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Pumpkin Patch Part Two

Monday, October 31, 2016

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Getting to a police station was the easy part, but convincing the police that something was wrong at the Millory Church was quite a different tale. They didn’t want to listen to two teens who told tales of blood filled pumpkins and living vines. Both were subjected to Breathalyzers and willingly gave their blood to be tested for drugs. After they came up clean on both counts, several hours later, only then did the police begin to listen.

 

An older officer, paunchy but with wide shoulders, sat with them. “So you said Kelly is still there?”

 

“Yes! We have to go now, and fast! Who knows what’s happened to him since we left him.” Erin cried, wiping away her tears.

 

“Well we’ll get a squad car, and you two can come with us in the back. St the very least we’re going to charge you with criminal mischief for what you were doing tonight.” The officer said.

 

“I don’t care, aren’t you listening? Get your guns and go to Millory Church’s pumpkin patch! We’ll show you what we saw, we promise!” David said, growing more and more irritated by the second.

 

“Alright,” the officer said after a second, clapping his hands onto his thighs. “Johnson, you and Arbella go and check this out, alright?”

 

“You got it Chief,” two stout men, both a little older than the teens, said. Moving with the teens in tow, they unlocked a police cruiser, ushering in Erin and David into the back before getting into the front.

 

The drive was short, but instead of pulling up and stopping at the pumpkin patch, they pulled up to the main entrance of the church, where Father Maxwell stood in flannel pajamas with a robe wrapped tightly about him. He held an electric lantern high, casting a dim glow over the surrounding area.

 

“Now what is this all about?” Father Maxwell asked as the officers exited the vehicles, opening the doors for the teens. Erin immediately wrapped the thin priest in a hug, sobbing into his flannel.

 

“The pumpkin patch! The pumpkin patch is alive!” Erin cried, as David walked up beside her, looking at Father Maxwell with a  wary eye.

 

“Yeah, we, uh, kind of snuck in to steal some pumpkins and ended up getting attacked by your garden.” He said, not really knowing how to address the man. David wasn’t a Catholic, unlike Erin and Kelly. “Kelly is still down there.”

 

“Kelly? Is that who has been making all of those noises?” Father Maxwell asked.

 

“You heard them?” The officers asked, somewhat surprised.

 

“I heard some voices a few hours ago, followed by some screaming. I figured some teens had snuck onto the grounds for some Halloween fun, didn’t want to disturb them.” He said, adjusting his glasses.

 

“More like Halloween Hell Father, those pumpkins of yours are killers! And their full of blood, and meat!”

 

“Now, now son, they’re just pumpkins. I took a few up here earlier today to make pies out of them. Are you sure you didn’t’ just imagine it?”

 

“Let’s go down there and check it out!” David said, the officers nodding.

 

Father Maxwell nodded as well. “That sounds like a fine plan. Let’s go and take a look at this for ourselves.”

 

Walking down the hill from the church to the pumpkin patch, the two officers and Father Maxwell led the way, with Erin and David following close behind. The first few pumpkins that came into the light showed no signs of movement or blood, though as they grew ever closer to the great pumpkin they could tell something had happened. A great deal of blood had been spilled, smeared onto the side of the great pumpkin by small hands, various pentagrams and crude drawings of otherworldly creatures.

 

“Oh my God,” Father Maxwell said, holding the lantern high. “Who could have done this?”

 

“I’m telling you it was the pumpkin patch! Cut one of the vines, you’ll see, they’ll bleed.”

 

“You know, you two came into the station covered in a lot of blood…” Officer Arbella said, shining his flashlight over Erin and David both. “Looks like there’s some underneath your fingernails girl.”

 

“From when I dropped my pumpkin after it resisted being cut!” She exclaimed.

 

“Officers…” Father Maxwell said slowly, raising his lantern high to stare up.

 

“And all the blood on your clothes?” Officer Johnson asked.

 

“The pumpkins bursting!”

 

“Officers…” Father Maxwell said louder, drawing their attention.

 

Four sets of eyes locked onto the subject of Father Maxwell’s focus; the scarecrow, now torn down and replaced by a limp human form covered in stab wounds, with a freshly carved pumpkin shoved over his head. He was tied to the cross with vines, his throat slit and arms cut from wrist to elbow. The pumpkin over the persons head had been carved with a wide, toothy grin and two triangular eyes, through which they could see the reflection of glassy orbs peering back at them. A butterfly knife was pierced into the side of the head, a flashlight at his feet on the cross.

 

“Kelly…?” Erin said low and quiet.

 

“See! The pumpkin patch got him!” David said, pointing up at the corpse hanging in front of them all.

 

Erin and David were immediately grabbed and placed in handcuffs, the metal rings locking quickly around their wrists behind their backs. Both officers frog marched the teens back to their car, calling to the Father that they would have help on the way shortly.

 

Staring around the patch, waving the lantern over the illuminated pumpkins, Father Maxwell stood there and wondered what exactly could have driven the two teens to killing their friend. David, while not a member of his flock, was notorious about his butterfly knife, and the long handled flashlight belonged to Erin’s father, one that the Father recognized from when they did repairs last summer to the roof, working long into the night.

 

“Oh Kelly… why did you have to come onto hallowed ground on all hallows eve with ill intent?” Father Maxwell asked nobody in particular. “The spirits of the long dead must have taken what you were doing as blasphemous, and decided to punish you for it. Hopefully you are with Christ now…”

 

The scarecrow that was the young boy merely hung there, blood oozing out from the numerous stab wounds. Inside his gourd helmet, he watched with the very last vestiges of life as a bright light began to walk away; he could feel the vines around his wrists and ankles tightening, holding him to the post. Looking out, he saw dozens of dark figures standing around him, watching him.

 

 

He knew this was a bad idea from the start, and unfortunately, he’d been right. 

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