Pumpkin Spice, стр. 1

PUMPKIN SPICE:

SHORT STORIES FOR HALLOWE’EN

By James Rasile

Illustrations by Dwen Noronha

For Erin!

Look, it’s published!

Table of Contents

The Fifth Season

beWERE

Self-Wait

A Witch for All Seasons

The Goblin of The Woods

Transylvania Love Connection

Cowboy Witch Hunter

THE FIFTH SEASON

Fall was coming to an end.

This is our world but not as you know it. The times are harsher here, the weather consists of gray skies and chilling evenings.

There are five seasons.

The New Year begins with winter, followed closely by the renewal of spring, which of course dissolves into summer, which eventually dips into fall, then every five years following this comes the fifth season.

The season of the Witch.

The sun had set an hour ago. The moonlight beamed down onto the country side. It was the brightest the moon had been in who knows how long.

Jasper Winhead was hammering in his final fence post for the evening. Three nights prior a windstorm hit the township of Tarryville, where Jasper and his wife and young boy lived, hard. Several houses were destroyed that evening. Luckily for the Winhead family, just their fence and a shed were taken down.

Nothing Jasper couldn’t fix up, perhaps even improve upon.

As he finished up the final fence post, Jasper looked up at the night sky. It was calm and peaceful. He knew it wouldn’t last. The season of the witch was upon them. Jasper would take a storm of any stature any day over living through yet another fifth season.

The season of the Witch occurs every five years. Beginning during Devil’s Night, the 30^th of October and lasting until the day of Anterus, the 21^st of November.

The phenomena of the Fifth Season has been part of this world for as long as man can remember. The witches of the woods feast on infant’s blood. No one quite knows their purpose.

Jasper entered his house. He closed and locked the wooden door behind him. He removed his white cowboy hat and placed it on the coat rack. He left his green vest and grey plaid jacket on; the house was chilly. They used a wood fire stove to keep it heated and since he had been out all day, he was unable to tend to the fire. So, it had died out. His wife Amelia was in the dining room reading a book to their three-year-old son, Kirk. “How’s it looking out there?” his wife asked him as she stopped reading her book. “The storms coming. We will do our part to weather it. I should have the fence up and ready by tomorrow.” He wiped sweat from his brow, “Did Father Michael deliver the package?” His wife nodded. She got up and left the room. Jasper looked at his son and smiled. It was his dream to be a daddy. To look after, care for and raise a child. He’d never forget the day Amelia announced she was pregnant with their first and only child, and he’d certainly never forget the day she gave birth.

Jasper had never been prouder.

Now he sat there staring in to the eyes of his only child. He could see the rest of the boy’s life ahead of him. Kirk could and would become anything he desired. At three years old anything is possible. Amelia returned with a large wooden box. It was heavy and she was struggling to carry it. Jasper jumped up and rushed over to her, grabbing the package from her hand. “This is much larger than I expected.” He laughed. Amelia smiled, “Me too. I’d rather too large than too small.”

“Absolutely.” Jasper agreed. He pulled a knife from his sheath and sliced the box open. Inside was a beautifully handcrafted wood sculpted cross chiseled by the town craftsman Luther, and blessed by the town priest Father Michael. “Luther did a wonderful job. Absolutely gorgeous cross.” Jasper said, his eyes fixated on the cross. “And Father Michael blessed it?”

“He delivered it; I’d assume so.” Amelia replied as she took her seat next to Kirk. Jasper placed the cross back into the box. “Tonight, we stay in the same room, crosses around our necks.”

“Will we be safe?” Amelia put her arm around Kirk. “For this evening yes, but after tonight I cannot be certain.” Jasper put his arm around his wife, “I can’t keep living like this, Jasper. Our son cannot life his life in fear of those… those things!” she began to cry and collapsed into her husband’s arms. “I know,” he comforted her, “We’ll get through this.”

Jasper looked out the bedroom window. The moonlight was flickering on the house and the field below. The sky was so bright at first glance you’d think it was daytime. Amelia tucked Kirk into his crib and gave him a kiss on the forehead. She walked over to Jasper and placed her arms and head on his shoulders. “What are you thinking?” he asked his wife, “To one day leave this place. Never look back. Forget about the fifth season and the evil is brings upon our lands.”

“Do you believe that? Truly? Do you believe we could ever leave the fifth season?” Amelia was thrown by this question, she suspected Jasper would follow her lead and discuss a more worry-free life than the one they were living. “The season of the witch expands more than just our acres, Amelia. I can’t see us ever escaping this curse.”

The Witches dwelled within the woods to the east of Tarryville. The first night of the fifth season was always the same. The sounds of witches laughing, soaring, screaming. It was their return to the world. They would sing and dance, cast old spells and try new ones. For anyone who had not heard these sounds it would be terrifying. Jasper grew up on this farm in Tarryville. He was all too familiar with the screams and chants. He had always wanted to leave, but his family was based here. His life had