Troll Pumpkin Novels & Stories

The words tumble out of me so fast that they’re almost unintelligible. He blinks at me, and I see him take a discreet sniff of the air. My heart nearly crawls into my mouth at the sight. “I—We have—We have a special of the day, th—the Halloween Pumpkin Frappé.” My hand is gripping the knife so tightly, the blade slices my skin. The scent of my blood is thick in the air now, and the Alpha studies me, frowning. I’m going to hyperventilate. I know I am.

By late October, the weather grew cooler, and pumpkin-themed decorations began appearing frequently across the SU campus. Carved pumpkins dotted the lawns, the dining halls served roasted pumpkins and pumpkin soup, and pumpkin lanterns—decorated by someone unknown—adorned the apartment building entrances. The vibrant orange hue warmed the gradually bleak campus.

Still, she had to blame someone, and it was a lot easier than blaming herself. Someone bumped her, and Maria slid off the pile of pumpkins, landing on the ground, and her jeans got muddy. “Watch it!” she yelled, pissed. She looked over and saw it was one of the drunken boys. Several hundred of her class had gathered here, as they always did by tradition, the day after the big fall bash, for this stupid school “pumpkin picking” event. Everyone knew that nobody really picked pumpkins, they all just sat around the pumpkin field, filling up on hot apple cider and donuts, while the riffraff of the class spiked their cider with gin. It was one of these boys who had bumped her. He hadn’t even reali

I was standing in Aisle 4, staring at a box of Glitter-Puffs. They were neon pink, coated in a crystalline sugar that looked like it could power a small city, and featured a cartoon unicorn that looked high on its own supply. In the world of Oakwood Estates, this box was a war crime. We were a neighborhood of sprouted grains, kale-infused smoothies, and "ancient grain" puffs that tasted like lightly seasoned drywall.

It's pudgy, it's terrifying, and it's soft and smells like butter, or is it toffee? "Baaabbaa" And it utters nonsense all the time. There is nothing dignified about the way the little gremlin eats pumpkin squash with its fat hands and then proceeds to spit it out immediately. Ew. "How, uh, how old is he now?" I cannot recall the answer she gives; my question is aimed at politeness since the 'double date' has already been ruined by the little terrorist.

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And Bullet shaves your head and tattoos my name on it. Right across the back. Because Scorpion is the best. And every single person standing in this lot already knows it." Viper's jaw tightened. The crowd was absolutely silent. I stepped in close behind Jax, my voice a low, shaking whisper. "What the hell are you doing?" Jax still didn't look at me. He just stared at Viper until the other man brought his hand out. "Deal," Viper said.

A real roasted potato with salt could start a fight in the right market, and cinnamon pumpkin would probably make people lose common sense entirely. She had searched the web and found that potatoes sold for five hundred coins each, while pumpkins went for a thousand coins per piece. That alone was ridiculous, but hers were not regular vegetables. They tasted better, helped stabilize mental energy, and carried the land’s strange healing effect. The cooked ones would sell higher, and the fresh ones would bring people back for more once they realized this was not a one-time trick. Vera knew the first sale was not just about money. It was proof. Proof that the garbage sector could produce someth

“I’m sorry. I was completely fascinated. There’s so much flesh inside. It seems a shame to waste it.” “This variety is grown for lanterns. Apparently, it doesn’t taste very good.” “I didn’t know there were pumpkins like that.” I took the tool he offered me and began scraping vigorously at the inside of the pumpkin. “That should be enough,” he said after a while. “Would you like to carve the face too?” “What? But it’s going to be displayed along the garden path. I’d feel terrible if mine turned out badly.” It would be unfortunate if one pumpkin among the others ended up looking remarkably ugly.

Jones utters in shock when she walks out of her bathroom and finds a huge pumpkin on her bed. Just then the pumpkin shakes, causing her to jump in fright; even as a fearsome warrior, she got startled. She slowly approaches the bed after grabbing her sword, intending to cut the pumpkin open to check. But before she can strike, a baby's cry rings out. Mrs. Jones gasps as she hurriedly tosses her sword to the side and approaches the pumpkin. Taking a closer look at the pumpkin, the name Caroline in olden writings, and she realizes the thing has a lid. She opens it, and a beautiful baby girl smiles at her.