Pumpkin Patch
By: Timothy Law

Toby went down to the pumpkin patch, knife in hand, as he did every year.

"Best pumpkins don't harvest themselves," he would always say.

"Bring back a big one," would call our mamma. "Sweet and ripe, perfect for pie."

This year was different. There was something in the air. Something not quite right about the way the pumpkins seemed to look at you whenever you walked by.

When the hours passed and Toby didn't come home it was my job to go fetch him. I found him tangled up in pumpkin tendrils, that big knife shoved deep in his heart.

The End

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