Raina slumped wearily against the flatbed and looked over the dark field. The pumpkin-pickers were gone, cider kegs washed. The last employee, Eric, had shrunk to a pair of taillights turning onto the road. Raina paused to admire how pumpkin-shaped shadows stretched away like giant stones in an ancient lakebed.
With receipts from the tourists, she would pay the last of her family’s back taxes tomorrow. Turning toward the house built by Great-Uncle Mel in 1904, she felt the field come alive behind her with ancestors.
She was used to it. They came every night, rollicking in the pumpkin shadows.
The priest tried his best last year, but there were only so many times we could call the clergy to the same spot without it getting awkward. After the fifth time, we decided to leave the whole thing alone.
They didn’t end up eating anybody, like we feared. In fact, they turned out to be very polite, lighting the sidewalks after dark and guiding lost children to their parents. They even helped us catch a vandalizing teenager before he did too much damage.
This year, we have an agreement. We grow them, they protect us.
“Fun for the whole family!” the brochure said. “An unforgettable experience!” the brochure said.
Well, it was right about the last part.
I had reservations. Something seemed off to me. My wife wouldn’t hear of it. We’d been in this town three years, and had yet to find somewhere that met with her approval. As far as she was concerned, Pumpkin Town was going to be pumpkin perfection.
Well, she was right about the last part.
The pumpkins needed our bodies to live up to their true potential. Humans make the best jack-o’-lanterns.
"The Ancestors"
Raina slumped wearily against the flatbed and looked over the dark field. The pumpkin-pickers were gone, cider kegs washed. The last employee, Eric, had shrunk to a pair of taillights turning onto the road. Raina paused to admire how pumpkin-shaped shadows stretched away like giant stones in an ancient lakebed.
With receipts from the tourists, she would pay the last of her family’s back taxes tomorrow. Turning toward the house built by Great-Uncle Mel in 1904, she felt the field come alive behind her with ancestors.
She was used to it. They came every night, rollicking in the pumpkin shadows.
The pumpkins started glowing again.
The priest tried his best last year, but there were only so many times we could call the clergy to the same spot without it getting awkward. After the fifth time, we decided to leave the whole thing alone.
They didn’t end up eating anybody, like we feared. In fact, they turned out to be very polite, lighting the sidewalks after dark and guiding lost children to their parents. They even helped us catch a vandalizing teenager before he did too much damage.
This year, we have an agreement. We grow them, they protect us.
My wife found the brochure and coupons.
“Fun for the whole family!” the brochure said. “An unforgettable experience!” the brochure said.
Well, it was right about the last part.
I had reservations. Something seemed off to me. My wife wouldn’t hear of it. We’d been in this town three years, and had yet to find somewhere that met with her approval. As far as she was concerned, Pumpkin Town was going to be pumpkin perfection.
Well, she was right about the last part.
The pumpkins needed our bodies to live up to their true potential. Humans make the best jack-o’-lanterns.