The Pumpkin House Page 4

  But he was determined to find out whether or not it did.

  He had no choice. There was no telling where Thomas had fled or where he was hiding. And Charles knew he wouldn’t be able to find Thomas without help. But he needed more than the assistance of his friends and neighbors.

  He needed the aid of Old Notch-foot.

  As Charles made his way farther away from his farmstead, his grandfather’s words from when he was a small boy ran through his mind.

  On the night of Samhain, the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead are at their thinnest, allowing spirits to freely roam the earth. And perhaps the most dangerous is Old Notch-foot, a spirit of revenge which can’t be controlled; he can only be placated. Therefore, if the necessity ever arises and you have to call on Old Notch-foot to exact revenge, be sure the need for revenge far outweighs the consequences which will follow. For if they don’t, Old Notch-foot won’t even be able to be pacified. He’ll become an unleashed force taking whoever’s unprotected soul he pleases.

  Charles stopped and glanced around. He was standing in the middle of the field which separated his farm from the Marcum farm, the parents of Malinda and Clarinda. No one else was around. The sky overhead was black, the moon and stars obscured by the dark clouds unexpectedly rolling in. A cold chill ran up his spine, causing his senses to become heightened. He raised his hands towards the sky and closed his eyes, shoving the warnings of his grandfather out of his mind.

  Thomas Levi must pay no matter what the cost.

  As Clarinda looked into Malinda’s eyes swollen from crying, she brushed her sister’s hair with her hand just as their mother had done when they were little girls. She held on tightly to Malinda’s hand with her other hand, trying to make her sister feel as safe as she could even though she didn’t know what was wrong. Charles hadn’t had time to tell her before he’d taken off.

  “What happened, Malinda?” Clarinda hesitantly asked in a choked whisper.

  Malinda looked into Clarinda’s eyes. She wanted to tell her sister, but she felt shame. A small part of her knew she would feel better if she talked to someone, and she’d always been able to tell Clarinda anything.

  “I came into the barn,” Malinda slowly started, “to get away from the noise for a bit because of the headaches I’ve had ever since the pregnancy. I’d only been in here a minute or so when I heard the door to the barn creak shut and then footsteps behind me. I turned around and saw Thomas Levi standing inside with this wild look in his eyes. I could tell he was drunk by the way he was swaying back and forth. I didn’t know what he wanted, but I knew it was no good. Those wild eyes of his reminded me of a stallion kept up too long from breeding.

  “I backed away, asking him what he was doing in here. He started walking slowly towards me – stalking me, if truth be told – saying how I should’ve been his wife and how it should be his child I was carrying. I told him I was married to Charles and loved only him. That set Thomas off because he started walking faster towards me. I kept backpedaling away from him until I finally bumped up against the wall. He had me pinned so I couldn’t move. He reeked of sweat and liquor, but also of something horrible. I don’t know how to describe it, Clarinda, but there was a stench of evil on him as foul as some dead animal whose corpse has laid out in the blistering sun for a week.

  “Before I knew what was happening, Thomas grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around, and threw me onto the ground. I was so frightened that I fell back down every time I tried to stand up, unable to run away. A smug look spread across his face as he unfastened his pants. He told me he would have me now though, and then he reached down and ripped my dress up the middle. I kicked and screamed, trying to get him off me, but I wasn’t strong enough. Just as Thomas was about to force himself on me, I heard the barn door creak open. I turned and saw Charles standing in the doorway.

  “I’ve never felt so relieved to see anyone in my life. Charles saw the look on my face and my eyes swollen with tears, immediately understanding what Thomas was trying to do. Without saying a word, he ran full speed at Thomas. Thomas jumped off me and dodged to the left just as Charles was about to grab him. Thomas hopped up before Charles could do anything and fled out of the barn like the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels. Charles started to follow after him but stopped when he reached the door. He turned back to look at me. I swear I saw tears welling up in his eyes. Instead of going after Thomas, he came back to make sure I was alright. And then he went and got you.”

  “And now Charles has gone to find Thomas, right?”

  Malinda nodded her head.

  “Do you think he’ll find him?”

  Malinda turned to face her with the most serious and intent look Clarinda had ever seen in her sister’s eyes. “I don’t know,” Malinda answered. “But if he does, Charles will kill him.”

  Charles drew forth the knife he always carried at his side, unloosened his pants, and let them drop down to his ankles. He gripped the knife tightly in his hand and stared up at the sky, waiting for some sign that he was making the right decision. For the briefest of seconds, the dark clouds overhead seemed to disappear, revealing the light of the full moon before obscuring it just as quickly again.

  He could’ve sworn the moon had been the color of blood when he’d glimpsed it. He was unsure if it was a sign or just a figment of his imagination.

  But Charles took it as an omen nonetheless.

  He drew the blade of the knife across his upper thigh, and immediately felt the warm, wet sensation of blood dripping down his leg.

  The thigh was part of the ritual, but no one knew why for sure.

  Despite his humble origins and poor living, Charles’ grandfather had been a well-read man, and he’d told Charles his own thoughts about why a person must cut open the thigh when calling upon Old Notch-foot.

  According to Charles’ grandfather, there was a Greek myth about how the god Dionysus had been born from the thigh of his father, Zeus, the king of the gods. Dionysus was the exact opposite of all the other Greek gods. He was the god of wine, but he was also associated with the wild and untamed nature of man. His followers went into a frantic frenzy and sometimes ripped their victims to shreds with their bare hands. In the civilized culture of ancient Greece, Dionysus was an out of place and dangerous deity.

  Charles didn’t know if his grandfather’s ideas were true or not, but they made some sense.

  But it wasn’t relevant right now.

  All that mattered was making Thomas pay for what he’d done to Malinda.

  Charles looked down at his leg covered in blood. He dropped the knife to the ground and then grabbed the cut on his leg with his hand. Immense and sharp pain shot through his thigh, but he pushed it away, knowing the pain which Malinda had endured was far worse. After a few seconds, he pulled his hand away and held it up in front of his face, gazing at his blood-soaked hand.

  An image of Malinda lying in the barn crying with her clothes torn flashed through his mind.

  Whatever doubts he’d had about calling forth Old Notch-foot immediately flew out of his mind like the wind.

  He wiped his blood-soaked hand down his face and then spat on the ground.

  “Invoco te,” he called out to the darkness, “qui odium in meo corde agnosces, qui ultionem petere me scis magis quam spiritum in mea lateria. Inveni eum et facie eum poena dare.”

  Charles fell down to his knees, repeating the words of the ritual over and over in his mind, the words which were so simple and yet contained so much power in them.

  I call on you, the one who knows the hatred in my heart, who knows the revenge I desire more than the breath in my lungs. Find him and make him pay.

  The air around Charles suddenly seemed different, smelling and feeling like when a bolt of lightning strikes a tree. The hairs on his neck and arms stood on end, and he felt a hot, tingling sensation run up his spine. His eyes rolled back into his head as he clenched his hands into tight fists. When his body began to shake, every mu
scle in his body felt like it was on fire.

  He’d heard of people going into an epileptic fit before, but they were unconscious when it happened.

  But as Charles felt his body go into convulsions, he knew he was having one.

  And even worse, he was conscious of what was happening to his body.

  Charles screamed out. He felt another presence, something which hadn’t been there moments before. It was powerful, burning with rage and consumed with hatred. At first, Charles feared for his life. But the fear quickly turned into relief and satisfaction as the realization dawned on him.

  Old Notch-foot was coming.

  Thomas Levi hid in a thicket of bushes up on Devil’s Ridge, his eyes darting from side to side looking for any signs of pursuit.

  The residents of Smith’s Grove had named this place Devil’s Ridge because of the small, twin-peaked hills which reached towards the sky like horns. Some even said there were ghosts on the ridge, claiming it was haunted.

  Thomas didn’t know if Devil’s Ridge was haunted and he didn’t really care. His only concern right now was remaining hidden until he knew the coast was clear so he could make his way back to his farm.

  His plan didn’t extend much beyond that point.

  Maybe it didn’t even matter.

  As he hunkered down in the darkness, Thomas cursed the name of Charles Keenan over and over. If he’d been able, he would’ve made Charles watch as he took Malinda’s body by force. She should’ve been his wife instead of that thieving Paddy’s.

  Thomas jumped when he heard a noise off to his right. He fought back the urge to run, remaining frozen and peering into the darkness. His heart was thumping in his chest and his breathing was rapid. When he saw it was only a deer creeping through the bushes, Thomas laughed softly to himself for being so jumpy. There was no way anyone could’ve followed him and they definitely weren’t going to find him. As the deer made its way through the woods, the soft giggling of Thomas turned into the laughter of a man unknowingly seized by fear.

  The frightened laughter of Thomas abruptly stopped when he felt a cold hand touch him on the shoulder. He turned to his left and saw sharp, black-colored talons digging into the front of his shoulder. Before he could scream out in pain or fright, he was lifted onto his feet and spun around. The clawed hand released the hold on his shoulder and snatched him by the neck in one swift motion.

  Thomas looked up into the face of his attacker and screamed in horror.

  When he saw a momentary flash of familiarity in the eyes of the creature grasping him by the throat, his screams of fear turned into wails of lament. But Thomas’ cries only seemed to feed the hunger of the creature. A malicious grin spread across the creature’s face, full of satisfaction and rapture.

  The creature reached down with its free hand towards Thomas’ groin. Whatever sufferings Thomas had imagined this thing inflicting on him were instantly replaced with the horrid revelation that this creature was going to castrate him. He saw the hand of the creature glow black, something which Thomas found utterly impossible even in his frightened state. He then felt an excruciating, ripping sensation in his groin until finally his penis flew into the hand of the creature, ripped off by whatever supernatural force it possessed.

  Thomas howled in pain, his breathing growing shallower as the blood poured forth from the gaping wound in his groin. Some of the blood splashed against his legs, but the majority of it gushed down onto the ground, forming a large puddle at the creature’s feet. Thomas stared down in disbelief, barely able to comprehend the reality of the nightmarish attack.

  Thomas looked up again into the hate-filled eyes. The creature squeezed his neck tighter, ready to end his life without any further delay.

  Thomas coughed up blood when he tried to speak the words to plead for his life.

  The creature pulled him closer. Even in his semi-conscious state, Thomas could smell the rancid odor of death as the creature spoke to him. But Thomas heard the words in his mind rather than with his ears.

  Know why you die.

  As Thomas felt the life drain out of him, images of his earlier assault against Malinda flashed through his mind and he understood who had called forth this monster against him.

  * * *

  Mr. Keenan paused. He turned and pointed at a small group of hills in the distance about a mile away.

  “Right up there’s where it happened.”

  They looked in the direction Mr. Keenan was pointing. Ronnie saw the twin-peaked hills protruding up like the horns of the devil. He’d heard stories about Devil’s Ridge before and the supposed ghosts haunting the place, but he’d never honestly known where it was located. He’d half-believed Devil’s Ridge was a made-up place, existing only as the setting for ghost stories around the campfire.

  Mr. Keenan sat back in his chair. His voice changed from the scary story-telling whisper back to its usual deep, booming tone. “At least, that’s the story I’ve heard.”

  “So,” Ronnie began slowly, “you’re telling me this ancestor of yours is the reason why Old Notch-foot is here in Smith’s Grove? That it’s his fault?”

  “In a way, I guess it was my namesake’s fault. Charles Keenan was filled with so much rage towards Thomas Levi for what he’d done to Malinda that he wasn’t in the right frame of mind when he called on Old Notch-foot. He just wanted Thomas to pay for what he’d done and was willing to do anything to exact his revenge.” Mr. Keenan paused a second, shrugging his shoulders. “But it’s his fault nonetheless that Old Notch-foot is here today.”

  “Isn’t that a remarkable story?” Sarah asked Ronnie with a touch of awe in her voice. “And Mr. Keenan tells it like he was right there.”

  “Thanks, Sarah.” Mr. Keenan blushed a little at the compliment. “If you tell a story enough times, you start to feel like you were there.”

  Ronnie could tell Sarah believed every single word of Mr. Keenan’s story. He, while finding the story entertaining, had his doubts.

  “Well, it’s time for you two to get back to work. I’ve been rambling on for almost an hour now. You’ve only got a couple of more hours to finish up with the jack-o’-lanterns today.”

  Once Mr. Keenan had left, they got right back to work, Ronnie checking the names off the list. Whenever Sarah would write a name on the bottom of a jack-o’-lantern and put it with the other finished ones, he would look up at Devil’s Ridge in the distance.

  He wondered what was up there, if the ghost of Thomas Levi haunted those woods or even if Old Notch-foot roamed around up there at night. He laughed out loud when he pictured the ghost of Thomas Levi wandering around in the woods late at night and calling out for his castrated penis like the Headless Horseman in “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  Ronnie turned back around. Sarah was looking at him like he was crazy.

  “Nothing. Let’s switch off and get this stuff done.”

  Ronnie figured writing the names on the jack-o’-lanterns instead of checking them off the list would make him focus on the task at hand rather than Devil’s Ridge and all the comical images running through his head.

  But for the rest of the day, his eyes still lingered on the twin-peaked hills in the distance, wondering if Old Notch-foot was real or not.

  Part Four:

  October 28th, Three Days ‘til Halloween

  When Ronnie arrived at the Pumpkin House the next day, he found Mr. Keenan sitting on the porch with Rusty, overseeing the volunteers as they worked diligently to get the Pumpkin House ready. A large folding table had been set up where the carvers turned the pumpkins into jack-o’-lanterns with the efficiency of a factory line. Once they were carved, the jack-o’-lanterns were loaded into wheel barrows and taken around to the back of the house for Ronnie and Sarah to write the names on. The previous days’ completed jack-o’-lanterns had been set out. The Pumpkin House was about halfway finished and the large number of jack-o’-lanterns filling up the front yard was already astounding.r />
  Ronnie looked around but there was no sign of Sarah anywhere. He couldn’t believe he’d arrived before her, given how dedicated she was to the Pumpkin House.

  “Well, good morning,” Mr. Keenan bellowed as Ronnie walked up towards the house. “Why don’t you come and sit a spell with me while we wait on Sarah to get here. She’s going to be a little late.”

  Ronnie strolled up onto the porch and sat down in the rocking chair beside Mr. Keenan. The old man was smoking a pipe, casually blowing smoke rings into the air.

  “Smoking’s a nasty habit,” he told Ronnie in between puffs on the pipe. “Don’t ever start. But I sometimes smoke in the mornings or in the evening time; it helps me think.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Keenan, I won’t. I can’t stand it when my Mom smokes. She’ll quit for a while, but then start up again whenever she’s going through a hard time. She says it helps relieve the stress.”

  Ronnie had almost blurted out how his mother’s smoking coincided with when she was having problems with Rick. Of course, she never admitted that fact.

  Rusty came over and sat down at Ronnie’s feet, staring up at him and wagging his tail. Ronnie leaned forward and scratched the old dog behind the ears.

  “He likes you.” Mr. Keenan grinned, taking another puff on his pipe. “Old Rusty is a pretty good judge of character.”

  Mr. Keenan leaned forward, tapping his pipe against the porch railing to empty the tobacco. Ronnie noticed a wince of pain cross his face from putting too much pressure on his bad leg.

  “Can I ask you something kind of personal, Mr. Keenan?”

  “Anything, Ronnie,” Mr. Keenan answered, leaning gingerly back in the rocking chair, “just as long as it’s not about Old Notch-foot. We talked enough about him yesterday.”