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Scary Stories For A Rainy Night - Ep. 240 - Blood Pumpkin - Scary Stories and Rain | Wave AI Podcast Notes

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Scary Stories For A Rainy Night - Ep. 240 - Blood Pumpkin

Scary Stories and Rain

Fri Sep 26 2025

Summary

Scary Stories and Rain – Ep. 240: “Blood Pumpkin”

Podcast: Scary Stories and Rain
Host: Being Scared
Air Date: September 26, 2025

Overview

Episode 240 of Scary Stories and Rain, titled “Blood Pumpkin,” offers a chilling selection of true and unsettling tales, narrated against a backdrop of soothing rainfall. This episode features personal accounts of terror and uncanny happenings, culminating in a long-form, original folk horror story that explores obsession, sacrifice, and the supernatural. The rain ambience and calm narration enhance the eerie atmosphere, perfect for late-night listeners seeking both relaxation and a good scare.

Key Stories and Themes

1. Lost in the Berkshire Mountains ([01:32] – [07:40])

Summary: A woman in her 20s becomes trapped outside alone in pitch darkness after missing the strict curfew at a retreat center in the Berkshires. Navigating by touch and eventually crawling to avoid falling off a mountain edge, she spends hours terrified of bears and becoming increasingly disoriented until she spots a dorm window light at 3 am.
Notable Quote:

“I had to crawl like this for hours, fearing that I would fall off the cliff at any moment...praying like crazy. I honestly thought I was going to die.” ([06:10], Narrator)
Themes: Disorientation, primal fear, survival, the indifference of nature.

2. The Camp Staff Stalkers ([07:40] – [13:46])

Summary: Two staff members at a remote summer camp notice suspicious trucks with unknown men. Hiding in a cabin, they escape into the night woods chased by the men, cleverly using their knowledge of camp trails to avoid capture.
Notable Moment:

“Where’d they go? I saw them come down here.” — Overheard from one of the pursuers ([10:18])
Themes: Stranger danger, rural vulnerability, using local knowledge for survival.

3. Four Faceless Figures ([15:15] – [19:12])

Summary: A teenage boy walking home late at night is confronted by a hooded figure who apparently splits into four identical, faceless individuals who mirror his movements. Upon fleeing home, his mother reveals she’d been visited by an angel in a dream, intervening as a group of chanting teens tried to harm her son via ritual.
Notable Quote:

“The angel led my spirit into a room where...a bunch of teenagers...were chanting around a table with a picture of you.”
([18:16], Narrator's Mother)
Themes: Paranormal protection, family intuition, ritualistic evil, dream-reality overlap.

4. The Hooded Follower ([19:12] – [24:46])

Summary: After a night out, a young man is tailed by a suspicious hooded figure. The next morning, he finds the motion sensor light on his house had been deliberately disabled, indicating premeditated, possibly criminal intentions.
Notable Reflection:

“I felt a severe pain in my chest when I realized that the man had more sinister intentions planned for me.” ([23:53], Narrator)
Themes: Unseen malevolence, urban unease, paranoia validated.

5. Park Encounter ([26:20] – [32:10])

Summary: A dog walker, accompanied by his large but timid boxer, is approached in a secluded park after dark by a disheveled stranger who insistently tries to pet the dog, then pursues the narrator when rebuffed.
Notable Quote:

“I'll never forget the look in his eyes. I have never had anyone look at me like that. A look of killer intent. All for what? Just because he couldn't pet my dog?” ([31:26], Narrator)
Themes: Dangers of solitude, intuition (including animal instincts), escalation of unwanted encounters.

6. Friendship Gone Wrong ([32:10] – [40:51])

Summary: The narrator describes befriending a couple via Facebook, which soon spirals into toxic obsession, possessive behavior, and escalating threats when boundaries are set. After blocking them, the narrator remains fearful due to knowledge of the couple’s history of dark web use and hostility.
Notable Line:

“He said that Mike was leading him on as a friend...I learned the hard way that when it comes to friends, it's quality, not the quantity of friendships.” ([40:20], Narrator)
Themes: Social media dangers, boundary enforcement, escalation of possessive relationships.

7. The Man at the Car ([43:17] – [46:15])

Summary: A paranoid schizophrenic describes his surveillance cameras catching a wild-looking man creeping around his property, attempting to break into his car, and acting irrationally until the police arrive and taze him. The encounter leaves the narrator shaken, and he’s unable to share the footage due to the ongoing investigation.
Notable Detail:

“He looked up and then begins to stare into the camera with his wild looking face...he's still trying to get into my vehicle, then stops and just stares into my car with no regard to anything else.” ([44:00], Narrator)
Themes: Home invasion, surveillance, vulnerability, mental illness and reality.

8. Blood Pumpkin (Feature Story) ([46:15] – [79:16])

Summary: A folk horror narrative in which a competitive pumpkin grower accepts a package of mysterious “blood pumpkin” seeds from a local vendor. Initially skeptical, he discovers the pumpkin thrives when fed his blood, and later—much more. When his main rival attempts to sabotage the pumpkins, violence erupts. The pumpkin’s appetite grows ever more sinister, demanding greater sacrifices: first friends, then strangers, ultimately even family. The monstrous gourd swells to legendary (and freakish) proportions, becoming a local and then statewide tourist attraction as the deaths continue. The story concludes with the narrator, old and guilt-ridden, warning future generations about the pumpkin’s insatiable need for sacrifice.
Notable Quotes & Moments:
- “The blood pumpkin had grown. ...now it was almost as big as Samson, the smallest of my three entries. I had done nothing different. Nothing besides giving it my blood.” ([52:10], Narrator)
- “He grinned. ‘Well, I'd heard that I might have a spot to worry about this year. Seems like you've got a real contender of a pumpkin on your hands. Might I get a look?’” ([56:00], David Decker)
- “Its vines twined around him, long stalks wrapping around him like the coils of some monstrous snake. And all at once the earth began to writhe and churn as its roots came up to join its vines.” ([61:40], Narrator describes Decker’s fate)
- “People will ask me why I didn't destroy it, didn't burn it to the ground. And to them I would ask how stupid they think I am. ...the bastard wouldn't burn. Any damage I did to it just healed. And all the while it laughed at me.” ([76:44])
Themes: Rural horror, sacrifice, guilt, supernatural parasitism, folk bargains gone wrong, the cost of ambition.

Quotes & Memorable Moments

“I kept walking into things and getting hurt. But finally my hand turned a doorknob that was heavier than the rest and I knew I had finally found the door to go outside.” ([04:53], Lost in the Berkshire Mountains)
“I have seen my share of creepy stuff before that day, but nothing like that. Every instinct in my body was shouting for me to flee, and I decided at that moment that I wasn't as tough as I thought.” ([17:10], Four Faceless Figures)
“No one reasonable would go that far just to pet a dog that clearly wanted nothing to do with him.” ([31:18], Park Encounter)
“...let this cycle end with me. God help me. And let that damned thing wither in the field.” ([79:08], Blood Pumpkin, closing)

Timestamps for Notable Segments

Berkshires Retreat Story: [01:32] – [07:40]
Camp Stalkers: [07:40] – [13:46]
Faceless Figures: [15:15] – [19:12]
Hooded Follower: [19:12] – [24:46]
Dog Walker in Park: [26:20] – [32:10]
Toxic Friendship: [32:10] – [40:51]
Security Cam Intruder: [43:17] – [46:15]
Blood Pumpkin Main Story: [46:15] – [79:16]

Tone and Atmosphere

Calm, steady, and deeply immersive narration accentuates the unsettling nature of each tale.
The rain soundscape subtly intensifies the listener’s sense of isolation and anxiety.
The host’s delivery maintains a lulling, almost therapeutic quality—even as the content becomes increasingly disturbing.

Conclusion

Episode 240 of Scary Stories and Rain weaves a series of true-life uncanny experiences with a standout feature in “Blood Pumpkin”—a chilling folk horror narrative. Across every story, familiar anxieties are rendered deeply disturbing through both narration and ambience. The episode closes as a meditation on the price of unchecked ambition and the cost of ignoring the dark undercurrents beneath everyday life.

Listening recommendation:
This episode is especially suited for late-night listening, ideally in the dark and with headphones, for maximum immersion in both terror and tranquility.

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Transcript

A (0:00)

Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. Before we begin, I just want to remind you to follow this podcast. It really helps me out a lot and it'll ensure that you never miss an episode. And if you would like to take things a step further, you can subscribe for just $2.99 a month. As a subscriber, you'll enjoy every episode completely ad free. Plus you'll automatically be entered to win every giveaway that I do each month. Right now there's a PlayStation 5 up for grabs which will be given away in mid October. Subscribers also get access to the Ultimate Episodes. These are extra long. I'm talking six, eight to 12 hours uninterrupted stories with relaxing rainfall designed for falling asleep, staying asleep all night long, relaxing or just enjoying hours of long form entertainment. And last thing before we begin, I just want to say thank you so much for being here and I really hope you enjoy this episode.

B (0:56)

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A (1:32)

This is a true story. I'm a female and when I was in my 20s, I went to a retreat in the beautiful Berkshire Mountains in Massachusetts. It was a weekend of lectures and activities on how to live your best life. Basically, little did I know that by midnight I would be living my worst nightmare. Upon our arrival, we were given a tour of the campus, which consisted of various buildings for lectures and activities, dormitories, a cafeteria, and an arcade. We were warned about ticks and that there had been recent bear sightings. I was so mesmerized with the beauty of the place that I admit I may not have been paying the utmost attention to the tour guide. It was autumn in New England and the leaves wore a multitude of colors. Standing on the edge of the mountain, we were able to see a babbling brook below us. I had never been that high up on a mountain before and the view was insane. The highlight of the tour was definitely the arcade building, which consisted of various game rooms. There were all kinds of games, from a pool table to classic Arcade Games after touring the arcade building, the tour guide warned us to be back in our dorms by 11pm we are very strict about lights out at 11pm no exceptions. You must be in your dorm at 11pm so keep an eye on the time. It seemed odd to me that there was such a strict curfew for a bunch of paying adult customers, but I guess they wanted to make sure we got enough sleep to be well rested for the lectures in the morning. After dinner, I decided I would spend the rest of my first day at the arcade building. Since there were no activities planned that evening, I had been eyeing a racing game. It was the type of arcade game that you sit inside and there's a steering wheel and you have to stay on the track. Well, this game was extremely engrossing and I was enjoying myself to the fullest. So much so that I could not believe it when the lights suddenly went out. The game went dark as well as everything else in the building. Could it possibly be 11pm already? I actually spent 5 hours playing this game. No way. I was scared sitting there in the dark. Is anybody here? I called. Nobody answered. Apparently everybody had their eyes on the clock except me. I couldn't blame my fellow guests for leaving me behind because this was a loud arcade and I was sitting inside a game where they couldn't see me. Plus, we had just met each other and they had no idea of the head count. After calling out several times to no avail, I accepted the fact that I was alone in this pitch dark building. Every single game had turned off as well as every single light and you could hear a pin drop. Terrified, I decided that the best strategy to avoid getting hurt was to hold my hands out in front of me until I could feel the wall and then slide my hands along until I found the door to the outside. It seemed to take hours to get myself to the wall, never mind to get to the door to the outside. I kept walking into things and getting hurt. But finally my hand turned a doorknob that was heavier than the rest and I knew I had finally found the door to go outside. I was so thankful that my nightmare was about to end. As I opened the door, I realized that to my horror, when they said lights out at 11, they not only meant indoor lights, but street lights as well. I was standing outdoors in the pitch darkness on the edge of a mountain in an area that had recent bear sightings. All around me, as far as the eye could see was pitch black. I had no idea which was north, south, east or west. I knew I was on the edge of a cliff because the babbling brook from earlier kept getting louder and louder. So instead of walking with my hands out in front of me like I did in the building, I decided to crawl to make sure I was still on land. I would put one hand lightly in front of me to make sure there was still ground and then the other would follow and then my legs. I had to crawl like this for hours, fearing that I would fall off the cliff at any moment. As the brook got louder and louder, fearing that a bear would come and attack me at any moment, wondering if I would ever be able to find my dorm. I was crying in the pitch darkness. I was praying like crazy. I honestly thought I was going to die. I was either going to fall off the mountain or a bear was going to find me, or I was going to tire from this crawling that I had to do, which was exhausting physically and emotionally. About three hours later, at 3 o' clock in the morning, I finally saw a light in a window. It must be a dorm. I figured I was going to knock on this window at 3 o' clock in the morning and I did not care. I just couldn't take this anymore. I stood there scared that the people would be mad that I was disturbing them at 3 o' clock in the morning. But on the other hand, I didn't care because I didn't want to die. A man opened the door and I burst out crying and tried to sob out my story. He took pity on me and gave me a lantern and pointed me in the direction of my dorm. By the time I reached my bed, the sun was coming up and it was almost time to attend the lectures. As you can imagine, all I wanted to do at that point was sleep. I was very thankful to be alive. I used to be in the Boy Scouts and spent many summers working on a camp staff as the pool director. Another staff member named Chris and I arrived two weeks before the camp opening for the summer to clean the pool, check equipment, and get all of the canoes and rowboats out of the storage and cleaned up. The rest of the camp staff would not arrive until the next week. It should be noted that before working on staff I had camped here for about 10 years and never had one single problem. This is a 600 acre acre camp that we both knew like the back of our hands. When you first enter the camp, you drive up a long road about 2 miles long and drive into a large gravel parking lot. At the front of the lot off to the right is A large lodge with a gravel road that goes in two directions, straight ahead or to the right. By going straight, you can drive either to the dining hall or continue past and continue down the road past many different campsites and four different cabins on the three mile drive down. Ultimately, this road leads you to the back winter entrance to the Camp at the lake where there are additional cabins and a parking lot. There are lots of trails throughout this area that led to all of the different campsites and cabins. About three quarters of the way down this road, there is an amphitheater surrounded by large cliffs with caves. Caves. Many of the trails crisscross through the cliffs and back to the top of the camp. The dining hall was located about 100 yards from the lodge at the edge of the parking area. About 75 yards downhill from the dining hall is a large swimming pool where the showers and changing rooms are located. About another 100 yards down the hill is a large pine forest where the staff campsite was located. The staff area had several small ponds around it and several large cabins with a road leading back to the camp's top. After working outside the entire day, Chris and I get cleaned up and meet his mom and dad in the nearest town for dinner. Dinner was great and we returned to the campsite around 9:30pm as we walked down the road to the staff area, we decided that instead of sleeping in the cabin, we would sleep in the staff tents that we had already set up because it was warm outside. All of a sudden we heard a truck turn down the gravel road. At first we thought it might have been the ranger coming to say hi as he knew we were there, but it did not sound like his truck at all. Luckily, the cabin we were standing in front of was back off the road so we could not be seen. We hurried behind the cabin to the back entrance, unlocked the door, entered and locked the door. Thankfully, we never had the lights on. However, the windows were open. As we snuck over to the window, we saw three trucks parked with four guys standing in front of them. None of them was anyone that was on the camp staff or that we had ever seen before. We thought at first that maybe they had a legitimate reason to be there. All of a sudden we heard one of the men say, where'd they go? I saw them come down here. At the moment I knew they were looking for us. The cabin was empty, so we knew that they would see us if they came to the doors or windows. Luckily, there was a storage room across from the bathroom at the opposite end of the cabin. That Had a door in the floor with a ladder that led underneath the cabin as it is about six feet off the ground. If they tried to get in, we at least had an exit. We heard the people at the front and back entrance knocking on windows, telling us to come out. We quietly crept down the ladder and moved slowly to the opposite end of the cabin. And we were able to slide out the end where a piece of the lattice was missing around the edge of the cabin. Once out, we had to quickly decide if we run up the road to our cars, which was about a half a mile away, and risk them catching up to us in their trucks, or turn and run down one of the many trails in that area. At least we had the advantage of knowing the place if they decided to run after us. We snuck out from under the cabin and began walking towards one of the trails that was about 50 yards from the cabin. About halfway there, someone screamed, they're over there. We began running down one of the trails that we knew led to the middle of the camp where there were many campsites, cabins and areas we could hide. We could see flashlights running behind us and on the trails next to us. We quickly jumped onto another trail that led up to the amphitheater where there was a hidden trail that led to the top. We knew we would be safe there because we would be able to see anyone that was walking up the trail. We finally made it to the amphitheater and to the top of the cliffs where we stayed for what seemed like forever, but was only a few hours. We kept seeing flashlights off in the distance. Finally, the flashlights were moving towards the lake opposite where we were. We took the back trail which took us around the far backside of the camp and to the top where the lodge and dining hall were located. It took about 45 minutes to reach the top. We then slowly walked back to the staff camp so we could get our keys. The staff area was about 200 yards from the parking lot where my car was parked, which is a different lot next to the archery range, which had a separate exit. We ran to the car and drove out of there as fast as we could. We drove to the camp ranger's house which was at the very edge of camp by the main road, and told him what happened. He called the local sheriff when they arrived about 40 minutes later. They searched throughout the camp and never found anyone. We never did find out who it was. We also never had any trouble the rest of the summer. I worked there the next two summers without issues.

A (15:15)

When I was about 16 or 17 years old, I was walking home from a party being held at my friend's house. The streets were dark and eerily empty as I strolled down the road that led to my home. The beeping of the watch I wore then notified me of the passing of the hour and I glanced at it to confirm the time. 3am I didn't normally go to parties or come home so late. In fact, I can count the times I came home after midnight in high school with one hand. But I was a good kid and my parents knew my friends well. All I had to do is let them know who I would be with, what time I would be back, and give them a call before I left my friends houses and I pretty much had no curfew. As I wasn't really accustomed to coming home so late, I wasn't used to the empty streets. They were normally bustling with people playing and living their lives. The emptiness gave the walk a creepy vibe. I was about two short blocks from the bridge that led to my house when I saw a hooded figure step off the bridge headed in my direction One thing you should know about that bridge is that it was a hot spot for mugging and other violent crime. I was always told never to walk on that bridge at night and to go around the long way. I did mention I was a teenager at the time, however, so of course I didn't listen. Seeing the hooded figure made me wish I had, however, as even from afar he gave off a threatening vibe. I decided that I was a tough guy, and if the guy started with me, I would finish it. I continued toward him. Big mistake. As I drew closer, the strangest thing I had ever witnessed happened. From either behind or out of that hooded figure, another hooded figure came forth and fell in line with the first. Then out of the second, a third emerged, and from the third, a fourth. I couldn't believe what I had witnessed. It was almost as if the first guy multiplied into four people. Either that or they were walking in such a perfect sync that you could not see one behind the other. There were four hooded figures, all dressed the same, with the same height and weight, walking toward me in a perfect cadence. I have seen my share of creepy stuff before that day, but nothing like that. Every instinct in my body was shouting for me to flee, and I decided at that moment that I wasn't as tough as I thought. I began to cross the street to take the long way around, and they also began to cross. It was clear that they were matching my movement. I picked up my pace and got to the corner before they did, almost at a jog. At one point, I was close enough to get a look at them, but all four of their faces were obscured by their hoods. I couldn't even see their chins or noses. It was just darkness, almost as if they had no faces. I was just about to start sprinting in abject detail, terror, when suddenly I found my backbone and decided I would not run from whatever they were. I took a deep breath and summoning all my courage, I turned around to face them. They were gone. I looked around for them, but they were nowhere in sight. They had completely disappeared. There was no place they really could have gone. However, they weren't close enough to any buildings to have gotten into. In fact, they were right behind me. I didn't spend too long searching for the creepy hooded figures, however, and 10 minutes later, I was home. As soon as I entered my house, my mother comes from out of her bedroom and approaches me and asked, are you okay? And thought maybe she didn't remember me calling her before leaving my friend's house. I'm fine. Mom, we spoke an hour ago. I told you I'd be home at this time. You did, she confirmed. But after I spoke to you, I fell asleep. Then suddenly I was awoken by an angel that told me, your son is in danger. Come with me. My mother was and still is a Christian, as am I, so hearing her speak about angels wasn't uncommon. But her saying she went somewhere with one wasn't your average dinner conversation in my house. The angel led my spirit into a room where there were a bunch of other teenagers that were chanting around a table and they had a picture of you on the table and their words sounded foreign. It felt like they were trying to send something after you, my mom explained. I swallowed hard. What happened next? I asked her hesitantly. The angel prompted me to step forward onto their table, so I did and suddenly I was wearing this beautiful white gown and the kids that were chanting could see me and they all fled in terror. I think I disrupted whatever they were trying to do. Mom, when did this happen? I asked, although I already knew. Just now, like maybe 10 or 15 minutes ago, she responded. I couldn't believe it. That was about the same time those guys appeared. Was there any connection between my mom's vision and the four hooded figures? I don't know, but all I do know is that I don't ever want to meet those hooded guys again. This was a few years ago and I don't expect many to believe me considering it was also Friday the 13th. It was my best friend's birthday the night before and he had just turned 21. Mind you, we were all around that age at the time. I am Now a newly 26 year old male and what happened later that night still sends shivers down my spine. We had a compact but close friend group back then and had planned to visit our local pub to celebrate his birthday. The night went on and as we shared our experiences, talked and ultimately had fun, which was the most important thing. We arrived at the pub around 8:30pm and got kicked out at 12am due to closing reasons. After that we chatted for a bit more outside the pub before walking home as we were all pretty drunk. The night was silent and dark, but thankfully not stormy. My house was on a slight hill in what I assumed a safe neighborhood. Before this happened, let me quickly say that I was living with my aunt at the time. I was walking down the street when I noticed someone dressed in black head to toe in my peripheral vision. They had their hood over their head so it was next to impossible to capture their identity in the dim street lights, but they seemed to be in their mid-30s to 40s with a more muscular build. They were on the adjacent street from mine and coming towards the intersection I was walking through. I didn't think much of it as I thought he was out walking home or out somewhere. So I continued to walk and was almost home by this time. It was around 1:30am when I turned around to see the same guy I saw before following me. I was a little alarmed, especially since I had been drinking a couple hours before and my paranoia senses were elevated. Needless to say, I have always been paranoid walking anywhere late at night. I started to pick up the pace to get some distance from him and to my surprise he did as well. That's when I knew I was in a fight or flight respawn situation. Instead of trying to act all tough and risk getting myself jumped or possibly worse, I decided to sprint down the street since my house was on the corner of it. Of course he was right behind me. I ran up my driveway, slamming the gate behind me before abruptly opening the back door and almost shaking the whole house trying to lock it. What I didn't notice is that the motion sensor light we had connected to our garage didn't turn on when I came into range of it. I found this to be odd since we always kept on top of its battery life and the light was extremely sensitive to motion. The next morning, when I felt it was safe enough to exit the house, I checked the motion sensor light and was shocked to see that it had been intentionally covered and turned towards the garage so that it couldn't be activated. I felt a severe pain in my chest when I realized that the man had more sinister intentions planned for me. I went back inside and checked with my family members and none of them had touched the light after I left for the pub. What happened Friday, October 13th would be the first and last time I have ever seen that person. What confuses me still today is how he knew I lived at that house.

A (26:20)

Often I enjoy walking my dog at night time. This is due to the fact that my dog is harder to walk when people are around with their own dogs, so we tend to walk around parks in the area when they've become sick. Somewhat secluded I am not a very big guy. I'm just about 510 and very lanky, so I wouldn't call myself an intimidating figure. However, my 120 pound black boxer named Loki could be somewhat considered threatening to most. From what I hear, I figured his size would be used as a deterrent for anyone looking to cause nightly troubles. I was dead wrong. On one specific night in the fall of 2016, I could recall of an encounter that reminds me of why I am so reluctant to walk around once daylight falls. This specific park is one I have been to a couple of times and from what I remember this park is usually secluded around 6:30 and later. Aside from a couple of joggers, there are very few other dog walkers. Not many people walk the same path I take. I also like to put on my headphones and listen to music while I walk, but on this specific night I chose not to wear them since my phone was on low battery and I wanted to preserve it as long as I could. Anyway, the walk was going as usual. Loki did his business and we continued our usual path. About midway on our walk I realized that it had started to get really dark. Since he was done with his business, I decided to cut the walk somewhat short and we took a shortcut that kind of led us off the path. This path had a bunch of trees surrounding the area and there were still leaves on the branches. With that being said, I felt a weird feeling as if I were being watched. I have pretty bad anxiety sometimes, but since I knew the town was safe, I knew that nothing was going to happen. But still, I could not for the life of the me, shake off the feeling of being watched. I peered back to see if anyone had been following me out of anxiety. And every single time, no one was there. In fact, no one was anywhere. This whole shortcut was essentially secluded. Suddenly, Loki stopped walking and also looked back. I told him, loki, come on boy, we gotta go. One thing I failed to mention was that Loki is a big coward. I noticed his tail was tucked between his legs, which is a telltale sign that a dog is afraid. I was also curious and a bit nervous, but I surely did not want to find out what he heard or noticed. I just wanted to get out asap. I pulled a little and he began to walk. But every now and then I'd see him peer back. After maybe a minute or so of walking, he stopped again and this time he began to growl. Despite being a coward, Loki is a bark but no bite kind of dog. So I took this chance to see exactly what he was growling at. It was quite dark, so I could not see well. So I used my phone's flashlight to see what was up. Trees, Just trees. What he heard was probably some kind of small animal. Once again, I turned around and kept walking. He continued to peer back once in a while still, but this time I noticed it was a lot more frequent. I just said to myself, just squirrels, maybe a bird. And I ignored it. Then I heard what appeared to be actual footsteps and branches breaking. There is absolutely no way a small animal could have produced a sound like that. Loki turned around quick and still with his tail tucked, he began to growl and bark at a figure that I could only describe as a man in his early 50s, possibly late 40s appear from out of the woods. He was dressed in dirty clothing. His hair was long and was graying. He had one hand in his pocket and he said to me, nice dog you have. What braid is he? He's a boxer. I replied, oh, I love dogs. Mind if I pet him? He wondered. The man got closer and emerged from the trees. As he got closer, I realized that he was quite tall and a bit burly. Loki instantly got bad vibes. He ran behind me and started to bark at him. Actually, I do kinda mind. My dog here doesn't like strange strangers. Sorry, but it's probably not best if you pet him, I quickly stated. It's okay, really. He seems like a friendly guy, just a Little pet wouldn't harm him. The man retorted as he got closer. I felt extremely uncomfortable as he appeared to get closer and closer. I don't know why this guy couldn't take no for an answer. I mean, I usually don't allow people to pet pet Loki unless he comes up to them first. If he's scared of you, then I usually do not want to freak him out by letting him be pet by a stranger. This is especially the case when said stranger came from the woods behind a few trees. I'm really sorry man. I'm scared he'd bite you or something. I told him as I began to walk away. Like I said before, I wasn't trying to be judgmental or anything, but the dude came from the woods and was possibly the one trailing us from before. I don't know why he won't just let me introduce myself to him. The guy replied angrily. This time I began to speed walk. I was very uncomfortable and my fight or flight instincts began to take over. He followed us and kept muttering curses to himself. I don't know if this man was under the influence of something, but he did not let up. I won't lie, I started to get a little angry. Why can't a guy just take no for an answer? He began to match my speed, almost as if he was trying to catch up to us. Loki and I both took this as an answer to start sprinting a bit. I don't remember much of the running, it was all a blur to me. But I do remember the spine tingling feeling of hearing his footsteps rapidly increasing behind me. For a man of his stat stature, he was quite fast. I also realized that his intentions may not have been to just pet my dog. No one reasonable would go that far just to pet a dog that clearly wanted nothing to do with him. I looked behind me and he was in pursuit. Maybe about 10ft behind me. He was chasing us. I'll never forget the look in his eyes. I have never had anyone look at me like that. A look of killer intent. All for what? Just because he couldn't pet my dog? My instincts told me that he definitely had sinister intent behind that. Finally, the path led to the park exit and into the busier streets. I lived about 10 minutes away from the park. I made sure no one was following me and I even made sure to walk on populated streets. After what seemed to seemed like an eternity, we got home, but I knew for a fact that I was not going to get a minute of sleep. From my window in the porch, I watched all night with Loki just to see if anyone had followed us home. I also made a police report with my parents. After all, this guy seemed to have been quite suspicious and who knows what his true intentions were. Had his target been someone who couldn't protect themselves or or run away, what would he have done? I also often ask myself, what if I was wearing my headphones and the sound of music drowned out the footsteps behind me? Ever since, I haven't walked Loki in that park. I have also made it a habit of mine to walk on livelier streets at night. If I could give anyone one piece of advice, even if you live in a relatively safe town, do not ever let your guard down. You never know what kind of person might be lurking in the shadows. Okay, so bear with me as I kinda suck at telling stories. Without some rambling, I changed the names for anonymity's sake. I'll give you a little background and and then dive into the story. My husband we'll call Michael and I are in our 30s. We have two toddlers. The couple I will talk about, I'll call Liz. And her husband we will call Klinger. Now let's dive into the story. I was scrolling through Facebook when I noticed a post on one of our local Talk of the Town groups. Liz posted saying she isn't from the area and wanted to know where everyone hangs out and she said she wants to make friends. Me being my outgoing self, I decided to comment saying I'll be your friend. I know, I know. It was a very stupid idea on my part and I let my overly trusting and friendly personality get the best of me. Liz and I started Facebook messaging and quickly realized we had a lot in common. Klinger and I have mutual Facebook friends, so that made me more inclined to meet up. I arranged for the four of us to get dinner and hang out. We had a good time and shared the same sense of humor. It turned into Liz and I hanging out weekly and Klinger inviting Mike to play pool every week. Mike was working a very demanding job that made it hard for him to have the time to hang out and when he did have the time, he was too tired. Well, this made Klinger turn a bit crazy. Klinger asked if Mike could go to pool night and he said no because of work. Klinger completely freaked out. He started texting Mike saying that he was being a quote unquote part time friend and that he couldn't deal with having a friend that didn't give enough effort. He said that Mike was leading him on as a Friend. Naturally, Mike and I thought what the heck? What is wrong with this guy? Mike started saying that Klinger was overreacting and that he has obligations like work and family time. He said that he doesn't have to be Klinger's friend and to chill out. Mike ignored all messages from Klinger and we went about our days. Liz and I still hung out regularly, just us girls and figured that Mike and Klinger didn't have to hang out with us. I thought, okay, problem solved. Wrong. Klinger started messaging me saying that he doesn't understand why my Mike wouldn't want to hang out with him and that he wasn't being nice. I tried explaining that he's got a lot going on and to chill out. This just angered him more and he lashed out by saying that Mike didn't give enough me time and that everyone deserves that. He insisted that Mike take time for himself and have a guy's night weekly. I told Klinger that him and Mike don't have to be friends and it's not a big deal. You would think I would have cut Liz and Klinger out of my life right then, but I thought I could be friends with only Liz. I then started to notice that Liz was becoming too clingy and would get mad if I said I felt like just hanging out at home instead of with her. She made me feel guilty for wanting to have time alone, so my idiot self fell for it and thought that it would be wrong of me to leave her to be lonely as she didn't have any other friends in the area. This in turn made me spend more money than we could afford as she always wanted to get drinks or food. Mike and I started arguing because Liz would twist things I said to her, then Klinger would spit them out to Mike. I thought about ending our friendship but wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. This all changed when I got a text from Liz asking if Mike and I would want to come over and do Molly with them. I am not into that stuff. Stuff except for smoking occasionally, so I definitely wasn't about to go over to their place to do Molly. I said that we couldn't and I'm not into it anyway. Plus we didn't have a sitter. Liz had the audacity to say that I should bring our kids over with us and their kids could play with them. I told her absolutely not and she got mad that I said it was a bad idea. Meanwhile, Klinger is non stop texting Mike saying that he's a piece of crap. Alcoholic and that he doesn't give me enough time. Mike and I were totally taken aback as this came out of nowhere and I never complained about my sex life to Liz or Clinger. In fact, I told Liz that I was content with it. I did mention Mike drinking a lot at the time, but didn't go into further detail and it wasn't some big secret. Clinger then lectured Mike about him needing to quit drinking and that he's a piece of crap crap father just like his dad. My husband has his share of issues, sure, but he's not a piece of crap dad and he has dramatically improved since this occurred. Klinger then said that our kids are annoying and ugly. He told Mike that our son shouldn't have a pacifier and how we are intentionally screwing up his teeth. Keep in mind that they were around 16, 17 months and 3 years old with standard tan tantrums. Mike said that he was done with the conversation and that there was no reason for him to disrespect our family, which obviously included a few choice words. Mike said that he doesn't care what his sexual preference is, but it seems like Klinger seems to be looking for a boyfriend, not a friend. Klinger lost it and threatened Mike and said that he would break him in half. Mike blocked him on everything. Then I texted Liz saying that our friendship was over due to her psycho husband. After we blocked them, we didn't hear from them again, but I was nervous for a good month that Klinger would show up at our house and try to do something. It didn't help knowing that Klinger regularly went on the dark web and hearing all the horror stories surrounding that. Also, at the time they lived about 10 minutes away. Thankfully, I knew beforehand that they would be moving to a City about 4:40 minutes away in the near future, so I knew it would be unlikely that I would run into them. So long story short, I learned the hard way that when it comes to friends, it's quality, not the quantity of friendships. We have a couple of good friends now and are more than happy with that.

A (43:17)

Before I begin, I'd like to state that I am a paranoid schizophrenic. This will come into play later. This happened recently on July 6th at around 8pm just starting to get dark when I happened to notice a man walking around my housing complex. I saw this on my security system with about six cameras in total. He is wearing a black hoodie with the hood up and a pair of ratty blue jeans and he had a wild looking beard. I see him walking around and think nothing of it until around 30 minutes later. I see the man walk around near my house and notice him walking a bit too close to my car for comfort. He then just walks away and I don't see him for another hour when I get an alert on my monitor with all of my security cameras that says there is a proximity alarm. I have each camera set to a different proximity alert and the two garage door cameras were set to around 15ft away from the camera at this point, it's dark outside and the cameras switch into infrared mode where I can get a better look at this guy. He looked crazed and had a small grin on his face. Face. It didn't look too obvious, but it was definitely noticeable. I kid you not. What he does next is just downright terrifying. He looks up and then begins to stare into the camera with his wild looking face and just sits there for a good five minutes. He then tries the rear left door and fails to open it, then tries the driver's side to no avail. The crazed man begins to then knock on the windows of the driver's side door and starts pounding it. After a short period of time, this guy was getting more visibly agitated and angry with each second he couldn't get into my vehicle. By this point I am already on the phone with the police and they say they'll be at my place soon. I get off the phone with the operator and just continue to watch what this guy is doing. He's still trying to get into my vehicle, then stops and just stares into my car with no regard to anything else. After 10 minutes, two police cruisers come onto my street with their lights on and their weapons drawn at the man. He looks at them and starts walking toward them slowly. By doing that, the guy got tased. I assume the guy had a weapon of some sort because why else would four officers have their weapons drawn? Then I hear a loud scream scream come from outside. Once the officers got the guy in cuffs, he turned his head back toward the main garage door camera and stares into it with the most deranged and insane look on his face. I give the police a statement and a USB drive with all of the footage of what just transpired. And I am still waiting to hear back from the police. I am not allowed to show any footage from these events as there is still an active investigation going on. I didn't set out to hurt anyone. I certainly didn't want to kill anyone. I didn't have a choice though. The pumpkin demanded sacrifice. I bought the damn seeds at Reggie's vegetable stall. David Decker bought his seeds from there too. I was quite sure. David was a bit of a local celebrity. You see, he had grown the biggest pumpkins in the county for the last five years and counting. And for the last five years I had to be content with second place. This year was different though. This was the year where I beat David Decker and reclaimed my prize as the biggest pumpkin grower in the county. This year was different because Reggie said that he had something special for Me. A secret weapon, if you will, and he assured me that it would finally wipe the smile off old Decker's face once and for all. Reggie found some special seeds. Blood pumpkins, I said skeptically. The package was old. It looked older than God. The paper had taken on that slight, soft, velvety feel of a material that had seen the fall of the Second World War, and the seeds inside felt hard little bullets under my thumb. The paper declared them to be Blut Kirbys, and if Reggie hadn't told me what they were, I would have never known. Everything on the package was in a foreign language, and I would have sworn it was something that he had bought from a joke shop if he had not been so serious. Reggie was a practical joker, but his face was stone serious as he looked at me from across the counter of his vegetable stand. Blood pumpkins, he intoned back with deep seriousness. I don't know, Reggie. These things look older than God. Are you sure they'll grow? Absolutely. Reggie stretched the word into three. Granddad brought them back from Germany, and he said the pumpkins he saw over there were hu huge. I scoffed. Your granddad was a sod buster just like mine, Reggie. When did he go to Germany? During the war. Same as your granddad, except your granddad spent it in Alaska. I wanted to take offense to that, but he was right. Granddad got a very cushy post while Reggie's granddad had gotten half his leg blown off by a potato masher and was sent home with honors. Let me get my usual spread of regular pumpkins, too, Reggie, just to be safe. So how did these work anyway? Any special instructions for these German pumpkins? Granddad always said that the man who gave him the seeds said that a sacrifice was needed to see them reach their full potential. What that sacrifice was, the man wouldn't say, but Grandad figured if anyone knows anything about sacrifices, it's farmers like us. He wasn't wrong. All the farming these past few years were one sacrifice after another. You sacrificed your time, your love, your family, your hair, and damn nearly everything else so you could afford to keep the taxes paid and the lights on year after year. Sod busting was nothing but sacrifice in many ways, and I figured I would plant the seeds and see what came of them. I honestly figured I would get more out of the other packs of seeds than those two old pumpkin bullets. Anyway, looking back, I realized that I had no idea about sacrifice yet. I planted the seeds as I had done for years and years in the east field. As I stood up and Rubbed the dirt off my hands. I looked across my field and felt the same sense of prayer pride I always felt. The corn was coming up, potatoes and yams, beans and peanuts. The fruit trees were starting to bear fruits in the orchard, and my 20 acres was abuzz with growth. The July sun had beaten down on me as I shaded my eyes to survey my kingdom, and I knew it wouldn't be long before harvest time. Packing time and time to take another load down to Reggie so we could sell my harvest and I could lay enough back to make it through the winter. And once I win this year's grand prize for the biggest pumpkin contest, I would open my own stall in the following spring and sell my harvests like my father used to do. I was such a fool. The pumpkins grew slowly, as pumpkins do, but after a month, I had my eye on three that looked to be coming along nicely. I named them Hercules, Goliath, and Samson. They outgrew the others by quite a bit. It might seem silly to name a pumpkin, but I always named the ones I thought would be my entries into the fair that year. The other 40 or so would be sold to pie makers and pumpkin carvers and all sorts of other folks, but these three would be weighed, judged, and then made into pies by the missus for the pie contest to be held two days hence. I always laughed about it, but I always felt a little sorry to see her make those pumpkins into a pie after I worked so hard on their rearing. I named the blood pumpkin Fritz. It's a little different from the others. It was underperforming. Fritz wasn't even as big as most of the regular pumpkins, but I kept tending to him and hoping that maybe he was just a late bloomer. When I had gotten a pumpkin at all from the seeds, I had held out hope that maybe Reggie's grandad was right and that these pumpkins would be bigger than the regular ones I usually entered. I pruned it and weeded it by hand, just as I did with the other three, hoping that maybe it would grow bigger and I could sell it as an oddity at Reggie's stand. While my other pumpkins were orange, this one was a deeper orange, like blood orange, and its leaves had a strange, wilted look on them. I was certain it would make someone an extra creepy jack o' lantern when Halloween rolled around, but I really didn't have too high of hopes for the stunted little thing. Other than that. Then one day in August, I got a surprise. A painful Surprise. I was out tending to the pumpkins. My top three are still growing larger and fuller than the others. And while I was pruning around Fritz, I accidentally cut my hand with the shears. It wasn't a deep cut, just took a little skin off a knuckle. But like any wound, it bled a bit. And before I could snatch my finger back to put it in my mouth, a few drops of blood splattered around the pumpkin. I didn't think much of it at the time. It was just a cut, after all. And I wrapped it in a bandana and got back to work. The next day, however, when I went to go check on the pumpkins, I noticed that something amazing had happened. The blood pumpkin had grown. It was smaller than even my smallest pumpkin the day before. And now it was almost as big as Samson, the smallest of my three entries. I had done nothing different. Nothing besides giving it my blood. Then I remembered what Reggie said. He had said that the plant required a sacrifice. And I thought to myself that maybe this sacrifice was more than my time and energy. The sacrifice I would give to any crop. What if this sacrifice was my blood? As though I was in a daze, I pulled out my buck knife and slid the blade across the meat of my palm. This sting was little more than an afterthought. As I squeezed my hand, I sent a dozen fat drops onto the ground beside the pumpkin. The drops splashed onto the vines as well, a single fat drop splattering the body of the gourd. And as it fell, I could swear I heard it grow. It was a soft, whispery noise, like the trees in light. Wind and the ground drank up my blood and left nothing behind. It seemed to grow before my eyes, looking bigger than it was a minute ago. And the next day, I measured 3 inches of growth, seemingly overnight. For the next two weeks, I began giving the pumpkin my blood. It was never much the amount you'd get from a diabetes test, but in two weeks, I noticed a change in the size of the blood pumpkin. In those two weeks, it grew as big as any of the pumpkins I had planned. 2. Enter. By the last week of August, it was twice as big as any of the pumpkins I had planned to enter. And Fritz was my new entry for sure. I imagined that anyone who cared to look would have seen the bruises on my fingertips and palm. My wife certainly made a lot of them as she aided them at the dining room table. But she was the only one. I had a lot of visitors in the last week of August. Actually, someone it Seemed had seen the blood pumpkin. My neighbor was the first. He could hardly miss a pumpkin that was nearly 5ft tall and 4ft wide and wondered if he could come have a look. After that I was visited every day by curious townspeople wanting to see my pumpkin. As I spent more and more time with the pumpkin, I began to worry that this was as large as it was going to get, topping out just shy of five feet and started increasing the amount of blood I gave it. I was back to cutting my palm for the fat red drops I'd gotten before, but even that didn't make it grow. The ground drank but the whispering growth didn't occur. I slept poorly. I began to neglect my other crops and Fritz, the blood pumpkin became somewhat of an obsession. On the 4th of October I got the visit I had been expecting. He called on me early, just a short series of knocks that dragged me from the table where I had been listlessly eating my breakfast. He wore overalls and a blue work shirt, boots with the run down heels of many years of use, and a round top brown hat that probably was meant to make him look like a cowboy but just made him look even more like a farmer from a John Wayne movie. He hadn't taken the hat off, just stood grinning on my front porch as though we were the best of friends. David, what brings you out my way this early? I asked with no real emotion. He grinned. Well, I'd heard that I might have a spot to worry about this year. Seems like you've got a real contender of a pumpkin on your hands. Might I get a look? I considered it. Sure, he had seen pictures and heard gossip, but in the end I decided that I really didn't want him to see my pumpkin. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was mean spiritedness, but I think it was something else. I don't believe the pumpkin wanted him to see it. Sorry, David, but if you want to see my pumpkin you'll have to wait till the contest. I tried to close the door and found the tip of one of those run down boots blocking the way. Come on now, just a peek. Hell, you've let half the town see it, so what's the harm in letting me have a glance? I said no, David, you can see it in three weeks when it's got a blue ribbon attached to it. He moved his foot then, allowing me to close the door. But when he nodded his head and showed me his grin again, I knew it wasn't the genial smile I'd seen before. Suit yourself then. I'm sure I'LL see it in due time. He was right, of course, but the seeing would prove to be his undoing. He got his look. Three nights later I was in bed, my wife snoring peacefully beside me, and as my eyes made a map of the dark topography of the ceiling, I heard a noise from the barn. It was subtle, could have been the wind, but I felt myself getting out of bed and walking down the hall and into the kitchen. I moved around the dark table and stood in the screen door as I gazed at my east field. It was late midnight by the clock on the stove, and there should have been no way for me to see anyone in the field at all. Standing in the dark kitchen, though, I became very sure that I could see someone walking into my east field carrying something with a long handle. I slept, walked from the house, silent as a ghost, and though the October wind sent goosebumps up my bare legs, I hardly noticed. I paused by the wood pile and wrapped my scarred hand around the old splintery axe that sat buried in the ancient stump. As I approached, I saw the person staring at the pumpkins, staring at Fritz, and in the moonlight it was easy to see them, transfixed by the silhouette of the swollen gourd. He stood stock still, contemplating the thing for nearly a minute, and I was less than 30ft when he raised the tool in their hand and swung it down into the pumpkin with a wet, meaty thunk. I started to run then, bare feet slapping the earth, and he must have heard me because he turned. In the moonlight I got a glimpse of a round crowned hat and a face full of white snarling teeth. I didn't register who it was, didn't even register that he was human, and my only thought was that this person would die for harming my pumpkin. I buried the axe in his chest, blade biting into the wood of the hoe which he tried to use to block the swing, and as the wood split, splintered, I saw the blood splash across my undershirt and stain it red. David Decker looked at me with stunned and unbelieving eyes, but those eyes didn't fill with fear until something wrapped around his ankle. His blood had fallen on the ground between us, and even now the earth was drinking it greedily. He turned suddenly, axe still buried in his chest, and as he did he fell to his knees. As the blood began to bubble from his lips, the red fell on the face of that unholy gourd, and I saw it grow and writhe before my very eyes. Its vines twined around him, long stalks Wrapping around him like the coils of some monstrous snake. And all at once the earth began to writhe and churn as its roots came up to join its vines. In his terror David struggled. His hands lashed out feebly with a broken hoe as he was dragged beneath the soil by the grasping vines. I watched, God help me, I watched as he disappeared into the earth. And all at once I felt my knees unhinge and I too was knee bound on the soil of my east field as the roots began to slide over me as well. I felt my mind slip away as the shadow of the blood pumpkin fell across me. Now six or seven feet tall and five or six feet wide, I could hear it growing and groaning. It grew with a sound like thin trees in a high wind. And as I blacked out I never expected to have another thought on God's green earth besides that last. My thought was that I finally made my sacrifice and that this pumpkin would take me into the earth as its next meal. I almost wish that it had. I awoke in the field with my wife standing over me and the pumpkin, that seven foot tall behemoth of orange skin and green vines towering over us both. My shirt was clean, the ground was undisturbed and all signs pointed to the night's events being just a dream. Except for the broken hoe and the ugly little scar on the left side of Fritz where the hoe had bitten into him when David swung it. David Decker was never seen again. The sheriff found his truck not far from my farm and they came by one afternoon to ask some questions. Had I seen him, had he been here and did I know anything about his disappearance? I told them no. I couldn't very well tell them that one of my pumpkins had eaten him and stayed out of the nut house. And they believed me. They said that the visit was just a courtesy anyway and that they wouldn't keep me from my harvest. The harvest that year was tremendous. The blood pumpkin wasn't the only thing that had benefited from David's sacrifice and the yield that year was so great that I could have bought my own stand without the money from winning the contest. That hardly mattered now, though nothing really mattered at this point. By this time I didn't care about anything but the pumpkin and keeping it happy. October 15th. Five days before the contest, I began to notice a change in Fritz. Though still connected to the ground and still seven feet tall, it was beginning to take on a definite sag. It was waxy looking, had an over ripened look to and I had serious doubts that it would make it to the time of the fair.

A (65:57)

My blood would no longer sustain it, and whatever it had gotten from David was gone. Now it appeared that another sacrifice was required, but I did not have the strength to catch its food for it. I had not the resolve to feed my neighbors to this unholy thing. I was sitting at the kitchen table and contemplating what I would do next. When the knock came at the door. It was Reggie, the only one left in town who hadn't come to see the pumpkin. My wife was out visiting a sick friend. It was just he and me, and he wanted to see the pumpkin, the one he had heard so much about around the stand. Reggie had walked from his farm a few blocks away. He had probably told no one where he was going. I took him to the east field, and as he marveled at the pumpkin, I slipped my hand into my pocket. This is wild, granddad said. They were big, but this is huge. I wrapped my hand around the buck knife I had used to feed it my own blood. Even if Decker hadn't disappeared, I'm pretty sure that not even he would be able to grow anything big enough to compete with this. Reggie had his back to me and thus didn't see the knife slide out. What have you been feeding this thing? Granddad said it took a sacrifice. You must have spent a lot of time out here. He was so lost in his own rambling that he didn't hear the metallic click as the knife came open. Unless you've been making actual sacrifices out here in your east field, he said jokingly. What's the secret, buddy? Virgin's blood? Goats? A little full moon? He stopped talking when the knife slipped into the side of his neck, stopped talking and started gurgling. The ground accepted him, and when my wife got home from a friend's house, the pumpkin was 12ft tall. The judges came to my house that year to see Fritz the Behemoth, and I won hands down. It wasn't even a contest, really. The judges couldn't find a pumpkin even half as large as mine, and when my wife came for her early sacrifice for the pie contest, I gave her the other three instead. She seemed disappointed. Maybe she had noticed what a mania this pumpkin had become for me. But she took them anyway and won the pie contest that year with the tastiest pie that the judges had ever tasted. As she left my field, her arms laden with pumpkins, I first heard the slithery voice of the search serpent as it offered me its apple. The voice was autumn wind and winter's promise, and I had heard it before, hadn't I? It was the voice that tells you that you can squeeze in one more crop before the winter, the voice that tells you that it wouldn't be that cold tonight so there's no need to bring the livestock in. The voice of creeping winter that's hungry for its sacrifice. The voice told me that If I gave it my wife, my fame would be eternal. On that day I turned away from it. On that day I was strong. That year, at my annual pumpkin patch, I was not so strong. I had arrayed my smaller pumpkins for sale, and even Hercules sat amongst them since he had been spared. The people milled about the patch, looking in awe at Fritz the behemoth as they made their choices. And I saw the kid when he stepped a little too close to the massive pumpkin. He was a porker, a hefty kid from a family of hefty adults, and he had stopped to stare at the pumpkin as he held one of its smaller cousins in his pudgy hands. All at once he shifted the pumpkin under his arm and stepped towards the mountainous gourd with a hand outstretched, stretched to touch. I started to stop him. I should have stopped him. But as I started to rise from my chair and raise my voice to warn him, I heard the voice of the serpent again, commanding me to stand aside. I sat back down and cast my eyes away, but even that didn't fully save me from witnessing the end. The police were called when they noticed his absence, and they searched my field in the forest beyond for a week without finding anything. His parents sat at my kitchen table, his mother crying into a square of silk as my wife poured tea and assured her that he would turn up until nearly 10 o' clock that first night. I am lucky my wife was such a hostess, because all I could do was sit shell shocked in a chair as she puttered about and made small talk. Everyone thought I was broken about the kid, and in a way they were right. After all, it's not every day you watch a child get pulled under the soil while no one's looking. I won the contest the next year, too. People said I had a knack for growing pumpkins, but really it was the same one. When it got 18ft tall and 12ft wide, it started to attract tourists. Some of them never made it back to the wherever they were from. By that point I was numb to the sacrifices the pumpkin ate. The pumpkin grew, and as the tourists began to pay to see it, I found that I no longer had to grow anything to get by. The pumpkin made my farm a natural stop for tourists on the road, and they never grumbled too much about a few dollars here or there to see it. This was the year we took it on the road. We loaded it up on a flatbed trailer and took it to county fair after county fair so the whole state could see the world's Biggest pumpkin. We did it for five years. And in those five years, I remember hearing about a suspected serial kidnapper plaguing the state. They dubbed him county fair kidnapper, as I recall. And in five years he abducted more than 20 children and five adults from state fairs across the state. The state police even questioned me, not as a suspect, but to see if I had seen anything amiss. And I always told them no. What choice did I have? As I told you, when the pumpkin took Decker, I would have been slapped into a loony bin if I had come to them with stories of killer pumpkins or blood sacrifices. I am not blameless in this whole affair. I know that, and I have never claimed otherwise. But the pumpkin was good for my family. The pumpkin was good for the town. My pumpkin brought in the crowds, and the crowds stopped in the cafes to have a bite. They stopped at the gas station for gas and road snacks and stopped at the farmer's market to buy fresh produce. They spread their money up and down the street from May till November. And the town always had a corn maze or a fair of some sort to draw them away from the pumpkin and back into the town proper. At one point, my face and a picture of the pumpkin were even on the town's sign. When you drove over the city limits, come see the world's biggest pumpkin, it stated in bold black letters. And at one point you could damn near see the thing from the city outskirts. In its heyday, it towered up nearly 30ft high and was wider than my house. It was blind to its feedings for the most part. Hell, I suppose you'd say I was complicit in the murders. I killed two for Fritz, and I'm responsible for all the rest. In that I turned aside. But I didn't really grasp its slyness, its cunning, until the last time I watched it kill. When I watched it take my wife. I was standing in the back door watching her, trying to ignore the creeping voice as it told me it must feed. She was out in the field tending some vegetables in the space I no longer used. And as I watched her, I began to wonder if I might resist this evil and win free. I had been this pumpkin's pump puppet for nearly eight years. Eight long years of dragging its burden around my neck. And my heart was growing heavy with the burden of that sin. As I watched her, watched her in her purity and her love, I began to think that I might escape this evil thing and be the man I once was. We could leave, just pack our things and go and leave this cursed earth behind us as we set out to start anew. She had noticed something was off. Likely noticed from the start that something was off. But she was dutiful and she was obedient. And she loved me more than I could ever love her. If I had loved her, I would have never let her get near that field again. She was coming in carrying a basket of produce. And I remember the way she smiled when she saw me. Her face, that old, young face of hers, stretched into a smile. And she raised her hand to wave as I stood framed in the doorway. I think I waved back. Can no longer remember, really. But whatever I was doing ended abruptly when she dropped into the earth. Dropped. Dropped is the right word. She didn't sink. She wasn't pulling cold. It was as though a hole had opened up and swallowed her in one gulp. Her basket fell, tumbling vegetables across the dirt. And it was all the evidence that I had that she was there at all. It laughed at me as I dug up the field, dug it up in furious crumping sweeps of the shovel. But I never found a trace of her. She was the last sacrifice I was a part of. I set up a fence after that and never let the tourists get close. They could pay their money and observe from a distance, but no one was allowed to go into the field again. It caught at me as I stood in my chair by the fence, saying that this was a useless gesture. But I ignored it and kept my silence. People will ask me why I didn't destroy it, didn't burn it to the ground. And to them I would ask how stupid they think I am. I threw coal oil on it the night it took. My wife. Got loaded on whiskey first to muster my courage, and had intended to walk into the flames myself. But the bastard wouldn't burn Any damage I did to it just healed. And all the while it laughed at me. So I kept my vigil, kept my silence. And as we both lived, the town shriveled around us. It had gotten too powerful, you see, too evil to be contained. And those who spent time close to it became susceptible to its voice. They came in the night. They died silently in the field as they were drawn into the earth. They sustained that cursed thing. By now they are all gone. The town is deserted, a ghost town in a country full of such towns. And the only thing to see is Fritz. Fritz, the world's oldest pumpkin. We are both shriveled now, a couple of relics from a bygone age. And if you come, you too can see him. And have your picture taken. For $5 you can get your selfie and have a pamphlet on the ninth wonder of the world. But I wouldn't stay for too long. He's a shriveled old thing, small as he was before I dropped my blood on him. But if you spend too long in his company, you can start to hear his creaky old voice. You can start to feel his influence in your head. And one night you'll drain your blood for him upon the soil. I'm old, over 100 years old now. And Fritz is a Methuselah of a pumpkin. My end is soon, I can feel it. And I often wonder if my guardianship of this cursed thing will mean a hill of beans when I am gone. Who will guard the world from him? When I am dust in the ground, who will keep the tourists back and the kids away at night? If you're listening to this, it may be you. And if it is, I am eternally sorry. If you have found yourself in the custodian of Fritz the pumpkin, then I give you only one piece of advice. Watch him close and keep that which you love away. Don't let him have the blood. Don't let him take another as his sister sacrifice. Let this cycle end with me. God help me. And let that damned thing wither in the field.