The Pumpkin's Curse

 They're desperate to stay alive

I have always felt an odd trepidation towards pumpkins since my early years. Their twisted faces made me feel as if they were watching. This fear stuck with me into my teens. Mom, a teacher, is always busy grading papers late into the night. Despite her busy schedule, I still felt safe until we had to move, leaving behind my friends and family.

Mom bought a house in a small town called Dark Creek, where she got a job at a school just a few blocks away. Our new address is 1300 Dead End Street. The house is ancient, with broken windows and glass scattered everywhere. The backyard borders the forest. And, of course, there’s a basement. No doubt, it holds stories of its own.

Mom and I are waiting for the movers to bring our furniture, and a few men from town offered to fix the windows. I found it strange how they whispered among themselves as if keeping some big secret. But I ignored them, focusing instead on helping Mom clean and unpack.

We ordered pizza and shared it with the workers. By the time they were getting ready to leave, it was already dark. They promised to return the next day.

That night, lying in bed, I hear noises from the basement. The sound is eerie, sending chills down my spine. I don’t want to go down there. But, like the people in horror movies, I feel compelled to go where I shouldn’t.

Instead of running away, I head toward the basement door. My heart pounds, and the flashlight I’m holding flickers on and off, just like a scene from a typical horror story.

I open the door, and it creaks like old houses do. The basement light doesn’t work. With each step, a strange ticking sound grows louder. Suddenly, I bump into someone, and we both scream.

“What are you doing down here, Scarlett?” Mom says, her voice shaky.

“Mom! You scared me half to death!” I snap, catching my breath. “I thought I heard something down here.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says, rubbing her arms. “I found some boxes left by the previous owners. Look at this.” She pulls out a pumpkin with a terrifying grin. “Doesn’t this look like the Joker from Batman? I bet they loved Halloween.”

“Ugh, I hate Halloween. And I really hate pumpkins,” I tell her, shuddering.

We head back upstairs, and the next day, I see the same pumpkin on the porch. The workers laugh about it, comparing it to the Joker’s signature smile. But to me, it looks sinister. I throw it in the trash and try to shake off the creepy feeling as I continue unpacking.

Later, I decide to take a ride to the store for some snacks and magazines. As I’m locking up my bike, a guy about my age stares at me.

“Hey there,” he says. “Never seen you around here. You new in town?”

“Yeah, we just moved to 1300 Dead End Street,” I reply.

The guy’s expression changes. “That old house? Your family must be brave to stay there.”

I frown. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“My name’s Donald Winters,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to scare you, but that place has a reputation. I could tell you more if you want. Maybe we could meet tomorrow at the river.”

“Nice to meet you, Donald. I’m Scarlett,” I respond. “I’m definitely interested in hearing more.”

As I ride home, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something Donald knows about our house that I don’t. When I pull up to the porch, I freeze. The pumpkin I had thrown away earlier… is back.

“What the heck?” I mutter, rushing inside. “Mom! Are you home?”

I peek out the window, but Mom’s car isn’t in the driveway. She’s probably still at work. Maybe one of the workers thought it would be funny to put the pumpkin back as a prank. But I’m not laughing. Feeling uneasy, I bag it up and throw it in the trash again.

Later, when Mom gets home, we start cooking dinner together.

“I’m glad you decided to put that pumpkin back on the porch,” she says casually.

“What? I threw the pumpkin away, Mom!” I exclaim.

I run to the porch, only to see the pumpkin sitting right where it had been. This is getting weird. Someone must be messing with my mind. Frustrated, I grab a market bag, toss the pumpkin inside, and dump it in the neighbor’s trash bin.

We eat dinner, and after reading for a while, I check on Mom. She has already fallen asleep, so I gently cover her with a blanket.

At least the men finished fixing the house without pulling any more pranks. But I can’t shake the nagging thought that the pumpkin will reappear again. It's becoming a mystery I can't ignore.

The next morning, we hear voices outside. The police are at Teddy Shaw’s house. Had something happened? Mom and I go to see what’s going on. Detective Jerry Marsh asks if we heard anything unusual last night. We tell him no.

“Teddy’s body is missing,” the detective says gravely. “All that was left behind was his head... and an axe.”

Continue reading the story in the anthology:

https://books2read.com/u/mq5qNO