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*inhales*

Smell that? The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The marvelous aroma of fires. Listen to the browned corn stalks chatter in the air. Watch the leaves fall to the ground. Orange pumpkins wait silently in fields. And that brings me to our inspiration of the day brought to us here by The Midnight Society.

October traditions.

Immediately I think of carving pumpkins. I LOVE creating a creepy face that will flicker all Halloween night.

My creation from 2013

My creation from 2013

Here’s a little story to make you think twice about sticking  a knife in a helpless pumpkin.

My Jack 

The newspaper crinkles as I plop my pumpkin on the kitchen table. The carving knife shines in the light. My finger caresses the smooth orange skin as I gaze at the monstrous orange vegetable… or is it a fruit? Chewing on my bottom lip, I inspect my choice.

“You’re kinda funky shaped,” I mutter. “So creepy face it is!” The pen glides over the surface, leaving lines that form sharp points of teeth and crazy narrow eyes. Standing back, I critique my work and nod in satisfaction.

“You’re perfect.”

A low gasp creeps through the air as the knife makes the first wound. I stop and glance around the kitchen. “Pixie? Are you in here, kitty-kitty?”

Nothing.

With a shrug, I continue my work, giving my pumpkin life. Diligently, I clean out the inside, the sound of metal scraping against the rind filling the room. Glee swirls in my mind as I sit to add his features. Slow and steady, the knife reveals his character. Evil. Dangerous.

“You’ll keep the ghouls away, won’t you, my Jack?” The smooth, moist edge of his mouth grins. With the discarded pieces, I painstakingly whittle horns to circle his head, like a crown. The prince… no, King of Halloween. A few extra pumpkin bits make fangs. Deadly. The knife slips, slicing into my finger. Blood drips onto my creation.

I hiss, grabbing one napkin to wrap my injury and another to wipe the imperfection from my pumpkin. Too late, the red stain seeps into the skin.

“Well, I guess that makes you scarier.” A stray seed sits on the inside. “That has to go.” I reach my hand into his mouth and scream as Jack’s fangs sink into my arm.

Blood, my blood, trickles from his mouth as the pumpkin clamps his mouth tighter. Fear rushes through my body, a knot of panic forming in my stomach. I beat at the pumpkin, pushing away from the table and falling out of my chair. Frantically, I swing at the devil vegetable still attached to my arm. My knees connect with its tough exterior. My heart pounds as I fight through the pain careening along my arm. A glint of light catches my attention. The knife blade peeks over the table edge. Determination flares as I lunge for the weapon. The metal bites into my palm when I grab it. Tears course down my face, blurring the world and my attacker as I plunge the blade into its skin.

Shrieking, it releases my arm. From the stab wound, yellow puss oozes, sizzling onto the floor. My arm throbs. Sobs pour from my lips as I sink onto the floor, my head fuzzy, the world darkening.

End

And that’s that, I guess.

Seventeen more days to go! Halloween is almost here. Maybe skip the pumpkin carving, or stick with happy faces.

 

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