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12 | psychopath

A/N: yayy double-drop on a friday! enjoy :)

"We should pick a pumpkin either way" says London and gestures with her arms towards the horizon.

I nod, trying to shake the weird thought off.

We stroll around for another thirty minutes, talking about how we want to celebrate Halloween. It's weird – it's like we never get out of conversation topics. But it's not desperate in any way, like we'd do anything to avoid stiff silence – because being quiet isn't weird with her. It's okay too, just like talking – sometimes you need to think, but it's better than being alone, because I can feel her presence, and that makes me feel safe, even though we aren't talking.

"Have I ever told you I want to be a photographer?" she says, suddenly.

"No?" I say, squatting down caressing a pumpkin's skin with my thumb, to check if it's wet or pillowy. "This one's good, by the way."

London bends down and leans out before me, her curls tickling my nose. Sometimes, I almost think she does it on purpose.

"Mm. It's round."

She moves out of the way so that I can see it, too. She's right, it is very round. Like a sphere – an orange sphere with a dark green stem sticking out up there, upsetting .

"It's very pretty" I say. "But..."

"...can't we try and find the ugliest pumpkin around here?"

...can't we buy the ugliest one?

I burst out laughing. "I was literally going to say the exakt same thing! You dumbass!"

London grins, her smile widening as her gaze follows me. "Great minds think alike. Let's do that, then. Five minutes. The one who find the ugliest pumpkin by then is..."

"...the ugliest pumpkin of the patch" I chuckle.

Now, London laughs too. "Mm. Sure. I'll set a timer."

As soon as she clicks the button on her phone, I set off. Sprinting in the exact opposite direction of where we came from, I realize we're almost in the middle of the field. To the right, the broad trunks of the pine forest rise towards the lowering sun. And to the left, other fields spreads out – oats, wheat and barley. Some are just grass. They're all building a giant patchwork of small rectangles, stretching out over hills and valleys all the way to the distant forest that's continuing all the way to the outskirts of the town.

Suddenly, I feel very little.

I slow down, half-jogging over the lands. For one second, I wonder how they keep those pumpkins un-watched. Then, I it's pumpkins. I don't think no one could smuggle out a pile of large pumpkins without being noticed.

Nearing the forest's edge, I slow down, almost walking now among the pumpkins. They're all so fine.

But then, I spot it. It's awful.

A flyblown, misshapen pumpkin, almost gray to the color. It's just lying there, casually among the other pretty pumpkins. I walk around it. An animal of some sort have taken a juicy bite of the flesh, leaving the part moldy with white, sickly fluff all over.

She can't beat this.

I laugh as I stand there, rubbing my chin as I watch the pumpkin. It's not going anywhere. Neither am I.

How the hell am I going to transport it to where our start was?

Crows caws over my head, wings flapping up above. One last ominous screech, and the group in gone; flewn into the pine forest.