The Pumpkin Patch
By P.S. Gifford
Is everybody sitting comfortably boys and girls? Jolly good then I shall begin…
Peter Perry’s young pale blue eyes peeled open in pleasure as he peered at all the pumpkins perched about the perfect pumpkin patch.
‘Golly gee,’ he thought as his eyes bounced from one pumpkin to the next, ‘which one should I chose for tomorrow?’
There were pumpkins of various sizes, from tiny baby ones, up to ones almost as big as he was! This was surely going to be a tough decision indeed! Peter simply adored pumpkin and he loved nothing more than to sit with his parents and carving lanterns out of them! He also really enjoyed eating oversized slices of home made pumpkin pie with a hearty dollop of whipped cream; it was his very favorite dessert ever! He began to drool at the very thought of it!
‘Oh gee whiz what a huge decision!’
All at once Peter, standing in the heart of the patch, sensed movement from all about him! Suddenly the normally jolly pumpkin patch did not seem at all jolly- in fact it appeared quite scary in the twilight of the day. Peter looked at the kiosk where normally the friendly manager of the patch sat, and took the money, but he was nowhere to be seen! Peter began to panic as all the pumpkins appeared to be gently rolling directly towards him- from every direction imaginable. My goodness! Peter had surely never been so afraid in his entire life! Can you even imagine such a horrid thing dear reader? Whatever was he to do? What would you do if you were in Peter’s size four white and tan sneakers?
Should he try to race on home to his mom and dad do you think? Could he possibly out run them as they rolled towards him? His legs aren’t very long, and do tire very easily. And besides his parents would get so mad at him for sneaking out of his bedroom so late at night to come here, they didn’t know he was gone, and maybe they would not even allow him to go trick or treating this year. What a horrible thought- not going trick-or-treating.
Suddenly to his astonishment, one of the pumpkins, a particularly portly and plump one began to talk.
Oh my! Peter pinched himself, in the hopes that he was dreaming! He wished desperately that he was still safely tucked up in his warm bed.
‘Why had he sneaked out this evening…why oh why oh why?’ he thought.
Then, Peter, his young feet glued to the spot in fear, listened intently to what the pumpkin was now telling him, as he realized that the pumpkin had grown pumpkin arms and pumpkin legs- and was clenching a scary axe with blood red stains on it.
“This year it is our turn to do the bloody carving!” It said.