CURSE OF THE JACK-O'-LANTERN

By R. Brian Robbins

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 R. Brian Robbins
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-0774-4

Contents

Chapter 1........................................1Chapter 2........................................9Chapter 3........................................15Chapter 4........................................19Chapter 5........................................23Chapter 6........................................25Chapter 7........................................27Chapter 8........................................31Chapter 9........................................35Chapter 10.......................................39Chapter 11.......................................45Chapter 12.......................................49Chapter 13.......................................53Chapter 14.......................................57Chapter 15.......................................63Chapter 16.......................................67Epilogue: Eight months later.....................71

Chapter One

It was another beautiful September day. The leaves were beginning to fall. The sun was shining, warming the cool air as Gus and Molly walked down Jackson Street. "Feels like fall doesn't it?" Gus asked his older sister.

"That's because it is!" Molly snipped matter-of-factly. "Yesterday was the first day of fall."

Gus rolled his eyes, arching his head away from his sister. "Oh boy," he murmured under his breath, thoroughly disgusted. "Sisters," he moaned, shaking his head.

Molly, equally disgusted with her brother's ignorance, thought I learned that when I was in first grade; he probably isn't paying attention in class. Typical for first-grade boys. She was a head taller than her brother with long, brown hair that sparkled with hints of amber in direct sunlight. Gus had dirty blonde hair, which he often used as an excuse for not having to wash his hair during bath time. His reasoning, or lack of reason, always frustrated Molly, as it had now. They didn't speak any more until they finally reached the corner of Jackson and Lantern streets.

Grandma Bertie's house was nestled there at the bottom of Jackson in a wedge between the two streets and the railroad tracks at the back of her property.

She had a lot the size of a football field compared to the concession stand-sized lots of the other homes in the neighborhood. Their mother told them it was compensation for the railroad being so close to the house. The trains didn't bother Grandma Bertie much. She was hard of hearing anyway. Otherwise, she was in excellent shape for her age, or any age, actually. She walked three miles most every day when the weather cooperated.

She had a large yard full of flowers, fruit trees, and her garden of fruits and vegetables of many kinds, all kept in neat, clean rows. She weeded and hoed the rows every day. On Saturdays, she took a truckload full of bagged produce to the Willow Branch town market for sale.

The kids would help her go to the Willow Branch market whenever they could. They loved spending time with their grandma, but they also loved spending the money that she gave them for helping, at their favorite stores in town. Molly always stopped into Brianna's Hallmark for the latest stuffed-animal craze. Gus, on-the-other-hand, would hit Jacque's Sporting Goods and then meet Molly and Grandma Bertie at Toys-N-Things before they all headed home.

Saturdays with Grandma Bertie were usually the only time they got to go to town during the summer months. And summer went much too fast this year. Gus and Molly knew the pumpkin crop meant the last of the market days until spring, and they didn't want to waste a moment at home when they could be at Grandma Bertie's.

Gus and Molly stepped onto the covered porch of Grandma Bertie's old farmhouse. Creeeeeak. The loose boards sounded eerie, sending chills up their backs every time they stepped onto that old porch. "Grandma, we're here!" they yelled in tandem so that she could hear them. But she did not answer.

They opened the screened door. Creeeeeak. "She sure needs some nails and WD-40." Gus said with an uncontrollable body wriggle.

"What's WD-40?" Molly asked.

"I don't know, but Mom says it makes loud things quieter."

"What brought that conversation about?" Molly asked curiously.

Gus stared at his feet for a moment before replying, "Mom said she wished she could use it on me sometimes."

"Oh," Molly said, nodding her head. "That makes sense."

Gus curled his nose and stuck his tongue out at her.

Molly looked at him with excited, wide eyes. "You could get her that for Christmas!"

"Who, Grandma?!" Gus chirped.

"No, Mom, silly!" Molly smiled. "Just kidding."

Gus looked at her with an expressionless face. "Oh boy," he groaned. They walked across the old wooden floor toward the back of the house. The new sliding door was open to the backyard. Molly saw her grandmother and yelled in complete distress, "Grandma!"

Her feet were touching the ground, but Grandma Bertie was slumped over a giant pumpkin. Her silver-and-white hair was in her face even though it was tied back into a ponytail. They ran to her. When they got close, she raised with a fright!

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" she screamed.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" the children screamed back.

"You kids nearly scared me to death!" Grandma gasped, placing her hand over her heart as she leaned against the massive orange, boulder-like pumpkin.

"We thought you were dead," Gus excitedly squealed.

"Didn't you hear us?" Molly asked.

Grandma Bertie felt her ears. "Oh, nuts! I forgot to put my ears in this mornin'," she said, referring to her hearing aids.

"I was in such a hurry to get the truck loaded so that we could take this prizewinner to Thea's Restaurant when you got here. But I think we're gonna need some help," Bertie explained.

"We can do it, Grandma!" Gus said "All we need is ..." his thought trailed off when he saw how high the back of the truck was, "... is Mr. Grogan's tractor."

Mr. Grogan was Bertie's neighbor who had a landscape business and a big white barn next to his house. He had farmed his two hundred acres for thirty-five years and decided to finally accept an offer on the land that would put what seemed like fifteen hundred homes in his back yard. He took the money and started his business, knowing that many customers were close by and would keep him plenty busy in his "retirement." He had a lot of equipment in his barn, even a tractor with a front-loading scoop, perfect for lifting 250-pound prizewinning pumpkins.

Grandma Bertie had the biggest prizewinning pumpkins and the tastiest desserts for thirteen years running at the Sycamore County Fair. No one could explain it. Each year she would get one giant pumpkin in the garden, and Grandma wasn't about to reveal her secrets. As if she had any. If anyone asked, she'd say, "Must be livin' right."

Mr. Grogan made his way across the road with his scoop tractor. "Bertie, you know that if you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask and I'll be there to help you," Mr. Grogan reminded her for the thousandth time as he loaded the massive pumpkin into to back of her truck with his tractor.

"Yes, yes, well, I wasn't sure you were up and I didn't realize it was so big," she chirped, referring to the pumpkin.

"Bertie, my lights have been on since five this morning," he said, looking over the top of his glasses, which had slipped down to the end of his nose.

He was a tall man with a broad, barrel-like chest and large, strong hands that resembled baseball gloves. His thick, graying hair was usually covered by a baseball cap of his former school, the red and blue of the Kansas Jayhawks. The only time he took his hat off was when he was speaking with Bertie.

"I'll call. I'll be sure to call you first the next time," she said apologetically as she lifted herself into the front seat of her old red-and-white Ford truck. "I'll call you tonight when I get back. The Bensons want to play cards. Are you free?"

"I'll have to check my calendar," he said with a wink and a smirking smile, twirling his hat in his hands. He waved goodbye with his hat as they pulled out of the drive and headed to town.

A tired-looking crew pulled back into the drive that evening. The sun, still hot, was beginning to go down. "You kids want me to take you home now?" Grandma asked.

"Yeah, if you don't mind, I'm tired," Gus responded. Not a second later he sat straight up and brightly asked, "Oh Grandma, I almost forgot, can Molly and I pick out our pumpkins? Please!" he said, nearly begging.

"Well, I think it is a little early to pick 'em. What are you goin' to do with 'em?" Grandma asked.

"We're going to make jack-o-lanterns, of course!" Gus shot back. Bertie gasped so deeply that Gus and Molly, with their faces full of fear, thought for sure she was having a heart attack this time.

"You mustn't carve 'em yet, it's too soon!" she said gravely.

"Why not, what do you mean?" Molly asked nervously.

Grandma Bertie looked at them both. Her hand covered her mouth, and she had a very concerned look in her eyes. Finally she spoke, as if she'd been hit in the stomach. Though she strained, her voice was just above a whisper. "Come inside, I've got somethin' I need to tell you, and it's too hot out here." Gus and Molly looked at each other with worried looks of confusion.

Chapter Two

The oscillating fan that sat on a folding chair by the screened door twisted back and forth, creating a nice breeze into the kitchen where the kids were seated at a round table. Grandma brought out glasses of lemonade for them as they waited patiently for her explanation. Dark clouds loomed in the distance through the sliding glass door.

"I've never told you this ... in fact, I've never told anyone this story. A long time ago, there was a little boy about yer age who decided to carve a pumpkin into a jack-o-lantern. It was September, the week of the full moon. Well, as the story goes, he carved the pumpkin, placed a candle in it, and set it on the family's front porch.

"A thunder storm came crashin', and at midnight, the full moon shone on that jack-o-lantern. Lightnin' struck the front porch, and somethin' happened. Somethin' terrible happened that night."

With her big eyes focused on Grandma, Molly's stomach dropped inside her as if she were riding in the back of her mother's car on a bumpy road. Gus just stared, expressionless, at Grandma Bertie as she continued the tale.

"The boy's parents were awakened by screams comin' from their son's bedroom. They ran to his room. His door was open, and the storm was blowin' in through the winduh in his room. They ran into the room and the father slipped on the wet, muddy floor. The sheets were pulled back to the foot of the bed.

"Mud covered the boy's bed, and a muddy path led out the winduh. 'He's gone!' They yelled so loudly and repeatedly that the neighbor across the road heard and came to see what was goin' on. They looked all night for the boy, and they never found a single footprint in that soggy, soft soil."

Both of Molly's hands covered her face, which looked a little whiter now. Gus filled up his glass for a second time as he waited for Grandma Bertie to continue. She cleared her throat before she spoke. "They did find squiggly lines in the mud that ran from his bedroom to their backyard garden, where they found that jack-o-lantern sittin' on top of a large dirt pile where none had been before.

"The storm stopped the next mornin', and the boy's mother looked out the screened door that faced their garden. To her horror, the mound of dirt that was there the night before was gone, but the jack-o-lantern remained. It was the look in that hollow pumpkin's eye that frightened her most, because it reminded her of her son.

"The boy was never seen again. And that's why I don't want you to carve that pumpkin until after the full moon in October. There's no reason to decorate for Halloween so soon." Grandma Bertie then leaned in and whispered, "It's the curse of the jack-o-lantern."

They sat and stared at each other for the longest time until Gus finally broke the silence.

"Okay, Grandma, creepy story, but I don't see what that has to do with me."

She smiled a knowing smile. "They call it the curse of the jack-o-lantern because it is believed that the lightnin' strike or maybe the light of the full moon somehow brought that jack-o-lantern to life. Some say it was the boy's fascination with Halloween that led him to carve a pumpkin so early, and they also believe that the jack-o-lantern took revenge upon the poor soul that carved out its seeds, cooked them, and then ate them before the proper time.

"That poor soul was the boy who was never seen again, the boy who lived in this very house twenty years ago," Grandma added.

"You bought a cursed house!" Molly screamed, standing straight out of her seat.

"No, no, dear," Grandma assured her, patting her on the hand. "This house isn't cursed. It sat empty for years, of course. I needed a smaller, cheaper house after your grandpa passed away. This house was available at a very cheap price. And for a lot this size, well, I just couldn't pass it up. Besides, it was the only thing I could afford. I didn't hear about that awful story until after I bought it."

"Who told you?" Molly asked.

"Mr. Grogan, my ..." Bertie stopped. Her mouth was wide open with a look of shock. "Oh dear, what time is it? I was supposed to call Steven to go play cards with the Bensons tonight."

Gus darted away from the table and returned in a flash. He huffed, "It's 6:25 PM." Grandma Bertie had a clock in her spare bedroom. She did not like clocks; she had only one in her house, and it was located in a spare bedroom for the kids for when they stayed over on school nights. "Okay, kids, I gotta get ready and call Steven and ..."

She was cut short by both children when they said, "It's okay, Grandma; we can walk home."

"We're rested now," Molly added.

Bertie looked at them both with a smile of gratitude and said, "Thanks, kids!"

Chapter Three

They left by the front door onto the squeaky porch, and Gus suddenly took off to the left, running around to the back of the house.

Where is he going? Molly thought with her hands firmly planted on both hips. When she saw Gus returning from around the house a few minutes later, she knew. He was holding a pumpkin about the size of a basketball.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked.

"What does it look like I'm doin'?" Gus said sarcastically. I'm taking my pumpkin home so I can carve it." Gus heaved the orange mass to shift its weight in his arms.

"Didn't you hear what Grandma said?" Molly barked as they walked.

"Oh settle down, will ya?" Gus shifted the pumpkin again. "You worry too much. Besides, I'm not carving it tonight, so relax. It was just a story anyway."

"Just a story? Just a-I, I can't believe you," Molly stammered. "Do you think Grandma would lie to us?" she accused.

"No, of course not," Gus replied.

"What, you think she is trying to scare us?" she asked angrily.

"No."

"What then, is she hoarding all her pumpkins and their seeds for herself?"

At this Gus chuckled and said, "No, I just don't believe the story is true."

Her eyes narrowed. "So, Mr. Grogan is the liar then."

Gus simply shook his head and quickened his pace. The pumpkin was getting heavier with each accusation, and his arms were beginning to burn with fatigue. They walked five blocks in silence, when Molly could no longer contain herself.

She yelled, "I'm telling Mom. You can't carve that pumpkin until after the full moon, just like Grandma said."

Gus kept walking. Only half a block to go, he thought, not hearing nor caring what Molly had actually said. His biceps were burning more fiercely now.

Bursting through the front door, Molly ran to find her mother. Laying his prize next to the door, Gus collapsed on their front porch flat on his back.

They both now had something to prove. Molly believed that you should always listen to and believe your elders. Gus, on the other hand, believed everything must be tested. How else are you gonna know for sure?

Gus finally went into the house a few minutes later to find Molly still explaining the situation to their mother. When she had finished, her mother replied, "Yes, well I think Grandma is simply trying to get you both in the holiday spirit, dear," she said, smiling, rather satisfied with her response at such a complicated story. Molly's mother would never have said it for fear of hurting her daughter's feelings, but she actually sided with Gus on this matter. She didn't believe the tale was true either.

"Holiday? Halloween is not a holiday. It is a time of greed, ghosts, goblins, terror, fear, monsters ... shall I continue?" Molly asked without stopping. "Zombies, tricks played on innocent victims, vampires, deeds done in darkness, bats, spiders, cobwebs, parties held, not in celebration but in hopes to keep evil spirits away. It is not something to be taken lightly, Mother! Besides, Grandma said it was true!"

(Continues...)

Excerpted from CURSE OF THE JACK-O'-LANTERNby R. Brian Robbins Copyright © 2009 by R. Brian Robbins. Excerpted by permission.
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