Carla was a odd and curious girl.
Often she was silently lurking.
She never smiled, not even a smirk.

The orphanage sat tucked away behind overgrown vines. A place inhabited,but forgotten by time. Inside lies the children that have no one to love them.

Just a rather forlorn old home surrounded by a crumbled stone fence. Just on the other side is a graveyard of the forgotten and deceased.

Many children that fell ill ripped from life against their well. Vines covered it all over time. The pumpkins, not the kind you find lightened up with a toothy smile.

These pumpkins were rather ominous and vile. They quickly crawled out from under the vines standing in a line.

They whispered and hissed in a ghoulish way and only Carla knew they existed and what they had to say.

Each day as the moon rised carla would sneak out and over the stone wall. The pumpkins calling her with whispers that echoed in her head.

Pumpkins with souls of the children long ago dead.She hands out bits of stale bread they greedily snatch and ripped with jagged teeth.

Lost souls in grief, encased in pumpkin heads. They seek to be fed. "More" they whisper, chanting repeatedly with greed.

A hunger that can't be filled.More blinking eyes watch from under vines that cover the wall and ground.

They rise with the moon. Beckoning for carla to come. "Soon" she whispers as she distributes the bread.The head mistress shall be dead.

For years she mistreated children and laughed at their fears.The cause, not solution to their tears.

Crusts of bread and no blankets for their beds.The children worked day in and out as the head mistress shouted.

Many fell ill from being overworked, under feed, and chilled. She had no remorse for the children she killed.

Small Shallow graves lay in lines. Covered in vines over time. They rise craving to fill the hunger that consumes them in death and life.

Carla and three more have survived. Soon more to arrive. The head mistress, a tall, thin, black eyed woman with a pointy nose and chin.

Pure evil, with no compassion within her blackened heart. The pumpkins, urchin of the undead.

Carla wakes the head mistress as if in distress. She urges her to hurry outside stating more children arrived.

The vines grabbed and tore at her dress as she cursed and swung her arms violently around. A angry frown constantly worn on her brow.

As the mistress walked along the pumpkin urchin whispered in a excited song. "It won't be long." "It won't be long."

Carla pointed to the crumbled wall.Pumpkin after pumpkin began to jump over the wall. The head mistress called out for help, started to run but the vines caused her to fall.

Utter horror was expressed on her face.The pumpkin urchin bite and scratch, claw and attack. Enjoying the taste of revenge.The head mistress, finally dead.

Her head now sits on the crumbled wall.Carla for the very first time, skips away with a smile.

Every fall the pumpkin urchin come.If a friend, join the gruesome fun. If a foe, you better run. Heads now line the graveyard wall. Death comes when the pumpkins call.
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