Pumpkin Patch


Never run into a starving patch. Photo taken by Howard Bagby

Beyond lumping hills, the clouds reached for the Earth. A pumpkin patch lies between the two, cloaked in fog and secretly babbled from deep below. The patch extended for miles upon miles of acres of horizon. Be fooled not by its peaceful nature. This farm was alive. The patch lures the most curious and unsuspecting to its plate. 


A family car rattled down the old road next to the patch, the gas pumping out exhaustion.The vehicle heaved to get by; however, behind abandoned wires and straw grass that paralleled the road, was a patch that yearned for attention. The occupants admired the endless scene of pumpkins that repeated itself along flat terrain.


The patch began the show. It drew forth its plumpest and ample of pumpkins to the stage. All to attract the wandering eyes of its prey. A perfect patch and a perfect family meet at last. All four members swooned in awe at the magnificence that stretched miles before them. Unoccupied and untouched rows of pumpkins that cried for attention. 


The vehicle was finally allowed rest after hours of work as the family pulled over to the side. They crossed the weak wires that failed to protect much of anything. Along the patch, they caressed bumps and smooths of orange gifts of nature. The deeper they traveled, out of view of the sitting scrap that brought them here, the more they noticed the increasing size of the pumpkins, as big as…houses, it seemed. 

With swiftness, the fog settled around them and vines began to move. One by one, as pumpkins towered over them to grip their limbs with immense strength. Squeeze. Squeeze. Crunch. Human bones become a feast. The patch swallowed them slowly, slipping and slogging remains in the moistened earth, limbs rolled in murderous roots and ravenous soil.