Autumn Short Stories

Harvest Festival Magic

The crisp autumn air in Murphysboro, Illinois, smelled of pumpkin pie and freshly fallen leaves. The annual Harvest Festival was the highlight of the year, and the entire town buzzed with excitement. From carnival games to the pie-eating contest, every corner of the town square was decorated with scarecrows, corn stalks, and twinkling lights. But Ally Harper wasn't feeling the excitement like she usually did.

"Another year, another festival," she muttered, poking at a leaf with her sneaker.

Her best friends, Francine and Garrett, walked beside her, trying to cheer her up.

"Oh, come on, Ally," Francine said. "The festival is the best. Haunted hayrides, apple cider, and the costume contest? What's not to love?"

Garrett laughed, balancing a caramel apple in one hand. "Plus, free food. Who can say no to that?"

But Ally wasn't in the mood. It wasn't that she disliked the festival—it was her favorite time of year. But lately, everything felt...ordinary. Predictable. She wanted something magical, something extraordinary to break up the monotony of small-town life.

That evening, as they walked back to Ally's house, her grandmother, Wilma, greeted them on the porch.

"Perfect timing, kids," Grandma Wilma said. "I need some help getting decorations out of the attic."

Garrett groaned dramatically, but Ally's curiosity piqued. Her grandmother's attic was full of old treasures—antiques, family heirlooms, and peculiar items she'd collected over the years.

"Come on," Ally said, dragging Francine and Garrett inside.

The attic was as dusty and cluttered as ever, with sunlight streaming through a small round window. Ally sifted through a box of old festival decorations when something caught her eye. It was an old lantern, made of tarnished brass with intricate carvings of leaves and vines.

"What's this?" Ally asked, holding it up.

Grandma Wilma's eyes widened. "Oh, my. I haven't seen that in years. That's the Harvest Lantern."

"The what?" Francine asked, leaning closer.

Grandma Wilma sat down on an old trunk. "It's a piece of Murphysboro's history. Legend says the town's founder was gifted this lantern by nature spirits. They promised it would bless the town with bountiful harvests—so long as the people remained grateful. But if anyone used it carelessly, it would bring chaos instead."

"Chaos, huh?" Garrett said, smirking. "Sounds like a story parents tell kids to keep them from breaking stuff."

"Believe what you want," Grandma Wilma said. "But that lantern hasn't been lit in decades, and maybe that's for the best."

Ally couldn't take her eyes off the lantern. She felt an inexplicable pull, like it was meant for her.

That night, Ally sneaked the lantern into her room. She examined the carvings under the glow of her bedside lamp. A small inscription at the base read: Light only in times of gratitude.

"What does that even mean?" she whispered to herself.

The next day at the festival, Ally couldn't resist bringing the lantern with her. Francine and Garrett raised their eyebrows when she pulled it out of her backpack.