Every Halloween, the quiet town of Millford held its pumpkin carving contest in the old barn by the woods. This year, Henry wanted to win — he’d spent hours perfecting his pumpkin: a grinning, glowing monster with the word Stake carved across its chest.
When he finished, the candle inside flickered strangely — once, twice — then glowed blood-red. The air turned cold. Henry laughed nervously, thinking it was the wind.
Then the pumpkin blinked.
Its carved grin widened, splitting deeper into the rind. The word Stake began to pulse like a heartbeat. Henry stumbled back as the pumpkin’s stubby arms — the ones he’d carved for fun — reached out, scraping along the table.
“Nice work…” it rasped, voice hollow as the autumn wind. “Now it’s your turn to glow.”
They found Henry the next morning — his skin orange, his eyes hollow, and a candle burning behind his grin.
And on the table sat another perfect pumpkin… carved with a new word: “Next.”
id: gamerzack
