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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Supernatural · #1067682
SuperShort about a pumpkin tradgedy, and how it relates to me.
He had no eyes, and knew no sight. In the field, he felt the warmth of the sun and the cold in the hours when it had no presence. He felt the hands of a child take him from the field, and confronted the illusion of safety for the first time. He found the surface of the tiled kitchen uncomfortable compared to the natural Earth, but the child's hands placed him there and no fear became him. The knife first entered him at the top of his skull. As he felt his brains taken from him he still managed a thought: Where has the child gone, the one whose hands felt so tender and innocent? In his final moments, she gave him eyes with which he could see, and he stared upon a beautiful woman, with the hands of a child, wielding a knife; and his insides in front of him on the tiled floor. She killed him, but he died of disbelief.


I was her last victim
Yet I survive here alone.
Surrounded by my insides.
Wondering if the pumpkin
served a more desirable fate.
© Copyright 2006 James Simon (jermany at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1067682-The-Pumpkin