Without a Body

Jack walked down the block away from his house, hoping to get in a few more homes before people began bringing in the unwatched bowls. Plenty of parties were raging on with their purple and orange lights flashing outside the windows, but the people giving out candy would soon feel it too late to continue even though it was a Friday night. Jack wore a long leather coat and spiked his hair with a silver spray. The jacket kept him warm from the windy night, but his body felt cold. What he was didn't matter because not even he knew, but it was enough so that people didn't scowl at him for not putting any effort into a costume. However, the street was empty and somewhat dark other than the party at a few houses up across the street. He loved this time of night on this street because most houses still had their bowls out with enough candy to dump into his pillowcase, which was considered inconsiderate. Each had a little postcard taped above them saying, "Please take three," or something along those lines, but it was a warning left unheeded by this teenager. The party across the street from the current house he was hitting was raging on. He had turned towards it. There were spider webs along the roof, gravestones in the dirt, and skeletons galore from the ground to the top-floor windows. It sounded like there must've been about 20 people on each floor of the three-story house that looked more like a mansion of sorts with its old siding and tall spires. It was an uncharacteristic house for the area, but no one questioned it. There was laughter and music, and if teens having sex made a sound loud enough to be heard over the music, Jack had no doubt he would listen to that too. The bass shook the foundation and made Jack feel like something was in his throat and needed to come up. In the distance, he heard a voice, though he believed it to just be coming from the party house for a few moments. The tone, however, was too quiet as though trying to only pull one individual's attention. "Hey, you!" Now Jack had focused on the voice. It was coming from behind him in the whisper, yelling that one does to make themselves feel more discrete even though everyone can hear. His head turned quickly enough, but he saw nobody. Ghosts were hanging from eaves, pumpkins carved and lit, and one or two giant blow-up spiders on this side of the block, but he saw nobody who could possibly be trying to catch his attention. Most lights on this side were out, but no silhouette could be seen. Yet the voice persisted. "Yeah, you!" It was coming from the house just one down to the left of Jack, so out of sheer curiosity, he put the now-empty bowl that he was still holding down and walked over. The voice continued, "Over here!" and it got louder as his feet brought him closer to the porch of the light blue house. They brought him over the lawn at an angle to the concrete path up to the front door, and he stopped right at the first step, waiting for the voice again. "Down here!" Jack looked down, and there was a bright orange pumpkin carved out classically with a wide mouth and no teeth. The eye holes were large and had little space between them. Whoever carved it had no intentions of making it scary, not that they usually were anyway. This one was unique because of its mouth moving and its voice coming out. The little teacup light behind its face still had plenty of life left in it as it talked. "Oh, thank god!" "Are you talking?" Jack asked, not quite knowing how else to question a talking pumpkin. "Yes I am. And who might I be speaking to this awfully cold night?" Its voice was slightly deep with a tinge of a cartoon. Jack was flabbergasted, a word which drove through his mind as he stood there listening to a supposedly inanimate object. "My name--well it's Jack." The pumpkin grinned a large smile that curled halfway up its eyes. "Jaaack! Oh, I do love that name. Probably my favorite one." It sounded content now in an unsettling way. But its face returned to its bland original self, and Jack felt the tension release from him a bit. "How... how can you talk?" Jack had never felt this amazed, confused, and curious simultaneously. He felt as if he closed his eyes for even a second, the pumpkin would return to being just a pumpkin. So his eyes remained wide open and unblinking. "Well how can you talk Jack? I'm not implying we talk the same way, but just that I'm sure you don't quite know how you can talk, so how am I supposed to know how I do?" Its big eyes angled down like eyebrows were furrowing them into a sad look. Jack stood there, not responding and still baffled. The pumpkin continued, perhaps suspecting the silence was losing Jack. "I do have to wait for them to carve me to talk. And then I'm composted, finding my way to another pumpkin the next year. Hopefully one that's bought and carved into a jack-o-lantern." "So what are you?" "Well that seems rude to ask doesn't it?" One of its eyes tilted up, and its mouth creased together into a frown. "Sorry." Jack was not regularly apologetic, but tonight's circumstances were strange. "That's okay Jacky. Tell you what? I'll forgive you, if you do me a favor." Jack was hesitant, but his mouth opened anyway with no thought. "Uhh sure. What is it?" Again, the pumpkin smiled with its slightly malicious-looking face that made Jack uneasy, but it changed again to its innocence a moment after. "I would love to walk around and see the world. I only ever see fragments on porch steps, and it's never enough." "Would you like me to carry you around?" "No," with a heavily enunciated "o" at the end, indicating a counteroffer. "If you could put me on your head, that would make my life. To feel like I'm walking again would be something special." The request seemed weird and invasive to Jack, yet he found himself considering it. Perhaps again, out of curiosity, the only reason he was still talking to this pumpkin. "How would I do that?" he asked. The pumpkin expected that, having an answer ready on the tip of his nonexistent tongue. "Oh you're a teen aren't you Jack? I have no doubt that you carry a knife on you, especially walking around at night all alone. You probably find yourself hoping sometimes that someone attacks just so that you have an excuse to use it. You could carve a hole into the underside and then fit me over your head." Jack didn't respond in words, but he slowly pulled a knife out of one of the many jacket pockets. Again, the pumpkin grinned as Jack, in a trance, picked it up and began to carve a large enough hole for his head. He didn't know why he was but felt like he owed it to the pumpkin. Thankfully, part of the knife was serrated and carved through the orange shell with no problem. Once finished, Jack folded the knife with one hand and placed it back into its spot. He grabbed the pumpkin with two hands and looked at its face. "Oh thank you so much Jack! You are amazing!" Still silent and focused, Jack turned it away, lifted it, and placed it on his head. Immediately, the pumpkin grew teeth that grew to a sharp point and filled its mouth. Its eyes slanted inwards to make a malevolent expression. Jack didn't see this, though. He wasn't there anymore. The pumpkin reached into Jack's pocket with Jack's hand and pulled out the knife that had felt the cold night only moments ago. He flicked it open and turned towards the house with the party. The following morning, the police were packed outside a gothic-looking mansion that Jack was near the night before. It was the most significant crime scene the town had ever had, and the bodies had to be recounted to ensure they weren't missing anyone. Jack's parents found him in his room lying on his bed. His costume was still on, looking slicker from all the dark blood on him. His hands were bruised, and he was missing one shoe. The main thing Jack was missing wasn't a shoe, though. There was a part of him that he hadn't needed the night before. He was missing a head, and the screams that came from that house let everyone know. The teens at the party house heard it as they gave their accounts of the night and a pumpkin head that moved. It was never found.