Blood On Pumpkins

 

Blood On Pumpkins 

It was a blustery Halloween night with the full moon high in the sky. The wind was so loud that it was hard to tell whether it was just ordinary wind blowing or tormented spirits howling for mercy. Thick, ominous fog also consumed the entire town and fear was just waiting to strike at any moment. On this cold, eerie night, Eighteen-year-old Christina Shane was walking through an old pumpkin patch with her sixteen-year-old boyfriend Peter Matthews, on their way home from a costume party. Christina was in a long, flowing, white nightgown and had her hair curled childishly, dressed as Wendy Darling and Peter, of course, was dressed as Peter Pan in a green shirt of leaves, a green, triangular hat with a red feather, and green tights. 

“Real men wear tights,” Christina had told him with a pleading smile the day before, trying to talk him into it. It was her favorite book as a kid and his name was actually Peter. She thought, “How could we not go as Peter and Wendy? It’s fate.” 

“But Babe…,” he had complained. He wasn’t too keen about this idea but he did it for her. Seeing her happy was worth all the jokes that he was going to get from his buddies.  

They were walking through the pumpkin patch, both wearing jackets and using their cell phones as flashlights to see through the fog. They were also holding hands, talking 

affectionately to each other, and snuggling to keep warm. “You’re so beautiful tonight,” he said into her ear. 

“Thanks Sweetheart,” she said warmly, blushing, “I can’t think of anybody else that I rather walk with…but why are we walking through this pumpkin patch? It’s taking forever.” 

“It’s a shortcut to your house,” he replied, “Besides this pumpkin patch has some cool history…just a perfect ghost story to tell on Halloween.” He then made a ghostly sound and raised his eyebrows mischievously.

With her cell phone shining, Christina looked around. There were rows and rows of plump pumpkins of all sizes with vines entwining as far as she could see, hay and dirt scattered everywhere. There was a tall scarecrow in the middle of all with a large, pointed hat and old, ripped farming clothes. Its head was a big pumpkin and its carved face looked angry, crazed, and monstrous. The hay on the top of the head that acted as hair stood stiffly out from its hat, looking like the scarecrow was just electrocuted. Next to this disturbing scarecrow, a huge axe laid on the ground. The scarecrow made Christina nervous and she didn’t know why. She asked, “What story?” 

Peter cleared his throat and began to tell the story that was told by his insane aunt and terrified him when he was little:

“Once there were two brothers. One was the oldest and a respectable policeman named Patrick and the other was the youngest and a lonesome, crazy farmer named Rick. Rick was unstable because some said that their mother never loved as much as his brother. His brother always looked after him though. One Halloween night, a dozen of people from the town came to the patch, which was Patrick idea, for a party. Everything was going well and people were having fun until one hyper, little boy picked up the biggest pumpkin from the patch and accidentally dropped it, smashing it on the ground. Rick suddenly went into a rage, picking up an axe. His brother tried to calm him down but Rick hit Patrick in the back of the head and knocked him unconscious, leaving the innocent people at Rick’s mercy. First, with one quick swing of the axe, he decapitated the little boy’s and the boy’s mother’s head, their heads rolling at his feet. Then he went on a killing spree, murdering everyone at the party; decapitating, disemboweling, and cutting throats. By the time Patrick woke back up, everybody was dead, their blood and intestines splattered everywhere, including on the pumpkins, and the odor of death was thick in the air. Rick was about to attack him but he had a gun and shot his crazed brother, killing him instantly. Because of his extreme guilt from the massacre, Patrick then shot himself. People say that ever since that night, the soil is cursed because of all of the spilt blood and the dead still haunt the patch every Halloween night. The scarecrow also wears the clothes that Rick wore that night and is possessed by the farmer’s sick soul…waiting to come alive…to kill again!” 

Peter then jumped behind Christina as he spoke the last sentence of the story and wrapped his arms around her waist, making her laugh. 

“That is such a bull crap story,” she laughed, acting like she didn’t believe one word of it. Yet, she was walking faster now. 

“My Aunt Leanna told me the story,” he replied. 

Christina asked, “Did you tell me that she was institutionalized last year?” 

“Well,” he said with a slight chuckle, “I’ve always said that she would be a female version of Stephen King if she wasn’t such a looney toon.” 

“You’re terrible,” she snickered.

As they continued to walk, a church bell rang from a distance, striking twelve. Christina kept her eyes nervously on the scarecrow the whole time. She didn’t like the thing at all. Then, all of a sudden, the fog evaporated away and what they saw made both of their hearts stop in mid-beat. All of the pumpkins were seating in a straight line and carved, having faces of complete anguish. Human blood oozed out of the pumpkins’ faces and Christina felt her stomach turn. 

“Oh my…,” she exclaimed. 

Peter only could stand there in disbelief, his face turning pale. 

“Let’s call the cops,” she said, trying desperately to hide her panic. 

He guffawed and replied, “And say what babe? The pumpkins are bleeding?”   

Christina was about to dial 9-1-1 anyway when the unnerving, shrill sound of screams surrounded them out of nowhere and pierced their ears. The screams were of men, women, and children, getting louder, louder, and LOUDER. Christina and Peter both cried out in pain and covered their ears tightly, feeling like their eardrums were about to burst. They both dropped their phones and broke them. They tried to make a run for it. They were only steps away from out of the pumpkin patch but a sheet of fog reappeared at their exit. When they tried to go through it, it felt like they were choking, their throats abruptly closing, so they dashed back. 

 The screaming continued and to their absolute horror, ghostly hands busted through the top of the pumpkins. Peter shrieked and Christina was petrified but she was trying to think of what to do next. The screams then stopped unexpectedly but the hands were waving wildly at something behind Peter. Christina looked and her worse fear of the night was realized. The scarecrow was now standing behind Peter with its pumpkin head tilted slightly and the axe raised in the air, getting ready to kill. “PETER..RUN,” she shouted, grabbing his shirt.

They ran through the patch, going through a jungle of hands, as the scarecrow chased them. They kept dodging the swaying blade but the scarecrow was getting closer by the minute. They just wanted to escape this nightmare but the wall of fog was still there. As they were running, Peter tripped and fell, and before Christina knew what was happening, the scarecrow grabbed him by his collar. 

“PETER, HOLD ON!” She ferociously  kicked the scarecrow in the head and he fell over, throwing Peter onto the ground. Then she tried to grab the axe but the scarecrow stood back up and twisted her arm. She cried to Peter, “RUN NOW!” 

Peter couldn’t move though. He wanted to help his girl but he didn’t know how. Christina finally got away from the scarecrow’s grip and she attempted to kick again but the scarecrow swiftly swung his axe, cutting her deeply in the abdomen. Her blood squirting out, she gasps in agony and fell. 

Peter cried out in despair and ran to her side. The scarecrow crept closer towards them and Peter was ready to die with her but she somehow got back up. With quivering lips and blood flowing out of her gut and mouth, she punched the scarecrow’s swinging arm. He lost his grip on his axe and she caught it. The scarecrow came at her and she swung with all of the strength she had left, chopping his pumpkin head off. The scarecrow moved about like a headless chicken and she continued chopping violently until he was no more. Peter was amazed. 

Her eyes rolling back in her head, she fell back down and Peter held her dying body. There was one explosion of screams for a second, the dead hands disappearing and the pumpkins being intact. Regular fog now covered the whole area again and everything seemed back to normal. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “I should’ve…” 

“Don’t…,” she coughed.

“But you’re going to die,” he wept.

“Well, to die will be an awfully big adventure,” she said, quoting Peter Pan and smiling weakly. 

“I love you,” he said, kissing her cold, bloody lips.

“I love you too,” she uttered, slowing fading away. She died in his arms that frightful Halloween night. Peter never had a restful night again and she became another tortured soul, her blood being soaked into the earth. 

(c)Lena Holdman, all rights reserved 2011 




Happy Halloween people!!! :)