The Pumpkin People

   

Many years ago, there was a village where people farmed the land and hunted deer and quail. Their lives were happy and peaceful except for one thing. Once a year, at harvest, they found themselves at the mercy of a giant race of beings. These beings had eyes that glowed like jock-o'-lanterns and skin so orange that the villagers called them Pumpkin People.

   The Pumpkin People lived deep in the earth, but at harvest time they raided the village for furs and food. When they knock on the villagers' doors, they expected these things to be waiting. If they weren't, the Pumpkin People would leave and return again at midnight to punish those who refused to give them what they wanted.
   "Give us something you have planted," they warned, "or we'll take something of yours to plant!"
   One year, a drought struck the land, and the crops failed. The villagers were barely able to harvest enough food for their own families.  When the time came for the Pumpkin People to visit, the villagers had nothing left to offer. Knowing the consequences of leaving nothing, they put out what little they had.
   Only one man refused to share. Peter Vingle put out nothing. He had lost his wife when his daughter was born, and he treasured the child more than anything. She was perfect, except for a tiny birthmark - the outline of a star on her cheek. Peter thought that was beautiful, too, so he named the little girl Starlina. He was determined to have enough food to feed her through the winter.
   "Let the Pumpkin People grow their own food," he said.
   The people begged him not to anger the Pumpkin People, but he heeded no warnings. He looked at the food and furs the villagers had sacrificed and shook his head.
   "After tonight, they will know how foolish they've been," he told himself.
   The night they all dreaded came, and after dark, Peter heard the knocking. He did not answer. He fed Starlina her supper and tucked her in bed. Then he ate and went to bed himself. He heard the knocking again at midnight, but he did not get up. He buried his head between his pillows and slept on. He didn't hear his daughter's little feet patter softly to the door to answer the knock. It wasn't until morning came and he went to wake Starlina that he discovered she was gone.
   He frantically sounded the alarm, and all the villagers joined in the search. They shook their heads sadly, and Peter flew into a rage when they suggested that the Pumpkin People had taken her.
  "That's foolishness!" he yelled. "She has wandered off. We will find her!"
   When the day ended, however, there was still no sign of Starlina. They called off the search, and Peter Vingle walked home with his head bowed in grief.
  As he started to open the door, he noticed a single pumpkin seed on the ground. Anger boiled through him, and he stomped the seed into the earth.
   Winter came, and Peter Vingle's hair turned white to match the snow. He went into the village only when he had to. The villagers tried to engage him in conversation, but he barely replied in response.
   Finally, it was spring - the time of rebirth. Everything was blooming and growing. It was going to be a good year for crops.
   One day, Peter stepped outside and looked around. He noticed for the first time that a pumpkin vine was growing by the door. He looked closer and saw that it had one small pumpkin on it. He stared at in disbelief and fell to his knees. Eyes glowed from the pumpkin like jack-o'-lanterns, but he knew the features of the pumpkin face so well! The star outline was perfect on the cheek.
   The air grew cold, and a voice echoed from deep within the earth: "Give us something you have planted, or we will take something of yours to plant!"
   The pumpkin vine flew into the air and wrapped itself around Peter Vingle's neck. All went black as he fell across the glowing eyes of the pumpkin.
        From the book, The Walking Trees by Roberta Simpson Brown. Republished for Ono Almanac by Nash Black, with permission from August House Publishing. To enjoy more stories from the book click on the title.

Footnote: We've love Roberta Simpson Brown's multiple award winning stories. For many years she has visited schools, libraries and other arenas across Kentucky telling stories. Her fans are legion and she plays to packed houses that enjoy a chilling experience.
   The past winter Roberta contracted a virus that paralyzed her vocal cords and she lost her voice. A beloved story teller was silenced. At this writing, after months of treatment and rehabilitation she can speak to some extent, but has been forced to cancel her story telling sessions for the witching month.
   We are pleased to share with you a story from The Walking Trees and other Scary Stories, pub. 2006, when we were delighted to give it a well-deserved five star review on Amazon.com.

   We wish to thank Mr. Steve Floyd, publisher at August House Publishing for his permission to allow us to bring you a seasonal story from Roberta.
   Barbara Appleby designed the illustration for the story.