by Mark Piggott

Belvidere, NJ – October 31, 1955

Tommy staggered through the cornfield, his heart pounding in his chest, each step a struggle on the uneven ground. His breath formed misty clouds in the chilly night air, a testament to his fear. He pushed his plastic devil mask back, his vision clearing as he darted past the towering cornstalks. His costume, rigid and unwieldy, hindered his escape. The dried corn, soon to be harvested for winter, now provided a temporary refuge for the terrified ten-year-old.

“We’re coming for you, Tommy Lester! You egged the wrong house!” screamed his pursuers. Tommy knew he shouldn’t have tempted fate on Halloween. He loved a little mischief and always carried a few eggs to hit the houses of people who were mean to him or his family, but he had a score to settle.

Bobby Forrester broke his sister Penny’s heart. He played a trick on her by asking her out to the big Barn Dance.  She was so excited that she even went out and bought a new dress for the occasion, but it was all a ruse. Bobby dumped her for another girl, Candy McAllister, a rival of Penny. They did it to “teach her a lesson,” or so they said, so Tommy decided to teach them a lesson in return. Little did he know that the night would teach him a lesson about the consequences of revenge.

Normally, Tommy would egg the house, but tonight, he hit Bobby’s house AND his brand-new Thunderbird. The problem was that Bobby was in the backseat of the car with Candy, and they saw him, along with some of his buddies, having a party in the house. Tommy ran as fast as he could, taking a shortcut through Willow Brook Farm to get home, but as a middle schooler, he was being pursued by three high schoolers.

“If I can just reach the pumpkin patch, I’ll be safe,” Tommy reassured himself. He was familiar with this route, but tonight was different. A bulky flashlight in one hand, his plastic pumpkin filled with candy in the other, he clung to both, unwilling to lose them. His determination to reach safety was palpable.

“You’re finished, Tommy Lester!” Bobby’s voice, filled with malice, echoed through the night. “And come Monday, I’m going to tarnish your sister’s reputation. I’ll tell the whole school that she’s a—” His words, filled with venom, hung in the air, a cruel threat that Tommy couldn’t bear to hear.

He continued to taunt Tommy, but it only made the little boy angry. Bobby Forrester was the “Big Man on Campus,” and he always ensured that you knew it. Besides being a major jerk, he was a top scholar, football team captain, and all-around athlete. No one ever stood up to him until tonight. Tommy knew he had to be the one to teach this bully a lesson.

“Come on, Lester, the longer you make us chase you, the harder the beating you’re gonna get,” one of Bobby’s friends added. Tommy didn’t listen to the taunts. He focused on the path ahead.

“Once I get past the hedgerow, I’ll be in the clear.” Tommy could see the stone fencing dividing the two sects of land, separating the cornfield from the pumpkin patch. He was nearly there, gasping for air to make that last push. His legs strained and hurt, but he couldn’t stop. His life depended on it.

Tommy exited the cornfield and climbed over the stone hedgerow. A hand grabbed his collar as he threw his leg over the fence, nearly choking him. He dropped his flashlight and trick-or-treat bucket, spilling candy all over the ground. He looked back to see another of Bobby’s teammates—Greg Wilson, the star wide receiver. He was fast on the gridiron, so he must have run ahead to catch Tommy.

He pulled Tommy back across the hedgerow, grabbing him tightly around the arms. His grip was crushing as the skinny ten-year-old struggled against him. “Quit squirming, jackass. You brought this on yourself,” Greg said as he tightened his grip, causing Tommy to scream.

“Let go of me, you jerk! You’re hurting me!” Tommy shouted as he flailed his legs about. He stopped struggling when he saw Bobby break through the cornrow with his other teammate behind him. Kenny Brockton was Bobby’s center on the football field, always there to protect his quarterback. Tonight was no exception for this behemoth farm boy.

Bobby took a couple of deep breaths. He was angry, really pissed off that this kid made him run through a cornfield. He didn’t say a word. He took out a comb from his pocket and ran it through his perfect blonde hair, straightening it after his long run. Bobby adjusted his letterman jacket, grinning wickedly as he stepped up to his prey.

“Let me go, Bobby Forrester, or you’ll regret it!” Tommy demanded, but that only made the three high schoolers laugh. Bobby, however, wasn’t laughing when he smacked Tommy across the face.

“The only one that’s gonna regret it is you and your ugly ass sister,” Bobby said. “I’m going to make sure of that. She’ll get hers later, but now it’s your turn.”

“Do you want to take him back to the house and deal with him there, Bobby? Candy will want to get some licks in,” Greg reminded him.

“No, I’ll let her take care of his sister,” Bobby said. “I’m going to teach this punk a lesson tonight.” He looked around and saw something off in the distance. In the middle of the pumpkin patch was a scarecrow, standing alone. It was a grotesque figure, with tattered clothes and a jack o’ lantern for a head, its eyes seemingly following their every move. Seeing the scarecrow gave Bobby a great idea.

“Let’s go, bring him over here,” Bobby said, jumping over the stone hedgerow. Greg handed Tommy over while he and Kenny climbed over after them. The three dragged him through the pumpkin patch, fighting back along the way until they reached the scarecrow.

It was a lanky straw man wearing a ragged dark suit stuffed with hay and a flowing red scarf dancing in the cool autumn breeze. Its head was a jack o’ lantern, with a jagged grin smiling at you no matter which direction you looked at it from. It terrified crows and whoever might come across it.

“Pull that thing down from there, Kenny,” Bobby ordered, but the big lineman kept his distance.

“No way, I ain’t touching that thing,” Kenny said as he backed away. “You do it, Greggy.”

“Chicken shit,” Greg remarked as he passed Tommy over Kenny while he pulled the scarecrow down from his perch, tossing it aside like garbage. Bobby took some of the rope that secured the effigy on the pole and tied the scared little boy to it. He tightened it securely around his wrists, ensuring he couldn’t escape.

Before he backed up, Bobby punched him across the face. Tommy spat blood and a tooth, bleeding profusely from his mouth, but he did not cry—he did not scream—and that pissed off the star athlete. He punched him repeatedly, swelling and bloodying his eye and cheek from the abuse.

“Take it easy, Bobby. He’s just a kid,” Greg said. “Do you want the cops pinning an assault charge on you?” Bobby knew the police wouldn’t touch him, not with the state championship on the line, but he had to admit, Greg was right. If he kept this up, he could severely injure or kill the kid. Bobby leaned down to be at eye level with his captive, pulling his hair so Tommy would look at him.

“You listen to me, Tommy Lester, and listen good. You can spend the night out here and think about that little prank you pulled on me. In the morning, we’ll come out and set you free. You tell your parents or the cops about any of this, and I will make your sister’s life Hell for the rest of the school year. They won’t believe a little troublemaker like you anyway. So be smart and take your punishment.”

Tommy didn’t answer him. He didn’t say anything at all. Bobby let his hair go, but not before getting in one last lick by slamming his head into the post. The three laughed it off as they turned to leave.

“Pumpkin Jack—” Tommy finally said in a soft murmur, getting the three high schoolers’ curious attention.

“What did you say, runt?” Greg asked. Tommy raised his head and stared at them, looking through one bloodshot eye as he spoke with a slight lisp due to his missing tooth.

“Beware the stare of Pumpkin Jack!

“Pumpkin Jack will take you back,

“Back beyond the grave.

“It’s such a fright on Halloween night,

“Under a bitter harvest moonlight,

“Where only fools will brave.”

The three teenagers laughed at the poem he recited and the change in his voice from the beating. “Is that supposed to frighten us?” Bobby wondered. “Some old wives’ tale our parents told us to make sure we didn’t wander around late on Halloween?”

“It’s not a story. It’s true,” Tommy interrupted. “Why do you think I was trying to get to the pumpkin patch? I knew I’d be safe once I crossed the stone hedge. You were just stupid enough to bring me here.”

The three boys continued to laugh at Tommy. “Damn, Bobby, I think you hit his head one too many times,” Kenny joked. “I think you knocked a screw loose.” They laughed even louder, but Tommy didn’t. He smiled wickedly, showing off his missing tooth, quickly quieting the football players.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Tommy crowed. “You shouldn’t have taken him down from his perch and disturbed his Halloween. This is all your fault.”

The bright moonlight kept everything well-lit in the open field, but a shadow suddenly fell across the boys.  A scraping sound emanated from behind the trio, like stepping on a creaky floorboard. They turned around slowly and looked up at a horror growing behind them.

It stood nearly ten feet tall, a gangly creature of enormous size that towered over them. Stick fingers stretched out like skeletal hands reaching from the grave. Its pumpkin head glowed in an unnatural light as flames flickered like a Halloween jack o’ lantern. The smile wasn’t carved in the gourd; instead, it moved like a living creature. Pumpkin Jack was alive and tending to his pumpkin patch. Some weeds needed to be pulled.

Tommy laughed as he watched the three teenagers panic—Greg tried to take off while Kenny froze there in fear. On the other hand, Bobby scrambled to hide from the monster behind his captive. He watched in horror as the scarecrow grabbed Greg by the collar, stepping on Kenny and holding him down. For an awkward-looking demon, its strength was incredible.

Pumpkin Jack roared a howl, chilling them to the core, especially Bobby, as he trembled behind Tommy. The little boy could only laugh at their precarious predicament. “Make him stop! Make him stop!” Bobby screamed, shaking Tommy vigorously. “I’m sorry, we’ll let you go! Just make him stop!”

“It’s too late for you, Bobby Forrester, too late for all of you,” Tommy said. “You’ll never hurt anyone ever again, but on the other hand, you’ll be hurting forever!”

Bobby didn’t know what he meant by that until he looked up and saw the face of Pumpkin Jack inches from his. The flames burning inside his pumpkin head glowed bright but burned cold, sending shivers through his soul. Jack grabbed him by the face and laughed, silencing his screams before the beast looked down at Tommy. There was no fear in the eyes of the trick-or-treater as he smiled at Jack.

“Thank you for saving me, Jack. You always take care of me.” Jack nodded his pumpkin head while tightening his grip on Bobby’s face. There would be no peace for these three interlopers. They belonged to Pumpkin Jack.

Belvidere, NJ – November 1, 1955

A police car pulled up outside the Lester home, followed by three other vehicles. Sheriff Bill Watson stepped out of his car while the parents of the three football players jumped out of their vehicles. The odd passenger getting out of one car was a pretty blonde teenager wearing a poodle skirt and a tight angora sweater, hugging her ample breasts.

Candy McAllister was angrier than worried. Bobby, Greg, and Kenny took off after little Tommy Lester after he egged the house and car. When they never came home, everyone started to worry. Sheriff Watson tried to calm the antsy parents down and forced Candy to hang back with them while he tended to the problem.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently until Tommy’s mother opened it. She looked out at the assembled group on her front lawn and knew instantly what this was about. “Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Lester, but three high school students are missing. They were last seen chasing your boy Tommy after he ‘egged’ the Forrester house.”

“Oh, I know all about it, sheriff. Tommy, come here!” she shouted until her son walked up to the door, still wearing his Halloween costume, his face bruised and eye still bloodshot from the beating he received. “Look at what Bobby Forrester did to my son! That maniac beat my son and left him tied up in the pumpkin patch on Willow Brook Farm. It’s a good thing Tommy got free and made it home. I was about to call you, Sheriff Watson, to file a complaint against those three hooligans for what they did to my boy.”

“My son is no criminal! That’s your little bastard!” Bobby’s dad shot back before the sheriff snapped his finger at him to quiet down. He took the hint and backed down, but Candy didn’t, as she stormed toward them.

“Don’t lie, Tommy Lester! Do you know what happened to Bobby? I know you do, you little shit!” she screamed as the sheriff had to restrain her. Tommy wanted to smile, but he kept his cool and looked solemnly at the people, holding tightly onto his mother’s hand.

“I don’t know what happened to them,” Tommy said with cold confidence. “After they beat me and left me to spend the cold night in the middle of the pumpkin patch, I got my hands free and came straight home. If you don’t believe me, go to the pumpkin patch near the scarecrow in the middle of the field. That’s where they left me.”

The sheriff nodded, wanting to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible. He shooed everyone back to the cars, urging them to follow him to Willow Brook Farm to investigate Tommy’s story further. Reluctantly, they all agreed to his request, including a subtle shove pushing Candy toward the car.

They waited at the door until they left before Tommy’s mother closed the door and pulled her son inside. She didn’t see the evil grin on Tommy’s injured face. The little boy knew the truth.

When they reached the pumpkin patch and made their way to the scarecrow, all they would find was the rope coiled on the ground. It would prove Tommy’s story that he was tied up, but there would be no sign of the three teenagers. It was as if they had disappeared off the face of the Earth.

All they would find sitting at the foot of the scarecrow were three pumpkins, seemingly carved with faces in pain, torment, and agony. The troublemakers waited to be smashed by kids or pulped into slop for the pigs. This was the fate of those who crossed paths with Pumpkin Jack, suffering a life worse than death as they lingered until their last.

THE END