Information

Pumpkin

The Chibi Blob
Owner: Pureflower

Age: 3 years, 6 months, 4 weeks

Born: September 20th, 2020

Adopted: 3 years, 6 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: September 20th, 2020

Statistics

• Level: 140
   
• Strength: 238
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 296
   
• Books Read: 278
• Food Eaten: 9
• Job: Demon Hunter

Guardian of the Pumpkin Patch

The pumpkin patch was lit by the soft glow of moonlight. Spiny vines heavy with fruit trembled ever so slightly in a light breeze.

The tiny imp cackled as he surfed the length of a curled vine, his pointy feet moving with the dexterity of a dancer. It was Halloween night. For the next twelve hours, the world was his playground.

He would spoil milk, rot the apples from their parent trees and blacken every pumpkin vine he encountered. His translucent wings unfurled as he launched himself into the open air, visions of devastation and destruction dancing in his head.

He never saw death coming.

The vine sprang up with the precision of a flyswatter in the hand of a full-blooded elf. The Guardian of the Patch didn't take lightly any threat to his children.

He looked up at the moon with a rumbling sigh. It was going to be a long day.

*****

Families came throughout the morning to select that one perfect jack-o-lantern pumpkin. Guardian watched them warily. Most were respectful of farm rules, keeping to the marked paths and not picking more than three fruits. Tiny children would sit on Goliath, the largest pumpkin of the crop, and have their pictures taken. Middle-aged women hovered near the pie pumpkins, debating on whether they needed one or two for a Thanksgiving-themed church supper. There was even a semi-famous blogger taking snapshots for a "Local Attractions" post she had in the works.

People were an annoyance that had to be tolerated. There weren't many laws imposed upon Nature Guardians but they were forbidden from revealing their presence to humans during daylight hours.

Dogs, on the other hand, were offered no such protection.

The beagle followed the scent trail of a gopher right to the base of the giant stone pumpkin that served Guardian for a house. He shoved his twitching nose into a mound of leaf litter, tail wagging. When he came to a cluster of baby pumpkins, he started to lift his leg.

The tip of a vine slithered over the ground, rising just high enough to tap his shoulder.

He spun with a challenging growl, ears lifting in confusion when he found himself alone.

A second vine crept up on his other side and flicked the end of his ear.

He spun so hard that he flipped on his back. Five vines rose in synchrony, weaving themselves together in a passable imitation of a human hand. Spiny fingers wiggled in a mocking wave.

The terrified hound bolted for the safety of his owner's car, yelping all the way.

His owner found keeping a flower bed much easier the following spring. He'd come up to the stones at the edge and freeze as if he could sense some invisible electric current. She couldn't make any sense of his behavior but she wasn't particularly complaining either. One gets tired of prized flowers becoming casualties to curious paws.

*****

Trick-or-treaters started arriving in the late afternoon, headed straight for the giant farmhouse with its cheery seasonal decorations. A few older siblings casually upturned those few pumpkins that hadn't found new homes.

It wasn't until darkness fell that the troublemakers started to arrive.

They pestered the cows. They made confetti of the "Happy Halloween" banner the farmer's wife had painted.

Then they turned their attention to the pumpkin patch.

Guardian came awake at the first smashed pumpkin.

He took action at the second.

A shadow that dwarfed most jurassic creatures. The cackle of a thousand branches creaking in a wind, despite the lack of even a gentle breeze. A creature woven from a thousand vines, plunging into the stunned hoodlums with the power of a freight train. Boys went flying left and right, stumbling to their feet with wails of terror as a creature with a smashed pumpkin head rose and pointed a gnarled finger at the entry gate. They tripped over each other in their haste to get away.

Guardian let the construct collapse into a withered heap, still cackling when the last light up the hill was extinguished.

*****

He could feel the approach of the witching hour. He would once again be sapped of his powers until the following June, when new pumpkin seeds would fall on the ground that was his domain.

He felt a shimmer in the air that alerted him to the presence of another being with power over the elements.

The witch moved from one puddle of moonlight to the next, each lithe step bringing her closer to the great stone.

The touch of pale fingertips was both thrilling and dreadful. The whole stone shuddered.

A young man in Puritan clothing emerged. Their fingers twined together beneath the light of the full moon, a moon already in the first stages of the dying process.

They danced in a rhythm acquired over four hundred years of practice. They couldn't take their eyes off each other, dancing to that same melody that had entranced both of them in life. He'd defied the will of the Elders, trying to smuggle her into the wild where she had the skills to keep them both alive.

They'd burned together but not before she'd had time to set up certain precautions.

They could feel it when the hour neared its end.

"Moondancer." His voice was the rumble of a great stone tumbling down the shoulder of a mountain.

"Guardian." Hers was the whisper of starlight.

The spell took effect, dragging his spirit back to its eternal prison. A cold November drizzle began to fall, the first drop trickling down the face of the great stone like a teardrop.

Her form dissolved and vanished in a wisp of smoke.

Story by Pureflower

credits:

profile template by piers.story and background photo by Pureflower.

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