The Pumpkin on The Doorstep
“This one’s definitely a keeper.” I whispered to myself, digging through an old box of pictures in the attic. I picked up a crumpled photo; it was of me and my dad. I held it tenderly, holding back tears. It had only been a few weeks since he passed and the picture was very difficult to look at. It was a color photo, and you could clearly see the resemblance. Our pink hair, strands straight and thin, though his were duller due to the gray that began to show in his hair; our similar bluish green eyes, obviously the most visible comparison. I’m slightly younger in the photo. I’m nineteen now and much taller; I look different only due to maturity. However, it’s still me there, wearing the same little blue dress I wore nearly every day when I was little. I still wear a blue dress to this day.
I decided I needed some fresh air, because the stuffy attic was getting to me now. I grabbed a handful of pictures and a newspaper, and headed to the nearby park.
My family used to love it there, having fun little picnics under the sun. We don't go very often now that my father isn’t around. I took a look around at the vibrant autumn colors and inhaled a deep breath of chilly air. It was a nice evening. After I sat down on a bench at the park, I watched the sun set for a while, then picked up the newspaper. It seemed to be outdated by only a couple weeks, but nevertheless, I flipped to the back and found the obituaries. I knew my dad’s would be there. I was surprised when I saw a long list of names and stories. It seemed as though the whole town was dead. I glanced over each one, mostly scouting for my dad’s name, and suddenly it dawned on me that many of these stories are very similar to my father’s, others almost exact. Ponies were found dead, barely, if anything was left of them. The most shocking thing to me was the fact that every single one was found somewhere around the park. I stopped reading; my very curious mind led me to believe that I needed to investigate.
Why here? What is so special about this park? And why these specific people? I thought as I walked.
I stood and held up the photo- the one with Dad. It was here, this exact place, he, and all the other people that mysteriously died, were found. I kneeled on the rough bark, its sharp edges piercing my skin like tiny sharks trying to eat my legs. I jumped in alarm and flitted over to the grass and plopped down. I muttered to myself as I looked around the park.
“Let’s see… maybe by the swings?” Skipping over, I spotted a little mitten. It was probably just left by a small child by accident, but it was still a good place to start. I grabbed the mitten, but it still had a hand inside. It was striped with pink and white, the miniscule fingers frozen into a fist. Blood leaked out of the stump where the wrist would have been. I dropped it quickly, and puked off to the side. I stood and pulled my brown jacket off, dropping it on the mitten, and I puked again.
Looking around for something else to investigate, I noticed the creepy abandoned house across the street. I shivered. This house was always a spooky place, with boarded-up windows and a chain blocking the entrance to the balcony. There was a lit jack-o-lantern on the railing.
“How curious..." I thought as I crept warily over to the house, my thin frame shuddering with fear.
The pumpkin gleamed with light. It had a malicious look, as if it was carved to frighten. It’s grin was wide, curling up slightly. I reached my hand towards it, smoothing it’s side, but in its mouth was a little pink mitten with white stripes, speckled with blood. I puked again there in front of the porch. I looked inside the house’s windows, and I found nothing but covered up sofas and dressers, but there was a silhouette of a small body laying there on one of the couches in a dark corner. The smell of a rotting corpse wafted out of the window. I shrieked and turned, darting a little ways down the street. I looked back, and the pumpkin was now off the porch. Startled, I reassured myself that it had just fallen. I took a deep breath and began to walk back to the park. From behind me, I heard a raspy voice. “Fluttershy…”
I spun around, looking back at the pumpkin. It was closer to me. “It was just the wind,” I whispered. This time, I walked faster. I heard loud thumps coming from behind me. Shaking, I turned around and saw the pumpkin floating right behind me.
“FLUTTERSHY!” it shrieked. I screamed, running as fast as I could, looking back once in a while to see the pumpkin speeding across the road. My chest burned like a furnace, and I was wheezing. I saw the playground, running towards it. Maybe I would be safe there. I was wrong.
I arrived at the playground, panting and covered in sweat. The pumpkin was nowhere to be seen, and I sat down behind a tall, looming birch tree. I calmed myself, trying to figure out why the pumpkin was chasing me. I stood up, looking around frantically. After I caught my breath, I stood up and brushed the bark off my legs and skirt. The ground tremored. An earthquake!? What's going on? I heard the booms and rocks smashing against each other, and I was frozen.
Out of the ground emerged the pumpkin, and a headless body on a jet black horse ruptured out along with it. The body had skeletal, wiry fingers, and a tall shadowy form with a long, red cape. Even though the body had no head, the pumpkin in the right hand of the figure talked and moved.
“Oh Fluttershy, Fluttershy, Fluttershy,” The figure moved around me, while I was paralyzed with fear. It paced back and forth, and the pumpkin's mouth cracked into a grin. The pumpkin’s raspy voice was now loud, each of the teeth moving and grinding against each other.
“Why do you not listen? I clearly called your name.”
“I-I I thought that it was the wind…” I squeaked out.
“The wind! That is absolutely ridiculous!” The pumpkin cackled.
“Y-you can't scare me!” I cried shakily. The body moved towards me, grabbing my arm.
"We'll see about that, Ms. Shy!"
I found the strength to rip free of his strong grip and tore away to a small child’s slide, and I crawled underneath. “Fluttershy! Oh, Fluttershy!” The dark demon taunted. I sobbed silently, hugging my knees, pleading to whatever gods sent this malignant spirit to take it away. I looked to my left: he was not there. I started to panic, and slowly turned my head to the right. The pumpkin was there, and I shrieked again, kicking it away, smashing its face in. It looked even uglier now than it had before.
“FLUTTERSHY!!!” the spirit roared, bluish-green flames leaping out of the cracks forming the pumpkin’s face. The headless body on the horse raced to capture me. I scampered out from under the slide and took off at a dead run, forgetting that I was wearing high heels. I broke my ankle with a snap, and I slammed into the ground, screaming out with pain. Even the grass now seemed against me, cutting my skin.
The horseman climbed down from his malevolent steed, and I saw the remnant did have a head. It was barely visible, like unto a ghost. I thought I recognized the face, the mustache, the evil grin. Then I remembered the photo. There was a man standing in the background, his hand on my father’s shoulder. Which meant… “Wait!” I cried out. “Y-you know me! I th-think. D-don’t hurt me! Please, I beg y-you!”
The zombie paused, seeming to recognize me, but did not. He turned to grab the pumpkin. I knew what he was about to do. I screamed bloody murder in terror as the horseman brought the flaming pumpkin down on my head with a crack of lightning. I felt the flames engulf me, and I shrieked and writhed in pain. The heat of the blue-green flames washed over me as it found my heart. The flames roared higher into the night, and the last thing I heard before I died was the raspy cackle of the evil remnant ringing in my ears.
