a complete story from a very welcome new visitor. please share your thoughts on rambler's tale.


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October had always been my favorite month. The crisp clean feel of the autumn air and the colorful appearance of the neighborhood trees combined to invigorate me. Then there were the holidays. Columbus Day always meant a day off school, and not much beats that. Except the other holiday. Halloween didn't allow us a respite from our education, but I still loved it, and so did my friends. Halloween was our day. Or, more accurately, it was our night.

Darkness came early on October 31st. That was good. We liked it dark for our neighborhood prowl. The harvest moon provided an eery sort of lighting as we roamed the streets, searching for our targets: Pumpkins. The hollowed jack'o'lanterns made such a cool sound as we smashed them on the street.

"Hey, you junior-grade terrorists!" shouted a homeowner as we ran from the latest scene of wanton vegetable destruction. "I saw you smash that pumpkin! I'm callin' the cops!" his threat drifted after us as we sped
away from the scene.

He didn't know who we were; we were confident of that fact. We chose the far side of the neighborhood for our missions, the part which we never frequented otherwise. Also we were disguised in our costumes. Bill Hockstetter wore a lumberjack outfit. He carried a small axe, and his face was camouflaged with a bushy fake beard. Dave Fisher was dressed as a hockey player, his face covered with a goalie's mask, and he carried two hockey sticks, duct-taped together for strength. Russ Chamberlain was a werewolf, with all the attendant makeup. Me I had gone simple this year. I wore a black ski mask pulled over my face, a black skintight sweatshirt, black jeans and black running shoes. In my belt I had tucked a large cardboard knife. Though it bore no relationship to my costume, I also carried a broken broomstick handle. I told everyone that I was OJ Simpson. Most folks got a chuckle out of that.

We doubted that the police would be wasting time investigating smashed pumpkins, but we headed for a field to lay low and eat some candy fromearlier in the evening. As we suspected, no squad cars appeared. So we soon continued our prowl of the neighborhood streets, feeling a little like the terrorists that we had been labeled. Smiling orange faces fell beneath our onslaught.

"Hey, come here," called Bill. "Take a look at this one." We crept toward the house, staring at their jack'o'lantern. It was huge! Biggest one of the night.

"This is the mother of all 'kins," Bill stated, and we all nodded our agreement. "We smash this one, and our night is complete." He grinned.

That was ok with me. I was tired and was ready to head home. Mom and Dad would be up, but they wouldn't be worried yet. I wanted to keep it that way. I think Dad knew what we were up to, but he didn't ask, and I didn't tell.

"You know why they carve pumpkins?" asked Dave. I shook my head, and he said, "It had to do with warding off evil spirits. The Jack'o'lantern face is supposed to be so hideous that it scared those bad vibes right off."

"Nah," said Russ. "They were hollowed out so that the faeries could live in them. The mouths and eyes were just decorations for their houses."

"You're a fairy," jabbed Bill. "Now be quiet, while we sneak up to that door and grab that mother."

"I ain't a fairy." Russ looked indignant behind his whiskers. "Not fairies, F A E R I E S. Little creatures. Like imps or something."

"Shhh," Bill reiterated, and he led the way.

As we got closer, Dave let out a low, quiet histle. "That is one ugly pumpkin!"

I agreed. "Biggest one, but ugliest one we've seen tonight."

Bill had reached the jack'o'lantern, and turned to us. "Dummy up, you motormouths." He reached for the pumpkin and hoisted it against his chest. He motioned with his head, and trotted off, as fast as he could with the massive 'kin in his arms. We all followed.

We reached the road a few houses down. Bill held the pumpkin above his head, and smiled. "All Hallowed Eve is now over," he intoned, and we waited for him to throw it.

He didn't. He froze, and suddenly, my vision blurred. I could only make out the shape of Bill with the raised jack'o'lantern held high vaguely, and Dave and Russ were gone completely. Then something snapped, and I could see clearly again.

But my angle of vision was different. I was lying against the cement of a road or sidewalk or something. I couldn't see which. It just felt cold against my face. But I was upright. My chin was flush against the cement. I couldn't figure out where I was. I must be buried up to my neck or something, I thought. I was strangely calm, even though this burial thing seemed to be the only logical explanation. I tried to turn my head but couldn't.

"Bill," I called out. No sound came forth. I couldn't talk. I couldn't move. Then I noticed the flickering lights on the cement in front of me, and noted that light was coming FROM me. It illuminated the bushes and trees of the front yard. I could see the grass in front of me, and barely could make out the house across the street.

This couldn't be really happening. But there I was. Somehow, I was NOW inside a jack'o'lantern. Or, more accurately, I WAS a jack'o'lantern.

I could only assume that Bill, Dave and Russ were beside me, as I couldn't turn enough to see for sure. I watched as the dark street became active, first with our parents' cars, obviously searching for us. Then police cars drove past. Then footsteps came up the walk, knocked on the door that I could only assume was behind me. The voices asked if they had noticed 4 young men wandering around the streets. A different voice answered that they hadn't noticed. Our costumes were described. The voice told of how our "weapons" had been found a short distance up the street. The voices thanked the homeowners, and left. I strained to see who it was, tried to cry out. "I'm in here!" Nothing.

From behind me came a voice, noticing that there were four small new pumpkins sitting around their huge jack'o'lantern. The voice wondered where they might have come from. Then the door closed.

So here I sit, mute, immobile. I stare, unblinking, straight out toward the street. I wonder just how long I'll remain under the influence of whatever spell has been cast. I long for my friends' company, even though I know they are all around me.

A car creeps down the street past my field of vision. I see the taillights stop, and I hear footsteps approaching my perch. I listen carefully to the voices which belong to the persons outside of my field of vision.

"Hey," comes the whispered words. "Let's grab the four little ones. We can toss them out the window of the car or just smash them right here." There is whispered enthusiasm for this plan.

"Please, God," I pray, silently. "Let me wake up from this bad dream before it goes any further." But I realize that my prayers go unanswered as hands grasp my sides and the cement porch sinks away from me.

I thought about all of those pumpkins we have smashed in the last few years. I guess it's true what they say about payback being a....

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