Booktok Pumpkin Carving Novels & Stories

Behind them, flames danced around a summoning circle carved into stone, pulsing with ancient symbols older than the kingdoms. “This is new,” I muttered, flicking ash off my blade. Beside me, Alpha Khy growled low in his throat, half-shifted, his claws glowing with silver light. “They’re calling something old.” “I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so annoyed.” Above us, the sky turned green. Thunder cracked sideways. Then suddenly— “KA-LAAAAA!” screamed Carrotina, running across the ridge with her leafy arms flailing. “YOU NEED TO WRAP THIS UP! I LEFT THE OVEN ON AND I DON’T TRUST THE TOMATO!”

I grabbed a cardboard sleeve for each before placing the lids on. “Can I also have one of these, too?” I asked, pointing to the pink cake pops. “Of course.” After I paid and returned outside, I located Carys and Sunny walking in my direction. They hadn’t noticed me yet, so I took a moment to appreciate the beautiful woman who belonged to me and her adorable child. Sunny nearly toppled over as she made her way forward with a heavy pumpkin in hand. When she spotted me approaching, Carys bent down to point me out to Sunny. The look on Sunny’s face as she noticed me was priceless; she sped up, seeming eager to get to me and so proud to be holding that pumpkin. It was a small one, but somehow loo

“You’re a maverick. Let’s get them out. It’s so cold.” Not waiting for her next protest, I pushed my way forward and hauled out the closest pumpkin. Once we’d gotten all of them out and set on the front porch, we used the kitchen to escape the chill. “One week before Halloween is a good time to carve,” Mom mused as she frothed milk using the fancy coffee machine Dad had given her on their last anniversary. The contraption was huge and bulky with two group heads for pulling shots of espresso. It could have replaced the espresso machine at the coffee shop near my apartment. Still, it only took up a minuscule amount of space in the huge kitchen.

he said, completely serious, "you must remove the brains." Abby giggled so hard she almost dropped the spoon she was holding. We each chose a pumpkin. William helped Abby draw a goofy face on hers—one big eye, one small eye, and a toothy grin. She insisted on scooping out the insides herself, and by the end, there were pumpkin seeds in her hair and strings of pulp stuck to her cheeks. I carved a classic triangle-eyes, triangle-nose design—simple, but not bad considering how long it had been.

The vines of the pumpkins were plunged deep into the black sludge. "Watch," Martha said. She picked up a rock and threw it into the sludge. The black goo rippled, trying to form a spike to defend itself. But the pumpkin vines reacted faster. They tightened. SQUELCH. The vines pulsed. We saw a bulge of black liquid being sucked up the green stem, traveling into the pumpkin. Inside the pumpkin, a faint, muffled scream echoed. Then, the pumpkin glowed. Not with sunlight. It digested the black sludge and turned it

Slam my door shut, meet her at the tailgate, and march back where we just came from. She's not indecisive in the least when it comes to picking out her pumpkin. Not too big, not too small. One is tall and skinny, one is short and fat, and, apparently having three of something is a thing that's quite important when it comes to decorating, so she picks another one that's perfectly round on the front but has a wonky back that's pretty flat. Once we've paid, I carry two while she grabs the third and we bring them back to the pickup, put them on the floor of the backseat, and climb inside.

Sliding my hands into the pockets of my blue boot-cut jeans, I at long last noticed the details on the dark-brown wood of the doors. There was a carving of a faceless mother with an equally faceless girl on her lap, her arm was wrapped around the child’s neck and she was holding a book as she did so, reading to her. On the edges of the semi-circular doors were more carvings of half-opened books, full-opened books, closed books, dancing books, and flying books… in every possible angle, arranged at these heavy edges like a frame. There was also the carving of a faceless man with glasses on, in a kind of dignified kingly stance with a staff in one hand and an opened book in the other.

“Do you think the nurses will get scared?” I laughed, ruffling his hair. “Oh, definitely. They won’t be expecting such a spooky ghost!” Andrew and I helped him carve a few pumpkins that morning, turning each one into a different character—some goofy, some scary, and one that Tristan declared was the "king pumpkin." We set them up along the windowsill, and Tristan giggled as he imagined each pumpkin “watching over” the hospital room.

On Halloween, I was preparing the children’s area for the workshop when Mr. Sasagawa appeared, carrying a cardboard box in his botanical garden staff jacket. “Ms. Ono, will these do?” The box was packed with intricately carved miniature pumpkins. “They’re beautiful… Thank you so much.” We began arranging them along the top of the decorated bookshelves. Mr. Sasagawa helped, taking care not to disturb the origami decorations on the wall. Each pumpkin had a single letter carved into it. Placed in order, they spelled:

Both of them like gardening and she is the one who is helping the old man in carving the pumpkins now. "Rose, my dear. Look at my pumpkin, I finally got it right" Russell showed her his pumpkin which he finally managed to carve perfectly. He ruined three pumpkins before getting this one right. Rose looked at the old man who was looking very proud of his accomplishment. She gave him a thumbs up. "You did it this time Grandpa Russell" she praised him. Russell beamed at her compliment. "Did you realize that you almost ruined this one too?" Czar teased him.