Pumpkin Smashers 10/31-11/6

The editors of Writer's Digest provide a weekly Writing Prompt to get your writing going.
VLADILYNN
Lieutenant
 
Posts: 610
Joined: Fri Oct 06, 2006 4:47 pm

RE: Pumpkin Smashers 10/31-11/6

Postby VLADILYNN » Sun Nov 05, 2006 11:22 pm

I got up so late this morning having this big dark bulged under my eyes. I’d stayed so many nights spotting the pumpkin smashers around this village with my telescope that been hanging at my neck that'd leave a line mark in my face and video camera that I'd forgotten that still been hanging from my window (oops! my mom will kill me if I'd drop this one).Whew! That’s will be the end of my allowance for a long time,until I reaches the aged of sixteen or might be more. I’d heard from the neighborhood that all the Pumpkins that they'd curved is been smashed by whoever that hated this Halloween tradition. And isn’t going to be happening to my pumpkin that I'd curved for the first time.

So I’d decided to make my detective blood useful (my dad is working in a big agent of detectives) just his area is kind of secretive one(that's why don't know anything else). I had asked my brother to help me but he told me that he don't have no time for this kind of nonsense. So I have to do it by my own. But days already passed by and still didn't catch up anybody yet. Actually to tell you the truth, I really didn't cared for the pumpkin no more because the Halloween is already ended and my big Jack 'O Lantern is ready to say bye-bye, it’s had turned to a big molded head already and I don't want to clean the mess that going to happen for a few days more (Yak!) that mushy hand full (Ugh, Argh) help!

And my dad promised me that if I'll know who is all behind of this, he will doubled my allowance that is why I'm being hyper to catch them. Ahh! Just.. I'm ready to give up..Wait I'll ask my brother again and talk to him that I'll share him the 25% of the allowance I'm getting. (That will be a good idea).


As she went to her brother's room knock once, knock twice nobody answered, she hold and twist the knob of the door and slip her head to the open crack door. She saw her brother still sleeping as she walks forward to his bed to wake him up. But whew! What in the world that smell! His drank! He is just sixteen and his already drinking? As she shakes her brother's shoulder to wake him up. He looks annoyed and yelled go out!!(He scared the hell out of her) as he rolled to turned his back to her facing the other side of the bed.

And I saw one, two, three, four and more! Pumpkin seeds falling out from the back of his shirt and onto his bed. I’m kind of shocked! As I bent my knees to the floor and looked under his bed, you know what I've found, a baseball bat that been covered with pumpkin seeds. For all the nights that I'd stayed out late and the person I'm looking for is living with us. I don't want to believe that this is really happening to me. I ran back to my room and took my camera out and took a lot of pictures of what've found, then went downstairs yelling DAD! MOM!

That memory is been a past of our lives but every year that Halloween comes it gives me the creeps to see that big pumpkin sitting on every doorsteps the (Jack 'O Lantern Smashers) hunting that I had when I was young. My brother still enjoying that pumpkin smashed but only inside of his backyard with his kids. After the punishment that he'd gotten with the rest of his friends from our father he'd learned and behaved well until now.


The punishment:
They'd just parade in the whole neighborhood that they'd rump with a costumes of smashed pumpkin covering their heads and only a pieces of cloth around their waist that was made of glued pumpkin seeds and pumpkin threads (They were freezing because it's cold outside) also with a sign hanging from their neck saying" Sorry for the inconvenience, we are the Jack 'O Lantern this year”. And the saddest thing is his one-years full allowance was given to me as a reward.

jhove
 

RE: Pumpkin Smashers 10/31-11/6

Postby jhove » Mon Nov 06, 2006 7:28 am

“The secret is in the aging of the meat.”

That’s what my mother would always say when people asked, mouths full, why her turkey tasted so good. Her food always evoked a certain visceral reaction in people – chew, nod, moan, repeat – to the point that it was embarrassing just to be a part of it.

And this year it was particularly awkward. Disillusioned with the concept of Thanksgiving being taken over by what he called the “corporate ideology of America” my aging hippie father had pushed his chair back from the newly arrived bird, stood up, and stabbed his carving knife deep into its exposed back. Juices squirted violently from the wound, staining my Uncle Jack’s crisply pressed service uniform, and ruining the brilliant purple of the cranberry sauce.

He proceeded without jacket or scarf to excuse himself to the large walnut tree that sat in our backyard. His long hair jutting out in icy protest, he sat in the fork of two branches with what seemed a paradoxical smile on his face.

Paradoxical, only if you did not know my father.

The family had grown to know him as a kind of Robin Hood, a man who had made millions through organic farming, yet lived a modest lifestyle and cared more for other people than for profits. Consequently, we lived in the nicest neighborhood in town, surrounded by people who hated us. He had a penchant for doing dramatic things on holidays.

That’s why I had just assumed it was him who had smashed all those pumpkins on Halloween. His disdain for that holiday – and the mass marketing of sloth to American children – was legendary. Only the bravest souls from the neighborhood would venture to knock on our door for fear that they would be subject to one of his rants. Or worse, to be given a box of organic raisins.

Yet, after running around the back of our house from my bushy hiding place, the smell of elderberry pervasive on my clothes, I found him sitting sleepily in an armchair by the fire. Mumbling something about the rights of our colons and kidneys to live a happy, un-assaulted life, he was clearly drunk, and clearly not the dark clad figure that I had seen wreaking havoc on our neighbor’s porch. That had been someone else.

“But, Mary, please, you can’t expect me to eat pie as good as that and not ask for the recipe.” My father’s sister Joanne was almost pleading now, “Come on, tell me the secret.”

My mother looked over to me, as we made eye contact I could see the smile behind her green pupils before she replied, “Okay, just remember, the secret is in letting the main ingredients age...”

eagletom
Private E-2
 
Posts: 64
Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2006 10:30 am

RE: It’s a Smashing Halloween, Charlie Brown

Postby eagletom » Mon Nov 06, 2006 8:26 am

i enjoyed this

fnwelf
 

RE: Pumpkin Smashers 10/31-11/6

Postby fnwelf » Tue Nov 07, 2006 11:51 am

I was hiding behind the bush of my house, resolute that whoever was destroying the pumpkins on the neighboring streets would not get my pumpkin.

Then, as I watched, all the pumpkins started to roll toward the street as if by magic. I looked around, but it appeared as if they were doing it themselves.

Quickly, I ran and caught my pumpkin before it made it to the road. The scream I heard was startling. I wouldn’t accept where it came from, but it was right next to me. My pumpkin was screaming.

“Let me go. Let me go, you monster.”

I almost dropped it, but as I fell to my knees I somehow kept my arms around it. I heard wet explosions all around me and realized the pumpkins were bouncing themselves in the air. They were bouncing so high that eventually they exploded upon landing. I looked at the pumpkin in my arms.

“Why are they doing this?”

“Let me go!”

“Tell me and I will!”

In a huff, the pumpkin turned and said “A pumpkin suffers horrible agonies this time of year. First, we are cut away from our mother before we reach our full growth potential. We are then thrown into a truck with the other stunted pumpkins. Once the trip is over, we’re prodded and inspected by strange monsters that have claws and hair. That would be you. Then you discuss our every imperfection in detail while the littlest monster with the sticky hands keeps dropping us on the ground. If we are chosen, you cut a whole in our heads and scoop out all of our guts and future children, throwing them away without thought or care. Yet you are still not happy. You have to keep cutting us until we look as disgusting and scary as possible. Then you repeatedly set our insides on fire.

“We pumpkins are stunted in our growth, prodded and sold, carved for the pleasure of monsters, then set on fire. We can’t take it anymore. We do not want to live like this and slowly rot, so we have decided to commit group suicide.”

With that, my pumpkin jumped from my grasp and bounced so hard he went splat on the first try. I have never carved a pumpkin again.

Cider with Susie
Lieutenant
 
Posts: 810
Joined: Mon Dec 04, 2006 11:22 am

RE: Pumpkin Smashers 10/31-11/6

Postby Cider with Susie » Sat Dec 23, 2006 11:22 am

I was covertly watching Grandma trying to unhook the Jack O Lanterns onto the floor but she kept dropping them. They were breaking into several pieces. She would cry when they did.
I came out from behind the bushes. “Grandma, you’re the mystery pumpkin-smasher, except you're not smashing them.”
“No, I’m just terribly careless. I’m trying to take them down from their hooks.”
I caught her before she fainted and we sat on the doorstep. She began to cry again.
“Grandma what’s wrong?”
“I can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“I won’t.”
She grabbed my sleeve and nearly took my skin off. “Then do you promise never to tell another living soul?”
“I promise.” I said.
“You must never tell granddad,” her eyes were wild now. “Do you hear me?”
“You can trust me Grandma.”

She took a deep breath and began her tale. “When I was young, I met a handsome man. He wined and dined me,” She swallowed hard. “His skin was an apricot colour, very nice. I thought it was just a tan but well, it was more orangey I suppose and he had…" she coughed, "he had a green stalk like thing but I was young and innocent so I thought all boys had them. Well, anyway every night after midnight I discovered that he changed.”
"Changed?”
"Yes, into…" she pointed to a bit of broken pumpkin on the floor. "Anyway, one thing led to another. I found out that I was in trouble.” She put her handkerchief to her mouth. “I decided to keep the baby. We pretended I was his big sister.”
I listened intently and tried to find more tissues for grandma’s tears.
“It was only much later that he began to change…”
“Change?”
“Yes, from a beautiful normal healthy baby to a…"
“To a what?”
She pointed to the floor again. “In the end when he got really bad, the authorities came to take him away. He had even developed the same green stalk his father had. Well now, I can’t bear to look at these pumpkins and think that Billy could have been one of them once…murdered in cold blood…on display like some kind of…like some kind of…"
“Pumpkin?”
“Exactly. I can’t bear the thought that it could be someone’s son or daughter out there, children’s corpses hanging in people’s porches."

There was a silence. "I need a drink," said Grandma. We went inside. “What do you normally drink after hearing news like this?” she asked.
“White cider."
“You sound like you hear a lot of news like this.”
“I do. I’ll go get us both a glass.”
As I was in the kitchen pouring the drinks I thought I heard a ghostly voice floating throught the open window. “Mamma, mamma, it’s me, Billy…”
I shuddered and rejoined Grandma.

Previous

Return to Writing Prompts and Challenges

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 9 guests

cron