The Pumpkin Room

By Mark Milbrath

There is a mansion somewhere in the middle of a dark and dense forest...and there is a light on, as if your visit is expected. Inside is the Seed Reader. he can talk to spirits, even spirits of jack-o'-lanterns. He collects their stories of dread and sorrow and stores them in his library of pumpkin seeds. He has carved out another 13 tales o

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nightforest Press
• Release date: Aug 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9780997895445

Book preview

The Pumpkin Room

The Pumpkin Room

Mark Milbrath

Nightforest Press

Contents

Prologue…The Pumpkin Room

The Curfew

The Carver King

Carpe Noctem

Tricked

Tricky Treaty 2.0

Night Light

Lantern Jack

Fool, Moon, Death

Little Liars

Candy Corn Curse

The Pumpkin Pastry Princess

Gurr’s Metamorphosis

Haunted Hayride

Epilogue

About the Author

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2019 Mark Milbrath

Cover Illustration © 2019 by Laura Diehl

www.Ldiehl.com

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All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Published by Nightforest Press.

ISBN: 978-0-9978954-1-4

ISBN: 09978954-1-1

Edited by: Summer Dawn Laurie

Formatted by: SparkerLit Studio LLC

Special thanks to James Pierce

For the flock, especially Cristine, the real Pumpkin Pastry Princess. Also for Sunny (Bunny), Lotto, Skelly, Ghosty, Two-Tone, and Agent Orange. Our angel Yuki watches over us…

Prologue…The Pumpkin Room

The voices in my head are always from beyond the grave. The spirits of the dead tell me their stories. I listen. Then, I write them down and store them in pumpkin seeds here in the Pumpkin Room.

Welcome back. I thought I might see you again. . . .

Three years ago, on Halloween Night, wasn’t it?

Once again you found your way through the dark forest to my mansion. The howling wind and swaying trees didn’t scare you away. The moon followed behind you, its glow barely enough to light your way to the big iron ring on the door.

Inside, the hallway is just as dark as you remember. Candles on the wall are the only light. I see you watch a moth dancing in the candle-glow. Or, maybe it is a spider?

The Pumpkin Room still has the same soft orange walls but has twice as many seeds as it did last time you were here. More than all of the stars in the sky, you think. Yes, I’ve been very busy.

But I know the real reason you are back…and it isn’t just to see me, your humble Seed Reader. You feel the need to hear more dark tales and hope they might help you. For, you’ve changed, haven’t you? Things are different now than before you visited here, aren’t they?

You hear things now, don’t you? Unusual noises when you are tucked into your bed at night. And sometimes when you are by yourself, you don’t feel totally alone, do you? Like something—or someone perhaps—is watching you.

This is what happens to those who visit the Pumpkin Room and hear the stories from beyond the grave. A seed is planted with each story that grows bigger every day. That’s the price you pay.

Pick a story, I say. You watch as I pull the pumpkin seed off the wall and open it like a book. Your chair is here as it was before, made from dead fall leaves.

As I turn to the first page, I see your hand tremble just a bit. Part of you wants to leave. I raise an eyebrow and wait for you to compose yourself. I look toward the door and then back at you. Surely you remember the rules: Once I begin reading, the door closes. There will be no leaving until the story is done.

Shall we proceed?

The Curfew

Before we get into this story, I must know: Has a curfew ever been imposed upon you? Have your mother and father ever insisted that you be home by, say…nine o’clock? Does the curfew get extended to 10 o’clock if it is a weekend? And, what are the consequences if you miss the deadline? Well, the town of Eastbrook has a special curfew that happens every year on Halloween Night. And you don’t want to be late.…

When are you gonna tell me why I always have to come right home after they ring the big bells? Nathan slurred to his mom as she struggled to fit the plastic fangs into his mouth.

Never. You ask every single year, and this isn’t something you should be curious about, his mom said. You know what they say about too much curiosity?

That it killed the cat or something. I still think it’s really weird, you know? People that live everywhere else don’t have to run home on Halloween night just because some church bells ring. It’s just here in Eastbrook!

Only the elders of Eastbrook know and they keep it a secret. Even I don’t know exactly why everyone needs to be home after the bells ring. There are rumors and whispers, of course, but the town elders have decided that it is safest for nobody to know.

Nathan’s mom finished adjusting his black cape and straightening his bow tie. Now, go and look at yourself. We just need to slick your hair back and maybe add some face paint so you look like a real vampire.

Nathan went into the bathroom and studied his face in the mirror while his mom put the goo in his hair. Then, she gave his face a coating of white cream so he looked like death. The vampire costume was finally complete.

It’s fine if you stay at Paul’s tonight. But, that doesn’t change the importance of what we just talked about. You have to promise me that you’ll go straight back to Paul’s right away when you hear the first church bells chiming, Nathan’s mom said, following him down the staircase.

I promise, Nathan groaned.

The sun was setting as Nathan made the short walk to Paul’s house. He liked how people driving by smiled and gave him the thumbs-up for his spooktacular costume.

Paul was skateboarding out in the street and hadn’t changed his outfit from school. He was wearing a black concert t-shirt and backwards cap. His hair was long enough that he could be mistaken for the drummer in a rock band.

You ready? Let’s go, Paul said, never being a kid of many words.

Shouldn’t we wait for your mom and dad? Nathan asked, his voice climbing with concern.

They’re not comin’, Paul said, watching his skateboard roll up the driveway.

But I told my mom that… Nathan didn’t get to finish.

We’re old enough to go by ourselves, Paul grunted as he hoisted a dark, bulging bag over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and headed to the house next door. Clearly, he had already collected quite a bit of candy. It’ll be fine.

Nathan had never been trick-or-treating without at least one parent. But Paul was one of the coolest kids in school and Nathan didn’t want to seem like a wimp. Though somewhat reluctant, he went along.

They trick-or-treated throughout the neighborhood, visiting at least 20 houses. The streets were swimming with little monsters and magical creatures all trying to collect as much candy as their parents and time would allow. Paul walked fast and Nathan had to hustle to keep up. Most of the time, it was Paul who rang the doorbell, but occasionally Nathan got to buzz one and flash those long vampire fangs.

They laughed and made jokes as they went around the neighborhood and Nathan’s concerns about trick-or-treating sans parents disappeared. His candy pail was almost full.

When the sun disappeared, only the older kids were still trick-or-treating. Most carried flashlights and some wore reflective patches on their costumes so car headlights would spot them in the dark.

I’m bored. Let’s get out of this ‘hood and go find some real fun, Paul said.

Isn’t it almost time to…well, you know? Nathan asked. Surely Paul hadn’t forgotten about the Halloween Night curfew.

Not tonight, Paul said, walking away from the street and into an alley. He motioned for Nathan to follow. We can sneak around way better in the alleys.

The first thing Nathan noticed after leaving the street was how much darker it was. He had to jog to keep up with Paul, who was navigating all of the potholes and curbs with ease. They didn’t pass a single trick-or-treater. Occasionally, a dog would bark, which made Nathan’s heart skip.

We probably should start getting back closer to your house, don’t you think? Nathan asked. Won’t your parents start to wonder where we are?

Paul suddenly turned around and gave Nathan a snarky look. Nope. I told ‘em I was staying at your place.

Nathan wasn’t sure where Paul was taking them. He’d only ever been to this part of Eastbrook when his mom was driving. He wondered if Paul had special night vision the way he safely led them through the dark Eastbrook Square Park and then through the ruined grounds of the demolished old school. It was almost as if Paul had scoped everything out in advance. Nathan’s heavy breathing made him sound like a panting dog.

Paul stopped at the bottom of a big grassy hill and crouched down in the thick bushes on the side of a familiar steel gate. He gave Nathan a ‘you gotta trust me here or else’ kind of look and shushed him, putting his index finger to his lips. Why, Nathan wondered, had Paul brought them to the town graveyard?

DONG DONG DONG DONG

The bells sounded slow and heavy, a lot like Nathan’s legs were feeling. But they sounded the same every year, ringing from the nearby historic church and breaking the relative peace of the night.

We gotta get out of here! Nathan broke the silence. Nobody has ever been caught out of the house after the third round of bells ring. I don’t want to die.

Turning to