Kris Bowser - Pumpkin Goblins

Kris Bowser

Copyright 2016, 2021 by Kris Bowser

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical methods, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations included in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, events, and organizations depicted in this book are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

Cover by GetCovers

Leaf flourish from ngocdai86, Depositphotos

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To Greg, Jeff, Mom, and Dad. Trick or treat.

Table of Contents

The Worst Halloween Ever

Ambers raggedy vampire cape flew out above her backpack as she leapt down the bus steps. Behind her, the bus driver yelled not to jump the steps, but she was miles away from the bus, up the driveway, through the yard, and into the living room.

Happy Halloween! Amber yelled as she flung her backpack against the couch. I only have one thing for homework, and I can do it in half an hour, then I can put my face makeup on, then I can have dinner, and then Ill be ready to go.

Whats that, Amber? her mom called out from the kitchen.

Amber padded into the kitchen, where her dad was fumbling with her moms Celtic knot necklace.

I said I dont have much homework, and I can get ready to go trick-or-treating really fast. And I wont need a jacket this year. Whats for Halloween dinner?

Halloween dinner? Her dad chuckled. Youll have to ask your brother about that one.

Amber thought of Deans room, a museum where toys and trading cards sat in displays and she wasnt allowed to talk because he didnt like pausing his video game. Ill pass. How many minutes until we can go trick-or-treating? She had already done the math in her head on the bus ride. One hundred twenty? I can be ready before that though.

Her dad finished fastening the necklace and swept her moms hair over it. Oh, we wont be trick-or-treating tonight.

Amber felt the blood drain from her face, and she went as still as the dead. Had they forgotten the date? The kitchen calendar still showed July. What do you mean? Its Halloween. This is the night we go trick-or-treating.

Actually, her mom said, handing her a pamphlet with an old-fashioned sketch of an imp or goblin prancing through a forest, this is the night your dad and I attend a fascinating lecture.

The fascinating lecture sounded a lot like homework, only more confusing. Amber read the pamphlet:

Critical Perspectives in Harvest Mythology: Demons and Deconstruction

Presented by Dr. Emerson Hamtrick, visiting lecturer

October 31, 5:00 p.m.

Plimm Auditorium

Amber put one hand on her hip and slapped the pamphlet on the table. Why is a fascinating lecture on Halloween night? Dont they know about trick-or-treating?

Her dad laughed. Of course they do! Its all about trick-or-treating. Youre welcome to come if you think you can sit through the whole thing.

I cant sit through any of it. And you shouldnt either. We have to go trick-or-treating. Ive been waiting for twelve months .

I know how you must feel, her mom said. But this was the only night we could book Dr. Hamtrick.

Your moms been trying to get him to come here forever. And your brother already agreed to take you trick-or-treating.

If he doesnt have homework, her mom added. Then she gave Amber a quick kiss on the forehead. Call if you need anything.

A minute later, the car hummed down the driveway and curved out onto the street.

* * *

Dean, its me.

Amber opened the crack in the door just enough to stand in it. Everything in her brothers room sat in tidy rows and right angles, except for where her brother slouched on a beanbag chair playing video games. Papers spilled out of his backpack and a glass of fruity red soda dripped beads of condensation onto the floor.

Dean pressed a few buttons on his controller and leaned to the right, as if he were really making a hard turn. Why? he asked, then tapped out a quick rhythm on his controller and breathed a sigh of relief.

Why is it me?

Yeah. What do you want?

When will you take me trick-or-treating?

With an exaggerated sigh, her brother paused the game and turned around. When youre dead.

Mom and Dad said youd take me. As long as youre not busy with homework, she added hopefully.

Too bad Im busy with homework.

No, youre not.

He picked up a clump of the papers on the floor and waved them in the air. What are all these, then?

Amber slammed his door and stomped down to the kitchen, trying to come up with a plan to go trick-or-treating on her own that wouldnt involve the neighbors actually seeing her and telling her parents. She gave the kitchen stool a good, solid kick so she could reach the landline.

Her dad answered. Hey there, Ambi Bambi. Everything ok?

No, everything is doomed.

Whats wrong?

She explained how Deans homework was next to him, sure, but he wasnt working on it. She made sure to mention that the fruity red soda didnt have a coaster, because there was nothing grown-ups hated more than stains on the carpet.

Barry, is it an emergency? her mom asked in the background.

No, her dad said, away from the phone, but still audible. Honey, you were supposed to call only if it was an emergency.

You didnt say that. You said if I need something, and I need to go trick-or-treating.

Well, he cant take you out if he has homework.

But he doesnt.

Im sure hes just taking a break. Those are advanced classes hes in.

Yeah, a long break.

If itll make you feel better, you can go over to the Barineaus on your own.

Fine.

She slammed the phone back into the holder, glad shed used the kitchen one so she could get a good, angry slam. That would show them. Amber hoped they felt so terrible that theyd turn around. She was nine years old. Practically ten. Practically in middle school. She probably only had four more years left to go trick-or-treating, then maybe seventy years when shed have to stay at home, watch the news, and hand out candy.

Straightening her cape, Amber yelled up the stairs to her brother, Dad said I can go to the neighbors, see you later!

It was still too early to trick-or-treat, but she could at least find out what the candy was. Amber ran through the brief stretch of yard and the small grove of maple trees that separated her house from the Barineaus. The leaves had all fallen onto the ground by now, and she kicked them into the air as she ran. Layered deep with trees and thorns, long afternoon shadows fell from the woods beyond the edge of the yard.

Although it looked like Halloween, and it smelled like Halloween, Amber missed the wind and chill hitting her face. The whole week had been warm, and today was no exception. She was glad shed worn shorts to school, but wished she didnt have to.

She sprinted through the neighbors yard and up onto the porch, knocking on the door excitedly. The Barineaus always gave out chocolate, and sometimes chips. Except for the Wielands, who had more Halloween decorations than grass in their yard, the Barineaus were her top choice, if she could only go to one house.

Mid-knock, she jumped back. Mr. Barineau pushed through the door with a platter of raw chicken in one hand, and an entire gallon of barbecue sauce in the other.