Daily Prompt Entry - Oct. 15, 2008

Word Count - 989





         Jeffery sat shivering on the front step, getting more and more anxious as the sun sank lower and lower behind the trees.  He was just about to go inside and try her cell phone again, when her car turned the corner, pulled up in front of the house and stopped. 

He sprinted through the yard, and wrenched the door open, talking as he did so.  “Where have you been, Mom?  You said you’d be home hours ago.  We’re going to get there too late.  All of the good ones will be gone!”

“I’m sorry, dear.  But I was working.  I’ve told you before, I can’t just walk away from a client because it’s 5:00.  Besides, they have acres of fields.  I’m sure that we’ll still be able to find you the perfect pumpkin for you to carve into your jack-o-lantern.”

“But, Mom….”

“Please don’t ‘But Mom’ me, Jeffery.  I’ve spoken to you about this before.”  She gave him a quick glance and a smile.  And when she spoke again he voice was softer.  “Have you thought about what it’s going to look like?”

Now he became truly animated, and gave a detailed description of just how scary he wanted his jack-o-lantern to be—what he wanted it to look like.  “And I want it to be bigger than anyone else’s.”  He stretched his arms out, filling the front seat of the car, almost blocking his mom’s vision for a second. 

“I see—or at least, I’d like too.”  But she didn’t sound mad, not really.  “And have you decided what you’re going to be for Halloween?”

Again, his face lit up and he began, “A zombie.”

“I thought you were going to be a pirate?  Don’t you think a zombie is a little scary?”

“Oh Mom.  That’s the whole point, isn’t it?  I thought a lot about it, and I want to be a zombie.  I’m going to rub chalk dust on my face—make it real white.  And make my eyes look all sunk in…”

“Sunken…’eyes look sunken’.”  His mom corrected.

“Yeah, whatever.  Anyway, real ‘sunken’ and I’m going make my old clothes really, really dirty, so it will look like I’ve crawled up out of my grave…”

“I can see,” his mom said, interrupting him again, “you’ve given this a lot of consideration.”  She gave him a quick look, “Are you sure this isn’t going to be too scary for you.  This is the first Halloween you boys are going out alone.” 

This would be the first time he and his buddies would prowl the neighborhood alone—each knowing that his mom was standing at the front door watching them.  But ‘officially’ they were going alone.  This was a big deal.  And he wanted to be something really special—something really scary! 

         The gravel crunched under the tires as they turned into the parking lot of the produce stand.  It was nearly dark, and they looked like they were closing.  Jeffery jumped from the car and headed towards the pumpkin patch, but halfway there, he turned and looked at his mom, expectantly.

“Jeff, you can’t seriously expect me to wander through a field of pumpkins in my work clothes and heels.  Now hurry!”

He frowned, but continued on, plunging into the pumpkin filled field.  He would know the right one when he saw it. But all the pumpkins near the edge of the patch seemed small.  He worked his way further and further into the field.  There had to some big ones left.  He’d just need to work his way in—away from the stand.

The sun was nearly gone now.  The trees made black silhouettes against the reddening sky.  It was getting dark fast, and he was finding it hard to pick his way between the vines.  But he continued to search for the perfect pumpkin.

He thought he’d found it, but when he went to pick it up, his hand crushed through the rotting bottom.  He pulled out his hand, now covered in decaying pumpkin.  Yuk!  He moved to the edge of the field and wiped his hand in the grass and noticed that there was an old cemetery on the other side a rickety fence.  He continued his search.  Suddenly he realized it was no longer dusk—it was dark.  And, he couldn’t seem to see where the stand, or his mom any more.  He needed to get his pumpkin–fast. 

He wasn’t scared—exactly.  But he didn’t want his mom to worry.  Then he saw it, the perfect pumpkin—as big as beach ball, fiery orange and blemish free.

He went to cut the stem, but it was so thick and tough, and his pocketknife wasn’t very big. At last, he hacked his through the stem and went to lift it.  It wouldn’t budge.  It was just too heavy. 

Then he heard something. He thought it was a bat or an owl, searching for their dinner.  But there was nothing in the now black sky.  Nothing but the cloud covered moon and a sprinkling of stars. 

         There it was again!  That noise.  It was coming from the far edge of the field.  That was definitely movement.  He looked again, over to where he’d heard the noise—over near that old cemetery.  He peered into the darkness.  He was sure he saw something—someone.  He ran in the opposite direction, tripping over the twisty vines, struggling to make his way back to the produce stand—to his mother.

         He burst through the last row of pumpkins, picked out a small, misshapen one, and rushed to the car.  His mom squinted at him so he answered her unspoken question.  “This is the one I want.  I decided I didn’t want a big one.”

         She had paid for the pumpkin and gotten back in the car when Jeffery turned to her, and said in a low voice, “I think I’ll be a pirate after all, Mom.”