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Horrors

"Tomorrow is Halloween," Raven said.

"Duh," Morgana said, playing with her silky red hair. "So?"

"We should do something!" Raven bounced up and down on the big velvet couch.

Morgana looked at him with disdain, which was hard to do considering how springy the couch was and how enthusiastically Raven was bouncing.
"Halloween is for babies. We're fourteen--that's way too old to dress up."

"I wasn't talking about dressing up." Raven leaned in close to Morgana. "I was talking about something much more...interesting."

"Oh, what is it this time? Are we going to egg a teacher's house again?" She asked sarcastically. "Because that went so well last time."

Raven laughed. "Oh, no. I was talking about visiting the House of Horror."

"Right. That's it, I'm going home." She stood up. "We're not getting started on this again."

"C'mon, Mora!" Raven tugged on her sleeve. "I've heard it's really great. They've got this man who wears blood red and sneaks into your house at night...and a girl that collects little unmissed body parts for her voodoo practices...and all sorts of part-human part-animal creatures...and stuff."

"We know plenty of part-animal people. What about your Uncle Jim down the street?"

Raven sighed. "I didn't mean that kind of thing, and you know it. I should've expected you to be a spoilsport. You're just afraid."

"I am not!" Morgana punched his arm. "You know I'm not."

"Prove it," he said. "Go to the House of Horror with me."

Morgana was all set to refuse--she knew she wasn't a coward--but when she looked at Raven's face, she saw how much he wanted to go. "Oh, all right."

His face lit up. "Yes! It'll be so cool. I'll come over around ten o'clock, okay?"

"Right. But it's almost six, so I'd better go for now." Morgana pointed. "See you at ten."



Ten PM came all too soon for Morgana, and there Raven was, in his typical black jeans and T-shirt. Morgana's family, which was much more traditionalist, had encouraged her to wear something nice, so she'd finally thrown on a black velvet dress to shut them up. To tell the truth, she didn't really feel much like doing anything special for Halloween. But when she thought of how eager Raven had been, she knew she couldn't let him down.

"Nice outfit, Mora. Going to a funeral?" Raven teased. She made a face at him; they both knew how old-fashioned her family was, and Raven took every chance he could to poke fun at her.

"Not another comment, or I'll tell Lenore you have a crush on her," Morgana threatened. "Let's just go already." They headed off to the House of Horror, which was only two blocks west and one block north of Morgana's home.

"I wonder whose bright idea it was to put a museum of nightmares at the end of Fairview Lane," Morgana said. "It makes the whole thing sound ridiculous."

"Quiet," Raven said bossily. "We have to create the right mood. Listen for owls hooting, and bats chittering, and stuff."

"Who died and made you King of Halloween?" She sighed dramatically. "I knew I'd regret agreeing to this."

"But you agreed--so come on!" Raven half-dragged her to the end of Fairview Lane. They paid their admission at the booth outside, Raven almost holding his breath in anticipation. Finally, though, they pushed open the carved mahogany door and entered the house. The first room in the House was a large hallway, with rooms on each side and signs telling them which room held which horror. Odd violin music was playing from the speakers affixed to the wall, and stamping and shuffling could be heard from many of the rooms. Morgana was beginning to feel a twinge of excitement herself, but she tried to hide it from Raven. Together they began to explore the first floor.
A phoenix burned softly in the first room, while a malevolent unicorn stared them down in the second. Most of the rooms on the first floor were downright pathetic, particularly the room with the banshee--Raven accidentally kicked her CD player on the way in, causing the "unearthly howl" to skip for several seconds. The banshee sighed and ushered them out, moving the player farther away from the door.

As they climbed the first flight of stairs, however, the background music and incidental sounds faded away. On the second floor, they could hear only the soft footsteps of other patrons of the House, whom they could see only vaguely in the light thrown by candles on the walls. The "exhibits" here were all wax statues. Morgana looked up at the statue of the velvet-clad man Raven had described to her, and bit her lip to keep from whimpering. There was a look of eagerness upon his face, as if he couldn't wait to take bad children away and force them to work day and night, creating wonderful things, things they would never be allowed to use. Raven, meanwhile, shuddered at the sight of the short men dressed in green, who--according to legend--would steal away any valuables you had and leave you with nothing.

Finally, Morgana and Raven climbed to the top floor, thoroughly spooked. There were only a few candles, and no sound at all except for their footsteps on the plush carpet. It was as if they were in a different world. "We can go back, if you like," Raven said, his voice betraying his own fear.

Morgana shook her head. "No, we've come this far. We can't go back yet. Besides--it looks like there's only one room on this floor." She tugged on Raven's arm, and he followed her reluctantly to the door at the end of the hall. Carefully, slowly, Morgana pushed the door open, and they stepped in.

The room was lit only by the light of the full moon trickling in from the window. They took a careful step in, and suddenly a bright light filled the room--which was full of people. A woman in a puffy white hat thrust a foul-smelling white bulbous plant in their face. Raven grabbed Morgana's hand and squeaked. She ran past the woman, only to be confronted by a man bearing down on them with a sharpened stick and hammer. Raven was in the lead now, and pulled her on to the next nightmare: a man in robes shoving an iron cross at them. They brushed past him to meet the final horror, a woman shining a bright light down at them. Raven screamed and covered his eyes; Morgana squinted her eyes and made for the door she could just barely make out behind the woman, dragging Raven behind her.

They clattered down three flights of stairs, pulled open the door at the bottom, and ran out into the night, stumbling in their fear. A few yards from the door, Raven looked over his shoulder at the house. "We must have left through the back entrance," Raven said, slowing down.

"I can't believe how scary that was." Morgana giggled a little as she calmed down. "But you got so freaked on the third floor. Garlic! Who believes in that kind of stuff? And that stake was so plastic!"

"Well, the cross was real enough, even if they did make it crooked," Raven pointed out. "And I know you were terrified by that sun lamp."

Morgana laughed. "Yeah, I guess I was. But I've had more than enough fun for one night. Wanna go back to my house? We're having goat's blood for dinner."

"Goat's blood? Really? Man, we're just having horse tonight."

"Really. And after dinner, you can help me convince my dad that I don't need to have a room full of gargoyle memorabilia. I'm not eight years old anymore."

"That's debatable. You definitely act like one." Morgana attempted to punch Raven playfully, but he anticipated her punch and ducked, so she just made a face at him. With a full moon shining down on them, the two vampires began to walk home, planning the rest of their Halloween adventures.

The Pumpkin

I couldn’t have been more covered in dirt.

I was the ugliest. I was the runt of the litter. I was filthy, from top to bottom. I had been sitting out there for what felt like centuries. The rain had come. And then the wind had blown me all over the place, brutally beating me.

When I had first been growing, I had wondered what the humans were going to use me for. I had imagined one of the tall ones coming outside and picking me up right from my spot. Perhaps they’d put me on their doorstep, or cradle me in their arms. Perhaps I would make someone smile.

Those days were long over.

I was sitting out there. My time was almost up. I knew it. It didn’t take a human brain to realize this. It didn’t take wherever those people go every day in those loud machines. It didn’t take the schools and the stores and the places outside of this garden to know that I was running out of time.

And chances.

All I wanted was an opportunity to shine.

All I wanted was a purpose. Something to say I wasn’t just another fruit in the garden.

I was sick of just being a pumpkin.

***

Every day those children walked past me.

Every day I failed to yell loud enough.

Maybe they just didn’t speak veggie. Maybe they were just ignoring me, because they couldn’t imagine that an organism so forgotten had anything to say. Or maybe they didn’t think I was capable of understanding what was going on around me.

Nevertheless, they were there, and I was here. They never closed the gap. And it wasn’t until one desperate day a plan came to me.

The children walked past, kicking crimson leaves with every step.

That day, I decided it was time to roll.

I picked myself and began to tumble right at their little feet. It wasn’t as if the wind hadn’t already thrown me every which way last week. The tallest human had cut me from the ground, but the wind had moved me. The winds here just get that bad mid-October. And the whole concept of strong winds is not fun for the smallest of the pumpkins, too tiny to really mean much in the world.

Everything I knew came from overhearing the children. Most of the kids were pretty nice, but after listening to the crueler ones… looking back, I don’t know what possessed me to launch myself towards them.

My stem bumped into the tallest kid’s foot. She looked down at me. I wished I could have smiled. I looked up at her with as much hope and kindness that a pumpkin could muster. She looked back down at me, snickering. As if I was an aluminum can or a rock to kick, she sent me flying.

The other kids thought it was sport. Another one ran up to join in on the fun. Pretty soon it became an abusive soccer game, with me caught as the ball.

I cried out in pain. After all, there were a million dents pelting my pumpkin shell. Pumpkins are fairly tough, but when you’re as lightweight as me, you sure do fly far…

Some kids just kept them walking. And why should I blame the ones who nearly smashed me? I was the prime example of not enough nutrients and care, being half the size as most of the others. And how were they to know I could think? How were they to know I could hear their every word? I watched their happy little faces every day, and they never even knew it.

That night, brokenly lying in a pile of goldenrod leaves, I certainly didn’t feel like much of anything.

***

Uggh, the feeling of rot.

I felt like I was wasting away, and there was nothing I could do about it. Why is it that humans get entire lifetimes? Ever since the explosion of wind, I had felt myself slowly wither away. I needed to do something.

One day, I heard footsteps and looked behind me.

A child stood there, holding a small white towel. Her pudgy little face was scrunched up in indecision, trying to decide which vegetable to choose. I looked away before the failure got to me. I tried to focus on a seemingly innocent rock, but then I remembered that one of the little kids in the nearby house had a rock collection. Even a rock was going to be glorified…

The child’s breathing suddenly sounded louder.

I looked up, and she was there.

She had no other pumpkins in her hands. With a slight grin, she picked me up gently. She shifted me in her arms, and with great effort for such a tiny child, she began to walk back to the house. Her little blond curls bounced with every step, her pretty little face resembling an angel to me.

I couldn’t decide why she chose me, the dented and destroyed pipsqueak. She placed me on the porch as she took off two tiny yellow boots. Then, she took me inside the house.

***

Glorious. Living amidst dirt all ones life, the inside of the home was more immaculate and amazing and unbelievable as if you had told me I could fly. I gaped at the world around me that I had never seen, the world I could have never imagined. It was cozy. It was beautiful. It was where I wanted to be.

The child placed me in the sink, and with too much care towards a pumpkin, she kindly began to wipe all of the dirt off of me.

Who had known I was orange, beneath all that muddy brown?

Bubbles were flying throughout the kitchen, and she giggled and popped a few. I had never seen this kid before. She was most likely too young to walk with the other kids. Too young to go to wherever they went, and participate in their world.

Yet she was just the right age to see beyond the the rejected pumpkin.

The girl’s father came over and placed me on the table. Then he sat down, and I gulped at what I saw in his hand.

Some sort of carving knife.

It didn’t hurt that much, actually. The child pointed, showing him exactly what she wanted me to look like. I could feel the knife slicing me, and I believe they cut off a small area around my stem. Then, they basically ripped off the top of my head.

The girl took a spoon, and began scooping out all of the goop and junk inside of me. She placed it in the trashcan – where it belonged. It was as if the rot was being taken out of me. I knew I would still decay in the end, but at the same time, it felt good to be transformed into something new.

The little girl told her dad to cut holes from the front of my face, but I didn’t mind. It hurt, but I think with the decay, I was becoming immune to it all.

With no warning, she stepped back.

The dad came back with a glowing contraption. Wasn’t a traditional candle, but whatever kept the kid safe.

The girl picked me up. She had put the light inside of my head. As we passed by a huge mirror, I saw myself in it.

I had always been quite as small as I had thought I had been. I still had quite a few dents. Yet, somehow, my faults looked like nothing compared to all of the good things she had done to me. I still had scars, but they were nearly unnoticeable.

I had a perfectly carved face, and I was shining brilliantly.

The face wasn’t really perfect, seeing as the kid who had designed it was rather young. But it was perfect to me. It was perfect because that was how things were supposed to be.

They placed me on the porch, just as I had imagined. That night, the grin on my face was real.

***

It was the next afternoon, and the winds came back.

They had taken a nice long break. But nevertheless, they were back.

I cringed as they picked up speed.

Sure, they weren’t enough to send me like flying throughout the county, but they weren’t. The kids gave them a name, but who knows what they were. All I knew is that they were abnormally strong. By dinnertime, I was nearly toppling off the porch.

It was a final gust of wind that did it.

I was flying through the air, and I hit the ground with a crash.

I had somehow landed right side up, but I still groaned.

It seemed like the beginning of the end had been jumpstarted with wind. And here was my final chapter, being devoured. It was as if I was staring into an hourglass.

I waited there for hours. There was nothing. Nobody coming to save me. It was dark now, and I noticed that there seemed to be a lot of children out and about. The wind had calmed a bit, but it was of no use. It was too late for me to shine for the children. It was too late for me to glow.

Then I heard a rustle in the bush next to me.

***

I peered at it with overly suspicious rabbit eyes. I should have run. Every instinct told me that.

But curiosity was overwhelming.

A pumpkin. An average veggie. Yet… it seemed like he smiled at me. Even if it hadn’t been for the face carved into him, something seemed alive about the pumpkin. Something seemed… intelligent.

I dove into my home. It was literally right next to the pumpkin, and it was a wonder nobody else had paid much attention to the thud. I brought my mom and Sam.

Mom moved her whiskers around the pumpkin cautiously, making sure he wasn’t a threat. When it passed her inspection, she took a step back, and she grinned. She looked at me as if I had found a real treasure. Sam’s huge rabbit eyes were the size of saucers, filled with wonder.

That night was the first night, and the only night, we had light.

A million other lights swayed in other driveways. Mom told me that it was Halloween, something the humans celebrate. Last night she had told me it was dangerous to go out. But tonight… tonight with our glowing pumpkin, she told me it was okay. She told me that we didn’t have to worry about what hid in the darkness, because tonight we had light.

As we were frolicking through the grass, Sam and I playing our own childish rabbit games, I wondered what must have been going on in the pumpkin’s head. I knew the pumpkin must have been thinking about something.

Maybe he was thinking about how he had fallen so far, off of that porch. Maybe he was thinking about how he already looked so dented and so small.

But I hope he thought about how perfect he was for us.

It was the night we didn’t have to be afraid.

I hope the pumpkin wasn’t afraid, either. Afraid of the future, or afraid of the wind. He didn’t have to be cautious and afraid like us. Because he brought light. Because we could have only used the smallest pumpkin.

He had fallen for a reason.

I hope he thought about how he changed our little world. Thanks to his light, Halloween was the best night of my young rabbit life.

They say pumpkins can’t think. But I disagree. Although he is long decayed, I will never forget our Jack o’ Lantern.