by
David Darragh Binks
A thick silvery fog rolled in from Lake Huron, caressing the low hills of Ashtree Village; adding a ghostly quality to the late September landscape. There was only one day left before the Harvest Moon would make its annual appearance: a moon that was celebrated for centuries for its brightness, allowing farmers to harvest into the evening; but feared by many for its other, darker qualities.
“Ok I think he’s gone.”
“Are you sure?”
“Jamie we’ve been hiding here for twenty minutes. I’m telling you he’s gone back inside.”
“Fine. But let’s be quick.”
“Chicken shit.”
“Screw you.”
Zack and Jamie Dugan lived up the road from Tom Clayton. Most children were afraid of Tom because he usually made it quite clear through foul language and intimidation that he didn’t want them around. His weathered bald head, piercing blue eyes and pointed ears kept the local troublemakers a safe distance away from his prized pumpkin patch. His uneven gate and walking stick helped complete the portrait of the creepy guy you just didn’t want to meet in a dark alley. Or a pumpkin patch—for that matter. Every year, Tom’s pumpkins won him the much-coveted first prize in the Annual Ashtree Village Biggest Pumpkin competition, adding to his unpopularity.
“Did you bring the knife?”
“You asked me that half an hour ago. Stop being such a pain in the ass. So calm down and let’s get going. His biggest pumpkins are in the back near that oak tree. I saw them with my telescope last week.”
“You mean my telescope.”
“Yeah. All we have to do is make a cut, get some seeds and we’ll be in business for next year.”
The fog spilled onto the field while the boys carefully crept through the pumpkin patch. Growing up in Ashtree Village, Zack and Jamie had heard many tales of disappearing children that had occurred in this area over the past several decades. And it didn’t help that their father had told them never to bother Tom Clayton or they would be in a “heap o’ trouble.” No question they were scared but they were also determined not appear afraid in the presence of the other.
“We’re almost there Jamie. I told you this would be easy. I can hardly wait till next year when we win first prize in the pumpkin competition. Old Man Clayton will be so pissed. Love to see the look on his craggy face.” Zack chuckled. Jamie hadn’t heard Zack’s comments. He was about twenty feet back from his brother, his right foot snagged on a pumpkin vine and he was using all of his energy to pull himself free while not screaming in terror.
Zack looked behind. “Jamie. What the hell are you doing?” he whispered. “How did you get all tangled up like this?”
“I don’t know what happened. I tripped and fell. My ankle hurts.” Zack could see his brother was in pain but he didn’t want it to interfere with his plan.
“It’ll be fine. Just walk it off.”
Just then they noticed it had gotten a little darker. That’s because the infamous Tom Clayton was now standing over them holding a dirty pitchfork--
“What are you doing on my land!?” Tom bellowed, startling the boys like they had never been startled before.
Zack fell backwards while Jamie froze in terror. “Ever been stuck by a pitchfork?” Tom raised the pitchfork over his head and crashed it down into the earth between them. He meant business. “I know who you are. Little Dugans! You live up the road. How’d you like to get tossed into my wood chipper? Would you like that? There’d be blood and guts everywhere. The crows wouldn’t leave a trace and no one would ever know.” Tom was starting to enjoy himself.
Jamie was the first to plead his case: “Please Mr. Clayton we just got lost in the fog. We didn’t do anything! Let us go!”
Tom towered over the two terrified kids. He gave them a crooked toothy grin and then crouched down to their level. He paused for effect, watching them sweat and look at each other. Tears were welling up in Jamie’s eyes.
“Now why should I believe you boys, hmm? I think you were trying to steal my pumpkins or maybe you were about to break into my barn. Is that it?”
Zack finally found his voice: “Look Mr. Clayton we weren’t doing anything. Sorry we trespassed on your property. It won’t happen again. I swear. Just let us go. Please.”
“Tell you what. Both of you little thieves get on your feet. I got a bad leg but let’s just see if you two can outrun me. I’ll even give you a head start. But if I catch you there won’t be any mercy. Not from me. Now Run!” Again Tom plunged the pitchfork into the ground. They didn’t have to be told twice.
The boys took off as fast as they could. Through the fog they ran toward the road from which they came. Zack was ahead of Jamie and turned around to see Tom with his pitchfork gaining on them. “Run Jamie!” Zack screamed to his brother. Jamie was too frightened to notice his sore ankle but he wasn’t as fast as his older brother. He cried in terror as he ran toward Zack. His face was red as a beet, tears rolled down his cheeks but he kept going in a blind panic. After about a minute or two neither boy could see Tom any more. They stopped by the road, gasping for air.
The next morning Jamie could only walk with a limp. His right ankle had swollen from that night and he spent the morning in pain, icing it up. Both boys were questioned by their parents but they kept their lies simple: Jamie had fallen after tripping over a rock in the forest behind their property. Mrs. Dugan told Jamie it was a bad sprain and to stay off his feet for a few days. The parents thought no more of it.
That evening Tom Clayton was already on his fourth beer, sitting out behind his house on a bench he had swiped from a park a few years earlier. He lit up a cigarette and scanned his property. He could see some deer at the edge of his field munching on some wildflowers. It was a warm evening but a cold front was moving in to the area. The Harvest Moon slowly rose over the trees, casting a magical glow over the property. Tom looked back at the deer. They weren’t there any more. He heard a shuffling sound from behind the bench. As he turned he felt something on his foot: a pumpkin vine. With lightning speed it wrapped itself around his leg and yanked him to the ground. As he fell over, he lost his beer and his cigarette as more vines wrapped around him. One vine wrapped itself around his neck and although he pulled at it frantically he couldn’t do much about it. Struggling, he could see several pumpkins rolling toward him. Within a minute he was on the ground, helpless and en
circled by about fifty angry pumpkins of all different sizes. Up from the circle rose an eerie vine figure with a Jack-o-lantern head:
“You disappoint me Tom.” Tom could barely breathe as the one vine held his neck tight.
“You’re choking me…”
“That’s not all we’re going to do to you tonight Tom. You let those kids get away. Did you think I didn’t know about that? I could taste them in the air last night. They were ripe and ready to be picked: two of them! All you had to do was keep them locked up in the barn till tonight. You chose them over me. So I am choosing you.”
As Tom struggled to get free, more vines wrapped themselves around him. One vine crawled up his pant leg and wrapped itself around his family jewels giving them a slight tug. Tom winced in pain, and nausea, figuring this was going to be his last night on earth.
“So, are you going to tell me they over-powered you or they scared you or you felt sorry for them? You humans can’t do anything right.”
Gasping, Tom fired back. “I’ve fed and fertilized you for three decades and you still feed on children. It isn’t right. You could survive for hundreds of years on deer, skunks, groundhogs, raccoons, birds, whatever.”
Another tug.
“Tom. Here’s the thing: Almost every night you’re outside cooking up chicken, beef or ribs on that old crappy barbecue of yours. Are you suddenly going to stop enjoying rib dinners for the rest of your life? The simple answer is I don’t like the taste of deer, raccoons or skunks or any other shitty little rodents that pass by in this field. I like to eat humans- and the younger the better. Why? Because they taste great. Do you think I want to suck on a deer for the next three weeks before the contest? They stink. It takes a lot of food and fertilizer to make giant pumpkins and I just want to enjoy myself, just like you enjoy gobbling down dead pigs and cows.”
A small pumpkin hit Tom in the face. Then another.
“So tonight Tomboy it looks like you’re it. It’s the Harvest Moon and as you know I gotta feed. Nothing personal but even though you’re a grizzly little old creep you will taste a helluva lot better than what I’ve been chowing down on recently.”
The creature paused and slowly turned his big pumpkin head away from Tom, sniffing the air. “Oh wait a second. What have we here? ”
Tom didn’t know what to think as one of the vines blocked his mouth so he couldn’t speak or cry out. The mass of pumpkins quickly moved away from him, all rolling in the same direction. But the vines held him in place.
With Jamie stuck at home Zack thought he’d try to outsmart Tom Clayton. He figured Tom would assume they wouldn’t be back after the terror he caused. So he might as well try again to get those seeds. Dressed in dark clothes, he was practically invisible in Tom’s field. He would take his time, keeping low to the ground. The full moon was bright enough to show the way.
Zack’s heart raced with all the excitement of the mission so he stopped for a minute to catch his breath. Sitting there on the ground, alone in the moonlight and the fog, Zack began to feel jittery. He thought he could see movement from behind the property. Was it Tom? No. It was as if pumpkins were rolling around on their own. It made no sense. He squinted to try to get a better look just as a vine wrapped itself around him and then a hoard of pumpkins raced across the field towards him- piling on him like lions on a young gazelle. He never had a chance.
Meanwhile, Tom continued to struggle with his own vine problem. He was able to get his left hand free to grab the still-lit cigarette on the ground beside him. He held the cigarette against the vine and it released him. He quickly got to his feet and took off to the barn.
Jack-o-lantern had begun feeding on his latest victim. The pumpkins surrounded the two, while one of them connected to his stomach, through a clear vine. This pumpkin, selected from all the others, was to become this year’s entry in the 1978 Ashtree Village Giant Pumpkin competition. Jack was quite pleased to be having this meal instead of Tom; so tasty for a change.
Suddenly the barn doors burst open. An orange pickup ploughed through the field toward the pile of pumpkins. Tom quickly got out of the truck and raced to the back to grab a jerry can of kerosene. He had purchased it several months ago just in case he finally got the nerve to stand up to Jack. There was no turning back.
Hearing the commotion, Jack looked up from his feast to see Tom running among the pumpkins; pouring kerosene on as many as he could. The vines hissed in fear and tried to attack. They had a problem though: they were still wrapped tightly around Zack and the pumpkins were in the way. Tom had time-but not much. He threw the almost empty jerry can toward the pumpkins and lit the ground on fire with his lighter. He got back into his pickup, put on the hi-beams and drove around the fiery perimeter, squashing any errant pumpkins that were trying to escape. The jerry can burst into flames causing Jack to finally abandon his meal. His eyes glowed in anger as he watched the pick up get nearer.
“Looks like you have balls after all, Sonny boy! Too bad you interrupted my dinner. Now I’ll teach you some manners.”
Tom drove the truck right at Jack’s glowing head, flooring it. As he came at him, the truck squashed some pumpkins and slid into a rock, breaking the front axle. Tom tried to put it in reverse but nothing happened. The truck was stuck. The fire had gotten out of control by this point and the remaining pumpkins bounded over the enflamed field to safer ground. The vines surrounded the truck, which had now caught fire.
Tom managed to squeeze out the driver side window but several vines managed to take hold of his leg and he fell hard on the ground. Jack wasn’t doing much better. His pumpkin head had ignited from the explosion and his vines couldn’t help him extinguish the fire. His anger was all that kept him going as he ran toward Tom to finish him off. “I told you I’d teach you some manners.” Jack’s flaming pumpkin head was right in Tom’s face. A vine plunged into Tom’s mouth. He passed out.
A passing motorist saw the flames in the field and called it in on his CB radio. Within minutes the Ashtree Village Volunteer Fire Department had sent out both fire trucks and water cannon to deal with the grass fire. Other trucks showed up from as far away as Walkerton and Eden Grove. Zack was found unconscious at the scene not far from the burned out pickup truck. He was weak, suffering minor burns but had no memory of how he had gotten there. No one ever found Tom Clayton nor did anyone notice the rather large pumpkin only thirty feet from the truck.
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