Introduced once again by Flurnston Boils, who needs the work
Welcome back, fright-finders. In our first tale of the adorably macabre, an enchanted pumpkin gets his first taste of life — and his last — in a story I like to call: A Carvin’ of Witch’s.
With each delicate flick of the enchanted knife in her ancient bony fingers, the old witch carved a face into the plump round pumpkin. But the witch wasn’t merely adding eyes, nose and mouth — summoning the dark power of the ancient mystic arts, she was granting the pumpkin the spark of life itself.
And within a few moments, the once lifeless gourd blinked its hollow eyes in amazement. “I’m alive!” exclaimed Jack (for what else would one name a talking pumpkin?) “How grand to be in the land of the living! But why have you summoned me here?”
“Tonight is Halloween,” explained the old crone as she placed Jack onto the floor, “and you shall occupy an esteemed place in the evening’s festivities: greeting the little ones when they visit for their annual treat.” In a moment, Jack could hear the pitter-pat of little feet approaching. Children! he thought. What fun!
“Thank you for this wondrous gift, kind woman,” said Jack. “I owe my life to you — and to your magical skills at carving.” At that, the witch grinned and a mischievous twinkle came to her eye. “Actually,” she said, “the carving isn’t quite finished… yet.”
