The Pumpkin Man (A dark Halloween novella)

by Luis Samways

  The Pumpkin Man

  Luis Samways

  Text © 2017 by Luis Samways

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Ink Stained Books.

  Luis Samways has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  eBook edition first published in October 2017

  by Ink Stained Books.

  ******

  V1.0

  For more information on books by Luis Samways visit:

  www.LuisSamways.com

  www.Twitter.com/LuisSamways

  © 2017 by Ink Stained Books.

  Table of Contents

  The Pumpkin Man

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter One

  The wind was rattling outside the rickety wooden barn. The ice-cold air hit Nathanial's arms as he raked up the horse manure off the floor. He didn't usually like cleaning up horse muck, but unfortunately, this was the only gig he could get.

  Nathanial was what most would consider to be a bad boy. He was only 16, but in that time, he'd already been arrested multiple times for multiple crimes. He wasn't one to show much remorse.

  Remorse, for him, was a sign of weakness. And he wasn't about being weak.

  Nathanial was a strapping young lad. He had muscles bigger than most men twice his age. And because of that, many women, women much older than him - paid him quite a lot of attention. Attention that was very much welcome on his end.

  He enjoyed it. What teen wouldn't? Heck, most teenagers only dreamt of having relations with their teachers, but Nathanial, Nathanial was different. He'd already tumbled around the hay with many older women. His father, Jeremiah, wasn't to know.

  And Nathanial wanted to keep it that way.

  He could imagine it already. If his father found out about his extracurricular activities, then he'd be sweeping up horse shit for the rest of his life.

  Nathanial had bigger plans. Plans that didn't involve the small town he lived in. He felt trapped. Not only in the barn, but everywhere he went.

  He was tired of seeing the same old people every single day, without fail. He needed a change of scenery. And he'd been planning on changing things around quite dramatically. But unfortunately for him, he'd gotten in trouble at school and was now suspended for around 10 days.

  As you can imagine, his father wasn't impressed. In fact, when he’d returned home that day, Jeremiah had made sure to tan Nathanial's backside until he was darker than his usual skin complexion.

  It didn't really bother him, though. He was used to corporal punishment. His father was quite an authoritarian. He liked dishing out discipline and it would be a rare day if Nathanial didn't see the end of his father's belt swinging toward his face.

  Sure, he could fight his dad back. But it was pointless. Even though he knew that he was much bigger than his father, he also knew that his father was ex-army. The man had many tricks up his sleeve. Tricks that the young whippersnapper was not privy to. And even though he was a large kid, fortunately for him, he wasn't a stupid kid. He was smart. Smart enough to know that messing with his dad could only result in one outcome.

  Total annihilation.

  So he continued to muck up without much of a fight. And on this particular night, things weren't any different. Sure, it was cold as hell and the wind was giving the horses quite the scare, but he was still doing his job, regardless of the tumultuous climate outside.

  His friends had told him about a Halloween party taking place down at Donovan's, but, obviously, his father wouldn't have none of it. A punishment was a punishment, and punishments were all that Nathanial could expect for the foreseeable future.

  "Hey Sarah, don't be frightened of the wind," Nathanial said as he patted his favourite steed.

  To this day he didn't know why his father kept so many horses in the stable. He knew that the family was involved in horse racing at some level, but he'd never been allowed to attend the Race Days. He wasn't quite sure if it was because he'd been bad at school, or if the race circuits just didn't allow minors in.

  Either way, it didn't really matter. He didn't like sports. The only thing he did like was girls. And, as far as he knew, the only women that attended those sorts of events were old ladies wearing hats and flowers in their hair.

  "I'll get out of here. One day," Nathanial said as he bagged-up some of the horse manure, ripe and ready for the silo.

  As he was heaving the bag onto his shoulder, he heard something behind him. Working constantly in the barn, he'd hear certain noises from time to time. He’d grown accustomed to hearing those noises. But this particular noise didn't sound familiar. In fact, it sounded foreign. Foreign enough to raise his temperature slightly. He could feel a thin film of sweat forming on his forehead.

  His heart rate was increasing. His breathing was laboured. But not because of the heavy bag on his shoulder, but because deep down in his soul he knew something was very wrong. His father Jeremiah never visited the barn. As far as he was concerned, the barn was beneath him. It was where he stored his prized possessions, but he wouldn't be seen dead working the ground, cleaning up crap. No, that was Nathanial's job.

  Immediately, he knew that his father wasn't the one responsible for the noises behind him. However, he knew somebody was. Call it instinct, but he knew that somebody else was in the barn with him.

  Nathanial turned around quickly on his heels, dropping the sack onto the ground. The bag fragmented open, spilling its contents onto the hard soil. A slight dust ball formed in the air, making Nathanial cover his face. He'd grown familiar to the smell of manure for a while now, but that wasn't the only thing that he was smelling. He could smell something else. Something strong. Something that at first he didn't recognise. But as he squinted his eyes, he saw something in the shadows.

  "Hello?" Nathanial startled, the words, leaving his mouth in a ragged spray of both heavy breathing and condensed air that was forcibly squeezing out of his lungs in short, sharp and uncomfortable breaths.

  But nobody answered. The darkness around him was being illuminated only by an LED lamp on the far side of the barn. The white light bouncing off the plastic casing only stretched so far, causing large shadows to form on the ground and pierce through the barn's beams, causing extending arms of darkness to reach out toward him.

  "Luke, is that you?" Nathanial said, trying his hardest to remain calm.

  Luke was his oldest brother. He didn't really set foot in the barn much, but he was known to play pranks on his younger, much bigger brother from time to time.

  But this wasn't like Luke. Luke was a lot more elaborate. And most of his pranks involved water balloons or mousetraps. Nathanial couldn't even remember the last time Luke had set foot in the barn. Maybe he'd never even been in in there at all.

  Whatever was making the noises in the shadows, Nathanial knew it wasn't familiar. But he did know it was something.

  And he had a feeling it was somebody…

  "Dad, stop messing around! You’re starting to scare me," he puffed.

  The shadows remained still for a few
more seconds. Long enough for him to calm down a little. He was beginning to think that maybe he'd been overreacting… That maybe there was nothing really in the shadows. And maybe, just maybe, he was letting the fact that it was Halloween get to him.

  "No movies for me tonight," he said, bending down to grab the bag of horse manure off the ground.

  As he did so, something caught the corner of his eye. Without much time to look back up, he felt something grab him from behind. He lost his balance and fell onto the floor, the sack of manure breaking his fall. Landing face first in the horse poop, he writhed in agony as his ribs felt like they’d been punctured.

  At first, he thought that he’d landed on a rock of some sorts. But then the puncturing sensation hit him again. And again. And again.

  Turning on his back, he saw that is stomach was bleeding. Then, out of nowhere, a knife came plunging toward his face. Just before the blade punctured his eye, he caught a look at the thing responsible for his impending death. Everything slowed down to a crawl. Slow motion followed. And as the knife got closer and closer, the point glinting off the LED light on the wall, he saw a shadowy figure looming over him, holding onto the blade. He couldn't make out the body all that well, but the head was as clear as day.

  He couldn't quite believe it, but he was being attacked by a pumpkin. Or at least, somebody wearing a pumpkin on their head. The ludicrous realisation ping-ponged off the insides of his skull for a few more milliseconds before the knife finally came plunging into his eye socket, scratching against his skull and bursting his eye.

  Nathanial didn't feel or see anything anymore.

  Chapter Two

  "Honey, the phone’s ringing," Eileen Thomas said as she tried to rouse her husband from his deep sleep.

  The blinking red alarm clock on her bedside table stated that it was 12 o'clock at night. Being the early bird that her husband was, he'd already been asleep for five and a half hours. So waking him was going to prove to be difficult.

  Luckily for Eileen, he woke up without much of a fuss. Which was out of character, to say the least.

  "What's going on?" He said, trying to wipe the sleepy dust from his eyes.

  Eileen was giving him one of her patented looks. It was a mixture of disappointment and frustration. She was disappointed that he still didn't recognise the signs of what was going on. She was frustrated that he didn't realise that he was getting another call from work. Like always… It was pretty much a regular occurrence now. The two of them would be awoken from a good night’s sleep by the sound of his mobile phone clanging at stupid o’clock! She was getting fed up with it all. Something definitely needed to change!

  "What do you think is going on? It's the office. It's always the office,” she scoffed, sitting up in bed.

  Her husband nodded, searching his bedside table for his spectacles. He found them and shoved them onto his face. Turning the bedside lamp on, he grabbed his mobile off the mahogany table and pressed the green icon on the touchscreen.

  "Detective Hunt," he said, his voice groggy and sleepy.

  "Sir, there's been a murder down Jeremiah's farm."

  DI Hunt found himself scrunching his eyes up as he tried to digest the information that was flowing through his right ear, burning his brain into action.

  "What do you mean? What happened?"

  "I'm not entirely sure, sir. There seems to be something off about this one. Jeremiah's boy was carved up pretty badly."

  "Nathanial?"

  "Yes, that's his name."

  "Shit. Inform the others. We should go down there and pay the father a visit. Secure the scene. I’ll get a closer look at what we are dealing with while I’m at it."

  "Sure thing, sir. Whatever you say. I’ll get the team ready. See you in around 30 minutes?"

  Hunt cleared his throat. He caught his wife looking in his direction. She didn't seem too pleased. She never was.

  "Yes, that would be great. See you there."

  Hunt ended the call and placed his mobile onto his bedside table. His wife was still giving him that look of hers, but he ignored it and got to his feet. Stretching his tiredness away, he started to put on his work clothes.

  "Something I should know about?" Eileen asked, blinking at him.

  Hunt shrugged his shoulders.

  “Unless you suddenly care about what I do for a living, then no, there's nothing you should worry about."

  Grabbing his car keys, he flung his coat on and without saying another word, he left his wife in the bedroom alone.

  For a change, she didn't retort with a quip or put-down. Instead, she buried herself in the covers and got back to sleep. But there would be no sleeping for Detective Inspector Hunt. For it was Halloween… and the sickos were out to play.

  Chapter Three

  "Mummy, is there such a thing as monsters?" Little Lizzie Anne Smith asked her mother as she was being tucked into bed.

  "Of course not, Lizzie. Monsters are only made up things. Things that live in movies and books."

  The little girl scrunched up her face, her nose twitching as she thought about what her mother was saying.

  "But if monsters aren't real and they only live in books and movies, then why do people write about them? And why do they appear on television? I thought that they were real, like the people on the news."

  Her mother didn't know what to say. Usually, she was pretty good with these sorts of things. She knew exactly what to say and when to say it. But this was different. This felt like her daughter was generally trying to ask her a question. But not just any question - a question that deserved a truthful answer.

  Kids usually ask a lot of questions throughout the day. Questions that mums and dads often gloss over. But because of the way that she was brought up, she consciously decided that she wouldn't lie to her daughter at all if she could help it. And in this situation, what was she supposed to say?

  That yes, monsters are real? That they do bad things to people every day? But unlike in the movies or books, these monsters don't have horns - nor do they have disfigured faces.

  No, these monsters look just like you and me.

  "Mummy? Are they real? Can they hurt us?"

  Her mum shook her head. For some reason, her heart was beating fast. But the beating in her chest wasn't what mattered. Nor was it the tear forming in the corner of her right eye. It was the look her young daughter was giving her. A look she'd never seen before.

  It was a look that many parents should expect to see at some point. A look of disbelief. A look of shifting times. A look that embodies the switch from childhood toward boundless curiosity, a curiosity that kills a child's innocence.

  "I'm afraid that I can't really tell you if monsters exist or not, Lizzy. I've never seen one. But I have heard stories. Stories that say they do exist. In some places. But those places are far from us. We are lucky to live where we live. The countryside is a beautiful place. There's fields of grass that we can run in, and there's loads of animals that we can pet. But in some places, cities, big cities, they don't have those things. And that's where the monsters live. Because when places don't have beauty or serenity, then monsters can run free."

  Lizzie nodded her head slowly.

  "I think I understand. The monsters can’t get me. I'm safe."

  Her mother kissed her on the cheek, her lips lingered against her skin slightly longer than usual.

  "That's right, Lizzie. You'll always be safe here. Now, what do you say? You reckon it's time for you to go to sleep?"

  Lizzie nodded her head emphatically.

  "Yes. Sleepy time! I've got a big day at school tomorrow."

  "You sure do. Remember, it's non-school uniform day. You can dress however you like!"

  Lizzie wrapped her arms around her mother, squeezing tightly before landing another kiss on her smooth cheek.

  "You sleep tight, now, Lizzie. A big day deserves some big rest. So, get to sleeping," her mother said, winking at her only child.

  Lizzie's head hit th
e pillow with a gentle swoosh and before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

  Feeling conflicted with her answer, Lizzie's mother traipsed down the stairs slowly and methodically as she thought about all the possible answers she could have given her young and innocent daughter.

  As she entered the kitchen, her husband noticed the look on her face.

  "Lizzie gave you a hard time tucking her in?" He asked, pouring her a glass of wine.

  "No, it's not that."

  "What's wrong, Jessica?"

  She looked up at her husband and shrugged her shoulders.

  "I don't know. It's just I think that our daughter is changing. She’s no longer a little girl anymore. I mean, she just started secondary school this year! Where has the time gone? I remember it like it was yesterday. Holding her in my arms. The look on your face when she'd come out of me. I'll never forget that. We had the whole world at our beck and call. But now, now that’s all changed. We’re no longer young. And we no longer have a baby daughter. It's like somebody has hit the fast forward button without letting us know. It's just happening all so fast!"