The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the bustling town square. Stalls lined the cobblestone streets, their awnings adorned with garlands of dried corn husks and sunflowers. Children darted between legs, their laughter echoing like wind chimes.
Stalls overflowed with harvest bounty: caramel apples, spiced cider, and pies as golden as the setting sun.
The wooden sign above her stall read, "Evelyn's Pumpkin Pies: A Slice for Half a Dollar."
"Well now, what brings you to my little pie haven, dearie? Looking for a taste of autumn magic?" Evelyn smiled at the little boy who looked up at her stall, eyes wide, clutching a copper coin.
"Uh-huh! Can I have one pumpkin pie, please?"
Evelyn was more than happy to do so.
The townpeople came around, driven by more than just hunger. Their money clinked in anxious fists as they approached, their eyes bright with excitement. Evelyn gave each customer a nod and a knowing grin. She delivered them their parts wrapped in crinkled paper.
The pumpkin pies stole the show with their velvety filling, flavored with secrets spoken by old recipes. When bitten, memories came back-the taste of childhood autumns, the warmth of hearth fires, and the promise of buried dreams.
Evelyn noticed the downtrodden souls-the homeless, their eyes hollow from hunger and despair. She didn't hesitate. For every pie sold, she gave away two-one for the buyer and another for those who had nothing. The homeless huddled together, their fingers sticky with sweetness, their hearts thawing like frost-kissed leaves.
When the last customer departed, Evelyn counted her coins and wiped flour from her apron. The fairgrounds emptied, and she stepped out into the cool evening air. Her path led away from the merry lights and laughter, toward the outskirts of town.
Her house was around ten minutes away from the town fair, the very famous fair for the Harvest festival.
Evelyn's house waited for; a beautiful two story mansion located on a hilltop. Its stone walls contained centuries of secrets, and its windows shone like lamps against the looming darkness. She pulled open the hefty oak door, its hinges moaning in protest. The empty pie box found its place in the pantry, and she locked the door behind her, sealing herself within her sanctuary.
In the dim light of the kitchen, Evelyn retrieved her treasured recipe book. Evelyn stepped outside again, her breath misting in the night air. Evelyn's steps quickened as she descended the hill, her destination clear: the bus stop at the crossroads.
She clutched a small bag, its contents known only to her. The bus arrived, its doors hissing open, and she stepped aboard. It was almost empty, except three faces against the metal body. She settled into a worn seat, the vinyl cold against her skin.
The bus hummed along, and the radio crackled to life. The news anchor's voice carried urgency: "Folly town in chaos! Pumpkin pie cravings sweep the streets. Markets ransacked. Behaviours erratic. The town sealed off. Next coming for you 'Tiptoe through the Tulips by Tiny Tim.'"
A girl, no older than twelve, sat beside her. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes wide. Evelyn smiled. From her bag, she produced a single slice of pumpkin pie.
"Go on," She encouraged, her voice soft. "It won't bite."
The girl hesitated, then took a bite. Her pupils dilated, and wonder danced across her face.
"Do you want to know how to bake a pumpkin pie?" Evelyn asked, her voice soft as falling leaves.
Tiptoe through the window
By the window, that is where I'll be
Come tiptoe through the tulips with me...
⋅ ──────────── ⋅
YOU ARE READING
𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄?
Short Story❝Do you know how to bake a pumpkin pie?❞ ••• It is Harvest season in Evelyn's town and she has the perfect recipe for a pumpkin pie. ⋅ ──────────── ⋅ TW: DEATH, GORE, GRAPHIC REPRESENTATION OF DEA...
