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The Stolen Pumpkin
A Halloween Tale of Terror
by K. Massari
Copyright © 2014 Karen Massari
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This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
The Stolen Pumpkin
Cathy's lips were turning blue. She had waited since after school for Carl, and he had promised, this time he would make it.
She sat huddled against the back of the shed.
Out here, if she got hurt, no one would find her.
Cathy pushed that thought away. She reached into her bag and took out a candy bar. It took a while for her to rip it open with her trembling fingers. She started to cry.
He was always doing this.
A month ago, he had told her they were together. Now, he was inventing stories to buy time. He was pushing her further and further away. Despite herself, Cathy smiled through her tears.
Out here, no one would see.
She allowed herself to sob. It hurt so much. Carl was not the first boy to do this. It kept happening. Other girls were so very ... popular. And she was always, always the one kept waiting. The one ignored. The one they shunned.
Why?
In the distance, thunder rumbled. It started to rain, if ever so lightly. Cathy did not care. She would sit here forever. It would take forever for a girl like her to find happiness.
He was standing at the edge of the woods leading to Boardsville, leaning against a tree. She saw the white of his T-shirt blazing against the hues of green and brown. It was Arthur: Arthur, the village fool. He was harmless if only very bothersome. She thought he might just go away again.
She reached into her backpack, for another candy bar. This time she bit into it with the wrapper still attached, and sucked the chocolate out slowly. She was beyond cold now.
And Carl would never come.
Tomorrow at school he would have some half-ass excuse ready. Oh, like, his dad made him do this, and he had to go elsewhere to do that, but for sure, he would make it up to her.
Someday.
Arthur was still watching her. Stupid jerk.
Clumsily, Cathy got to her feet. If anyone were watching (besides dickhead Arthur, of course), they would think she had been drinking. Steadying herself by placing a hand on the rough wood of the shed, she tried to fight the dizziness.
Grabbing the straps of her backpack, she started walking towards town. She kept her head down. It was no use. She had to get back in time before her mom got home from work, and she would have to have an excuse ready why she looked so cold and exhausted. Her mom would sense something had gone wrong. Her mom could see right through her. Which was good, in a scary sort of way.
Past the gravel road leading to the shed, there was a main road, and a path meandering through a stretch of trees, two rows of dirt with choppy grass in the middle. Worried about being seen on the main road, Cathy dodged into the trees.
Glancing back towards the shed, she breathed a sigh of relief Arthur had not followed her. He could be very clingy for no reason at all.
It was getting dark. It was getting dark alarmingly fast. Cathy heard the coo of wild birds and the wind picking up.
Lightning flashed far away, but the thunder had all but stopped. Chances were good she would make it home unharmed.
Her stomach hurting, she remembered an incident at the fried chicken restaurant when her mom and dad were still trying ... to stay together. Arthur had come in and after looking around for a while, had started a conversation with her family, even sampling some of the chicken on their plates. When he had tried to grab one of the soft drinks, her father had slammed his flat hand on the table and yelled: "Enough!" Arthur had laughed an insane sort of little laugh and had tried again to grab a drink. One of the staff had rushed over and escorted him out, but Cathy remembered how her heart had hammered in her chest, and how her dad had looked angry all afternoon.
Spur of the moment decision, Cathy jumped off the dirt road and hid behind a tree. She waited for a long time, but sure enough, Arthur with his very white T-shirt (his mother tried to compensate for his lack of intelligence and social skills with overly accurate dressing and adherence to current styles) came clambering along, tripping twice, but managing to steady himself.
'He has all the grace of a new puppy,' Cathy thought.
But to her mounting horror, he came towards the tree she was hiding behind with quick steps, and caught her standing there.
Cathy had a big lump in her throat. Again, she wanted to cry. Maybe Carl HAD come to meet with her after all, and maybe he TOO had followed ... but that was unlikely. She was a magnet only for fools and rejects.
"Hi, Arthur. What are you doing here?" she asked and smiled a weak little smile.
He jerked his head back, as if in amazement. He did not say anything. It was nearly dark now.
"Okay, you know what?" Cathy again made an attempt at conversation. "I gotta go. Mom's waiting."
Suddenly, Arthur turned and ran away.
Cathy began to sob. How pathetic. Caught freezing in a cold damp forest with snot running down her nose having only the village fool for company, and even he abandoned her quickly.
She marched onward towards Boardsville. She would be home in an hour. As soon as she got past the train tracks and the housing projects came into view, she would be out of trouble.
Five years ago, when she was still in grade school, they had found a dead girl thrown into a hole and barely covered, only a few feet away from the tracks. Animals had fed on her. She had been barely recognizable. Cathy pushed that thought away. Those things happened. Everywhere. Not only in Boardsville.
Trudging on into a thicker, darker stretch of trees, Cathy felt terror grip her heart. Would anyone hear her screaming? Would she be strong enough to fight? Could she run, cold and dispirited as she was? She had to think of something nice, she had to focus on a good memory, or something to look forward to ...
Homework? A tired, sad, single mother, who at least tried to put on a happy face, but whose smile had gone fake and phony a long time ago? They were both in denial. Dad was not coming back.
A nearly empty refrigerator? A thin blanket? A slow computer? A call to Carl, just to hear his threadbare excuses?
When was the last time anything good had happened? Cathy heard someone crying. She realized, that someone was her.
She had to, had to get home. Rushing through the trees, she felt relief wash over her at the sight of the housing projects in the distance, the windows of which sent warm light to her weary eyes. Parents were coming home, moms were cooking dinner. It was okay. It would be okay for her, too.
Behind her, a twig snapped. She hardly dared to breathe.
She concentrated on the windows, and told herself stories about the families who lived there. She paused, trying to focus on her breathing.
When she turned, there was Arthur, his white t-shirt stained with blood, leering at her.
'Oh my God,' she thought. 'Oh my God.'
It was too late to run. A crazy thought entered her mind, what if - the pain would probab
ly be excruciating, but then ... then all of it would be over. Her shoulders sagged. No ... what about Mom? 'It would be easier for her, too,' a wicked, but kind voice in her head told her. 'You only make her work harder.'
"But she loves me," Cathy said out loud.
Arthur looked startled.
"Why ... why are you out here?" he stuttered.
'You idiot,' thought Cathy, but she knew better than to say it.
"It got late," she said. "I was waiting for Carl. He never came."
"C-c-carl is an a-a-asshole."
They both laughed a shy, quick, conspiratorial laugh.
"I can't find the tracks, Arthur," Cathy said with a sigh.
"Where are the tracks?"
"I will show you," he answered. And he marched into the darkened woods.
This was not good. But Cathy followed.
"You know," he said, looking back every so often, "I was meaning to tell you. I stole the pumpkin."
He stopped. Not really paying attention, Cathy bumped into his backside. She shuddered.
"What?" she asked. "What are you talking about?"
"The ... the ... the ... pumpkin!"
As if that explained everything. For a while, they walked in silence. Red-hued dusk had turned to night.
"Oh!" Cathy cried out, remembering. "THAT pumpkin."
Arthur chuckled, slapping his hands against his arms, cold now, too.
"Why, Arthur? Why did you steal the pumpkin?"
There was no answer. Maybe, thought Cathy, because they had been a family, and Arthur only had a tired, sick mother. Especially her dad, who bothered getting upset over Arthur's antics every time, was some kind of father figure for him? Cathy could only wonder.
Soon, the tracks appeared in the half-moon darkness.
"Okay, Arthur," Cathy said and touched his arm. "I can take it from here, thank you."
When she saw the look in his eyes, she cringed.
It was the wide-eyed look of a madman.
Cathy felt like vomiting, but she knew she couldn't.
She just nodded, and he turned and continued to lead the way. Would he really kill her, she thought. Probably not. He only wanted to get home, too. If only to put on a fresh T-shirt and put the blood-stained one in the washing machine. Or to burn it or something. Cathy felt like screaming, but decided it was better not to.
After they had walked across the tracks, Boardsville's tougher section loomed. It was better for him to stay, to fend off the many creeps hanging out in front of the nondescript apartment buildings.
"Hey, Arthur!" one of them called and laughed. His friends joined in. Arthur, the idiot.
Arthur smiled his missing-toothed smile, nodded quickly and said "Hi" loud enough for them to hear, but then bowed his head and let out a low growl. Despite herself, Cathy giggled.
"You sound like a wolf, Arthur," she said and smiled.
They found Baker Street and walked along it in silence.
"I ... I ... I took the pumpkin for my mom," he said.
"P-p-p-pumpkin pie."
Cathy saw the windows of the apartment she shared with her mom up ahead, and the lights were on. Again, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. How could she have spent the afternoon drowning in self-pity over a guy like Carl? It would never happen again.
Hopefully.
"I'm glad you took it, Arthur."
"What?" he asked, with a shy sideways glance. "What did you say?"
"Look, we had so many pumpkins that year. There were so many in Dad's pickup. And we were fools (she hated herself for using the word, but it was already out of her mouth), we could have been happy, but we never counted our blessings, I guess."
She continued, beyond weary now: "If that stupid pumpkin made your mom happy, then good ... know what I mean? Then there was some sense in all of it."
"But it was ... the biggest pumpkin!"
"The biggest pumpkin should be about love, Arthur. Not about having the most or being the biggest. Don't you think?"
Arthur looked at her. And for a split second, he looked all of his thirty years. He nodded.
Then with his left hand, he touched his heart. It was a quick, very real gesture, nothing pathetic or fake. Cathy smiled. This day wasn't that bad after all. They continued walking.
Cathy was so tired, it took her many minutes to realize what was happening. Someone grabbed Arthur from behind and jerked him down, smacking his face with fast, pow-pow-pow fist strokes. Disoriented, Cathy lost her balance and fell, landing on her mouth, which seemed to tear open on one side. It bruised and she sat on the curb, dazed. Arthur was losing teeth. Slowly, it registered. It was Dad! Where had he come from so suddenly?
Cathy squealed. "DAD! STOP!"
But her father could not stop ravaging Arthur. He was beating Arthur's head into a bloody mess.
Trying to somehow shield Arthur, Cathy tried in vain to get one of her hands in between the two. Haunted, she let out the loudest scream ever.
Two men came running out of nowhere and grabbed her dad from behind. Arthur lay motionless like a broken rag doll in the middle of the street. Soon, sirens sounded as help approached.
Cathy started to sob. What a crazy world she was in.
Her father hugged her desperately.
"Baby, oh my God! What did he DO to you?"
Cathy was breathing heavily between sobs and could not get a word out. Her mother walked slowly towards them. She seemed to be in shock.
As paramedics lifted Arthur into the ambulance, Cathy stretched out one arm to him and said a quiet prayer. Then she looked at her father.
She let him hug her one more time.
She thought of Halloween and of pumpkins, and she knew she would be stealing the largest, most perfect pumpkin she could carry next October, too. Taking it away from the people who did not deserve it, giving it to the people who gave their all and were never properly rewarded.
THE END.