A stale wind blows softly through the diminishing farmland known as Slurville. The Daily Gazette reads: “October 30, 1975.” The townsfolk tend to their daily chores. Not much new ever seems to go on in Slurville, not much of anything at all. On the wooden steps of a sloppy old house sits a young boy gazing out at the dusk, wondering. Wondering hard. He doesn’t hear his ma calling him for supper.

“Rusty! God damn it. Supper is done!”

He’s still wondering.

“James, go get that shoe-gazing son of yours before I drag him in by his ears,” yells Mama Harriet.

“Star-gazing Harriet. The boy’s star-gazing, not shoe-gazing,” Papa James says.

“I don’t care what he is doing. If both of you aint at this dinner table in five minutes, both of you will be seeing stars,” Mama Harriet says, waving her ladle.

“Ok ok, Harriet. Sheesh.” Papa James steps out onto the porch. “Hey, bud. They’re just stars. They will be there tomorrow. Why don’t you just come inside and wash your hands? You’re the grace man tonight at the table and no Elvis impersonations tonight. Your Mama says it’s disrespectful to our Lord.”

Rusty quietly smiles. “I’m not staring at the stars. I’m just wondering, Papa,” Rusty says.

“What about, bud?”

“Halloween.” Papa James’ eyes widen.

“Rusty, go inside and wash your damn hands.” Rusty scampers in, not noticing Papa James wipe a tear from his eye with his trembling hand. After a quick scrubbing of the hands the family trio gathers around the old dinner table. They bow their heads down at the meatloaf.

“Well, go on Rusty. It’s your turn to give thanks to our Lord for supper. If I so much as see a quiver on your lip or hear a ‘thank you, thank you very much’ you’ll be going to bed without supper,” Mama Harriet scolds.

“Geez Ma I’m sorry. I didn’t know our Lord doesn’t like Elvis.” Mama Harriet slams her hand down staring angrily at Rusty.

“James, you better warn your Son,” says Mama Harriet.

“Rusty…just say grace, bud.”

Rusty bows his head and locks his fingers together.

“Dear Lord, thank you for this food we are about to receive. May it be ever so delicious. Lord, bless this animal who sacrificed its life so that it be ground up and loafed for our nutrition…”

“Rusty...” warns Mama Harriet.

“You’re on thin ice, bud,”says Papa James.

“Sorry Papa. Sorry Lord. Please bless my family, all the people I love and the people who lost their faith in you. I didn’t mention the people that do have faith cause their probably praying to you right now. So I won’t tie the line up any …”

“Rusty!” Mama and Papa both yell.

“Sorry. Sorry. Bless my friend, Forehead Freddy. Amen,” Rusty blurts out quickly.

Two minutes into the meatloaf Mama Harriet asks, “Rusty, how come Frederick wasn’t over today? Did you guys get in a fight?”

“Kind of,” Rusty says shortly.

“Well, what was the fight about?” asks Papa James.

“Nothing, Papa. It’s silly,” replies Rusty.

“Come on boy. Out with it! What did you guys argue about?”

“Forehead Freddy started talking about Halloween and why this town don’t talk nothing about it. He said the Devil cursed this town. He said if we even mention Halloween the Devil will rise up from Hell and kill everyone. That’s so stupid. On TV they say that people have parties, dress silly and have fun. Kids knock on people’s doors and the people greet them with candy and treats. That sounds so neat! All this boring old town ever cares about is crops and church! I’d give a month’s allowance to have a Halloween in Slurville. Just one. Forehead Freddy’s parents probably told him that mumbo jumbo story to keep him from having fun.” Rusty’s parents look at each other very concerned as he goes on. “On TV, the kids have a plant called a pumpkin. It looks like a tomato only bigger, tougher and orange. They cut the top, hollow it out and then they carve a cool face on it and ….”

Mama Harriet begins to scream, “STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT RUSTY! SHUT YOUR MOUTH, STOP IT RIGHT NOW!” Papa James quickly comforts Mama Harriet.

“Damn it, Rusty. Look what you did! Go to your room!” yells Papa James.

Rusty stares at his parents confused and with guilt. “I’m sorry Mama…I’m sorry.” Rusty hangs his head low as he walks to his room.

Forty five minutes later Papa James steps into Rusty’s room. He walks in with a straight face. “Hey bud. You really shook your Mama up with all that Halloween jazz.”

“Why, Papa? Why did I shake her up? Is Forehead Freddy right? Is our town cursed? Is the Devil coming to kill us?” Rusty asks in fear.

“No, no Bud. The devil is not coming to kill us,” Papa James sighs. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you this soon, but I think it’s time. Rusty, sit down. I am going to tell you the truth about this town and Halloween.”

“James!” Mama Harriet hollers from down the hall.

“Hold on, bud. I’m going to see what your Mama wants,” says Papa James.

“But you said you were going to tell me!” whines Rusty.

“Hold on, bud. I’ll just be a second.” Papa James walks into the kitchen where Mama Harriet sits at the dining table. Mama Harriet looks very bright-eyed and worried.

“James. Before bed? That’s just crazy. He’ll have nightmares.”

“Harriet, he has to know. The children in town are starting to talk and wonder again. I don’t want your son thinking he’s damned, in a damned town, or getting too curious and wandering off like Rick!” Papa James whispers loudly.

“But at night, James?

“I need to tell him, Harriet. For my sake too. I can’t lie to my boy anymore, not even for a night. Harriet, why don’t you make Rusty some tea?” Papa James softly touches her hand. “Harriet, pour in a shot of something nice for the boy. You know, something to warm him up and help him sleep,” Papa James whispers.

“James! What is wrong with you? He’s ten!”

“Harriet, he’s my boy. I’m about to unload some really heavy truth on him. I don’t want his nerves to get too rattled…please, Harriet.”

Mama Harriet lowers her head. “Go tell him, James. I’ll be in there soon. Go tell him.”

Papa James creeks back to Rusty’s room. “Rusty, your Mama’s making tea for you. You ready?” asks Papa.

“I’m ready,” Rusty says.

“Now I’m not going to lie to you Rus. This truth is ugly and very bloody. You sure you ready, Rusty?”

“I’m ready, Papa.”

“My father told me his parents were wealthy aristocrats, both the offspring of millionaires. What not many people knew was that his mother was an opium addict. The doctor said that was probably the reason why he was born the way he was. He was born deformed. His jaw began to grow in the opposite direction of his skull. He had large hands for his body. The doctor also said he had poison in his blood. So much, it turned his bones dark brown, almost black. Black teeth, hair and nails. The poison caused

his hair to grow fast and fall out every month. His parents hid their embarrassing little secret. They hid him for six years. Only a few knew of him, including their doctor. Your grandfather. On the boy’s seventh birthday, the doctor, my father, felt the boy’s bones were strong enough for a brace, a brace that had to be screwed onto his skull, connecting to his jaw. That was going to align his jaw with his skull. The attachment was successful, but the boy looked even more gruesome. Can you believe his parents, Rus? They didn’t even give him a name. I guess they didn’t expect him to live that long…I guess. After a year’s time, his jaw began to slowly correct. My father said he felt sorry for the boy. He had seen the boy on occasion in the basement where they kept him. Father said he was no idiot. He had a really big imagination due to his loneliness. He read many fairy tales. His parents seen to it he had a new tale every week. They seldom seen him. My father called him the Prince.”

“Prince what, Papa?” Rusty asks.

“Just Prince. My father felt terrible. One day my father told him a story of how the boy was an unnamed Prince who had to endure great darkness and tragedy in order to become brave for his kingdom, a kingdom that was not yet built, but written to be his destiny. It was the only thing my father could think of to give the boy hope. The Prince had muttered the tale to his father one night when his father paid him the usual bi-weekly visit to leave the Prince table scraps of food. His father laughed at him. He called the Prince an idiot for taking such a silly story so serious. His father slapped him in the face with a drunken story of his version of destiny. He told the Prince he was a curse, a shame to his mother and his father, a product of constant opium-use, generations of greed and incest.”

“What’s incest, Papa?” asks Rusty.

Papa James thinks quickly. “Rusty, incest is when brothers and sisters wear each other’s clothes and worship the devil.”

“WOW!” Rusty says in awe.

“Anyway, the Prince did not believe his father’s tale for a second. This gave his father an idea. The Prince’s parents owned an old pumpkin patch farm twenty miles outside of town. If they kicked the current tenants out, they could leave the Prince there. Without food or water the Prince would eventually die an unquestionable death. The best part was: no blood on their hands. They agreed this had to be done. They told no one, only the driver that was to take and dump him there. No doctors, no family, no evidence. They were finally to be rid of their curse. Just as planned, the Prince arrived to his new kingdom.” Papa James pauses. “They were ghouls Rus. Dirty, disgusting people. The Prince’s parents didn’t deserve to get what they got,” Papa James says with a frown.

“What did they get Papa?” asks Rusty.

“Nothing at all. No one ever knew they abandoned the Prince and they never spoke of it.”

“Did the Prince die, Papa?” asks Rusty.

“That was the only part that didn’t work for them. He lived. Not only did he live, but he even outlived his horrible parents. The Prince finally knew happiness. He was greeted by beautiful plants, flowers and fresh air. The pumpkins were his favorites. They became his best friends, so much that the pumpkins took him in as their king. He still preferred to be called ‘Prince’ though,” Papa James says softly.

“WHAT?! Come on, Papa. Even I don’t believe that! And I’m ten!” blurted Rusty.

“Remember, Rusty, I told you he had a VERY active imagination. He was so lonesome the pumpkins became his closest friends. Hundreds of them. Each one touched with a little personality given by the Prince. One might say he gave them life. Now I don’t know if it was because he talked to them, or just took special care, but that farm was never more lush and plentiful. They were his kin. Now Rusty, this town did once celebrate Halloween. That was of course before the ‘Pumpkin Patch Prince.’ The townsfolk would visit the pumpkin farm to pick a pumpkin and make a jack-o-lantern.”

“Jack-o-lantern? I think I read about this in the library. It’s when…”

“Rusty. Please let me finish the story. Folks used to be able to walk over to the farm and pick themselves a fresh pumpkin. That was until the Prince began to scare everyone away.”

“Why, Papa? How come he didn’t get along with the town?” asks Rusty.

“Well Rus, the Prince had been alone for many years. He was probably afraid of people. Especially since the way his parents treated him. The only living thing he trusted was those pumpkins. He wouldn’t let anyone go near those pumpkins. After all…they were his family you know. As for the townsfolk, well since the Prince was so ugly, they didn’t even believe he was human. After a couple of years without attending to his jaw-brace, his skin started to grow over the metal. It’s a wonder he didn’t get tetanus. Folks began to talk about the Pumpkin Patch Prince like he was a monster. Since no one but my father knew his origin, the town believed he was a demon from Hell, a curse that dwelled in the shadows of the old pumpkin farm. So long as they stayed away the beast was not provoked. He instantly became a town legend. A legend that stayed so for many years. That was until a group of teenage kids set out to prove it was only a story. A silly tale formed by their parents to fear them into church and eating vegetables. Those kids were definitely out looking for trouble. One of those teenagers was your Mama’s brother, Rick,” says papa James.

“Papa, I didn’t know Mama has a brother?” Rusty curiously asks.

“HAD Rus. She had a brother named Rick. And a little sister too. Megan. Just a baby.” A single tear rolls down Papa James’ face. He quickly brushes it off, hoping Rusty doesn’t see. “Rick and some of his buddies snuck out one night when their parents were asleep. They went to the patch to pluck themselves a pumpkin. Maybe even see the Pumpkin Patch Prince. The first night they only got two steps past the old wooden gates. They said they heard some rustling in the bushes. Could have been the wind. They also heard what sounded like howling. Who knows? Could have been moaning. Whatever it was, it was enough to put a scare in their pants. Scared them away for a few days. They were determined. Yes sir, they were determined to disprove the legend, or see for themselves what

they feared they already knew. What they didn’t know was that the Prince began to grow very curious. You see the Prince never experienced Halloween. He had no clue why those kids wanted to come in. Did they mean to harm him, or maybe become his friend? The wonder must have been great. The next time the kids came sneaking in, the Prince would allow them in. He followed them very stealthily as they prowled around the farm. What could they be lookin’ for? He had no clue. Then he seen them claim their prize. They each took a pumpkin. Imagine how the Prince felt, his only family snatched straight from the vine. This puzzled him. Not to mention the worry. His curiosity got the best of him. He allowed them to leave. He followed them to the old wooden gates unnoticed. Completely unaware, they left, leaving a heavy bike trail behind them. They led him to their town. At the farm, the Prince would spend most of his time on top of the barn. That way he could keep a better eye on things, always aware of newcomers and passersby. Which is why he chose to climb the roof of the town’s houses to spy on the thieves and his children. As long as they were unaware of him, he was safe. He had spotted his children. The thieves were nowhere to be found. The pumpkins were lined upon a porch. He waited. There were no signs of the thieves, but more and more of the town’s children began to gather around the porch where his children were. Until finally he seen the kids that stole his children. They came out of the house where the Prince’s pumpkins sat. The thieves and town’s children gathered closely around the porch. The Prince hid safely. He scaled his way to a closer roof top. What he witnessed, he was not prepared for. It was a massacre. His children had no chance. The thieves had a rusty kitchen knife. He seen them slice the first of his children. They carved a hole in its top. They used its birth vine as a handle. They pulled the top off, revealing its slimy insides. With a dirty spoon they scraped the cavity to remove all of its guts. The Prince could hear the screams. This was done when it was still alive. All the town smiled and laughed, taunting the Prince. They murdered his children. The Prince began to vomit, frightened of what he saw. As he wept on the rooftop, he felt pain. A pain he had never experienced. The pain first began to burn in his gut, then in his chest. As the pain marinated, he couldn’t help but to watch what was to come. Those bastards cut a smile hollow in his child’s chest! It was probably the flame of the candle they set in the pumpkins corpse that set the fire of revenge in the Prince’s soul. He waited…He waited till they were all asleep. The next morning the townspeople woke frantically. Children were missing. Eight of them to be exact.”

“Was it the kids who took the pumpkins Papa?” Rusty asks.

“Yes it was Bud, and four others. The others were babies. There was your mama’s sister, Megan, Keith, Toby and baby Sara. The town searched all day and all night. The sheriff was up in arms.”

“Why didn’t they check the farm, Papa? Why didn’t they check the Pumpkin Patch Prince’s’ barn!?” Rusty fearfully asks.

“Oh, they did son. They did, but they didn’t check the roof. By the next afternoon, the town was exhausted and hopeless. All the shops closed early. Everyone needed to rest. It was late that evening when they heard the screams. The screams of agonizing and searing pain. The townspeople immediately woke and ran outside their doors. No one knows how it was done, but bound to the town’s wooden flagpole, twenty feet in the air mind you, was your Mama’s brother, Rick. He was lit on fire, alive like a torch. The sight of him and the sound of his screams caused some people to faint. The ones

that were conscious began to vomit from the stink of burning flesh. No one could make it out at first, on account of the flaming body being so bright. Below Rick’s melting corpse bound with razor wire were the other three kids. Well at least the torso’s of the other three kids. The Prince carved a bloody smile into the torsos. He sliced the mouth-part of the smile deeper, so that the intestines would bellow out through the bloody grin. The townspeople gathered in disgust and horror around the burning flagpole. That’s when the Pumpkin Patch Prince showed the townspeople his true revenge. He had done the most vile, gross and sinister thing I in my lifetime have ever seen or heard of.”

“What was it Papa?” Rusty asks in fear.

Papa James began to whimper while shedding a tear. It is silent for a couple of minutes. Papa James wipes his face as he continues, “He killed the babies Rusty. Not only did he do all those bad things to those kids, but he killed the babies. He cut their heads off…the kids, the babies, all of them. He scooped out the inside of their skulls. Then he punched a hole on top of their skulls with a pipe. He put a candle in each of their heads. He left each head on a random porch of the town. They figured he must have placed them there when everyone was distracted. It was horrible, Rusty.”

“So what happened after, Papa? Did they find him? Did they kill him?”

“Well, Rus. I don’t know. One of them kids who stole those pumpkins bragged to an elder of what they’d done. This elder blew it off at first, until this happened. That made the town pretty sure it was the work of the Prince. Not one hundred percent sure, but sure enough to form a lynch-mob. They burnt the farm but good.”

“What about the Prince, Papa? Did they burn him too?” asks Rusty.

“When they set the barn on fire, they heard screams inside. Everyone assumed he burned up. No one ever found any ashes or bones though. Who knows? The keeper of his parent’s money had that barn rebuilt recently. I don’t know why. It still gives me the willies. Sometimes I think I could have been one of those kids he took…but anyways, bud, that’s why no one in this town celebrates Halloween. It’s just too dark of a reminder. A pumpkin may as damn well be one of them witchcraft stars for all this town thinks. So now you know, bud. Now you know why we don’t even speak of Halloween or pumpkins.”

“I see…I see now, Papa. I’m sorry. I’ll never mention it to anyone again.”

“That’s a good boy, Rusty. Aren’t you gonna finish your tea, son?” asks Papa James.

“No, I don’t think so, Papa. It tasted funny,” mumbles Rusty.

“Well, suit yourself. I hate to send you off to bed after a story like that, son. You think you’ll be alright?” questions Papa James.

“I’ll be fine, Papa. Just please leave the light on.”

“You got it, bud. Goodnight.” The bedroom door closes. The town sleeps, but not the imagination of Rusty Baker. Rusty sits up, puts on a pair of jeans and a shirt. He slides on his beat-up sneakers. He climbs out the window silently. Softly tip toeing two houses down, he taps on a window. TAP, TAP, TAP. An eye peers out the corner of the window through the curtains. The window opens.

“What in Sam Hill you want, Rusty?”

“Hey,n Freddie. You know how you always jappin on about we aint got nothing to do ‘round here? Well, it’s Halloween goddamn it! And I got sumthin’ to do! Put your sneakers on. I’ll fetch your bike,” Rusty excitedly says.

“What are you talkin’ bout Rusty? Where are we going?” Forehead Freddie asks, half asleep.

“You know what a pumpkin is Freddie?”

“NO!”

“Well, you’re about to find out!”

The End.