Legend of the Pumpkin Thief

by Charles Day

  “Ralph. Meet me at the end of my block. I’ll be waiting,” Lou said. He finished the conversation as he paced, still shaken from his encounter with his drunken father. “Byron. It’s me. Lou. Did you send your sister out with her friends to go check on Nick? ‘Cause the streets are filling fast with kids, all in different costumes. One of them could be Nick, you know.”

  “Yeah, they’re on Julia Street right now,” Byron said. “I’m with them. We should be on your street shortly. Two more blocks, right?” Byron sounded muffled. Lou guessed he’d stuffed his mouth with candy.

  Lou disconnected and looked at the passing kids. The Hulk, a pirate, and a dancing princess made their way past him, laughing and eating their candy.

  Then he saw a teen who looked like Nick, walking with a younger kid. He tried to get a better feel as they approached. He so wanted to lash out, release the inner rage, especially after what had gone down with his father.

  He couldn’t contain the feeling, the urge to do something violent. He reached out, grabbed hold of the skinny teen in the Spiderman mask, then lifted him off his feet; they dangled in midair like a stringed puppet’s would under the gentle guidance of its puppetmaster. He pulled the kid’s mask off. He was a red-haired, freckled young boy with a look on his face like he’d just seen a ghost.

  “Holy … You’re not Nick!”

  The poor kid trembled and looked straight at Lou as fresh tears ran down from swollen eyes, clearly terrified by some giant, painted clown in a leather jacket and gloves.

  The bully placed the kid back on his feet. The frightened boy quickly joined the other kids and ran away, as Lou watched, clearly disappointed. He became angrier. Nick was around here somewhere. Or maybe the runt was in his house. And if he was, well, all the better. Lou’s scouts, commissioned to knock on Nick’s door, would let Lou know if he was home, and, hopefully, find out what costume he was wearing.

  But, somehow, Lou felt it in his bones that Nick was definitely out and about. And so he watched, waited, and continued his hunt.

  Nick watched the sun disappear below the horizon. Halloween had officially arrived. He ventured out among the crowd of kids dressed in a wide variety of costumes. He knew Lou might be in the crowd already, so he kept an eye out for anyone resembling a face-painted clown or carrying a guitar.

  So far … nothing.

  He continued down the street to the old lady’s home. He needed to somehow get enough evidence to convince his family and friends that he’d found the pumpkin thief. And he needed to complete the investigation in under an hour, so he’d be able to meet up with Jenny and enjoy the rest of his night.

  He approached Mrs. Needlewhitter’s front gate and noticed that Baxter wasn’t outside. He opened the gate, then crept into her front yard, toward the garbage cans. He removed the lids and searched both. He emptied a few bags, then found what he’d expected to find—broken and mashed, gooey, orange pumpkins at the bottom, the evidence he needed to prove Mrs. Needlewhitter had his neighbors’ pumpkins.

  Nick took out his small digital camera, then snapped a few shots, until he heard the old lady’s door open. He quickly bent down behind the garbage cans and watched, hoping she was not going to let her dog out.

  I’m not giving out any candy this year. Not after what they did to my yard the other day with all those pumpkins.”

  Nick heard it. Mrs. Needlewhitter was not the suspect, but rather, the victim, the innocent butt of a cowardly act by some punks. Who could do such a thing? And because she was half blind, she probably never saw them.

  Nick realized something else just then. Baxter was roaming around the yard.

  Nick ran for his life, able to get out before Baxter lunged at the spot where he’d just been hiding. The dog sniffed the ground, the cans, and then leaped up toward the gate, sniffing that as well. But Nick had been too fast for the devil dog.

  He stepped away from the gate and watched Baxter tear into the ground with his huge paws. It looked like the dog wanted to dig underneath the fence, so he could come out the other side and take a bite from Nick’s buttcheek again. He figured the dog now had a taste for his flesh. And then he heard the old lady yell.

  “That’s it, Baxter. Get him, boy! Get Nicky! He’s one of the rat punks who tossed those pumpkins in my yard.”

  Get Nicky. Was that what he heard? Sure it was.

  She blamed him for the mess of pumpkins around her doorstep. He wouldn’t allow that.

  “That’s not true!” Nick shouted at the old woman from his safe spot on the other side of the gate. “I never touched your house or threw any pumpkins!”

  Baxter stopped digging and again leaped up, his massive front paws on the gate where Nick stood. Baxter started barking, showing teeth, barking some more.

  Mrs. Needlewhitter came out onto the porch. “Stop it, Baxter. Now!”

  She called him back into the house and shut the door, then made her way to the gate.

  “You telling me you weren’t the one who threw pumpkins at my house? For two days, I found mashed and broken pumpkins in my yard. They made my dog sick. He ate too many pumpkin seeds, I’m guessing.” She pulled out the torn piece of denim from the pocket of her pink bathrobe as she came closer to Nick.

  Now able to see the boy standing just outside the gate, she looked straight at him, holding out her evidence. “Then how do you explain this? Is this from a pair of your jeans? I could have sworn I heard you and your little sister in front of my house last night.”

  “Yes,” Nick said. “My sister and I were here last night, but we were here because our pumpkin went missing. When I went out to see if any other neighbors had theirs taken, I found out they were all missing, as well. That’s when I came to the end of the block … to your house. I guessed the missing pumpkins scattered on your lawn, with bites from your dog, were your doing. I never thought that someone would steal our pumpkins and decided to throw them in your yard.”

  “Well, you guessed wrong. So, if not you, then who? Who would stoop that low and steal our neighbors’ pumpkins, and why would I be the target?” Mrs. Needlewhitter seemed confused as she stared at Nick, who already had an idea who might have committed the crime. He came up with the idea, not because he had those great detective instincts, but because it seemed like common sense.

  “And just so you know,” Mrs. Needlewhitter said, “it was only ‘bout three or four, at the most. The way you’re making it sound leads me to believe every pumpkin in the neighborhood was here in my yard.”

  Nick thought about that. She was right. Yet all the neighbors’ pumpkins were missing.

  Lou. It had to be Lou.

  Nick couldn’t prove it just yet, but he knew it had to be the neighborhood bully. “I promise you, I’ll find the culprit.”

  But he needed to leave the crime scene and meet up with Jenny, on the opposite corner of the block. He also knew he had to be careful as he moved his way through the other kids in their Halloween costumes, for fear of being found by Lou and his buds.

  Nick would not let Lou get to him first.

  As he walked to the corner, he thought about one more thing: the legend of the Pumpkin Thief.

  Of course, the story was only superstition, but he wondered. He was getting older, outgrowing the days of believing in legends. He knew he had to finish growing up. He would be a great detective one day. In order to achieve that, he needed to think logically, understand that there were no such things as ghosts, goblins, and pumpkin thieves.

  A noise, a rustle in the branches of the large maple tree he walked under, caused Nick to stop and look up into the dark boughs.

  For a second, he could have sworn someone was hiding up in that tree, watching him.

  He had a vision of Lou jumping out as he passed underneath, and then he thought it could be the Pumpkin Thief up there hiding, waiting to grab some kids and add them to his collection of stolen pumpkins.

  Well, one thing was sure, Nick reasoned: I still h
ave a fantastic imagination.

  He walked on, not looking back when he heard more rustling as something moved up in the tree again.

  Samantha needed to prepare for Halloween. She was going to be a witch this year. But not just any witch. She’d always enjoyed watching The Wizard of Oz, and the Wicked Witch of the West was her favorite character. As she sat down at her vanity table, she recalled the adventure of buying her costume.

  It had started the moment she’d begged her mom, pleaded with her, to visit the local party store so she could get the costume she really wanted. She knew they stocked The Wizard of Oz characters. She’d looked online at their website, even seen that the Wicked Witch hats were half price the week before Halloween. When her mother finally took some time out of her busy schedule and drove up to Party World a few days ago, Samantha ran down the aisles and picked all the items she needed to be the perfect Wicked Witch of the West. She grabbed a tall, brimmed black hat, and held on to it as she sorted through all the black dresses to find her size. She didn’t need a pair of ruby red slippers or stockings; she already had those at home. Her mother picked out a plastic witch’s broom. Samantha knew Mom wasn’t about to allow her to walk away with the household broom. They had a Swiffer Sweeper a special and very important piece of cleaning equipment for her mother. Besides, witches never flew on Swiffer sweepers; they loved their old-fashioned wooden brooms with those yellow straw bristles.

  After that, Samantha needed one more item, the most important item of all, the only item that distinguished a regular witch from the classic Wicked Witch of the West: the green makeup. Sam and her mother looked around for this greenish concoction with little success. Unable to locate it in the makeup aisle, they hunted down a sales associate.

  “Green! I need green makeup for my child. She wants to be the Wicked Witch of the East or West, or something, and she needs to be green,” Mom said.

  Samantha remembered letting go of her mother’s hand, embarrassed.

  The young sales associate had been hiding in the back corner of the store, texting one of his buddies, when she found him. Soon after, he located the makeup for her, with her mother mumbling and assuring Samantha she was going to have the coolest costume on Halloween.

  Well, the night for dress-up had arrived, and Samantha stared into her mirror, applying the gooey green substance to her face. How cool is this? She was impressed with the transformation occurring right before her eyes. She loved it. Get me my broom. It’s time to fly about town, my little pretties!

  Dad walked from the kitchen to the front door, answering the call every time an excited kid in costume rang the bell. He decided to set up a huge bowl of candy by the entrance, making it easier to grab a small handful as the kids opened their Halloween bags, eagerly waiting to see what type of candy would be dropped in for consumption at a later time, or earlier, perhaps.

  The doorbell had been quiet for some time now, allowing Dad to take a seat in his recliner. He held the remote, channel surfing for a scary Halloween classic. Before he could find a good horror movie to relax with, the doorbell sounded, forcing him out of his chair and on his way to greet some new trick-or-treating, costumed freaks.

  He shuffled over to the door in his moccasin slippers, then opened it to be greeted by a cute bunch of characters on his porch. “Hey there, Tinker Bells and Mr. Easter Bunny. Happy Halloween.”

  They opened their bags, anticipating the candy, but also stared into the house. Dad guessed the two Tinker Bells were looking for something besides candy.

  “Is Nick or Samantha home?” the taller Tinker Bell asked, looking up at Nick’s dad.

  “No, Nick’s out trick-or-treating, but Samantha’s home. I’ll get her for you.” Dad was about to turn and call for his daughter, but the other Tinker Bell put her pink slipper in the doorway to keep the screen door from closing.

  “No, no. That’s okay. We were actually looking to talk with Nick. What’s he dressed up as? If he’s around the neighborhood, we’ll find him.”

  “He’s got on a Darth Vader mask and a long, black trench coat. No lightsaber, though.” Dad laughed. He heard Samantha come down the stairs. He turned to look at the Wicked Witch of the West as she approached.

  “What are you doing, Dad? Who you talking to?”

  “These girls want to know where you and Nick are. I told them you’re here, and Nick’s out trick-or-treating. Why, sweetheart?” Dad asked, aware that his daughter looked angry, her green nose wrinkling. For a second, he thought she would cast a spell upon him, or use her broomstick to beat him silly. He turned back to the Tinker Bell twins and the pink Easter Bunny, but they had left.

  “What else did you tell them, Dad?”

  “They asked what he was wearing for Hall—

  “Why? Why did you tell them?”

  He watched her grab her things. She stopped for only a moment before heading out the door, giving a quick glance back at him. Something was not right. What did he do wrong?

  He stood there, confused. Some candy dropped out of his hand and onto the floor. She had this look of bewilderment as she said, “You may have just signed a death warrant for your son!”

  Lou met Ralph, Norm, and Byron. They were all in full costume, looking sort of like the Kiss characters, but more like killer clowns, their faces painted all different shades of red, white, and black.

  Byron had sent the girls off to Nick’s house earlier, and they were awaiting their return with either the good news that they knew what Nick’s costume was, or, at the very least, that the runt was home.

  “I hope they come back soon. I’m really starting to lose my patience,” Lou said, as he paced. He stopped to grab hold of a young kid in an Iron Man costume passing by. He reached in the kid’s trick-or-treat bag and pulled out a fistful of candy. Lou gave him an evil grin, slapped him on the back and watched the kid run away.

  Norm said, “I can’t believe you picked Kiss for our costumes. I’ve never even heard one of their songs, dude.” He munched on a Snickers bar Lou threw at him. “You have any candy to spare?”

  Ralph blew him off. “You think maybe you should be eating a little more of the salads and veggies, Norm?” He laughed.

  Norm didn’t. “Yeah, whatever.” He looked at Lou. “We’re still having a party at your place tonight, right?”

  Lou gave Norm a serious look. “Were you born stupid, or did your mommy drop you on your head when you were little? I made the whole party thing up, man, just to get Nick to my house. You think my drunken father is going to allow me to hold a party with his private stock lying around? I think not.”

  Two Tinker Bells approached Lou with a pink Easter Bunny following closely behind.

  Byron ran up to his little sister and her two friends. “Okay, let’s hear it. What’s Nicky wearing?”

  Lou grew impatient. “Spit it out, little girlies. Tell big Lou what Nicky boy is wearing.” Lou rubbed his clenched fist, as if preparing for a fight.

  The smaller Tinker Bell stepped forward and spoke as she bowed, lifting the frills of her skirt as if she had finished a ballerina move on stage. “He’s Darth Vader. Darth Vader from Star—”

  “I know who Vader is,” Lou interrupted her. “Like I never saw Star Wars. Please.” The bully was happy, though.

  Delighted.

  In fact, he was overjoyed. His friends could see the smile on his clown face. The black lips he’d painted on stretched across his face as he looked around at some passing kids in costume, scanned each one for a Darth Vader costume.

  “Okay, my partners in crime, time to find us a Darth Vader in the crowd. Split up. And if you find him, text me with your location. Let’s freaking rock!”

  At the other end of the block, Nick waited for Jenny. He’d just made it, noticing her coming up the street in her cheerleader costume. Her friend, Maria, dressed in a sexy cat suit, walked by her side.

  “Hey, Nick. How are ya?” Jenny said as they approached.

 
“Fine,” Nick said. “And a great night for Halloween, right? The weather’s not too cold and the wind died down a bit.” Nick felt shy. He was short on words. He knew why: her amazing beauty. It really got the best of him. He felt so good being with a beautiful girl like her. “Yep, perfect weather for Halloween.” He sounded nervous. He just knew it.

  “So … You ready to get some candy?” Jenny asked.

  “Sure.” Nick smiled, leading the way. “Let’s go up to the next block. I heard the neighbors on Litmus Street have the best candy.”

  Nick pulled on his mask as he walked ahead, hoping she would say yes. He didn’t want to get pummeled by Lou just yet. In fact, he’d rather catch him in school Monday and face him there, where he felt a bit safer with some adults around. Not because he was scared; it had to do with a fair playing field. And tonight, without any protection on his end, and three buddies to assist Lou, that just wasn’t fair. So he led the way as Jenny and Maria followed.

  Jenny looked over at Darth Vader. “Your sister … she out with her friends tonight?”

  “I guess. All I know is that she stopped going out on Halloween with me, like, two years ago. Said she had better things to do than hang out with her older brother. You’re a girl; you understand these things, right?”

  “Sure do,” Jenny said, following closer.

  As the evening became darker, and the time reached 9:00 p.m., Nick, Jenny, and Maria finished a few houses on Litmus Street. Nick kept his eyes peeled for any Kiss clowns, and Jenny and Maria looked over their bags of candy. And then, to his surprise, a small Wicked Witch of the West appeared from the next house up. She had two of her friends with her—Goldilocks, and some sort of a science fiction creature with a demented mask. He had no idea who the creature was, though.

  He could tell Samantha recognized him because she started waving her hands as she ran up the sidewalk toward him. She seemed excited about something.