Descendants Pumpkin Novels & Stories

Thankfully, it was not completely burned, only the shredded cheese on top. “Nothing fancy. Got a few Basses, but my treasure doesn’t eat fish.” “It’s gross.” Clary crunched her nose. “Just like pumpkin. Should it be just for a lantern? Who would eat that vegetable when it looks creepy during Halloween that used to ward off evil spirits?” “It’s a fruit, Clary. Jack used turnips, gourds, beets, and rutabagas before he carved a pumpkin,” he explained to his daughter. “I still don’t like it, Daddy.”

"No, just scrolling through stuff online." She settles on the mattress next to me. "Today was nice, wasn't it?" Before I can answer, she shakes her head and purses her lips. "Your cousin nearly ate an entire pumpkin pie by himself. The poor guy was groaning all the way to the car. I really hope he doesn't throw up like he did last year." We both smile because that kid does the same thing every year. It's just another tradition, I suppose. Sure, we could stop him, but who really wants to mess with tradition?

author pov Over the next few weeks, preparations for a human Thanksgiving holiday were away. The kitchen was a non-stop activity of baking and prepping for the big meal. The entire haunted territory had been transformed into a harvest field with haystacks, dried cornstalks, pumpkins, squash, dried corn, and beautiful fall mums of all colors.

I nodded, trying to steady my voice. “Last night was Halloween. Our boss, William Zoo, booked out a rural horror-themed escape room. He said anyone who made it through without screaming would get ten thousand. “There were nine of us. After we went in…” I went through everything—the layout, mechanisms, and performance of the scarecrow character with the oversized pumpkin head. He didn’t move, just listened in silence. “You said the pumpkin-headed character chased you with a chainsaw?” “Yes. It was incredibly loud, just this constant buzzing.”

She had no desire to explain to an angry parent that their child was lost forever to the strange house, or that they’d become an evening meal to one of the creatures that wandered her halls. Without realizing it, Mrs. Belfry had come to a stop in front of the pumpkin room. One of her favorites. She stepped inside, taking in the soft glow of candles burning from within the many carved pumpkins. The room (which could hardly be considered a room at all) consisted of a wrap-around porch that one might find off the back of a farmhouse in the American Midwest. Several jack o’lanterns projected their faces across the wood floor and ground in the early evening light. The steps off the porch opened u

There were great bulbs strung across the meadow, too, it seemed, but as quickly as they’d come on, they shut off again. The sheer volume of pumpkins was what made the display so impressive. They were stacked in rusted wheelbarrows, piled straight onto the ground, and they lined the hedges and gateway, as well as marking out the pathways beside the solar lamps. Some had been adorned in little outfits, too, whilst others had been painted in natural-looking colours: clay reds, terracotta browns, and coal blacks. I wished that the lights would come back on, so that I could see the colours more clearly. Skye gave a shy, half-shrug. “This is one of my favourite parts of living in Hawthorn – it has

daddy says taking my jacket off and rolling the sleeve of my shirt up. "Nu-nu, you do it," I say after touching the inside of the pumpkin, it was slimy and slippery, didn't enjoy it. "Okay," he says with a sigh and get to work, and I got the chance to look around, Beth managed to get her whole head inside the giant pumpkin she picked, and Adrian was taking a million photo before helping her out. "I want a kitten inside my pumpkin," Caleb whines. "She's mine Caleb, just go and find one of your own," Adrian teases back, I'm not sure if this is a game they are having or if they are for real.

“Bunch of folks say they’ve inherited it from the Skoger Sisters. They’re staying up at their old place.” “Yes, please. Everything but onions.” She smiled and tapped the pie case. “Save room. I made pumpkin this morning. First of the season.” “Thanks, Betty.” “I heard one of them say they were their nephews. Grandkids maybe?” I took a long, deep sip from the glass and swallowed a mouthful of ice to chew on. I’d brought a small stack of financial reports on Boyd’s holdings and transactions from the last couple years before he sold out, but I knew they were probably a dead end.

XXV –Descent . . . Descent (noun): it can be an action of moving downward, dropping, or falling… or it could be a moral, a social or psychological decline into a specified undesirable state . . . PROSERPINA: Before she and Alastor can go shopping later–does this count as a date?–Proserpina had fully intended to leave the house not too far or for long seeing as she no longer felt that secure ever since they’ve been attacked there) when she returned to the shadows to rest.

“Not all chosen descendants can wield the powers of the Moon, only a select few throughout time have been blessed with the gifts. The powers have been known to include, but are not limited to; Telekinesis, the power to move objects with the mind. Hydrokinesis, the power to move water and manipulate the tides. Aerokinesis, the power to manipulate air and weather. Shape shifting, the power to morph oneself into another form. Gravitokinesis, the power to manipulate gravity” “Mum. Are for real with this?” I said closing the book. “I absolutely am” she said snatching the book from me, “Come sit, sit” she said ushering us to the sofa. Mum sat down on the coffee table in front of us and leaned in c