WEP Paranormal Pumpkins

Here are some pumpkins for the WEP Halloween Flash Fiction Special Challenge 2024, HORRORFEST!

I’ve been missing the bi-monthly WEP-IWSG challenge so I welcome another brain puzzler. Puzzling as I was unsure whether to set the tale in Wales with a case for Sparkle & Kama, or with my Witches in Ukraine, or Skadi in Scandinavia. As some of you may have noticed, I did continue with episodes set against the war in Ukraine even when the Challenges ceased.

But there’s a large gap before 2022, so I give you a 1960 Canadian Halloween with a difference.

Tagline: How should a Canadian-Ukrainian family deal with demonic pumpkins invading their Halloween celebration?

Paranormal Pumpkins

1960

Monday, October 31st – Chayka Air, Cold Lake, Alberta, Canada

Cold Lake 1950s. Photo: CFB Cold Lake.

Eight-year-old Galina Kohut wondered why her father Stepan worked on the hangar roof on Dido Anton’s 60th birthday. She nudged her cousin Alisa. Four years older, she was inquisitive.

“With so much to do before the party, why is my tato mending roofs?”

“Maybe it was something that creepy man told him,” Alisa paused making Galina shiver, then giggle. “You don’t believe me?”

“He was a scruffy man looking for work.”

“Don’t scoff, Gali. He was a magic man. Watch out at midnight when he summons the witch Baba Yaga.”

They ran screaming into the house.

Baba Yaga, from Vasilisa the Beautiful – Artist
Ivan Bilibin  (1876–1942)

In the kitchen, Kalyna and Vasy were preparing the evening’s celebratory meal with Anton’s nieces as they knew the family’s traditional dishes for this occasion. However, the sisters were free to add their touches.

“Sounds like the kids are getting into the Halloween spirit,” said Vasy.

“As long as the Veles rites aren’t forgotten,” added Kalyna.

“Nor Uncle Anton’s birthday surprises,” said his oldest niece, Polina.

Kalyna’s eleven-year-old son Boris wandered into the kitchen with his friend Artem. Both hovered near the food looking hopeful.

“Are you boys after cookies to stay alive?” asked Kalyna. Then hearing other voices next door, added, ”Take that plate on the side. I expect your fathers wanted some too.”

“There’s just one each,” said Polina. “That includes your sisters.”

Denys Kohut and his friend Marko Shevchenko welcomed the cookies having finished decorating the dining room and hallway for the evening.

“Better eat outside,” said Marko as Galina and Alisa homed in on the cookies.

Luckily with one cookie left, Stepan finished on the hangar roof.

“Did you fix the leak?” asked Denys.

“Eventually. What did you think I was doing?”

“Alisa said you were trying to magic a witch,” said Galina.

Her father chuckled.

“I’m not crazy, Gali. If there are any witches, then the pumpkins would fly.”

As they walked inside, Galina whispered to Artem.

“My titka is a witch. Auntie makes people fly.”

*

There was not only enough room in the spacious dining room for all the Kohut family and friends but also empty places for departed loved ones. The table was laden with the fruits of the cooks’ labours.

As the head of the household, Denys greeted everyone.

“On this Veles Night spirits of our ancestors visit their descendants sharing their power and blessing us. Tonight, the border between the worlds becomes thinner letting the ancestral spirits and the spirits of descendants unite into one. It is a family holiday. Departed friends and ancestors come to us, tonight’s meal is for you.”

Kalyna lit a candle in the main window to guide the spirits to the feast.

The family patriarch, Anton made the traditional blessing of the food before everyone helped themselves to savoury delicacies, borscht, meat and fish dishes, stuffed peppers, cabbage rolls, and blood sausage.

Kompot for everyone and alcoholic Kvas were the drinks of choice, though there were a few cries for beer and pop.

The children suppressed their craving for dessert. Soon their wish was granted with pancakes, honey cakes, and chocolate roulade.

Then the special cake.

“As today is Dido Anton’s 60th birthday,” said Polina, “we made his favourite fruit cake with ingredients sourced from the far reaches of the world… well, Canada. So, there are berries from the Arctic.”

Desserts were abandoned for Anton’s cake.

When everyone had a generous slice, he stood.

“I know we are gathered for other reasons, but my daughter-in-law Kalyna flew me here from Canora on this special day. My sons and their wives have always said I can make my home here, which is wonderful. Perhaps it is time to retire here and leave the business in younger hands.  I must thank you all for being here and for this delicious feast. Let’s discuss the future tomorrow as I have a vision. Lastly, soon it will be time for children of all ages to don their magical costumes and brave the night.”

He sat down with a mischievous smile and ate his cake.

*

Two Kings and a Queen gathered their band of elves, dwarves, and a faun to venture into the darkness.

A flight of dragons roared into the night ahead of them.

“Never fear,” said Queen Vasy. “Those dragons defend us.”

Flight of Dragons: CF-104 Starfighters at RCAF Station Cold Lake, 1962. Photo: CFB Cold Lake.

Her band giggled and charged along the street towards the first door with welcoming kegs piled with fruit.

The owner, a portly ogre greeted them.

“No trickery, please. Pick some fruit and you’ll receive a piece of candy each.”

He noticed the orange ‘Trick or Treat for UNICEF’ box around the faun’s neck and slipped a dollar bill in the slot.

“The children will thank you,” said Faun Artem. “King Marko values every cent.”

“UNICEF does a valuable job raising money for vaccines, educational materials and other aid for children,” said the generous ogre. “It’s a clever addition to Trick or Treat.”

The band skipped down the street to the next decorated house, where Elf Alisa wore the orange box.

*

An hour later, a tired and happy band of adventurers, some riding royal steeds, approached home, mission accomplished.

Suddenly a large pumpkin flew into their path. It hovered its jagged teeth leering at them.

The Demonic Pumpkin: http://www.artstation.com

The smaller children screamed but Stepan drew his sword and stabbed it. Oozing orange guts, the pumpkin retreated.

When two more appeared, bigger and uglier, Artem and Boris stood their ground. Behind them, Alisa and Galina shielded Danyil.

https://www.reddit.com/r/SquaredCircle/comments/780egj/i_carved_another_pumpkin_this_time_demon_

“We’ll all mash you,” shouted the children brandishing daggers.

Stepan and Marko challenged the demons.

“Never show fear,” said Vasy nearest the door. “I’ll summon help.”

As everyone harassed the demonic pumpkins, Kalyna stepped outside.

Four more orange nightmares appeared.

Baron Samedi

 Kalyna raised her arms.

“Begone puny pumpkins back to your patch. Beware a Night Witch from the forests of Ukraine.”

The pumpkins stopped and then flew over the hangar roof and disappeared.

Artem hugged Galina.

“You said your titka was a powerful witch.”

**

MPA 1,000 words

For other WEP October Horrorfest flash stories visit:

https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2024/10/wep-halloween-flash-fiction-special.html

Black Cats Or Black Hats At Halloween?

All Hallows greetings from the fastness of the Duskweald, in the fog of England. If there are monsters lurking outside, we have our ninja kitties on full alert – oops, make that on cat nap duty.

Our Halloween kittie, Kefira, has fur as dark, and talons and fangs as sharp, as obsidian. In the US I believe that black cats are bad luck and can fall prey to those with evil in their hearts. Would we be burnt as witches? Here in England a black cat can be as lucky as a horseshoe or shamrock; except when it crosses your path the wrong was. But that’s an old wives tale and I’m only here for trick or treat.

Halloween is a time when our world is close to the spirit world, offering a bridge both ways; and in one of my stories, it is celebrated as the Veles. Today my writing is crossing a bridge, the transition between one mystery to another journey into the unknown, albeit with a rough map.

The Last Leaf will never fall

The Last Leaf will never fall (Photo credit: Behrooz Nobakht)

Yesterday I finished another edit of Wyrm Bait, a crime mystery set against the world of computer gaming, where the monsters lurking are black hats – but not wearing witches hats. This is the realm of computer hackers and gold farmers. The edit gave me draft 2, or maybe it was 2.5 as I scribbled in red over a printed manuscript first and devised key changes like protagonist 2’s POV.

I’ll leave the draft to ‘marinade’ for about six weeks, then tackle the crucial polish-edit, honing each word and phrase into jewels fit for my beta readers.

If you would like to be a beta reader please contact me. I have some gaming experts but need the writer input.

NaNoWriMo 2012

So on to November and NaNoWriMo 2012, which will be my second attempt at the challenge having completed a 50k first draft of The Last Leaf, a fantasy mystery, last year. The theoretical strategy this time is to write the first draft of Wyrm Blood, the sequel to Wyrm Bait and again linked to cyber-crime. I have done an outline, some of the characters are the same, although the ones driving some of the main plot are newcomers. I aim to do 50k during November but the first draft will be more like 80k and take six weeks.

I’m fearful of the pressure from writing 1,600-2,000 words per day, as other priorities loom including the crucial time needed to ensure my wife gets her ILR – her leave as a US citizen to settle in the UK. There are also the vagaries of my MS (Multiple Sclerosis): although the pain of the spasms is finally under control with Gabapentin, the spasms still continue and there are days when even checking emails is impossible. But it all makes for a greater challenge.

The-black-cat

Here’s hoping that black cats bring us all luck, and the black hats remain fictional in our books and get tackled by the gals in white; witches to those computer-challenged.

In the Lair of the White Witch 2

In the Lair of the White Witch 2 (Photo credit: chrisjfry)

Good writing and screaming from The Silver Scribbler.