Tales from The Pumpkin Patch (Holiday Tales Book 1)

by T S Paul

  Legal Stuff

  Copyright © 2017 TS Paul, All Rights Reserved.

  Reproduction of any kind is strictly prohibited unless written permission granted by the editor of the anthology and the individual author.

  The stories included in this anthology are works 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.

  The individual stories are covered under the copyright of the originating writer. The presence of their creative work in the anthology is by permission of each author.

  The Happy Pumpkin, ©Copyright 2017 Bradford Bates, All Rights Reserved

  From the Formless Wasteland, ©Copyright 2017 Taki Drake, All Rights Reserved

  Watch Where You Dig, ©Copyright 2017 T Scott Paul, All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  The Happy Pumpkin

  From the Formless Wasteland

  Watch Where You Dig

  Author - Bradford Bates

  Author - Taki Drake

  Author - T.S. Paul

  The Happy Pumpkin

  by Bradford Bates

  Chapter One

  Jayce

  “Seriously guys, where are we going?” I knew it was a longshot that they would answer me this time, but I had to try. We’d been in the truck for over an hour, and the drinking and music had been fun at first, but now my patience was starting to wear a little thin. 'We're going to have a few drinks, a couple laughs, and then we’ll meet up with some girls.' Well, that’s what they said, but I didn’t think that was a possibility anymore.

  I didn’t see any girls here, just a lot of testosterone-fueled sausage. The campus was long gone, and the dark country road we were on didn’t hold a lot of promise, at least when it came to sprouting out a house party full of drunk college girls. Isn’t that why most guys joined frats in the first place, to meet girls? Not to be dragged off out into the dark never to be seen again.

  “Just relax, Jayce. We’ve got one stop to make, and then we’ll hit the party.” Dean smiled back at me from his spot in the front seat of the truck. He held out the half-empty bottle of vodka and motioned for me to take a swig.

  “Damn right we got a stop to make,” Brian howled. “We gotta teach that farmer a lesson.”

  Teach him a lesson, well that didn’t sound good, and it sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with girls. All I wanted to do was get Sallyanne alone so we could finish what we started down at the lake last weekend. Instead, I was stuck with these two chuckleheads, probably about to do something illegal. There was also a higher than average chance that it would be morally questionable. That’s what being a brother was though, right? We stood by each other no matter what.

  “Guys, I’m not looking to get into any trouble tonight. I’ve got a certain someone that I’d like to see much more of, and I’m not the kind of guy that looks good in orange. If you know what I mean?” Who knows, maybe they would see reason, or maybe there was a chance I could stop this before it spiraled out of control. Unlikely, but I was still clinging to hope against hope.

  “Don’t be such a pussy, Jayce. Maybe if you had another drink your balls would come back,” Brian said his glare in the rearview mirror turning mean in an instant.

  That was code for shut up and get on board before I make your life a living hell. When Brian got like this, I knew exactly how to play it. “Whatever you say, Brian.” I took another swig of vodka and passed the bottle back up to Dean.

  “Good man,” Brian said taking the bottle from Dean and taking a healthy pull before handing it back. “Trust me, he deserves everything that’s coming to him.”

  “So just what did this guy do?” I had to know. It had to have been bad for Brian to be so worked up about it. I mean as far as I could tell the guy had it made. His family was rich. Not like ‘oh we have a house and two cars rich,’ but the more of the ‘we have a vacation house in the Hamptons and Aspen’ rich.

  “Why don’t you tell him, Dean.” Brian took another swig of the bottle and cast a quick gaze in the rearview before turning his eyes back towards the road.

  “We,” he pointed between himself and Brain “were out picking up some supplies for next weekend’s bash, and this old pickup truck nearly sideswiped us. That’s when Brian here,” Dean slapped Brian affectionately on the shoulder, “gave him a little piece of his mind. The guy then slammed on his breaks and almost caused another accident. Not too bright when he had his company’s logo plastered all over the back of his truck.”

  “So, we’re driving all the way out in the middle of nowhere to get back at a guy that almost caused an accident.” That didn’t make a heck of a lot of sense. Something had to be missing from their story. I was more likely to find these two hitting beer bongs together than actively searching someone out for retribution.

  “He didn’t tell you the best part,” Brain continued. “Guy chipped my windshield with a rock.” I looked over his windshield and didn’t see a mark. Brian noticed and continued speaking. “I wasn’t in my truck, dummy. I was driving my Dad’s Porsche. You know the one I’m not supposed to touch. Dude almost hits me, and then he cracks the windshield. I had to drop my whole allowance for the month to get it fixed. So now we are going to take that money out on his product.”

  Ah, so this was personal. Still, I didn’t want to be dragged into Brian’s mess. His dad might be able to hire the best lawyer in the world but mine couldn’t. I just wanted to get drunk and dance with some hotties.

  “What’s the name of this place?” I asked before thinking that maybe it would be better if I didn’t know.

  “Get this,” Dean said with a laugh, “it’s called Happy Pumpkin Farms.”

  “Retarded, right?” Brian said grinning from ear to ear.

  “Guys, my mom used to buy our pumpkins from there when I was growing up, Mr. Sizenberg always seemed super nice. He even gave us some cookies one year.”

  “You hear that, Dean. Jayce here got some cookies one time when he was a kid, so he thinks this guy is a saint.”

  Dean just laughed.

  For the first time, I started to get a little pissed. There wasn’t a party for us to go to, at least not until we drove all the way back to campus. On top of that, these guys just dismissed me like I was nothing. Maybe it was time to look into a new frat, one that had their priorities straight.

  “I didn’t say he was a saint, just that it seems out of character for him. Maybe he was just having a bad day.”

  Brian laughed, but the sound was hard and cruel. “Well, I’m having a bad month after our run-in with him, and I’d like to share the wealth.”

  That was my cue to shut up. Brian turned up the tunes, took another swig from the bottle and leaned heavily on the gas pedal. I had a feeling tonight was about to get real interesting.

  <<<>>>

  We passed the farm, but before I could say anything, Brian jerked the truck to the side of the road and locked up his brakes. If I had to guess Brian hadn’t done anything with an ounce of stealth in his life, but if there was ever a time to learn that skill it was now. Despite the fact we were out in the middle of nowhere, I could see the twinkling of lights from at least three other farmhouses. If anyone was sitting out on their porch the cloud of dust, he just kicked into the air would be readily apparent.

  Announcing your arrival was not the kind of thing you wanted to do when you were about to stroll into a field and start smashing a man’s livelihood
into sticky little bits of orange goo. I still didn’t feel quite right about this, but I was in it now. There was no backing out without looking like a chump. I’d have to quit the frat, and I wasn’t ready for that just yet. Maybe if I kept these guys under control, it wouldn’t be so bad.

  Dean held the door open for me as I climbed out of the back. When we got to the back of the truck, Brian was waiting for us there with Obama masks and hammers. I wasn’t sure if the guy had just watched too many episodes of True Blood or if maybe he was a little racist. Who knows, maybe he fancied himself more like Patrick Swayze in Point Break. That was more the type of adrenaline I was feeling right now like we were about to do something stupid and reckless on purpose. Some guys jumped out of planes, I got roped into smashing pumpkins with my frat brothers.

  The alcohol was flowing through my system now, taking the edge off of my morals nicely. I would be able to do this. Maybe I could keep things calm if I only broke one or two myself. Then I wouldn’t have pussied out, and it wouldn’t hurt Mr. Sizenberg’s business too badly.

  Brian was grinning ear to ear as he slid his mask into place. He let out a fierce whoop and took off running for the fence. Dean pulled his mask down and started to follow him. I slipped my mask into place feeling like a fool. One for wearing the damn thing in the first place, it was pitch dark out, so the mask was purely redundant, and two because the rubber felt gross against my sweaty skin.

  Dean notice I wasn’t right behind him as he climbed over the fence. He turned and called back to me. “Come on pussy, you’re going to miss all the fun.”

  “I’m coming,” I muttered it so he probably couldn’t hear, but when I started towards the fence, he took off at a run trying to catch up with Brian.

  I hopped the fence and swung my legs over. When I landed, the ground felt different somehow. Gone was the hard-packed dirt on the shoulder of the road. It had been replaced with softly tilled and cared for soil. The pumpkins in this part of the patch had already been picked and were probably at the farm ready to be sold. A patch is what they called it when you grew pumpkins, right? Maybe I could start using that for other things. Hey, bring me a patch of beers, or I’m going to go talk to that patch of ladies.

  I shook my head as I ran trying to put aside the ridiculous nature of my thoughts. Just where in the hell were Brian and Dean anyway? I could have sworn they were right in front of me. I couldn’t see anything with this cheap mask on. I tore the mask off as I ran enjoying the cool night air as it brushed against my cheeks. It felt good to be free of the clingy rubber mask.

  It felt good for all of five seconds, and then I ran into something, hard. What in the hell would be out in the middle of a pumpkin patch anyways? I had to ask the question from where my butt was planted on the ground. Whatever it was that I hit was hard enough or big enough, that I was the one that got thrown backward. I looked up as I started to rub my chest and let out a little scream. “Holy shit.”

  A hand clamped down on my shoulder making me jump again. “Get up you pussy, it’s just a scarecrow.” Brian walked past me in search of another pumpkin to smash.

  How did he get behind me? What in the heck was going on? I’d been running this way to catch up with him, and then he just appeared behind me. Maybe we weren’t here to smash pumpkins after all. Maybe this was just another haze the crap out of the newbie moment. Feeling a little disoriented, I came back to my feet.

  I looked up at the scarecrow. The thing looked fierce, maybe because Mr. Sizenberg ran a Halloween farm? I’d always thought of scarecrows as more of a Wizard of Oz type of thing. I mean, didn’t they have rosy cheeks on some kind of sack face and straw sticking out everywhere. This was nothing like that.

  This scarecrow looked alive. Sure, there was some straw on its clothes, but it almost looked more like someone did after they walked through a barn than it being stuffed full of the stuff. That and its clothes didn’t say farmer to me. For one thing, they were all black and dark browns. The face was covered with some kind of cloth that looked to have been worn down by the weather, but it was too dark to see inside of it. From where I was, it looked like it was wrapped around an actual face. That couldn’t be possible, right?

  The thing was tacked up on what could have only been called a giant cross. The wood had some kind of symbols carved into it, but the scariest thing about it was the small sickle the scarecrow had in one hand. The thing looked sharp, not the kind of thing you would leave out for the kids to play with. Oh, and the damn thing had a hat on, the kind of hat that probably used to cost a fortune. One of those leather cowboy style hats, except this one was dirtier than sin.

  Something touched me on the back, and I spun around raising the hammer. Dean took a hurried step back. “Whoa there. I just wanted to see what you were doing. We gotta get out of here soon.”

  “I was just looking at the scarecrow.” I pointed behind me.

  “What scarecrow?” Dean asked as he ran past me deeper into the patch.

  Slowly turning around to look at the cross where the scarecrow had been tethered I still fully expected to see it there. This had to have been another one of their pranks, right? Except it couldn’t be, I mean, these guys weren’t that smart, right? The scarecrow was gone, and that was when Brian screamed.

  Dean froze in place about twenty feet in front of me. He turned to look back at me his face pale. I could tell he was torn with running for the hills and running to help Brian. I didn’t have any such dilemma. I didn’t want to be here in the first place. I was freaking out of here.

  Dean must have read it on my face because he gave me the come-on motion and started towards the sound of Brian’s scream. A black shape appeared just in front of him sickle raised high enough that the moonlight reflected off the blackened steel. The blade came down in a violent arc. The strike was so fast that it whistled. Dean jumped to the side but not fast enough. He let out a scream of his own and clutched his shoulder as he started to run towards me.

  “Run!” he screamed.

  I watched in horror for a few seconds as the scarecrow slowly walked after him. What was it with psycho killers and that slow, steady walk that they had? How did they ever catch people that were running? I wasn’t about to find out. I didn’t have to be the fastest here, I just had to make it back to the truck before the thing was done with Dean.

  I took off at a full sprint for the fence. At least I hoped that I was going towards the fence. It was still dark out here, and I was disoriented from my fall earlier. Was this all my fault? Was this happening because I ran into the scarecrow? I let the mask and hammer fall from my hands, putting all of my efforts into running faster. The only thing that mattered now was getting the hell out of here. I put everything I had into my mad dash for freedom.

  Someone screamed again, it had to have been Dean. I didn’t even turn around or miss a stride. To do that now would mean I was next. The fence came into view, I was going to make it. I was really going to make it.

  Something clutched at my ankle causing me to fall forwards. My fall took me to the base of the fence, but I was being dragged back out into the farm. I could just make out one of the green vines from the harvested pumpkins wrapped around my leg. I tried to pull it off, but it just kept tugging me back into the patch. I decided I was never calling anything else a patch and that if I lived through this that I was never buying a pumpkin again, let alone eating pumpkin pie. Turning, I grabbed the fence and held on. It wasn’t the best plan I ever had. Dying here or back in the field didn’t make a difference, you were still dead.

  Turning my eyes back towards the field and away from salvation, I watched as the scarecrow marched slowly forwards. It held the sickle out to one side and strolled towards me as if it didn’t have a care in the world. I guess it wouldn’t care really, I mean what could a scarecrow care about? The sickle went up in the air, and I felt a scream tearing out of my lungs. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look death in the face. I counted to five, and when I wasn’t dead, I opened my eyes.
The scarecrow was gone.

  Red and blue lights started flashing through the dark as the sheriff’s cruiser pulled up behind Brian’s truck. I crawled over the fence as the car came to a stop. I was safe. Brian and Dean weren’t so lucky though. What in the hell was Mr. Sizenberg up to?

  The sheriff exited the car, and I ran towards him. His hand dipped towards his gun bringing me up short. He didn’t pull the weapon, but he kept his hand on it. I dropped to my knees, knowing that was probably what he was going to ask me to do next anyway. “You have to help me, something killed my friends!”

  The words came out in a panicked rush as I gasped for air. Everything that happened now was hitting me hard. I looked up into the calm eyes of the sheriff and said something a little more dramatic. “They’re dead, they’re all dead.” Then everything went blurry, and the last thing I saw was the sheriff’s boots walking slowly towards me.

  Chapter Two

  Zoey

  The Halloween season was my favorite. I loved the candy and the costumes. Sure, it didn’t hurt that my store also had its best sales month in October. That’s what happens when you run an occult bookshop and herb store. It also helped that this time of year people’s minds were a little more open to the possibility of the veil between our worlds being thin. The demon war had cast everything into the light, and fear was always a good money maker.

  I didn’t pander to the fear people felt. In fact, I tried to do just the opposite. Selling the locals something that was labeled to give them the chance to fight a demon or spirit would only get them injured or dead. I’d let somebody that didn’t care about the people they served, sell that kind of crap. Anyone that thought you could buy a charm and go toe to toe with a demon was just willfully ignorant.

  I sold protection charms that actually worked. Granted my charms wouldn’t stand up to an assault from a demon but I never claimed they would, and people felt a lot safer having them on than they did without them. The charms weren’t good for much else than deflecting a spell or two, but that might be all it took to save someone’s life. The charms also had a little herb blend inside of them to ward off general evil. It was the kind of thing that would make a malevolent spirit look for an easier target.