Another Day
Slimy seeds, poked out of the scrapings, lying on the newspaper like white pustules on diseased skin. Hollowed and disfigured, the pumpkin lay sacrificed before her kneeling figure. Its foolish expression stared back at her. The knife, covered with stringy flesh, stood at attention in her hand as if waiting for the next command.
Turning the pumpkin upside down, she thrust the knife in hard and sawed with imprecise deliberation. Prying out a wide, thick circle and tossing it aside, she then raised the ghoulish head, gazing at it like Yorick’s skull. It offered no answers.
She placed her hand through the bottom opening like a puppet and waggled her fingers through the vacant eyes like oversized maggots. Disgusted, she went to throw it like a vulnerable shot-put at a side table cluttered with family snapshots. She paused, then instead, lowered it ceremoniously onto her head, which to her surprise, fit without argument.
Soft, musty flesh pressed against her already damp cheeks. She raised the knife level to the triangular eye from which she peered. How much damage could a dollar store pumpkin knife do? She wished she could see the look on their faces when she was found, this time, with a pumpkin on her head. She stood with little grace, peeking through her holiday helmet for the perfect place to be discovered.
Catching her absurd reflection in the hallway mirror, she exploded with a loud “Ha”. It caught her by surprise. The knife dropped from her hand. She hadn’t laughed in months. She could last another day.
Slimy seeds, poked out of the scrapings, lying on the newspaper like white pustules on diseased skin. Hollowed and disfigured, the pumpkin lay sacrificed before her kneeling figure. Its foolish expression stared back at her. The knife, covered with stringy flesh, stood at attention in her hand as if waiting for the next command.
Turning the pumpkin upside down, she thrust the knife in hard and sawed with imprecise deliberation. Prying out a wide, thick circle and tossing it aside, she then raised the ghoulish head, gazing at it like Yorick’s skull. It offered no answers.
She placed her hand through the bottom opening like a puppet and waggled her fingers through the vacant eyes like oversized maggots. Disgusted, she went to throw it like a vulnerable shot-put at a side table cluttered with family snapshots. She paused, then instead, lowered it ceremoniously onto her head, which to her surprise, fit without argument.
Soft, musty flesh pressed against her already damp cheeks. She raised the knife level to the triangular eye from which she peered. How much damage could a dollar store pumpkin knife do? She wished she could see the look on their faces when she was found, this time, with a pumpkin on her head. She stood with little grace, peeking through her holiday helmet for the perfect place to be discovered.
Catching her absurd reflection in the hallway mirror, she exploded with a loud “Ha”. It caught her by surprise. The knife dropped from her hand. She hadn’t laughed in months. She could last another day.