All Pumpkins' Eve
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I know what night it is. I hear the little thumps on my door. I even know who it is. It's you. You've returned for more dark tales. I warned you my stories would forever become a part of you. You didn't heed. You're changed because of them, aren't you? You're addicted now, aren't you? I confess, you are more resilient than most. Every Halloween you return for more spooky stories. And I always deliver, don't I? On this night, once a year, you set out alone on a trek through this dense and dark forest, finding your way to my mansion few know exists. And you stand outside my door in the night win...
I know what night it is. I hear the little thumps on my door. I even know who it is. It's you. You've returned for more dark tales. I warned you my stories would forever become a part of you. You didn't heed. You're changed because of them, aren't you? You're addicted now, aren't you? I confess, you are more resilient than most. Every Halloween you return for more spooky stories. And I always deliver, don't I? On this night, once a year, you set out alone on a trek through this dense and dark forest, finding your way to my mansion few know exists. And you stand outside my door in the night wind, sometimes with a moon shining brightly in the sky and sometimes in complete darkness. This year, the moon is hidden and it is especially dark. Eventually, you bolster the courage to knock. First, a few soft thumps and then when I don't answer the door, you go into a frenzy, pounding and scratching, knowing you can't go back home until you've connected to the dark side. We no longer even greet one another. The door opens and you know your way to the Pumpkin Room. Yes, the orange room. Everything looks like the inside of a pumpkin, including thousands of pumpkin seeds lining the walls. But you already know these aren't ordinary pumpkin seeds. Inside each seed contains a story, told to me by ghosts and spirits, written on parchment by yours truly. Word for word. I am the Seed Reader, the harvester of spooky stories. I communicate with those from the world beyond this one. Sometimes the living send them to me. I collect the good ones. Then, I read them to you. But I always let you choose which seed to open. Or else I wouldn't be a very good host now, would I? The door to the Pumpkin Room will be closing in a moment. Which pumpkin seeds are calling to you tonight? Which shall we open first? And you said you'd never return. . .
