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Halloween Creepypastas Part 5




THE PUMPKIN CURSE
“Ain’t no such thing, Miss Elba!”

“Why, Bobby Wilkins. It’s not polite to call folks liars. I oughta take a switch to you.”

“You won’t, ‘cause there ain’t no such thing as a pumpkin curse.”

I hitched up my eyebrow and tried not to smile. I recalled being Bobby’s age, when you started catching on when grownups was teasing. I recalled that thrill of teetering between suspicion and wonder.

While I used my cane to rock in my porch swing, Bobby kept eyeing my prize-winning pumpkin carving.

“G’on then, touch it if you’re so brave,” I said. “But I won’t take no responsibility for your melon head. I ’spect you seen Cinderella?”

“Aw, that was a carriage.”

“Same principle.”

He puffed up his chest. Slowly, he raised his arm, and slowly, he put out his finger, which he brought closer and closer to the leering pumpkin face. Just as he touched it…

THWACK!

I brought my cane down on the porch railing. Hoo-eee, that boy plum near jumped outta his skin!

“Don’t you forget now,” I hollered as Bobby scrambled off the porch and hightailed it for home. “Come back next Halloween, soon as that curse starts workin’. Miss Elba will set you right.”

I imagine he fretted all year, ‘cause sure enough, here he comes now, wobbling up my lane with a swollen head and a withered brown stick of a body. But it was his eyes I saw first, glowing orange in the night.

“Lordy, come in, boy! I know just what to do.”

Indeed I do. My pumpkin carvings ain’t never lost the contest yet. Folks say they’re very realistic.

Credits to: Queenofscots

—

KIDNAPPED
I’m in a room, lying down on a cold, hard table. I look around to see that there are two others like me, kidnapped, alone, waiting helplessly to be mutilated.

It doesn’t take long before they enter. I have the over whelming fear that I am going to be the first victim, but I get lucky. They choose one of the others.

They discuss what to do with him- and I know he’s just as scared as me. They smile as they’ve come to a concensus, and begin. They draw where they’re going to cut the their victim, making marks all over his body. Then they take out their knife and begin to slice through his flesh.

I watch as they take out his guts, emptying him until he’s just a shell of what he once was. As if that wasn’t enough- as if the guts they’d so carefully placed in a bowl wasn’t enough- the keep cutting him. Putting little patterns in him. It’s disgusting.

Oh so carefully do they place a candle in him, and light it. They take him outside to show everyone their work, and once he’s been placed like a decoration they turn to me. I’m next.

"Now," the biggest one says, "What do you want to do with your pumpkin Tommy?"

Credits to: imminent_47
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