The Pumpkin Eater Read online



  The Pumpkin Eater

  Justin Cawthorne

  Copyright 2011 Justin Cawthorne

  The Pumpkin Eater

  by Justin Cawthorne

  “David, don’t go in there.”

  David looked at the house on the corner. It sat further back from the road than the other houses, skirted by a dirty looking fence and a row of menacing bushes which hid the entire ground floor from sight. The upstairs curtains were drawn, except for one window which didn’t even have glass in it: instead there was just an empty black space.

  Old Man Crowley’s house.

  It was Halloween. David had gone trick or treating after school with some friends, now it was just him and Pete left, both trying to see who could get their bag filled with the most candy.

  “It’s okay,” Pete said. “I’ll let you win. It’s okay.”

  Pete’s bag was almost full, in fact it was more ‘almost full’ than David’s bag. David didn’t think it would be fair for Pete to just let him win.

  “If you go and trick and treat Old Man Crowley then you’ll be easily be the winner,” David suggested.

  Pete seemed to shrink, involuntarily taking a step backwards, even though they were well away on the other side of the road. David knew Pete wasn’t going to do it.

  “We’ve knocked on every other house in the street. The only way I can win properly is if I go over there and get some candy,” David explained to Pete.

  “D-don’t do it,” Pete stammered. “He eats children. That’s what my Mum told me...”

  “I’ll be okay. I’ve got this,” David replied, holding up his bright orange pumpkin.

  Pete didn’t take his eyes off the house. “It’s not safe over there...” he whimpered.

  “I’m going,” David decided. “I don’t mind if you don’t want wait for me.”

  Pete didn’t move.

  “So I’ll see you later, then,” David added, stepping off the pavement.

  Pete still didn’t move.

  David shrugged and turned his attention back to the house. He walked quickly over the road and then stopped, realising he wasn’t even sure if he’d seen Old Man Crowley before. He had heard the name when he was supposed to be asleep, listening in as his parents and their friends talked about him in whispers. Like all his friends he had been told before that Old Man Crowley would get him if he was naughty.

  But it didn’t stop him being naughty of course.

  The light was fading. David suddenly felt nervous and turned round, but Pete had gone. He could just go home and pretend that Old Man Crowley hadn’t answered, or that he didn’t have any candy, but it wouldn’t seem right. He didn’t want to lie to Pete, and he wanted Pete to win the game fairly if he won at all.

  It would only take a moment. A quick knock on the door, a “trick or treat”, and then hopefully some candy.

  He reached for the front gate and pushed it slowly. It was stiff, as if it hadn’t been used for years, giving out a terrible dry creaking noise as it opened. David was convinced that everyone in the street would hear it, that someone would run out and try to stop him, but no one did. He opened it just far enough so he could slip past.

  Then he was on the path, facing Old Man Crowley’s front door. He could just see a flicker of light behind one of the windows. That meant someone was in, which meant he had to go and knock now.

  Each step seemed to take an hour, his feet getting heavier and his head lighter as he got closer, closer to the door. When he finally made it he felt as though he was floating, with his stomach and his head in completely different places.

  He took a deep breath. And knocked.

  Nothing.

  David was wondering how long he should wait before he could turn around and run home when a noise came from the other side of the door. He didn’t remember hearing any footsteps, but now there was definitely the sound of a lock being turned and suddenly the door was open.

  Old Man Crowley stood there looking at him.

  He seemed as surprised to see David as David was to see him. His eyes flickered across the street, then back down to David.

  “Old Man Crowley?” David asked, suddenly wondering if that was even his name.

  The old man just stared at him. He was so old: his hair grey and his skin white, but he wasn’t bent over like so many old people, and his eyes didn’t blink; they just stared into David as if they were sucking everything they could straight out of him.

  Finally he spoke: “What do you want?”

  His voice was quiet and almost gentle, and made each word sound as if it were its own sentence.

  “Er...” David began, forgetting for a moment what he was doing there. “Oh - er, trick or treat?”

  The old man looked him up and down. “I see. And what are you supposed to be?”

  Of course, David had forgotten about his costume. His Mum had helped him make it, tutting and laughing at the same time when he had asked her to sew the ears on.

  “I’m a ghost bunny.”

  “A bunny? Aren’t bunnies for Easter?”

  “Yes,” replied David. “But sometimes they come back for Halloween.”

  “Take your mask off so I can see you properly.”

  “Only if you take yours off first,” David replied, without even thinking about it.

  “But I’m not wearing a mask.”

  “Oh.” David, feeling a bit stupid, pulled on one of the bunny ears and took the mask off.

  The old man looked at his face for a moment then pointed to the pumpkin he was carrying. “What’s that?”

  David held it up. “It’s the Pumpkin Eater. It protects me from bad people. My Mum says sometimes there are bad people in the world.”

  “Indeed there are... indeed there are,” the old man agreed, nodding. He thought for a moment then carried on: “Well, I was just getting hungry. Why don’t you come inside and I’ll see what candy I can find for you...”

  David hesitated. “My Mum told me never to go inside.”

  The old man pointed to the Pumpkin Eater. “But you have that. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  Then he went back inside his house, leaving the door open.

  All David could see inside was the rest of the hallway. There was a single open doorway that Old Man Crowley had disappeared through, and several other doors that were closed. The walls were all deep red, the floor made of ancient, blackened boards.

  He took a few careful steps past the front door, trying to peer as far around the single open doorway as he could.

  “Come in,” beckoned the old man, from an unseen room.

  David looked into the room. He couldn’t see Old Man Crowley anywhere. There were just a few dusty armchairs gathered around a flickering fire and all the corners of the room were hidden in darkness. He took a step inside and put the Pumpkin Eater on the floor. The place was warm, but smelled funny.

  “I’ve got something here for you,” the old man promised from wherever he was. “I’ll give it to you in one minute.”

  David saw some photographs on the wall; they were old and brown and looked like they were of children. He went to take a closer look, thinking maybe they were of Old Man Crowley when he was a baby. They were all different children, though, maybe his family.

  Behind David, Old Man Crowley had moved silently back into the room. He had brought some things for David and one of the things was very sharp, but if the boy kept looking at the pictures he might not need it. He also held a cloth bag in his hands, ready to whip it behind his back if the boy did turn round.

  The - what was it called? - Pumpkin Eater sat on the floor in between them. With its bright orange skin it didn’t belong in his dark house, he would dispose of it in less than two minutes. It had seemed smaller when
the boy had been carrying it, which meant he would likely have to cut it to pieces so no one would notice it in his bin.

  It was peculiar, but he could hardly take his eyes off it, as though it were staring back at him. And the more he stared the larger it appeared. It grew and grew until it seemed he could see nothing else. And then he realised.

  The Pumpkin Eater wasn’t getting bigger.

  He was getting smaller.

  The room rushed past him, the ceiling disappeared to a vast height, the furniture lunged away, and through it all the Pumpkin Eater kept getting bigger. And closer.

  And it had eyes now, terrible burning eyes. And a mouth, a mouth that was opening, ready to swallow him, and there was nowhere for him to go because all around him all he could see was the Pumpkin Eater and that gaping mouth that was about to -

  David heard a noise and turned round. The Pumpkin Eater was on the floor where he left it, but there was still no sign of Old Man Crowley. There was a shrill terrified noise coming from the Pumpkin Eater, he reached down and looked inside, into the dead space that lurked behind its carved angular eyes, and its prison bar teeth. In there was the old man, looking wildly around but seeing nothing. Every time he screamed he made a sound like a mouse.

  David thought that was very, very funny indeed.

  “You must have been a very bad man,” he said to Old Man Crowley. “Otherwise the Pumpkin Eater wouldn’t have eaten you up. It only eats up the bad people.”

  Old Man Crowley squeaked.

  “It’s only fair,” David explained

  Then David tucked the Pumpkin Eater under his arm and walked happily back home, leaving Old Man Crowley’s house far behind.

  -- the end --