited until she floated over a puddle then flipped downward, his lid nearly spilling to the ground. His eyes and mouth beamed against the shiny surface, blasting upward and into the witches’ face.
“Ack!” the witch screamed, tilting forward and slamming in to the water. The pumpkin rolled to the ground as the witch melted into the puddle, fading into the blackness of the sidewalk. Blinking in the bright light streaming from his face, two children rubbed their eyes, seeing them for a first time.
“Oh, hello pumpkin.” A tiny little girl smiled, wrapping her arms around him. “Would you like to guide me home tonight? I had a bad dream.”
“I’ll help.” Her older brother bent down, picking him up and cradling him in his arms. Yawning, the children stumbled home, the pumpkin guiding the way.
This was the Halloween the pumpkin had imagined.
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