A beetle crawled along the floor and disappeared under the floorboards. Samuel wished he could vanish, too.
“Hon, go to the garden and get beans, basil, parsley, and carrots, OK? Check on the pumpkins.”
Samuel stood in the garden. What did his mom ask him to get? Oh yeah, he remembered now. He gathered carrots and beans and set those aside. They smelled earthy. He looked next for the basil and parsley. He left the rest to die back into the earth.
Samuel strode over to the pumpkin patch. The crescent moon shone. He stood before the ripe, round pumpkins and kicked aside a few dead mice.
The pumpkin vines sucked the essence out of the other withered plants. He shifted from foot to foot, rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants. He wished she didn’t make him check on the pumpkins. He broke out in a sweat.
He carried the newspapers and wooden boards under his arm. He held his breath as he placed the wooden boards and newspaper under the pumpkins. He jumped away as if dodging a rabid dog.
He sighed, exasperated. His legs were shredded. His socks were soaked. Blood stained the lower hem of his bell bottoms. His hands were a mass of scars and blood stains.
The vines were hungry. They needed a blood offering.
He turned back. Damn pumpkins, he thought. Near ate me alive.
He wheezed and puffed by the time he returned to the kitchen.
Liz was sampling the spaghetti sauce when he walked in. “Look at you, what a mess.”
“It’s not my fault,” he said. His mother gave him an annoyed look and waved him away.
“Go put on clean clothes before you sit down to dinner,” she said. He stomped out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him.
After dinner, Liz and Samuel flipped idly through the channels.
“I don’t like those pumpkins, Mom. They try to eat me alive.” Samuel wrapped a frayed blue blanket around him for warmth.
She shook her head. “No, they don’t.”
Samuel stared harder. “Yes, they do. Look at my legs.” He rolled up the cuff of his jeans to reveal the red scars on his calves. Liz rose from the chair.
She returned a moment later with gauze, cold water and a bowl. She soaked the cloth in the cold water and dabbed at the blood. Blood stained the cloth. She wrapped the gauze around his leg. She smiled up at him.
“Better?” she said.
He flinched in pain. “Yeah, thanks.”
“I’m sorry, my son,” Liz said. He smiled back half-heartedly. Liz sat down.
They returned to the show they were watching.
“You know why I do what I do. It’s not only for me.” She stared harder at Samuel.
He averted his gaze.
“They will never understand us.” She let out a hard sigh.
Samuel stared at the TV.
“Don’t worry, the pumpkins don’t want you.”
Samuel nodded absently. He thought about Jessica, the prettiest girl in his algebra class.
Samuel awoke. He didn’t remember falling asleep. Light shone through his bedroom window. The screaming kettle whistle was followed by the irresistible scent of bacon and eggs. He stumbled into the warm kitchen.
* * *
Samuel entered the classroom at Salem High School. He found his seat and sat down, casting nervous glances round the room. Most students ignored him, their faces buried in their comic books hidden in their binders, but a few students glared at him. He turned his attention to what the teacher wrote on the chalkboard. His face grew hot.
The teacher cleared his throat and gestured to the chalkboard.
“Today we’re going to discuss the Salem Witch Trials. It happened right here in our own town, in 1692. The Puritans believed the victims were real witches, due to hysterical accounts from local girls. The victims were unfairly tried and sentenced to die, for example, Giles Corey, who was pressed to death for refusing to admit or deny guilt, or Rebecca Nurse, who was hanged. They were regular people like you and me.”
At that, Tommy cast Samuel a nasty look.
Jessica flashed Samuel a secret, sympathetic smile and then opened her textbook and pretended to be studying. Samuel gazed at her with interest. Isn’t she dating Tommy? Why did she smile at me like that?
A crumpled white paper ball flew at Samuel’s head. Samuel dodged it, knocking the books off his desk. He knelt to retrieve them.
“I saw that, Tommy. If you don’t stop it, you will face detention. And on the most popular day of the year, the other kids will be at costume parties long before you’ve cleaned all the chalkboards.” The teacher’s frown deepened.
Tommy slumped in his chair as the teacher continued.
“It was believed witches worshipped the Devil, went to midnight Sabbaths, and ate children—”
“Not true!” Samuel blurted out loud. Heads turned.
“Care to tell us more about it, Samuel?” the teacher asked. Samuel took a deep breath. “What does ‘pressed to death’ mean?” The students laughed. The teacher silenced them with a frosty glare.
“Many stones were placed on Giles Corey’s body. The stones crushed him to death.”
Samuel tried to remember what his momma told him. He heard her lyrical voice in his head.
“The ancient Celts celebrated a festival called Samhain, which meant summer’s end. At the time, they feasted and drank wine, and slaughtered some of their animals. They purified the animals with flame and they held bonfires.”
“I think you’re confusing it with All Hallows’ Eve,” Tommy snapped at him. Several students voiced their agreement.
“I am not,” Samuel defended what his mother had told him.
“McCormack? You’re facing detention tonight. That’s the third outburst from you. One more and it will be a week’s detention. Understand?”
Tommy scowled at Samuel.
Samuel stared out the window. His face turned scarlet red. Before long, the school bell rang.
The muddy leaves crunched beneath Samuel’s feet. He heard footsteps behind him. When Jessica called out his name, he turned.
“Hey Jessica,” Samuel said.
Her blonde hair blew in her face. Her lips were the color of ripe peaches. Her cornflower blue eyes met his.
“Hi, Samuel,” she said. “Uh, don’t take everything Tommy says too personally. I wouldn’t if I were you. He’s mean to everyone.”
“Why do you like him?” he said, and then regretted it. “Never mind.”
“Sometimes I don’t know…Are you excited about Halloween?” She shouldered her backpack and looked down for a second.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Maybe I’ll bring my younger sister over for some candy.” She looked back at the school parking lot. Tommy leaned against his car, watching them.
“Uh– I…” His face clouded over. Oh no, the pumpkins, he thought.
“Jessica,” Tommy marched up to them. Samuel’s expression changed to fear. “What are you doing? Stay away from this weirdo.”
“I mean, yeah, that’d be great.” He looked to Tommy then back to her.
“OK, I have to go. Great talking to you,” she said. Tommy glared at him, put his arm around Jessica, and they climbed into his Seville.
Samuel rushed home, hoping he wasn’t followed.
* * *
The kitchen smelled good. Liz looked up from the magazine she was reading. Samuel eyed the pile of candy in the large bowl by the front door.
“Don’t spoil your appetite, Samuel. That’s for the trick-or-treaters. Yes there’s candy for you, too.”
Samuel brightened. They sat down to eat dinner. Both knew there would be no trick-or-treating revelers, but Liz left candy out, anyway. Samuel would eat it all and get cavities, as it had been every year.
When they were done, they went outside to the back yard. Samuel walked with bated breath to the pumpkin patch. The moon glowed on the garden. Leaves rustled.
He let out a deep breath. Liz held a boline in one hand, a sickle-shaped kn
ife, and examined the pumpkins. Liz savored their scent and stroked the hard rind of their skins. She stepped around them, careful not to sever the leafy green stems. The rind was hard as bone. The pumpkin hummed under her touch, ready for harvest.
She smiled to herself.
Samuel shivered with fear. The vine fell to the soil with a heavy thump.
“Want to carve this one?” she asked. He nodded.
“Are you angry at me Momma?” his voice sounded small. She shook her head full of perfect dark curls, as she moved on to another pumpkin.
“No Samuel, I love you. Don’t talk to them. I know you want to but trust me, it would be better if you avoid them.”
She cut the pumpkin from the vine using the boline and carried it into the kitchen. Liz spread newspaper on the counter top. They roasted the seeds and emptied the pulp into the compost.
They carved triangle eyes and a wide, jeering smile onto the larger pumpkin. Liz set a candle inside and they put it out on the front porch. They placed the smaller pumpkin at the window ledge, to ward evil spirits from their home.
Liz pressed the buttons on the console television, flipping through the channels. Samuel sat on the couch. He popped a candy into his mouth.
“Mom, I have to tell you something.” He asked her to turn off the television.
“What’s wrong, Samuel?” She sat beside him on the sofa.
“It’s about this girl…“
“Oh, I see…you met a girl.” Her voice became strained.
Samuel clenched his fists. Tears threatened to flow. His chest tightened.
“Mom, she’s dating someone else. She doesn’t like me.” Samuel’s shoulders slumped.
“Then what is it?” she waited.
“I don’t want her to get hurt.” He waited for her response. “You know what I mean.”
She pursed her lips. For long moments, she remained silent. Her shoulders tensed.
They heard the screech of tires and peered out the window. Someone climbed out of a car, whooping and hollering.
Liz hissed. “It’s those rowdy kids again, I’ll bet you anything. Put Grandfather Pumpkin out to the front porch.” Liz cast a knowing glance at Samuel. She put out a hand to stop him, and then she left the house.
Samuel pressed his ear to the door. He heard angry voices, one male, and recognized the other as his mother’s. She hollered at the guy to leave. Samuel ducked out to the back deck.
Samuel entered the pumpkin patch. He’d hauled the rusty wheelbarrow out to the patch. He held a white votive candle and a boline in his hands. He looked around to make sure no one saw him.
The moon shone over the garden. He lit the candle and pushed it into the soil. He stabbed his finger using the boline. He offered a drop of his blood to Grandfather Pumpkin. He wrapped a tissue over the wound. It would heal.
The vines hissed and twisted. Samuel inhaled the earthy scent. The vines crawled to the back deck. They slapped the windowpanes. A great moan emanated from Grandfather Pumpkin. Soon.
Samuel raised his other hand. The vines retreated to the shadows. The wide leaves pounded the earth and churned the soil. It hungered.
He hauled Grandfather Pumpkin, vines and all, in the wheelbarrow to the front porch, struggling with the effort.
Tommy McCormack marched up the porch.
Liz rested a hand on her hip. Her mouth was a thin line.
“Hello, ma’am. It’s October 31st, and the police are watching you. My brother was the kid that went missing last year. He was last seen near this house. The police might not have found any evidence, but whatever you did, I’ll find out.” He met her gaze with defiance.
Samuel lunged at him, his fist extended. Tommy stepped back and smirked. Samuel peered harder. Was Jessica in the car? He sensed Grandfather Pumpkin’s thirst. Fear gripped him.
“Look at you,” Tommy smirked. “Coward.”
“What are you doing here?” Liz snapped. “Did you come to start trouble?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Me, trouble? I thought you would be-“
“I can call the police on you, too. Just know that. Now leave.”
“Yeah sure, I’m leaving.” His gaze shifted to the massive cucurbit next to him. Samuel’s chest pounded with anger.
Tommy marveled at Grandfather Pumpkin’s impressive size and the knotted features resembling a face. The memory of his baby brother brought him back to the present. He ripped the pumpkin vines apart.
“You can’t hide from me. I know the truth. I know what happened to my brother. It’s time to pay the reaper.”
Tommy tore at the long vines. He kicked Grandfather Pumpkin against the house. He hopped on one foot, holding his sneakered toes in pain.
“I hate you! I hate you! You will pay for what you’ve done. That darn squash is hard as rock.”
“What’s wrong with you? Would you please just calm down?” Liz yelled.
A vine snaked round his ankle. Tommy yelled in shock. He tugged his leg free. The vine hissed with fury.
The huge leaves slapped the walls of the house. The vines caught his limbs and squeezed. The thorns tore at his legs and arms. He screamed. Pain shot up his limbs. He tore at the vines. Blood stained his hands and arms. He stared around in confusion and scrambled to his feet. He fled to the car, as Grandfather Pumpkin seemed to come alive, his knots taking on the features of an old man.
Jessica got out of the car, dressed as a pirate. There was an expression of worry on her face as her little sister peered out from the back seat.
“Tommy, stop it. Let’s just go home,” she begged.
A vine snaked out and snatched her ankle. She screamed and stared at Samuel in shock.
Samuel rushed up to her. He tugged her free and raised his hand to the vines. “Jessica, run. Run!”
Samuel cast nervous glances at Tommy and Jessica. She climbed inside the car with her sister and shut the door. Tommy remained where he was and balled his hand into a fist.
Liz and Samuel glanced at each other. Liz huffed and steered Samuel into the house, then locked it. Samuel protested but his mother ignored him.
Tommy left with Jessica. Samuel heard the tires squeal out on the pavement. He hadn’t expected to see him again that night, but an hour later, he returned. Samuel peeked out the window. He didn’t see Jessica or her sister anywhere and let out a sigh of relief that was short-lived, as several boys appeared in the distance. Tommy hadn’t returned alone.
Grandfather Pumpkin’s two evil eyes scowled at Tommy and his friends with hate. The tiny nose arched between the eyes. Blood oozed down the face. The flesh dripped down from the mouth, revealing smelly, stringy pulp. The mouth curved back on both sides, displaying two rows of chiseled fangs. The green root lay motionless on the porch.
Tommy eyed the moldy glowing thing. His hand caressed several eggs. He stared at the pumpkin in terror. He swallowed hard and glanced to see if his friends had caught up with him. They tossed toilet paper and eggs at a neighboring house. Their Converse sneakers shuffled on the damp, autumn leaves.
“Hey guys, check this out. Egg it or what?” Tommy said. His best friends, Brian and Johnny, both in the same class as him, came to a dead stop.
“Who carved the freaky pumpkin? Looks like no one’s home.” Johnny peered in the bleak windows.
“Who cares?” Tommy scowled. Fire flickered off of the pumpkin as Tommy approached it. He wound the toilet paper in his hand and drew his other arm back to throw the eggs. The pumpkin grimaced at the boys, as if daring them.
Tommy threw the eggs. They landed with a sickening splat and dripped down the house. He threw the toilet paper and tossed his head back and laughed. The others joined him.
“Look at that pumpkin. It’s kinda cool,” Brian said. Wind blew the crisp leaves on the porch, the bare tree boughs creaked as crows screeched at the moon.
Brian waved his hand in front of Tommy, but Tommy’s gaze remained fixed on the pumpkin as he sauntered up the steps. A spider crawled down the slim
y pumpkin’s face.
“Tommy?” Johnny joined his side. “Earth to Tommy.” Brian and Johnny glanced at each other.
“Let’s get out of here,” Johnny said. “We might get caught.”
Brian checked over his shoulder and waved his hand. “Tommy? C’mon, bud.”
Tommy was unable to tear his gaze away from Grandfather Pumpkin’s now-apparent face. Tendrils of the slimy pulp tugged on his arms and legs. The pumpkin’s maw widened. The root snatched Tommy’s leg and wound around his ankles. Tommy screamed. Brian grabbed Tommy by the arm.
“Help him, Brian,” Johnny yelled. His eyes widened in fear.
Grandfather Pumpkin devoured Tommy whole. A horrible gurgling sound roared in the night. A terrible scream was heard from the pumpkin’s bowels.
Johnny ran for his life. Brian stood on the sidewalk, crying. He had one last egg. He dodged the root’s vicious grasp. Brian fired. The egg cracked and spread on the pumpkin. He glanced at it one last time and ran home.
* * *
Samuel stood in the pumpkin patch with a burning matchstick in his hand. The pumpkin vines hissed and tangled into each other. Jessica stood on the back deck, waiting.
Samuel threw the match into the vines.
1865
warlock’s eye
Jim Towns
In the spring of 1864 I, along with many of the men of the Massachusetts 28th, was taken prisoner by the Confederates at Cold Harbor. We were held within the hellish walls of Andersonville during the last year of the War, and by the time word came of the South’s surrender, most of my Irish brothers were dead—and I, myself, was barely alive.
The route by which I returned to my hometown of Salem after the War was a circuitous one, which took months to tread. It encompassed a dozen other misadventures with which I will not encumber the reader herein—say only that my days were filled with toil and misery, and my nights were haunted by memories of the horrors I had witnessed. But when, at the end of October, 1865, my eyes once more beheld the sunlight dancing off the water in Salem Harbor, when I walked the wormed wood boards of the old Wharf and trod the cobbles of the wide squares and narrow alleys, and then passed by the old Custom House on Derby Street, I knew I had finally returned home.
One Night in Salem Page 16
