House of the Rising Pumpkin

Written by Laird Long, Published on 10/9/2009

My friends and I rode up to Kim’s place and skidded to a stop in his driveway.

He answered on the first ding-dong and invited us all inside, while he told his parents where he was going and what he was doing. Kim’s family had only lived in the United States for five years, and they were very protective of their son. They were also very interested in American customs, like Halloween, which was tomorrow night.

“Hello, children,” Kim’s mother greeted us, coming out of the kitchen carrying a tray. “Would you all like some fresh-roasted pumpkin seeds?”

Curtis shrugged his shoulders and scooped up a handful and popped them into his mouth. His face lit up like a jack o’ lantern as he discovered just how hot and fresh out of the oven they really were.

Kim’s mother speaking in her broken English said, “American custom to carve up pumpkins and put candles in them and sit in front window. Korean custom not to waste anything.”

Snatching a handful of seeds and chewing on them, Kim added, “Yeah, you should see the pies Mom baked. She made them out of the pumpkin we got – which is going to be the biggest and scariest on the block, by the way.” He turned to Dabney. “Are you ready to scope out our trick or treat route?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dabney replied. “We’re going to hit maximum houses in minimum time this year, score the biggest load of sweets yet thanks to my planning.” He shook his head at Kim’s mother as she offered him the tray of pumpkin seeds. “I’ll take a pass, Mrs. Kwon. I’m actually allergic to seeds of any kind as some kids are allergic to peanuts.”

We went outside and mounted our bikes. It was seven o’clock and already dark, with a cold wind blowing black clouds across the face of the huge moon hanging low in the night sky.

“Spooky!” Curtis gulped.

Taking the lead as usual, Dabney said, “Okay, goblins, I’ve got our Halloween route all mapped out in my head,” tapping the side of his overlarge cranium. “And Kim’s got the back-up on his GPS, just in case anyone gets lost. We’re gonna be so loaded down with candy tomorrow night, Curtis is gonna need my sister’s wagon to haul his load around.”

Curtis was the smallest of the four of us with the muscular strength of an eight year-old girl. That is, as long as that girl wasn’t Dabney’s sister, Mary. She was built big and strong like her brother, and she just happened to be sitting on her bike across the street waiting for us. She had a serious crush on Curtis, for some reason.

Dabney groaned when he saw her. “Uh, any of you ghouls object to the witch tagging along? I know Curtis won’t.” Curtis groaned back. We all put peddle to the metal chain and hit the streets, Mary pulling up the rear.

We cruised right along Dabney’s chosen route, which featured densely packed streets and plenty of walk-up apartment buildings. It was a gold mine for treats, in other words.

Half an hour later, we all skidded to a stop where the route and the sidewalk ended. Beyond was the old Mitchelson house, a boarded-up Victorian mansion sitting on a weed-strewn parcel of land that backed onto the river. Rumor was, the place was haunted. Under the cold, clouded moonlight, with a bitter wind making the dead leaves chatter and the skeleton trees dance, we could all believe it.

“Hey, there’s a light on inside!” Curtis yelped, pointing at the eerie, dilapidated house.

Kim, who wore thick glasses said, “I don’t see anything,”

“Yeah, I don’t see anything, either,” I agreed, glancing nervously at the gloomy property.

“No, I see something I tell you,” Curtis persisted. “There in the front window – a light flickering.” The guy was physically weak, but we all knew his eyesight was strong.

“Let’s check it out, then, scaredy-cats,” Dabney said, always willing to take a dare or goad others into taking one. “I know just the person to lead the way.” He looked back over his shoulder and yelled, “Hey, sis, come here! We need you!”

Mary eagerly peddled up to us. She smiled shyly at Curtis. Then, when her brother explained that she was going to be the first one through the door of the old Mitchelson house, she made a face like she’d eaten a rotten Halloween apple.

“Oh, sure, great!” Mary whined. “You guys never include me in anything, unless it’s something dangerous or stupid. One day I’m going to get back at you … cowards,” she sniffed indignantly, as we all got off our bikes and crept across the overgrown lawn towards the shuttered and shunned house with an eight year-old girl leading the way.

There was definitely a light in the front window of the abandoned mansion, that much was confirmed as we drew closer. It was faint, flickering behind tattered curtains, but it was there – even though nobody had been home for years.

We stepped up onto the rotted porch. Mary tentatively reached out, grasped the hanging brass doorknob on the weatherworn door. Her brother shoved her from behind right through the door and into the old house.

The hallway was shrouded in darkness. We tiptoed forward, floorboards creaking ominously.

“In here!” Mary whispered up ahead.

We rounded a corner of the hall and peered into the long-disused living room of the musty house. There was a candle burning in the front window – inside an enormous, evil-looking pumpkin!

The wind whistled in the eaves and broken shutters slapped against the worm-eaten wooden sides of the house, as we stared at that glowering pumpkin, holding our breath. The thing had huge, grotesque eyes and a tremendous, broken-toothed grin carved into it, glowing orange and yellow by the light of the flickering candle, glaring almost right at us from across the shadow-laden room.

I couldn’t see my friends on either side of me. But I could see that pumpkin – rising!

I heard a squeaking sound, like a wheel turning. Then a high-pitched, girlish scream cut loose right next to me, almost blowing out my eardrums as sharp fingernails bit into my arm. The pumpkin rose right up into the air, hovering, grinning frightfully down at us.

I was the first one out the front door, across the lawn and onto my bike. My ears were ringing, and my blood was running cold. I’m no hero. I didn’t stop peddling until I was back in Kim’s driveway. The rest of my equally heroic companions braked to a stop not far behind me.

“The place is haunted! By a giant pumpkin!” Curtis gasped.

“I-I don’t know if I even want to go out trick or treating tomorrow night,” Kim breathed. “Some American customs are just too scary.”

Dabney wiped sweat off his pale forehead, as his saucer-eyed sister pressed her bike close to his.

I started getting my breath back, the icy blood in my veins warming up enough to begin flowing into my brain again enabling me to think almost clearly.

“Don’t fear the jack o’ lantern,” I stated boldly. “The old Mitchelson place isn’t haunted – except by a Halloween trickster. Somebody rigged that pumpkin to fly, in order to scare us. When we all go back there, we can figure out who.”

Mary’s high-pitched scream made my ears ring all over again. It took some convincing and the assurance of Kim’s father’s cell phone and flashlight, but I finally persuaded my friends to ride back with me to the Mitchelson house. Once there, I quickly ran over to the still lit-up pumpkin, now resting comfortably back on its table and examined it up-close. Then I waved the others over with the flashlight.

“See,” I said, grabbing onto the nearly invisible fishing line and lifting the pumpkin, with some effort. “This giant gourd didn’t jump up all on its own. Someone poked four small holes in it and threaded through some fishing line and then used a pulley system to reel the pumpkin upwards.”

I shone the flashlight on the pulley screwed into the ceiling of the living room directly above the pumpkin. Then I shone a light on the guilty party. “I know who that someone is…..”