Tale Of The Pumpkin King

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. I hadn't seen the outside world in what Davis said was almost 9 months. Last time mother nature was wrapped under a thick blanket of white snow, wearing her finest trees with ice laced branches. Today, she was engulfed in bold color, not a monochrome shadow in sight. I turned towards the hills. My heart began pounding as if to escape from its prison behind my rib cage. I gasped at the sight of red, yellow, and orange licked trees- All of the hills a fiery mirage. I could feel my blood warm as the smell of boiling sap tingled my nose. Maybe that was just my mind playing tricks on me.... but I could swear the scent was so sweet, I could almost taste it.

I was so eager for that sweet syrupy taste... Anything to replace the palpable damp and mildewy memories of that dark basement. The taste of rotted and burned pumpkin would haunt me... Even the cherry lime jello they fed me at the hospital couldn't get rid of that. A tear spilled past my lashes, making its way to a quivering bottom lip after rolling down a wind-chapped cheek. I tried to compose myself, but these floodgates would not hold. I broke into sobs. Who knew that this is what freedom would bring? Such vivid emotions accompanied by natures fire lit brushes, painting the clear blue Vermont sky? I never thought I would feel anything but fear and numbness again- even after seeing Davis's sweet disheveled face.

Behind me, among the distant chatter of staff standing outside Sweet Haven Rehabilitation's front doors, I heard footsteps crunch slowly on the pavement behind me. A warm hand gently landed on my shoulder. In more recent months I would have flinched, but today- it felt like a welcome weight that comforted and grounded me. I wiped my tears away with the sleeves of Grandma's favorite sweater, and turned towards Davis. He had brought it (along with some jeans, chucks, and a beanie) with him so I would have something to replace that ugly grey jumpsuit. That... wretched... wretched... jumpsuit. I felt my thoughts darken around the edges of my mind slightly, as if the darkness wanted to swallow me up again for even thinking about the outfit I had been forced to wear while in the basement. Davis must have seen a flicker of these thoughts within my eyes, as he quickly cleared his throat.

"It... It is beautiful out here, aint it Midge?"

I nodded so profusely, I thought my head may wobble right off my shoulders, and tumble into a pile of leaves.

"Ya know, I told Marge to go ahead and make some of that maple candy you like so much. She's also making breakfast for dinner! Flapjacks, bacon, a whole spread!" He went on about the food, removing his hand from my shoulder, to place a small box of medical supplies in the trunk. Davis was normally a quiet man, but he couldn't seem to curb the waterfall of words that spilled through his long, unkempt, beard. I assumed nerves had got the best of him. He opened the passengers side door of his little blue truck while going on about Marge, the farm, and his favorite 2 ewes. I jumped in, silently nodding. He kept talking after he shut the door and while he walked around to the drivers side, even though the windows were all up. By the time he got buckled and put the truck in gear, he was telling a story about how Marge spilled buttermilk all over the counter when one of the cows got out and unexpectedly stuck their head inside the open kitchen window late one night. I hadn't laughed in months, but I felt the corner of my mouth twitch as he described the heifers long tongue reaching for the plants on the side table and Marge shouting in shock.

The next thing I knew, we were driving through the winding old dirt road that led to his little farm beyond the woods. While the leaves had me enraptured, the trees cast a dark shadow over the road, and I fought back darker memories. I hugged myself and clutched handfuls of sweater at my sides, searching for memories of grandma to replay in my mind instead. As we broke through to the valley, I felt my shoulders relax, and my back sank into the seat. It was as if the sun was shining down on the farm, whispering words of welcome through her rays. Davis pulled the truck up to the barn and cut the engine. I'm not sure when he had stopped talking, but even the silence between us felt warm. the truck creaked as I got out, but when my feet hit the ground I heard a familiar low toned howl. My eyes widened in disbelief.

"H-H- How?" Was all I had time to say before I locked eyes with the chubbiest of basset hounds jaunting towards me from the porch.

"C'mon Howie! Brought you a sweet present today!" Davis called.

Howie tripped on his ear and through a pile of leaves before flopping at my feet for a belly rub. I wanted to yell in delight, but instead the tears came again and I scooped him up. At a hefty 75 lbs, my overweight Howie could only wriggle a little in my arms, shifting his face around to lick up as many of my tears as he could. I buried my face in his rolls of fur.

Davis laughed, "See, told you I'd bring you a present Howie! We found this lil' feller down at the ridge not a week before...." He stopped slowly, eyebrows raised, realizing what he was about to say. "Well, you're both here- that's what counts. Anyways, lets get you inside and fed! I'm hungry as a horse on Sunday. Oh, and Marge is sure itching to see you..." He trailed off and gave Howie a little pat on the head before walking towards the house.

I followed Davis across the yard, thinking about the ridge. That fateful day was forever burned in my memory. I had taken Howie with me for a hike in the middle of February.... and run into a man the local papers called The Pumpkin King. He had gained the name from his signatures; Wearing a smiling pumpkin mask, and leaving a mini carved jack'o'lantern on the porch of every family whose child he intended to steal. I had been his first known teen victim... and before me, The Pumpkin King hadn't been active since Halloween.

I shuddered, remembering the creaking of the trees, the quietness of the ridge, and the sudden appearance of a man in a mask. The counselors and officers at Sweet Haven assured me they had arrested the Pumpkin King, a man by the name of Paul Kipps.... But That day on the ridge the pumpkin king hadn't seemed like a living man. His tall and wiry frame had seemed more like it was made of branches, and the mask seemed like a jack'o'lantern a light with real flames. It was as if his voice had been laughing within my head, and the flames had pulled me into darkness.

My therapist at Sweet Haven said it was just the trauma speaking. Paul Kipps was arrested the day that the police broke into the old house in the woods off of Pleasant Valley, where he had been keeping me and several young children chained up in the basement, surrounded by burning candles and jack'o'lanterns. We were forced to eat rotted molding pumpkins to survive. A neighbor had called into the cops, suspicious of Paul coming home with a flatbed of pumpkins several times a week in the middle of August. After a few weeks of watching, the cops busted through the front door and arrested him, taking me and several malnourished children to the surrounding hospitals.

The smell of cinnamon snapped me back to reality as I walked through the front door. The house was warmed by the wood stove in the corner, and the walls of the living room were still lined with unfinished wooden shelves that Grandma and Gramps had put up when they built the place. All of Marge's trinkets and Davis' carvings were mixed up on the shelves with Grandma's books and Gramp's dried flowers and fiddle heads. Henrietta, Marge's cat, couldn't be bothered with a hello as she was curled up all cozy in a ball on the couch. I put Howie down, and he followed me and Davis down the narrow hall, past the stairs, and into the kitchen. We walked in, just in time to see a flower dusted Marge put a huge platter of waffles on the table.

"Smells mighty good, Marge." Davis quipped, sneaking up for a peck on her cheek. Marge quickly turned around, her kind eyes and large smile made me feel at home.

"My stars!" she exclaimed. She whipped off her apron and wrapped me up in the tightest hug. I felt like a stiff stick of cold butter in her arms at first, and then began slowly melting at the edges.

"I'm so- so- so... I missed you." was all I could get out.

"Oh honey, I'm just so glad you're home. I begged your grandparents, God, and everyone I knew in heaven to get you back to us safely!" She pulled back and held my hands, searching my face. "Davis and I sure were blessed by your grandparent's leaving us this here farm, but we were even more blessed with you." She squeezed my hands and pulled me towards the table. "Are you hungry, Midge? I made us a feast tonight! We have waffles, and bacon, scrambled eggs, cranberry juice, I even cut the fruit into little shapes in the fruit bowl- I was so excited! Oh- and Davis asked me to make some maple candies for you, and I included some candied maple bacon- its all in a basket on the desk in your room."

"Thank you." I said. I tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. The therapist at Sweet Haven said that would only be fixed with time.

Davis filled my plate with waffles and bacon. Marge carefully placed heart and star shaped fruit slices on my plate, than drizzled everything with maple syrup. It was so much food that I thought I would never be able to finish it! But when that first bite hit my tongue, boy was I in heaven! I gobbled up every last bite while listening to Davis and Marge talk about the town, the farm, and how many pies Marge needed to bake for the towns fall festival next weekend. At the mention of the festival I saw Marge stiffen, and Davis become a little embarrassed.

"It's that time of year already...." Davis said, before getting a harsh look from Marge.

"It- It's alright." I stammered, "I know. The Ther-Therapist and staff at Sweet Haven prepared me for... Hall-Halloween."

Davis looked down at his empty plate, all but licked clean.

Marge shot Davis another look before saying, "Well, honey, If you don't want to go to the festival, or if you aren't ready yet to see all those people, we can stay here and Davis can go down to sell my pies. We could watch old westerns or maybe we can count turkeys for the thanksgiving orders."

If I was honest... I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to the festival... but it might be nice to experience something normal again. "I'll think about it. Tha-thank you Marge."

While Davis cleared the table, Marge showed me upstairs to my room. Everything was exactly as I remembered, with the exception of Marge's gift basket on the desk. She had packaged each of the candy's wrapped up individually. A jar of candied maple bacon, a hand sewn hair scrunchy, and a card that said "Welcome Home!" laid nestled among the candies. Marge opened the closet and showed me where she had moved some of my clothes to make room for all of the blankets and sweaters my grandmother had knitted. She pulled out the longest one and placed it on the bed. Grandma had put the words "For Love & Comfort" on every corner. We called it the Comfort Keeper- When Grandma was alive it wrapped up many a crying child. When she had passed, we used it for every single moment of grief, sadness, or simply to keep warm on a melancholy day.

"Alright Midge, " Marge squeezed my hand again. "I'll let you take some time to yourself. I'm going to do the dishes while Davis gets the sheep inside. If you need anything I'll be downstairs." On her way out the door, Howie & Henrietta came into my room. Henrietta jumped on the bed gracefully, while Howie helplessly paced by the bedside. I helped him onto the bed and snuggled with the two under the comfort keeper.

I awoke with a start. I always seemed to wake this way, though I was sleeping much longer now than when I first showed up at Sweet Haven. The light in my room was still on. The clock on the desk read 11:30 pm. I shivered. Thinking the blanket must have fallen to the floor, I reached over the side of the bed for Comfort Keeper. No luck. I got out of bed, and realized it was gone, along with Howie and Henrietta. Maybe Marge had found them tussling over the blanket. I made my way down stairs to find 'Its The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown' playing on the TV. Davis was usually in bed by 10:45, and the wood stove was still going, so I figured Marge was busy in the kitchen.

The kitchen was sparkling clean, like Marge liked it. The back door locked, and everything put away. It wasn't like Marge to leave the lights on... I began walking down the hallway, and then froze. The hairs on the back of my neck stood still as I heard something strange repeating from the TV.

"You'll see the great pumpkin with your own eyes"

"You'll see the great pumpkin with your own eyes"

"You'll see the great pumpkin with your own eyes"

I felt the darkness creeping up on the edges of my mind once more, as I listened to the voice of Linus repeat this line again and again.

"You'll see the great pumpkin with your own eyes"

I closed my eyes. 'It's just my trauma speaking' I thought. I pushed myself to walk forward into the living room. The images on the TV were growing a little fuzzy on the edges, and the clip played over and over. The room seemed to dim... no, maybe it was just my thoughts. 'Its all in your head Midge'. The TV shut off.

Dread settled over me. I turned and climbed the stairs quickly.

"Ma- Marge? Davis?" I called out, but there was no answer. I turned on the light in my room. Wait... Had I turned it off? I frantically looked around. The basket was gone. The sound of deep laughter begins to fill my head, as I look at spilled candies on the bed, left out to spell P-U-M-P-K-I-N K-I-N-G.

"NO!" I shout, "PAUL KIPPS is in jail! This is not real. No no no. NO!"

Suddenly, the bed burst into flames! I jump away, the resounding laughter now deafening. The Pumpkin King's face is now in the window, staring at me, mocking me.

"Paul Kipps!" he laughs, "Do not be fooled by mere men."

I hear children singing:

All Hail The Pumpkin King

Through him evil reigns supreme

All hail the glorious Pumpkin King

Pumpkin King is here

Pumpkin King

Pumpkin King is near

Pumpkin King

Behind the Pumpkin Kings face I see Children with Jack'o'lanterns for heads, singing and dancing in the field. Every time one moves, fire spills from the carved eye and mouth holes, lighting the grass on fire. The glass in the window begins to crack and shatter. The fire spreads from the bed to the floor and up the walls. The Pumpkin King climbs in through the window, reaching for me. I run towards the stairs.

"You wondered why I took you?" His voice booms in my head.

I can hear him crashing behind me as I scream and run down the stairs. My tears grow hot, vision blurry.

"Every King needs a successor. My time has nearly ended, but I shall live on through you...." His laughs grow louder, shaking the house. Books and trinkets fall off the shelves. The house is burning. I struggle with the lock on the front door.

I hear children singing:

A bride for The Pumpkin King

Let the wedding bells ring

Shes the beautiful pumpkin Queen

Pumpkin Queen already

Pumpkin Queen

Pumpkin Queen already

Pumpkin Queen

My arms are in excruciating pain, sprouting thorns and branches. My face and eyes feel as if I've caught fire myself. As I free the lock and jerk to twist the knob, I feel the Pumpkin Kings grasp barely miss my sweater. By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.