Halloween Scare

Preface:

Three years ago is when it all began I believe, in the fall of 85, on Halloween night, that's when the bizarre murders occurred in a small town just outside of Salem, Oregon. The police didn't have much to go on, no bodies were recovered or murderers apprehended.

Now that time of the year rolls on in once again, who knows what it may bring. Ever since that day nearly four three years back, Halloween around here has been cancelled and farmers no longer grow or sell pumpkins, on account of the blood and clothes found in the pumpkin patch that dreadful year.

It may seem unbelievable, but I assure you, you'd believe it if you saw what the killers really looked like, or not, I do not expect you to believe everything I say, you may make me out as mad, but let me tell you something, I'm not mad. Believe what you will, but be warned, things are not always as they appear.

Part 1

It was a cold October night, well below fifty degrees, unusual weather for mid October, I stood on the cold damp grass smoking a cigarette; I removed it from my mouth and blew out a puff of smoke, I grabbed the zipper on my jacket with my free hand and pulled it up, I could still feel the effects of the icy air on my flesh. I looked off into the distance; about a quarter of a mile away you could see the O'Leary farm. On mischief night the kids from town would sneak off with his pumpkins and smash them on cars and front porches, no one ever caught them, I was an exception, I actually went along with them vandalizing others property, you would think that its not right for a cop to do; but I just didn't have the heart to tell their parents. I guess some old habits never change, I guess it's the adrenaline rush that makes us keep doing it.

Anyway, the clouds rolled in, I felt a drop of water on my face, suddenly, there came a light drizzle, so I removed my cigarette from the corner of my mouth and dropped it to the ground, then stamped on it till the little red light flickered out. Good thing I had my jacket on and zippered up, because by the time I got home I was badly drenched in water.

I went and built a fire in the fireplace to warm up the cold dark silent house. (I inherited the house from my father just before he died, he too was an officer of the law, you might have called him a seasoned veteran, I thought of him as a hero, not like Spiderman or Superman, or any other fictional people.

I remember one time when I was young, he was making an arrest, and was shot in the arm by the guy resisting arrest; he was damn lucky that it was only his arm, if not, then he wouldn't have lived as long as he did. I guess he's the reason I decided to get into law, the things that I saw on cop shows always fascinated me so, but knowing that he kept our town safe was all I needed to know to love him as much as I did. I on the other hand was never shot, thank god for that, though I was punched once when I was called out for a domestic disturbance, in some small backwater town. Apparently, a man was dealing Marijuana in his side garage, his wife must have gone in and caught him red handed, by the time I arrived his wife was standing on the end of the driveway screaming help me at the top of her lungs, probably with tears running down her face. So I parked the car along the curb and climbed out, removed my flashlight from its holster and flipped it on, sending a bright light into her face, dark purplish-blue bruises covered half her face and arms, and a little blood seeps from between her swollen lips, she told me what happened. She was about to get her husband to come to bed when she entered the garage, she saw what he was doing and asked him why, he told her it was none of her business, apparently from the sound of his voice he was drunk, she ran to him and tried to persuade him to come inside, pulling at his sleeve, he just hit her across the face. He then began beating on her till blood leaked from her lip, she lay on the floor crying in pain, he then yelled, "You stupid bitch, that'll teach you", the other guy, with the pot in his hand, turns and runs out without paying the guy. He turns around in time to see the other man running out the door; he chases after him, catching up to him in no time flat, then drops to the ground kicking his foot out from under him and sends him crashing into the yard. He then drops down on top of him and turns him over, he begins pounding his face yelling, "Where the fuck do you think you are going, trying to get out of paying me you son of a bitch". The next door neighbor overhears this and grabs the phone and dials 9-1-1.When I arrived, I found the woman's husband being restrained by a large man; he was the neighbor who called the police. It seems he ran out and tackled the man, wrapping his big burly arms around him like a bear. The man on the ground was in worse shape then the other guy's wife, he was spitting out blood, it oozed out of his nostrils and mouth, his face was badly bruised and swollen, he could barely open his eyes, let alone speak, he looked a lot like a blueberry. I got the large man to hold him while I cuffed him, then took him to the car and threw him into the backseat, just before I shut the door he pounced at me hitting me in the nose with his cuffed fists, blood leaked out of my nostril, out of instinct I kicked him hard in the face sending him flying back into the car and slammed the door shut. After that, he didn't give me any more trouble, he knew what'd happen if he tried that again. "I guess I was pretty lucky, his wife and the other man weren't, the man's face had to be reconstructed because of all the extensive damage done to his skull, and I even heard he suffered brain damage as well. The convict's wife on the other hand, was luckier you might say, she had a little bit of internal bleeding and scars, nothing that a doctor and make-up couldn't fix. After that I was careful, I didn't want to make the same mistake again, and here I am today, living up to my father's legacy, you might say. Anyways, this house originally belonged to my grandfather, it was passed down to my father and then to me, sort of like an heirloom, it's probably fifty years old or more. My father, died nearly two and a half years ago from lung cancer, he always said that he would quit smoking, but I guess it was just hard on him, especially after my mother died of some kind of cancer. I guess the reason I smoke is because of him, they say kids grow up and most of the time, they take after their parents. I can't blame him, times were hard back then, he would get home late at night and make dinner for the two of us, and I was usually fast asleep with a Superman comic book lying across my chest. I remember him waking me up in the morning and making me breakfast and packing my lunch, he did his best and I loved him for it, I was really depressed after he passed away, I was out of work for nearly two months, and the officers in the station dedicated a wall to his memory. A lot of people showed up to his funeral, some I'd never seen before, they must've been childhood friends and war buddies, or something of that nature. Everyone loved him, he was just so well spoken and had a great sense of humor, he could make you laugh till tears ran down your cheeks, and your eyes feel like they're going to pop out of your head, he was a great man. My fellow officers praise me and say, "Your father would be proud of you"; I guess I lived up to his expectations, oh well, enough about that let me tell you about what happened.

I gathered up some clothes and went into the bathroom, taking a warm relaxing shower to reduce some of my stress, I took my wet clothes and threw them into the washer, I didn't bother to turn it on, and I just put it off till the next day. Lately, I have been putting off a lot of things, I had to cancel some of my plans, I was supposed to take Lorraine to this fancy pants restaurant yesterday (that's my girlfriend if you already haven't guessed) she was pretty sore because things kept popping in at the last minute and I'd have to delay the dinner for quite some time. I told her the truth countless times, first she thought I was seeing another woman, another time she thought that I lied to her so I could go out partying, but no matter what, in the end I always persuaded her to give me another chance, and in the end she always did, that's what I loved about her, always giving me another chance even when it was not my fault. She was the kindest woman I ever met, and beautiful too. She's a teacher at the university now, I barely see her nowadays, we broke up after the incident, and she thought that I was crazy; I'll show you crazy I told her. Anyway, I scavenged in the fridge for something to eat, there wasn't much, there was a bucket of KFC from the other night, leftovers of last night's tacos, some veggies, and two cartons of Chinese food, oh yeah and a six pack of Heineken, and a single can of Coke. I decided to go for the Chinese food, I emptied the contents of the two cartons into a bowl and popped it into the microwave and set it for two minutes and ten seconds. The light flashes on and the bowl begins to spin, I always noticed how loud the microwave is, you could always hear the fan, can't they for once make a microwave that's quieter, I guess not, oh well. I grabbed a coke from the fridge and a glass from the cabinet and filled it halfway with crushed ice. Fifty more seconds and the food would be done, I flipped the tab up, immediately soda bubbled up onto my hand and onto the countertop, I reached for a paper towel to wipe up the mess, the remainder of the soda I poured into my glass, had to wash my hands. The timer on the microwave went off as soon as I tossed the sopping wet paper towel into the wastebasket. I removed the bowl from the microwave, "Oww" I howled because the sides of the bowl were still too hot. Taking a paper towel, I wrapped it around the bowl to minimize the effects of the heat and carried it out to the living room table. I had to kick a pillow out of the way or I would've slipped and the food would have gone sprawling all over the nice clean carpet. I believe Lorraine may have put it there, she sometimes makes messes and doesn't clean them up, she's messy, and she was good at cooking though, nothing like my mother that's for sure, she could do it all and still take care of me and my dad, and still have plenty of free time on her hands, she was a great woman that she was. I loved Lorraine a lot, but she made me mad at times, but her food always made me forget that I was ever really steamed at her. Now I sit with leftover Chinese, the rice isn't that soft anymore, the meats not as tender as it once was when I ordered it about two nights ago. I wish Lorraine would get off work and cook me a decent three course meal, but I know she wouldn't, she gets tired sometimes, I'm not sure if it's work-related or some medical condition, she never tells me anything, she just says its nothing to worry about. I never met her parents, she just told me that they went away somewhere a few years ago and never told her where they were going. I learned from her aunt about what really happened, they died in a car accident six or maybe seven years ago sightseeing in Paris, the driver of the second car was drunk, he only got ten years for hitting them, I swear the government is screwed up in their big fucking heads. She was in denial, so she made up a story and has stuck with it ever since then. Sometimes people just cannot cope with losing a loved one, so they act as if they'll be coming back like from vacation or a long trip, but in reality they know perfectly well, that it'll not happen, but they still have hope. I know for a fact that she had gone to therapy as a teen, but I guess this is her own way of coping with the inevitable event. Anyway, I ate the Chinese quickly; yeah I was watching TV, as do many Americans these days. I decided to go to bed early that night, thinking about nothing in particular. I sometimes find myself having trouble sleeping; I would wake up once in a while after having a few nightmares, it would take me awhile to fall back to sleep.

Part 2

The next day was more miserable than yesterday, the entire day it rained nonstop, I couldn't even go to the store without getting soaked. For the next three days I was bored out of my mind, not including the first day, you know the night it rained. It was October 18th already, only thirteen more days till Halloween; I rode by the local neighborhood elementary school hearing kids hollering that it's almost Halloween. Two or three boys were chasing after a girl wearing masks, one was a hockey mask like Jason's from Friday the Thirteen, and the other, don't really know, never seen it before, anyway the teacher ran out yelling at them, so they high-tailed it out of there as fast as their legs could carry them. Two smaller boys were wrestling in the grass over who knows what, it's kind of hard to understand kids these days, with the new technology and the crappy shows that they watch no wonder they act like animals. I remember when I was young, a kid would get whipped for talking back to their parents, and these days though, kids seem to get away with almost anything, it's not a big deal, its not like they rob stores or their parents or anything like that, they just lack respect for their elders. Anyhow, you already know that, there's no point in bringing up the subject, because there's too much to explain, and so little time.

Part 3

The next five days were a hell of a lot better, Lorraine came over and spent the night, making a mess as usual, she even cooked me dinner, and yesterday the guys came over to watch the football game, I'm not that much into football, but I enjoy hanging out with them. The place was a complete mess after they went home; men tend to be messy, while women tend to be clean and well organized about how they go about things, that's what my mother said to me when I was five. I wonder if any of them ever got hollered at by their wives. I know for a fact that Chuck's wife is really strict, so I know that he does the cooking and cleaning around the house, he's been out of work for nearly three years now, apparently Alice is able to pay the bills, and his welfare checks are going to the food, he can't even buy a beer without her permission, I kind of feel sorry for the guy. The reason he lost his job was because of being drunk numerous times, and the fact that he threatened his boss with his fists, he said that he would beat him to a bloody pulp, he hated him if that's what you want to know. One day he was leaving work when his boss caught him drinking, for no apparent reason, he got pissed and swung at him; luckily one of his buddies grabbed him before he hit the boss in his face. He almost got sued, luckily he calmed down quickly and his friends drove him home, if not for them, he would have been thrown in jail and fined a large sum of money. Don't get me wrong, he's tried to find work, but apparently many of the employers heard about his little mishap, and denied him employment, afraid that he might injure them. So after seven months of job-hunting he finally gave up the hunt, and ever since then he just sits around the house eating, sleeping, cooking, doing the shopping, and watching TV. The only time he really does anything is before his wife gets home; he cleans the house up and does the dishes everyday, he knows that if the house isn't cleaned before she gets home that he'll be up all night hollering at her for yelling at him first, and I know for a fact that he needs his rest. He's fun to hangout with; unlike the others, they just sit around and bitch at nothing but football, he's very different. The other guys rarely mention their wives, come to think of it, are they even married? Well whatever, it took me about six hours to fully clean up the living room, bathroom, kitchen, and vacuum all the rugs that apparently was littered with crunched chips and other food products. Luckily they didn't spill anything like their beers; I once had to steam clean the entire floor because Joe knocked over a glass half-filled with I think it was grape juice, (Joe's my next door neighbor, he gets on my nerves sometimes, be he's a pretty good guy once you get to know him) good thing it didn't leave a noticeable stain or I would've been pissed, and threw him out, or worse got into a fight with him. I try my best to keep the house spotless day after day, but not matter what, I end up spending many hours cleaning up again, and I wish everyone would clean up their own mess. My daily routine consists of taking a shower, getting dressed, breakfast, work and lunch, dinner, cleaning, another shower, and finally bed which is usually around eleven to twelve at night, sometimes as late as one. These days though crime has been down, I still have that feeling that things could turn for the worst; it's like an itch you can't quite scratch, you try hard, but it always comes back, something that will remain with you till the day you die. People just didn't seem in the mood these days, maybe the weather had something to do with it, or maybe people just were tired of stealing and crap, and decided to move to another town, who knows, people are always on the verge of doing something drastic. If you think about it, they seem to do things for no apparent reason, most do it for kicks and the money, the other half, well I don't need to really explain them, they do the things they do because their crazy or fucked up in the head. It just gets tiring, having to deal with all these idiots day in and day out, damn morons screwing everything up for me, I always end up having to go after the small fish, while the bigger ones get away, the damn force acts like there was nothing they could do, bullshit, if they spent more time going after all them shits, this town would be a lot safer, but no, they just sit on their fat asses drinking their damn coffee, reclining in their chairs with a half empty bag of chips in their greasy hands. That's the problem these days, the police force isn't what it used to be, when my dad was alive, god bless his soul, he would have scared the shit out of them, he always seemed to keep everyone in order, he was a nice man and all, but you didn't want to get on his bad side, he'd tear you up like a bulldog and shit you out without an after thought. I miss him, I guess it's up to me these days to whip them back into shape, but they don't seem to listen that well, lazy ass son of a bitches, don't do nothing but sit around in their warm office, while I'm out busting my ass in the heat, chasing down these motherfuckers, I'm just getting tired of this shit. Anyway, hopefully tomorrow will be a lot better, who knows maybe something will happen, and I'll find myself back on the street chasing after one of those dogs.

Part 4

This morning I woke up groggy, must've had a few too many beers last night, the hangover lasted all day, I took some aspirin, but it didn't do jack squat, it never really did when you thought about it, except messed up your insides, which they later found out, it takes a day to actually work, by then, you feel a hell of a lot better. I usually stay away from any med, I just sit the pain out, "You little pansy, stop your bitching and sit down, look at you, crying like a damn little kid, you need to be a man and take the pain, I was shot in my damn arm, you didn't see me crying did you" that's what my father would say, I guess that day I grew, and became the man I am today, a lot like him in some aspects. I ordered out, got some kind of sandwich with some weird, though quite good sauce, can't exactly remember what kind though, it tasted like crap, except the sauce of course, maybe that's what they put in these things these days, and you could be eating cat or dog for all you know. I threw the half eaten thing away, rummaged in the fridge and just made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and drank a cold beer, beer didn't go good with the sandwich, but I didn't care. I thought of all the times I woke with a hangover, "Man I need to quite with this excessive drinking, before I get liver cancer or some fucking thing like that". I always procrastinated, never fully kicking the habit, after time I just said to hell with it, once I propose to Lorraine; I'll give it up for good. Thinking about it now, I really would have, but I knew deep down, that we were never going to be together, that sooner or later we would split up; I just waited that day without any fear or remorse. It was about five thirty when the pain began to die down, good thing too, the guys came over as they usually do every few days, sometimes they'll stay late, sometimes they just drop by to drink a few beers and play cards, it seemed, this was one of those nights. Joe was too busy sipping his beer to pay much attention to Chuck sneak cards out of his shirt sleeve, it always seemed like they really didn't care, I know I didn't, I just played for fun, I had more on my mind that day anyway. It was just one of those days you just feel like you want it to get over as quick as possible, because maybe tomorrow might be better, but deep down you know it probably will be as bad, or worse. Anyway, the guys left around midnight, I was bushed, so I decided to go to bed without cleaning, when there was a light knock upon the door, so I got up to answer it. "Does Julian Smith live here" asks a mousy faced man, "There's no one by that name here, try the third house on the left side of the street" I tell him, "Thank you, sorry for bothering you" exclaims mouse man, "It's no problem, these things happen, bye" I finish, closing the door and locking it, then head back to my bedroom and drop down on the bed, sleep instantly sweeps over me like a darkening storm cloud. That night dreams cease to torment me.

Part 5

Monday was a hell of a lot better, it wasn't too cold, and the air had a fresh scent of pines and firs drifting through it, Lorraine stopped by, she had the day off because it was her birthday, I totally forgot, so unlike me, so we went to a nice restaurant for breakfast and just talked a bit, later on, we went to see a movie and went for lunch, I can't recall the name of the movie at this moment, maybe it'll come to me in a while, anyway, afterward, we went out for dinner, I'd say that day I spent a little over three grand on her, maybe it was worth it I thought at the time, but now I think otherwise. We went back to my place and just fell asleep on the couch watching some movie, I bought her a diamond pendant as a present, I looked down and kissed her on the forehead, and laid my head back and instantly fell asleep, that night I had a dream, it had something to do with murder, though that's all I can recall, the rest was out of my mind by the next morning.

. . .

Tuesday was well, I don't really want to talk about it, and it was just one of those days you want to forget, like a dog that pisses all over the house, so you decided to drop it off somewhere, where it will not find it's way back, but it always does in the end. Wednesday was a bit better, I was back on the streets, though most of the day I spent sitting in my car sipping a cup of coffee and fiddling with a newspaper, I had to pull over one fellow for tailgating, and another for running a red light, other than that it was dulls vile the remainder of the day. Hopefully tomorrow will be a bit better I kept saying to myself, remembering what my old man would say, "If you hope that tomorrow will be better, your shit out of luck, you might as well get ready for a bad day, because you just jinxed your fucking self", yeah you could tell that he liked to curse every time he had the opportunity, it was all I ever heard out of his mouth while growing up, thanks to him I inherited it as well.

. . .

Just like he said it happened, rain was pouring down like cats and dogs, the streets were flooded with water, I nearly slipped running out to my car, I should've went to the store yesterday and picked up the things I needed, I knew this evening I'd be stuck at home, just laying back on the couch eyes glued to the television set stuffing chips into my face, not caring if drool dribbled down my lip and onto the collar of my shirt, just gawking, like a little kid that just seen something that they could not explain, like a flying saucer or some kind of giant freak.

. . .

The gas station was almost completely empty, except for the cashier and a old man deciding whether to buy a bag of chips or a fruit pie, I would have told him to go with the fruit pie, because I doubt he needed the chips, he looked as if he needed to run around the block a few times to lose about fifty two or more pounds. I kept my distance from him, afraid that he might roll over and squash me like a flapjack. So I just went around, through the next aisle to get to the freezer section, grabbed a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, a bag of Doritos, then decided to get some nachos, I trashed the rest later after I got home, I barely ate half, today was just one of those days you felt like just rolling over and dying, two or more times. So I just feel asleep on the couch, the next morning I found myself on the floor, lying in a nest of chips and drool drying on the side of my cheek, so I got up and took a cold shower, there was pain welling inside my head, I hadn't had anything to drink for a few days, must have been the way I slept, didn't really drink that often, just once in awhile when I felt like it, especially when the guys were over. Drinking seemed to make matters worse, smoking wasn't any better, I was more of a smoker than a drinker, the first time I took a drag, it must have been at least fifteen years ago, I remember the day my old man caught me, he didn't say much, heck, he didn't say a word to me until when I got home. "If you want to smoke, that's fine with me, but if I catch you doing any other thing than that, I'll whip your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down for a month", I knew he meant it, he already beat the hell out of me before when I was caught shoplifting, he was always a fair man, I deserved it after all, after that,

I never shoplifted again.

Part 6

Friday was no better, Saturday…, Sunday…? Don't really remember Sunday, had a hangover all day, my mind was in a haze even when I tried to remember.

Part 7

It was finally Monday once again, Wednesday was drawing ever closer, kids were running down the streets, blabbing their heads off about what they're going to be for Halloween that year, the older kids planning on stealing from the younger kids, as usual, and scaring the hell out of them, probably causing a few to wet themselves and run home crying. Last year, some vandals were caught smashing into cars, and a couple of robberies occurred, didn't know the guys involved, not until later, except one name Robbie Peterson, he was a good kid, never got in trouble in his life, had good grades, was doing well, was planning on going to college after he graduated, but he ended up hanging out with the wrong crowd, and got into this mess. He lost his chance of getting into a good college; his grades began to drop, and his attitude towards life seemed to change completely, especially around his mother and Uncle. He never really knew his father; he died when he was very young. I met his father once, though I can't quite remember it that clearly, it was about eight years back when I was a deputy. I was driving home one night and noticed a car pulled off onto the shoulder, so I pulled over and got out, Frankie, as his friends called him was sprawled on the hood of his car with a bottle in one hand, and what appeared to be a half eaten turkey sandwich, at the sight of him I just began to laugh, "What …hiccup…the hell re you laughing at" he says in a slurred voice, the smell of alcohol radiates off his body like some kind of contamination leakage in a facility. He slid off the hood almost falling on his face; I caught him just in time before his nose was driven into the wet dirt, "I don't need any help…hip…,? Oh you're a police man are you" he said, his breath stinged my eyes and made them water, the smell of beer was so bad, that I had to cover my nose to keep it from entering my lungs. "Sir have you been drinking" I ask him knowing that he had of course, just wanted to be sure, because some drunks will go wild, and deny they had a few too many, and try to fight you, usually ending up falling all over every time they made a move. He didn't speak much after wards, I thought he'd stopped on the side of the road to get some fresh air, then I looked at the front of his car, and understood why he was just waiting here, his front tire was shot, not shot in as a gun, but it blew out, he mustn't have had a spare if he has been sitting there for as long as he had. Must've got tired of waiting and drank a beer, and one thing led to the next, by the time I arrived he had downed about three quarters of the case he picked up. I called him a tow truck, because he was too waste to do it himself, I took him down to the station for the night, and let him sleep in one of the cells, he just talked in his sleep, kept saying the name Charlie…? By morning he was wondering why he was in a cell, so I told him about what happened, he just laughed his head off, if you think about it, it's quite funny in a weird sort of way. Anyway, back to Robbie, yeah, you never would have thought Robbie to be a bad apple, but you never know these days, kids will surprise you, and Robbie sure surprised everyone with the trick he pulled off, though you wouldn't call it a trick, you'd call it murder. Supposedly, he got into a fight (well it was more of a little argument) with this one guy, can't recall the name, but the face. Small beady eyes, long nose, pimples covering about two thirds of his face, buzzed head, he sort of resembled an alien rat, His name was Josh Hallows, that's what it was, well Robbie ran him off the road as a joke, he was just fucking with him, but the guy was serious, he got out of his car and started cursing at the top of his lungs, "What the fucks your problem, you some kind of idiot" he hollers, Robbie gets out and nearly falls over laughing, "What the hell you laughing at you son of a bitch, you got a problem that needs fixing, if you do I'd be happy to help you" he says cracking his knuckles. "I was just joshing you man, get it joshing, that's my name" he sends out another fit of laughter, this time falling on his ass, he ignores the pain, and rolls around holding his stomach. Josh's face turns bright red, he stomps over to Robbie and kicks him square in the stomach, he makes a whooshing sound as the air in his lungs exits his body, "Laugh at that you piece of shit" he hollers kicking him some more, Robbie grabs his foot and throws his weight backwards toppling him over, then climbs to his feet. The man sits up, his face is bright red; steam begins to pour from his ears, not literally, metaphorically speaking. He turns around, ready to attack again, when Robbie pulls out a gun; he dares the man to step any closer holding the trigger, the man begins to back away, but someone grabs him from behind, and without knowing it, the gun goes off, the man goes backward, and falls to the ground a few feet away, tossed like a rag doll. "What the hell's wrong with you" says a voice from directly behind him, he turns to face Donnie Goodlier, later on in life he'll be well known for the bank heist him and a few buddies pulled, ending in his death nearly a year and a half later. Anyway, he lets go of Robbie and runs over to the man lying on the ground, the hole in his chest is leaking out hot warm blood, it just squirted out from between his palms, "Oh shit, oh shit, what they hell are we going to do" says Donnie pulling at his hair and walking in maddening circles. He runs back over to Robbie and grabs the collar of his shirt, "What the fuck did you just do, you shot a man you know that, what the hell man" he says, Robbie grabs a hold of him and drives his knee into his stomach, "That's what's the matter with me, shut up, just shut the fuck up, you can never keep your mouth shut, I should just blast you to moon. I still need you, your one lucky guy you know that" Donnie's down on his knees holding his throbbing stomach, he lets out a spasm of coughs, then attempts to climb to his feet, only to get kicked back down gain. "Don't you move an inch, listen up first, and then maybe I'll let you up. First off, we need to dispose of this guy, I need you to help me carry him and put him in the trunk", he looks at Robbie for a few seconds than says "Are you crazy, someone's going to…ooohfff" he lets out as he's sent flying a foot off the ground and landing with his face down in the dirt. "It's best if you keep your mouth shut when I tell you, or you'll be eating a bullet and the dirt too", fear runs through his body, he attempts to roll over, but can't muster enough strength, he just lies there, helpless, trying to force the image of the dying man out of his head. "As I was saying, your going to help me dispose of the body, and you're to tell no one what I did, understand, or they'll find your body floating down the river filled of lead, got that" he yells, Donnie says nothing, he's too deep in thought to hear, "I said, do you understand" he hollers stomping on his hand, sending white hot pain through him, and breaking him out of the mental block he's in, "Yes, yes, I understand, I'll help you. I won't tell a soul, not even the other guys" he says holding his glowing red hand as tears begin to spill from his eyes. Just as he said, he never did tell anyone, except on his deathbed, he confessed that he helped Robbie dispose of the man's body. He died with a smile of relief about his face.

. . .

The body was discovered around five in the morning, when some guy clad only in his morning robe with a newspaper clutched in his left hand, and a cup of hot coffee in the other, chased after his collie into the woods behind his house, he called the police, and in no time at all, me and a fellow officer were out there, following him into the woods. The ground was quite wet though it hadn't rained that day or the day before, must have been that moisture gathered in the woods, or maybe some animals pissed in that spot, later on I found out it was piss, the smell was awful, had to hose my damn shoes down, dirty ass fucking beasts. Anyhow, the body was exposed beneath the leafy soil, I thought whoever tried to conceal it did a very poor job, because they seemed to not have noticed the grimy hand sticking out of the soil, leaves must've blown over it covering it from their sight. The mans eyes were glazing over, dried blood was caked around his lips, a bullet hole was discovered in the center of his chest, the whole shirt was a bloody mess, blood and dirt seemed to fuse together into some weird unexplainable color. "What happened here officer" asks the tired man clutching the dog's collar, the dog tries to stretch its neck out so it can sniff the body, the man pulls it back. "Don't know" I reply, "It looks like a murder" says Steve the other officer, "Yeah tell me about it" says I. That day was hard on all of us (it was the first murder to occur in twenty years according to my father) but the murderer left a clue behind, his state identification card(state ID), it wasn't hard to trace him down, and he lived only a few minutes down the street, the murderer of course was Robbie Peterson.

. . .

The trial was held a few days later, he was found guilty for the death of Josh Hallows; and sentenced to life without parole. I heard he died about four months later, he somehow smuggled a fork into his cell with him and drove it down his throat or maybe it was into his throat, anyway, someone in the next cell heard him and yelled, by the time the guards came, it was too late for Robbie, they said he was still twitching when they unlocked his cell, eyes wide, it's just odd that people do these things. Anyway enough about the story, you probably don't want to hear the rest, it's boring, every time I tell someone, they seem to fall asleep, that's how boring it is. Anyway today felt like it lasted forever, kids were running up and down the streets, a group of boys were playing hockey in the middle of the road, they couldn't really play their game because the interruption of passing cars, they had to grab there stuff and move off to the side, then carry it back out into the road, after about twenty cars, they decided to go do something else.

. . .

Finally darkness started drifting in like a black veil, not quite covering out all light, the street lamps started to go on one by one, you could still see about a mile away, the sun was setting in the distance like a large orange rolling down a hill. It was getting a bit nippy out, so I dropped my cigarette and stomped it out, then headed back into the house to get some food in my stomach. The house smelled of chips and sweat, so I grabbed something to eat and began to cleanse the house of its absurd smells.

. . .

After everything was completed, I went straight to bed, cleaning always made me tired, whether it was a lot or a little bit, I always seemed to drop wherever when I was finished, darkness soon overtook me and I slipped into the coldness of oblivion.

Part 8

I remember the dream I had that night, I opened my eyes to see a vast field of pumpkins around me, nothing seemed unusual at first, until I noticed the trails of drying blood leading up to the open barn, it looked like O'Leary's barn. Just like a drunken hick, I followed it, not knowing what awaited me in the barn, probably just some wounded pig or cow I thought, but really I knew that wasn't the case; something or someone was dragged in there, by something I could not explain. So I made my way up to the barn holding my jacket shut, the door was flapping back and forth in the wind on its hinges make a loud high shrill squeak, causing me to jump back in fear. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, the wind blowing in my direction, sending horrid smells into my face, making me wince, God, what the hells that smell, it smells like a decomposing animal. I pull my shirt collar over my nose to keep the god awful smells from making me sick, it helps a bit, but the faint smell of dead bodies was ghastly. So I continued up to the barn, the cold wind blowing in my face, brushing my hair back and causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand straight up, fear kept me moving, then I stopped a few inches from the barn, all I could see inside was pure dead darkness, almost like staring into an oil spot on the side of the road. Terror gripped me by the throat, choking me, I tried to keep my body from moving, but some unseen force seemed to be pushing me forward, pushing me into the deafening darkness that soon would entrap me in its darkened clutches, I tried to resist, but to no avail, I was dragged in. I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't see what awaited me inside; the smell was growing stronger with each step I took, I could hear the hay crunching beneath my boots, and some other noise, something rustling in the back of the barn, I dared not to look, knowing that if I did, my legs would bend beneath me and I would collapse to the ground. I stopped, I don't know how many feet to be exact, I felt something wrap around my ankle, it felt long and thin, like a snake, or a garden hose, but something in my mind told me it wasn't either, it was something that I could not explain until after the incident. I let out a scream, not opening my eyes the entire time, when I finally opened them, I was still screaming, sweat pouring down my face, but I was in my bed, I thought it was only a dream, but I would later find out that the dream was more than a dream; it was going to occur on Halloween night, I don't know how I knew it, but I just did.

Part 9

The day finally arrived, it was Halloween, it started as a normal day always does, the morning sun spilling in through the shades falling onto the floor warming it up, I think of it as my own personal warming spot despite the cold bitter air outside. I got out of bed and went through the usual routine, grabbing some clothes to wear and taking a shower, then heading back to my room to throw the clothes into the corner, they always accumulated there for a bit, till I decided to gather them up and throw them into the washer and dryer, today I decided was the day, so I went about it, then grabbed the morning paper from the doorstep and headed back inside. I cooked eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast, and took it all back to the table with the morning newspaper clenched in my teeth. Got the coffee machine going ahead of time, finally it was done, couldn't eat and read the newspaper without my morning coffee, I guess I looked kind of like those dads from those old televisions shows, like Leave it to Beaver, sitting their drinking coffee reading the newspaper, while managing to not spill the coffee all over my nice clean shirt. After breakfast, I grabbed the wet clothes from the washer and stuffed them into the dryer, throwing in a dryer sheet, setting the timer to sixty minutes, then closing the door and tapping the button, the dryer whirls into life, with that done and out of the way I head back to the kitchen to fill up on more coffee. On my way back to the kitchen, there came a light knock at the door, so I whirled around and headed back towards the living room to see who was there, I opened the door, should have guessed, it was Joe. "What's up my man, how's life treating you" he says slapping me on the shoulder, "Nothing much, I was just about to sit back and read the morning paper" I say, almost through clenched teeth, this is just one of those times you just want to not be bothered, even by your own friends. "So what's up, you want something" I ask, knowing him, he probably does, but what he said next startled me, he said something not like himself, "Did you watch the news, something weird is going on around town" he says, praise the lord I yell in my mind, he finally has watched the news, me and Lorraine tried to train him to watch it, but after many attempts we came out empty handed, in the end we just gave up, like the old saying goes, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink", I begin to laugh at that, he resembles a horse a bit, but more like a gorilla with toothpick arms, and a wide grin that looks as if it'll eat through his face in twenty years or more. "What's so funny, is it because I watched the news, is that it, never expected me to did you" he says, not seeming that bit happy, but a little uneasy about something, "You hit the nail on the head. Alright, who was it, was it Chuck who put you up to this" I exclaim, knowing that this must be a joke, but looking into his face I see something that wasn't there a few days ago, I see fear in his eyes, something spooked him, and it spooked him good. "What are you talking about "he asks becoming a bit flustered, I knew if I kept asking him, he's bound to blow his top, and I wouldn't find out what happened, so I tell him "Forget about it, it's nothing at all, so, what's this about" I ask having a hint of what it might be. "Well, something's been going on out in O'Leary's field for one thing, someone stole about half his damn pumpkins, and his livestock seems to be freaked out, his animals got loose, there were cows, pigs, horses, and chickens running about all over town, it was like a damn parade, without the music and such" he says, I can tell he's holding something back from me. "Is that all, out with it man for god sake", he doesn't say a word at first, just glances down at his boots, then speaks, "I found some pumpkins in my shed this morning when I went out to get something, couldn't have been more than five I'd say, just sitting there staring at me with those blank faces, just gave me the willies" he finishes. "Did you" I ask." No way, I don't know how they got there, but they were there when I went in this morning to get something" he says, "Well they didn't get up on their own and walk there now did they? You know they can't walk. The day I see pumpkins walking, I'll check myself in a loony bin" not even knowing that I would do just that after what would occur around midnight tonight.

. . .

Didn't know what to tell him, I said just forget about it; don't tell anybody else, especially not Chuck, because he never can keep his big mouth shut about anything. I showed him out and said bye, then looked down at my watch, ten minutes to one; I hadn't eaten anything since Joe stopped over, and so I decided to go to that café that just opened down the street to grab lunch.

. . .

The place was nearly deserted except for an elderly couple, and young girl talking to some guy that looked way to old for her, probably her boyfriend, I guess her parents didn't know, she probably didn't tell them. What's with kids these days, they end up falling in love with people about ten years older than them, what's the world coming to, hell in a hand basket, that's what I say. Walking up to the counter I scout the menu, thinking of what to order, there's a variety of subs, but I'm not the sub kind of guy, I'm more of a meat man, something big and juicy like a steak on it. There's no steak, but a sandwich with steak topped in shredded bacon, some kind of sauce, and Swiss cheese, all on a toasted whole grain bun, guaranteed to satisfy your hunger, looks like it, but these ads always make it look better than it is. So I order, and take a seat by the far left window by the door, and watch the people outside go about their busy schedule.

. . .

Just a few minutes later, my order was done, the sandwich was just like the picture, and it was damn good, just like they guaranteed, probably better, I would say it was heavenly if I was a female. I gobbled the thing down in less time it took them to make; they always seem to act like it took them about twenty minutes or so, even though they had it made in only fifteen. But it was worth the wait, and worth the four fifty I paid for it. On the way out, I tossed the soda cup and the paper plate into the garbage, and then exited out into the chilly mid-noon air.

. . .

The day it seemed was just whizzing past me, it seemed like it was in a hurry to catch the next train out of Oregon to Bangor, Maine. Things kept on getting strange as the day went on, more pumpkins were found in abandoned lots, cars, sheds, and basements, no one knows how they got there, but something fishy was going on, something I can't put my thumb on. I pass by Jefferson middle school; a few kids are running around already dressed in their costumes that they'll trick-or-treat in tonight when the sun begins to set. Memories flood back into my head, the Halloweens long since past, but one is vivid, and the last Halloween I celebrated.

I was about eighteen back then, in my senior year of high school, hanging out at the local county store (it just opened around then) smoking with a few friends. Eddie, also known as weasel was smoking dope, luckily my dad didn't know, or he would of beat the hell out of me for hanging around him and the other guys. Well anyway, Eddie opened his big mouth and said something really stupid, in my opinion, but the other guys agreed to it. They were going to sneak onto the O'Leary farm at night and steal some of his pumpkins, and smash some on people's cars, that's how the tradition of pumpkin smashing began in this town, all because of an idiot's idea. Anyway, Joey, as he was called back then (now we just call him Joe), had an idea, not as stupid as Eddie's, but not any better, he suggested that we carve out pumpkins and wear them as masks to frighten people, especially the younger kids around the neighborhood, guess what happened, we ended up doing just that, I don't regret doing it, but it made me feel invincible if only for a night. We ended up scaring people, but the plan back fired, the cops were called, and all three of us were busted, the next time I saw Eddie, he was wearing a sling, apparently his dad was pissed at him for the stunt he and his friends pulled the night before, that he knocked him down the stairs breaking his arm, and causing several minor injuries, he never said much after that. As for Joe, it would be years until I saw him again, he wasn't allowed to hangout or speak to us, and as for me, well, you can guess what happened. There was no Halloween like that afterwards, we all just grew up that day, and never looked back on it, I doubt Joe remembers that much, but I know that day left an impression on him, one that he would remember for the rest of his life. Haven't seen him in ages, I heard he landed some job in the city, a high paying job, I was glad for him, he still joked around as he used to, but knew when to hold back. I still remember those days hanging out with them; I guess some memories will never fade away.

Part 10

Night crept upon the town like a shadow, covering the streets almost in pitch black fog, the lights were on, and the laughter of children could be heard miles away, finally Halloween night was finally here at last. Like in the movies, that's when it all started; Blood-curdling screams reached my ears, striking fear into my lower gut, I couldn't move, it felt like my feet were glued to the front steps, then something wrapped around my ankle and yanked hard, throwing me forward into the grass. I roll over and come face to face with a pumpkin, just an ordinary pumpkin you'd think, except for the long stems extending out of the top of it, and the large open hole lined with long narrow fangs. The thing pulls me toward its maws, chomping madly on air, wanting to taste the flesh of my foot. I reach down and grip the vine, and pull back my hands in pain, small thorns are sticking out of my palm drawing blood, the creature begins to pull harder, without thinking, I grab the ground and begin to pull myself yup to the front steps. I can almost reach the step, a little bit more, got it, I pull myself over to it and into the house, the pumpkin still holding my ankle, when it moves closer, I kick the damn thing sending it flying into the yard snapping it's vine. I then run out to the lawn with a cane I found by the door (used to be my fathers) and stood before the thing raising the cane above my head, daring the thing to move. The pumpkin rolled over and peered up at me through a smashed in face, it didn't have eyes, not that I could see, it seemed scared, but that's when it flung itself at me, biting into my left should, it felt like a thousand needles digging into my flesh, I grab the thing and slam hard onto the ground, it splatters it's goopy body all over the front yard, just to be safe, I smash it with the cane. Then look up to see more of those blank round orange faces staring at me, instinct told me to run like hell, so I ran to the house, the damn things coming after me, as I jump into the house and slammed the door, hearing the thud they make, then bounce of the door one by one and roll away. Turning the lock, I climb to my feet running up the stairs to lock all doors and windows, when that's through, I head into my room and remove the gun from beneath my mattress, it's a colt magnum that belonged to my father, his most prized heirloom, he gave it to me a day before he died, not knowing that it would ever be used again. I check the chamber; the thing fully loaded, never had to use it before, and was hoping that I never would, but drastic times lead to drastic measures. That's when I heard it, the window downstairs give way, and the sound of loud thumping, the pumpkins climbing through the hole in the glass, and plopping down one at a time onto the living room floor. There was anywhere to go, there was no balcony on the house, and the only real way down was to go back downstairs and face the pumpkins, who knew how many could be down there now. Maybe I can sneak past them, then I just threw out that idea, too many of them remember, no other option, unless I exit through the window onto the roof, but where will I go, and how will I get down, my mind had no answer for that. So I went over to the door and locked it, pushing the dresser against it, hoping that the orange dodge balls (pumpkins) couldn't get in that easily, then ran to the window and threw it open and peered out, not much ledge, but it'll have to do, don't have any other options, unless I plan to commit suicide, and I wasn't about to do that. I lifted my head and stuck it out the window, had to pull myself out, the windows not that big, big enough to go through, taking a lot out of you, it took me about five minutes, that's when I stopped, the thumping sound was growing louder, the damn things made it up the stairs, they may have seemed stupid, but they were a lot smarter than people gave them credit for. All of a sudden the door was pushing inward, the things were throwing their weight against, and I supposed all of them were smaller, that some could actually kill someone just by dropping onto them. I climbed through, just in time to hear the door make a loud crack; they came pouring in like marbles just dumped out of a sack. Quickly without an afterthought, I slid the window shut and made my way across the roof, nearing slipping on the cold wet surface of the shingles. I made my way to the other side, to the larger window, one that opened up into the upstairs bathroom, and quickly yanked it open and climbed through, hoping that the pumpkins were still in the other room, and jumped to the floor, ran to the door and threw it open, still clutching the cane (didn't really notice it the whole time I was trying to escape) and sneaked through, trying notice be seen by the faceless minions in my room. Passing by the door, I could see them staring out the window, I know they wouldn't try to break through, there were stupid enough to fling their selves through and splatter all over the backyard. So quietly, I tiptoed past them, not knowing if one seen me, then ran down the stairs and stepped on a branch or something like that, and heard the thudding again, So I ran to the door, and grabbed at the lock. They came rolling down the stairs like dive bombers trying to throw me into the wall, I moved aside and turned the lock and ran outside, without closing the door behind me. The air was quite warm now, must've been because of all the running and such I've been doing, since the first one grabbed my leg, which felt like only five minutes ago. The street wasn't quite empty; kids and adults were running about being followed by the rolling creatures, one stopped rolling and stared at me with one eye, and let out a hiss, then got on it's limbs and ran toward me, I pulled the gun out of my pocket and focused on the orange creature, the thing leapt at me, the gun went off, the thing instead of flying back, exploded into two, covering me in its orangey glop, staining my good pants. The thing just flops to the ground and twitches, like a fly that's been whacked off the wall or out of the air, and lands at your feet, so you decide to stomp on it, till you know its dead. Anyway, I didn't wait around to see what happened next, because by what I could see, the ones nearby turned toward the loud bang and began to lurch their bodies toward me, well, their bodies where also their head. Pain shot through my shoulder, the arm was covered in blood, the wound hurt like hell, even if I touched it, the pain was intense, had to get it cleaned soon, or it would get infected by whatever the pumpkins might be carrying. Ignoring the pain I sprinted across the lawn, not knowing where I was heading; only guessing that it was somewhere where I would uncover the mystery behind the killer pumpkins.

. . .

About four blocks away the screams were stifled, could barely hear anything at all, no clacking of shoes against the ground, or the rolling of those damn vegetables. All I could see was darkness behind me. Instead of waiting there for them to come, I continued on into the darkness that lay before me.

. . .

When I finally stopped, a large vast field of pumpkins lay before me, these ones it seemed weren't alive, they neither moved nor rolled. That's when it hit me, the dream I had the other night, waking in this field, and going into the barn and feeling the vine wrap around my foot, I shook it out of my head, and knew what I had to do, that whatever was happening, the answer lie in the barn. The same trails of blood lead up the path toward the barn, just like in the dream I found myself walking along the pumpkins staring down at them, thinking that one would reach out and grab me, then pull to it and begin feasting on my leg, then others would join, then leave me as a bloody mess for the animals to pick at, but none did, they just stared at me with their blank expressions. The door was flapping back and forth squealing on its hinges, this time however, I didn't jump, but my heart began to race in my chest, the air grew cold, the window blew into my face causing me to wince, and the hair on the back of my neck began to stand on end, then the smells came. As I neared the horrid place the smell of death came flooding out into my face, I winced from the smell, it seemed to burn my eyes, and I covered my nose with the collar of my shirt and continued on. Fear began to well up in the back of my mind, it would have been worse, if I didn't have that dream, and it hadn't come true, that what I would see was not in my dream at all, the part after I opened my eyes. Stopping a few feet from the barn, I stare into that deafening darkness, something moves around, shadows way in the back, not a sound escapes into the cool night air. Terror grips me by the throat, choking me, I try to keep my body from moving, but some unseen force seems to be pulling me forward, dragging me into the deafening darkness that will soon entrap me in its darkened clutches, and swallow me whole. I try to resist, but to no avail, the force was pulling with unnatural strength, I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't see what awaited me inside. The smell was growing stronger with each step I took, I could hear the hay crunching beneath my shoes, something rustling in the back of the barn, I dared not to look, knowing that if I did, my legs would bend beneath me and I would collapse to the ground. I stopped, I don't know how many feet to be exact, when I felt something wrap around my ankle, I tried to break free, but couldn't, then I was tossed into the barn, and the door slammed shut.

Part 11

I opened my eyes and looked about, couldn't see a thing, let alone my own had in front of my face, I was expecting to be bitten by a pumpkin, but there was no pain, except in my shoulder. Then something began to glow in the back of the barn, a large grin and glowing red eyes stare into mine, as if peering into my soul, I can see it's a humongous pumpkin, this one's fairly larger than the others, roughly five feet high and seven and a half feet across. The mouth begins to twitch, I think that I'll be pulled into it's mouth, that it's glowing face will be the last thing I see, but doesn't, it does what I didn't expect it to, talk. "Who are you human, speak or my minions shall consume your flesh" thunders its voice, the smaller pumpkins seem to jump at it, of course they would, they never heard it before, and if they did, not as loud as it is now. I try to make words, but only a squeak escapes my throat, I try again, and manage to say my name "Brian Callaghan". The eyes narrow down, like he's squinting, the things eyes must not be that good or something. Then he speaks again in that thunderous voice "So Brian, what brings you to our humble abode". The other pumpkins remain silent watching and waiting for their master's command." A dream that I had, it told me to come here, that all my answers would lie in this barn, and sure enough I would like to know why you're doing this. Why are you killing people? And what are you really". The large pumpkin laughs sending gusts toward me, I grip the ground so that I would not be thrown back, then he stops and says, "You mortals never understand do you?" he exclaims." What do you mean" I ask." Are you that dense that you don't know, hm...? I guess you are, let me explain. We come from a place of torment and hatred, a place that burns eternally forever, we cause pain to people, to put it simple, we're from hell, where demons possessing these wretched vegetables. Though I'd rather take a form of a dog or cat, I decided to go with this one instead" he finishes, "But why, why come here" I ask. "Why come here? Why else, we only get one day out of the year to leave our prison, would you like being stuck in an eternal pit, torturing the same people over and over, never dying, or would you rather kill people, that won't come back" he asks with a big grin about his massive face. "I see your point" I say and nothing more. "We have taken on many forms over the years, and this time we chose pumpkins, because our day to be released fell on All Hallows Eve, or better known as Halloween, the night of the dead as we call it" he says, closing his eyes. The smaller pumpkins begin to move forward, and then stop just in front of me, staring at me through small red eyes. He opens them again and says "Now that you know, you must die, our secret has to remain concealed, or that shall be the end of our deal we made with him" he announces. "Do you mean...", not finishing. "Precisely, the devil king himself our lord Satan. Now, it is your turn to die human" and as if it were a command, the pumpkins began to advance opening and closing their mouths exposing their long needle-like fangs, spilling hot liquid onto the ground, and reaching out with their long viney hands. I take a few steps back and step on something hard, I look down to see a glint of light, a more closer examination reveals that its the colt, must have felt out of my hand when i was grabbed and thrown, I reach down and pick it up, just in time, because a few pumpkins fling themselves at me, without thinking, I kick at them, sending them fly through the air and splattering against the back of the barn. The large pumpkin only laughs, because he controls them, "Even if you escape the barn, you'll still die, did you not se all the pumpkins in the field, I can bring them all to life, have you forgotten you stupid fool" he says laughing sending shock waves through the barn throwing some of the smaller pumpkins into the air, some crash to the ground and splatter, others only crack a bit, then get up and continue toward me. I move back until I hit the barn door, and stop, waiting for them to come closer. The things stop just a few feet from me and stare into my eyes, I stare back, can't tell how they feel, there just possessed vegetables with no hearts or emotions. I draw the gun, and cock the handle back, and wrap my finger around the trigger and fire, splattering three in the process, dousing the others in their slop, at the report of the gun, they step back, as if they fear it. I move closer, they keep backing up, until they reach the larger pumpkin. I begin kicking them into it, splattering all their blank faces on my shoes and pants, not carrying about the wetness there, then stop on their remains. How do I stop these things i think, there has to be a way, then I remember what I seen in a movie, if you kill the master all of its minions shall perish along with it, his control will break from. so I point the gun up at the beast, and say "How do you like me now you motherfucker", the thing only stares at me, "I'm no motherfucker, but I am the last thing you'll see" he says swinging a large vine throwing me back into the barn door. Pain runs up my back and through my chest, I try climbing to my feet, but its hard to with the pain, so I just drop down on my stomach and drag myself along toward it. I grab the gun and aim it at the things head, something hits me, and the bullet grazes the thing, not driving itself inside the horrid creature. I try again, and roll over as a vine comes crashing down to my right missing, i pull the trigger, and bingo, the bullet flies toward the creature, striking it in the face, chunks of pumpkin flesh fly before it, the thing screams in pain, thrashing its vines about nearly striking me on the spine. I crawl out of the way, that's when the barn doors fly open, and shadows appear before it, the last thing I hear before I pass out is the sounds of guns going off.

Part 12

The rest was a blur, couldn't remember anything three days later. I awoke in a bed, not my own, and asked "Where am I, and how'd I get here" knowing exactly where I was, the pale green walls, the steady beeping of devices, the smell of sickness that hung about the air like a disease and the people who lay coughing in their beds, it was St. Peters Hospital. I was told that I had been in a coma for three days, which I was found in the O'Leary barn, lying unconscious among the corpses of pumpkins, clothing, and plenty of blood. At the mention of blood, it all came back to me like a wave crashing down, the pumpkins (that weren't really pumpkins, but demons possessing them and devouring human flesh, leaving only trails of blood, and spewing out the clothing) and the demon that controlled all, I remember it screaming in pain when I exploded its face partially. I must have passed out when the first shot was fired, because the last thing I saw were shadows entering the barn, and the large pumpkin exploding into mounds of pumpkin innards and juice.

. . .

I was released from the hospital a day or two later, I had suffered some broken ribs, and my shoulder hurt still, every time I moved my arm, it would send red hot pain up it, causing me to wince. It was finally over, the pumpkins were all eliminated, and even the ones that never came to life. O'Leary was never found, as were any bodies, the vast acres where littered with stained clothing, it was like a sea of blood, stretching out before me in the morning light. I went home and slept well that night, knowing that I had saved the town, with a little help from a group of farmers. That's the end of my story, everything went back to normal, and in time everyone forgot about that day, I was the only one who remembered it.

Part 13

I wake up every night now, the same dream haunts me, night after pain staking night, the pumpkin master sits before me, with his shattered face, with the slimy juice pouring out in large fleshy chunks, speaking into my mind, "I'll be back, I always come back, and when I do, you'll be coming with me, hahahahahheheheheheh..." I then remembered what he had told me, that one day out of every year, he could leave his prison and feast on the flesh of humans, I've been waiting for his return for fourty-two years, my hairs mostly gone by now, I have a lot of health problems, my hands are acting up, its hard to even read because the arthritis gets so painful at times, and it seems like my memory is beginning to slip. Maybe I should just go on and live the rest of my life without fear, I'm seventy-two years old for Christ sakes, I don't have much time left anyway.

. . .

Around two O' clock I awaken, my eyes slowly open and stare at a large potato sitting on my chest, something looks familiar about it, the thing has small red glowing eyes and a wide hideous grin curled into a snarl, that's how I recognize it, the same evil grin worn by the demon that possessed the large pumpkin in O'Leary's barn so many years ago. The mouth opened, and words flooded out "Hello Brian, it's been along time hasn't it, hahahahahaheheheheheh." The last thing I see is his face and hundreds of potatoes with their mouths hung open (filled with those small needle-like fangs) opening and snapping shut like steel trap, and the sound of my own blood-curdling screams.