Percy Ink Copyright © 2024 Arla Jones “Watch out, you little cretin!” A sturdy boy with long black bangs pushed Percy aside as they left the school bus. The next boy shoved him onto the ground. “Eat dirt!” A cackle and stomping feet, and Percy waited on the ground to see if he would get some other insults, but nothing else happened. They left him alone. He sat on the ground, grabbed his backpack, then stood up. Brushing his clothes, he slowly walked across the field to the school building. This was the fourth school this school year, and it wasn’t any better than the other ones. Percy Ink was thirteen years old, skinny, and had fine, almost girlish features. His hair was pink. That was not because of his mother’s experiences with hair colors and saving money by not visiting hairdressers, but because he’d always had that color hair. It was bright pink, like fake hair. A boy with thick pink hair was unheard of. And because his name was Percy Ink, of course, everyone called him Pink. Pink never had any friends. He was always the most unpopular boy in school because his mother had switched schools so many times that he had lost track. This year, four times, and in previous years, even more. Now, his mother had told him that he had to try to cope with this one because this city did not have any other schools for him to try out. “Stick with this one. If they bully you, then try to cope with it. Talk to your teachers. Try to make new friends.” New friends, Percy thought grimly. I don’t have any friends, no old or new ones. Percy wore a pink hoodie, a black short-sleeved T-shirt, and jeans. That was his usual outfit. His mother suggested he switch to more neutral colors like grey or black, so she bought him some grey and black clothes. Still, Percy liked pink because the color matched his hair. His ears were big and pointy like his grandfather’s. His grandfather had told Percy that he had a secret that he would share with him and had asked Percy to come and visit him after school and Percy was eager to find out what his grandfather wanted to tell him. Percy's father left when he was born. His grandfather rarely spoke of him, only hinting that his son loved Percy's mother and him deeply. When Percy asked why his father didn't stay, his grandfather promised to reveal the secret someday. Today was that day. Percy would finally learn about his father and his family, a revelation he anticipated more than starting a new school. He sighed as he walked to the front door of the new school building. He didn’t expect much. Bullying would not change. Percy's Grandfather Percy was introduced in his new homeroom, “Percy Ink.” The students started clapping their hands and desktops, shouting, “Pink, Pink, Pink.” The teacher, Mrs. Carrier, tried to calm them, but it took a while before the classroom was silent again. She pointed to the empty desk in the back of the room and told Percy, “Go sit over there, dear.” Suffering a brutal first day at his new school, Percy Ink endured relentless teasing and ridicule from his classmates. They mocked his name, calling him "Pink," and their cruel whispers and spitballs followed him throughout the day. The torment continued on the bus ride home, where he was physically attacked by several boys, leaving him battered and bruised. He was glad his mother was not home so he could sneak into his room, shower, and change into clean clothes before leaving to see his grandfather. His nature-loving grandfather lived by the forest in a small cottage. Percy had often asked why he wanted to be out there and not live near the other people, the shops, and the services, and his grandfather had replied, “I like it here. I can hear the talk of the trees, the whispers of the vines, and the buzzing of the bees. I can’t hear any of that in the village. All I hear is the people’s chatter, noisy car engines, and factory sounds. No, that’s not a place for me to live.” His grandfather’s roof was mossy, with vines covering the walls. Some toads and mice ran across the garden path as Percy approached the building. He knocked on the door, and his grandfather let him inside. “Percy! How nice to see you.” He saw the sad look in Percy’s eyes and asked, “You had a difficult time at school, didn’t you?” Percy nodded. He sat down by the kitchen table. “I’m okay.” He looked down, the corners of his mouth curved downwards. His grandfather shook his head and said, “Come outside. I have a garden growing, and I want to give you some seeds. They are special.” Percy followed him outside, and behind the building, he saw his grandfather’s herb garden. He recognized dill, basil, parsley, mint, and lemon balm. His grandfather did not stop there but waddled ahead. His back stooped, and he used a wooden cane to keep his balance. They headed deeper into the forest, where his grandfather pointed to a small opening. He had pumpkins growing there. “See those pumpkins. I have different varieties. I will give you the seeds of a special pumpkin. I want you to plant one seed on the ground for every bully or malicious person you meet. When Halloween comes, you take one pumpkin to each house as a present. They will take care of the bully for you.” He chuckled as if he knew what would happen to the bullies. The Pumpkins Percy was puzzled. How could these pumpkins help me? He had no clue what his grandfather meant, so he asked, “Can you explain?” “You have problems in every single school where you go,” his grandfather replied, tilting his head. “Am I right, hm?” “Yes, you’re right. They bullied me from the school bus to the classroom and again at the school bus,” Percy admitted and sat down next to his grandfather on a wooden bench under the trees. Percy’s grandfather used a cane when he walked, and now he pointed at the garden and his growing pumpkins. “These are not regular pumpkins.” Percy believed that. These had a shiny surface, and some of them looked like they had white spiderwebs growing over on the surface. Some had black pinstripes, and some had purple wart-looking spots on them. “Pick up the one with the white web on top of it. That has very good seeds,” his grandfather instructed. Percy stood up and went to the pumpkin patch. It felt like he had walked into an electric field. He felt pinpricks of electricity when he touched the pumpkin and quickly pulled away his hand. He glanced at his grandfather, who nodded and said encouragingly, “Go on! It won’t bite you. The black one would bite, but that’s why I didn’t ask you to pick up that one. It requires a special touch to take.” Percy kneeled and touched the pumpkin with a white web again, this time with both hands. He whispered, “I will pick you up. My grandfather said I should take you, okay?” This time, the pumpkin let him lift him in his arms with no shocks of electricity. He carried it to the bench and placed it next to his grandfather. “What next?” “Now we go back to my cottage, and we will cut it open,” his grandfather said chirpily, leaning heavily on his cane. “You will carry the pumpkin, of course,” he added. Percy followed him carrying the large pumpkin, hoping he wouldn’t trip on the twining and knotty roots that crossed their path. As he carried the pumpkin in his arms, he heard a whispering. He looked around but couldn’t see anyone. He glanced up and saw the dark canopy of leaves above. The branches of these magnificent trees reached up to the sky, trying to catch the white clouds passing by. The trunks and branches were covered with moss and spotted with lichen. Percy felt like the trees were observing, watching, and protecting the little patch of pumpkins that his grandfather had planted there, and if he had not been with him today, the trees would have stopped him if he had stolen a pumpkin with him. He rushed after his grandfather and asked, “Are these trees normal?” “Of course not,” his grandfather replied, glancing at Percy. “They are protectors, the guardians of nature, the tree men.” “Why are they here? Why do they protect you and the pumpkin patch?” Percy continued asking more questions. “They serve me, guard me and my creations like the pumpkins,” his grandfather replied as they finally reached the front yard of the cottage where he lived. “Come inside. I think it’s time you learn more about me and your father,” he added. Percy’s grandfather opened the thick wooden door with a large golden skeleton key and kept the door open for Percy to get inside with the pumpkin. “Set it on the table,” he said, and Percy followed his instructions. The pumpkin looked as if the web on its surface shone in the darkness. Percy touched the web with his finger, and the web seemed to attach to it. When he pulled his finger away, the shiny string followed his hand. “Stop that,” his grandfather ordered. When Percy was about to apologize, he realized that his grandfather was not talking to him but to the pumpkin. He scolded it, saying, “This is my grandson, Percy. You know his father, Eldridge the Great.” The pumpkin seemed to pale, and then let go of Percy’s finger and pulled the shimmering string away from his finger. His grandfather lit the oil lamp on the table. He used only oil and gas, not electricity, inside his cottage. He had no modern technology like cell phones or computers. Percy thought he was a bit old-fashioned and stubborn because his grandfather didn’t want to learn the new technology when Percy asked about that. Percy sat down and latched his eyes to the pumpkin. It looked alive. “Let’s see,” his grandfather muttered. “I need a large knife—” He didn’t have time to end his sentence when the pumpkin jumped off the table and rolled toward the doorway, planning to escape. “Grab it before it gets out!” Percy’s grandfather ordered, and Percy ran after the pumpkin. I was correct. The pumpkin is alive. It’s not a normal pumpkin at all, Percy thought as he took the pumpkin in his arms and returned it to the table. This time, he didn’t let it go but kept his hands on both sides so that he would feel it if the pumpkin moved. “Keep it still,” his grandfather ordered. Then he said something to the pumpkin in a language Percy didn’t understand and then said to Percy. “It will be still now. I told him, I will only make a small hole so that we can get the seeds out.” He came closer to the table with a large kitchen knife and carved a curvy slice on the side of the pumpkin, and said to it, “Spit them out now. My grandson needs seeds.” The slice of the pumpkin’s side moved like a mouth and spat out a pile of seeds. They were not uniform but colorful, varying from red to green and from white to black. When he had a pile of seeds on the table, Percy’s grandfather mumbled again with weird language, and the curvy slice on the side of the pumpkin closed, and it looked like nothing had ever cut it. Staring with eyes wide, Percy asked a series of questions, “What’s going on? What was the language you spoke? How can the pumpkin understand what you say? Why did it run away?” He had so many questions… Chuckling, his grandfather pulled a chair next to him and sat down. “I’m a fairy.” “A fairy?” “You heard me. Your father was a fairy. That’s why you look different than human kids, and the kids here sense that you are no ordinary kid like they are. You’re special because you’re half-fairy.” “I’m a fa-fairy?” Percy stuttered. “Just a half-fairy,” his grandfather corrected, smiling. “Your father was a fairy king, and he visited this village and fell in love with your mother. She was so beautiful. She got pregnant but didn’t know when your father was here. He had to return to rule his kingdom. He sent me to watch over you when he heard that you were born.” His grandfather looked sad and shook his head. “I never thought it would be this difficult for you. I had hoped that changing schools would help you to find a good match, but it has not. You are different. I’m not sure if it would have been any easier for you to live in a fairyland with your father. The kids there would have teased you, too, because you’re not like them. So, I guess you’ll just have to deal with the cards you’ve got. You are part of this human world and part of your father’s fairyland.” “Can I ever visit him there?” Percy asked with hope shining in his eyes. He crossed his fingers under the table, hoping his wish would come true as he had never met his father. His father had gone away before he was born, and his mother didn’t want to tell him much about him. “Perhaps one day,” his grandfather replied. The Pumpkin Seeds Percy’s grandfather rubbed his thick beard, and inside of it peaked a tiny yellow beak and beady black eyes. Percy heard a chirping sound. “What is that?” Percy’s grandfather looked down and said, smiling, “That’s my blackbird. She likes to hide inside my beard. I think she believes it’s her nest. She heard the pumpkin spitting out seeds. Those are her favorite ones. Keep an eye on her; she’ll eat all the seeds if she can.” His thick beard was the color of old branches, partly grey, green, and black. The green part in his beard was leaves. Percy had no idea what leaves were doing inside his beard, but he guessed that the bird had brought them with her. However, the more he stared at his grandfather’s beard, the more he realized that parts of it were really green, like fresh branches growing, and not just extra debris brought there by the bird. “How can your beard grow green?” Percy asked without thinking. “Because I’m a wood fairy. When we grow old, our parts like hairs and nails start to resemble the trees,” he replied and showed his wrinkly brown hands, whose nails reminded Percy of sprouts of leaves rather than human nails. “Is that hereditary for wood fairies?” Percy asked, wondering what his hair, beard, and nails would look like when he grew older if he was a part fairy. Laughing, Percy’s grandfather replied, “Yes, all wood fairies will look more like a tree when they get older.” He paused and added, “I don’t know about you. You’re a wood fairy from your father’s side but otherwise a human. We’ll just have to wait and see.” Turning his eyes to the table where the magical pumpkin seeds were, he noticed that some of them had cracked open and sprouted. “I can see a sprout,” he said, amazed. “Yes, the magical pumpkin seeds will sprout fast, and when you put the seeds on the ground, you need to tell them who they are for,” his grandfather explained, keeping his eyes on Percy’s face. “I don’t understand,” Percy replied, furrowing his eyebrows. “For example, if you have a bully on the school bus, you will tell the pumpkin to grow that seed for this bully. And so on. A seed for each one of your enemies, so to say,” his grandfather explained. “Why would I want to give them anything?” Percy mumbled. He recalled the awful first day on the bus and at school. “Because these seeds will do something you won’t believe. They will haunt the people who have bullied and laughed at you. Just wait and see. You will have to deliver one pumpkin for each of them on Halloween. Let the pumpkins grow in your yard, and don’t eat them. They will be ready by the end of October, for Halloween,” his grandfather replied. “Okay, but I still don’t understand how a pumpkin will change anything,” Percy complained. “You’ll have to trust me on that,” his grandfather said. “We are wood fairies, and we can make anything grow. Most of what we grow is special, magical if you like. My herbs are more potent than human-grown versions of the herb. Besides, I want to see that you can grow too. You are half wood fairy yourself. You should have the skill of cultivating and raising plants in you.” Turning his eyes to the seeds, his grandfather added, “Let’s get these in a bag, and you can take them home. Be careful with the sprouted ones. Make sure you don’t bend or cut off the new start.” And after they collected the seeds in a small bag, Percy said goodbye and left. Percy walked back home, dazed. His heart was racing in his chest. It had looked as if he had taken his grandfather’s revelation in stride, but he was just stupefied. He had always felt like he didn’t belong here. No, that was not exactly correct. The other children thought that he was an odd nerd. He had not realized how different he was: A fairy! What was a fairy? He had no idea except what he’d seen in movies: the tiny creatures with wings who looked like humans but who could fly. He bet that was not a correct description of a fairy. Then he recalled the movie he’d watched. Those fairies were more humanlike except for their pointy ears. He felt his ears with his fingers. They were pointy like his grandfathers. He hadn’t seen anyone else with such ears, so perhaps that was one true sign of a fairy. His ears picked up the sounds of the forest, the leaves rattling, the little critters talking, and even the sounds of the bugs on the ground. His hearing was excellent. He knew it was better than any other kids he’d met. He believed that was a fairy quality, too. He pushed his hands into his pockets, kicked an acorn on the road, and kept kicking it like a football in front of him. He fingered the little bag of seeds in his pocket. What should I do with the seeds? The instructions were weird. “Plant one for each enemy,” Grandfather had said. A wood fairy can grow anything, his grandfather had told him. I still don’t know how these seeds can help me. Why would I want to give pumpkins to my enemies? They will probably look gross. Grandfather’s pumpkins were strange black, stripy, and spotty. I could tell the receivers that they are part of special Halloween marketing, and that’s the reason they look different than normal pumpkins, Percy thought, kicking the acorn forward. When he reached his home, he stopped. Should I plant the seeds in front or in the backyard? Should I ask my mother where the best place to plant these is? Perhaps in the back is better, then no one will see them before Halloween, he thought. He had already succumbed to the planting idea. He opened the front door and went inside. His mother was not yet home. She works late tonight, Percy thought. I would like to ask her more about my father. She never wanted to tell me anything. She only said it was a one-night stand, but now I don’t believe that. She might not know about my father, but now I know. Besides, she kept in touch with my grandfather, so she must know about my father, too, Percy realized. If she was angry with my father, she wouldn’t let me talk to my grandfather, would she? He took some cheese and a slice of bread from the refrigerator, buttered the bread, and made himself a cheese sandwich with a glass of milk. He sat by the kitchen table, wondering what he should do first. He couldn’t plant the seeds willy-nilly. He needed a proper plan. He took a piece of paper and a pen and started writing a list of the people who had bullied him or been unkind to him in all the schools he had attended this and the previous semester. The names were easy to recall. Everyone on the list had pushed him to the ground, kicked him, bullied him, or teased him because of his pink hair and clothes. Magical Pumpkins Grow Fast After writing the list of all the bullies in town, he went to the backyard, made tiny holes for each pumpkin seed, and mentioned the name on the list. Soon, he had two rows of seeds planted and growing. Percy looked at his gardening work and decided it was good enough. He put the list of names in his pocket so he would recall where he planted each bully’s pumpkin, and next, he returned inside and went to the living room to watch television. However, his mind wasn’t in the movie playing on the screen but in his grandfather and fairies. He realized he had not watered the seeds after planting them, so he went back outside and opened the garden hose to spray the water. As his eyes met the piles of dirt on the ground and new sprouts already pushing up, he stopped in his place. Do pumpkins grow this fast? I just planted them. How can this be possible? Percy recalled his grandpa’s words that he was a wood fairy and that wood fairies could grow anything. I guess that was all true, he wondered, and then he watered the new saplings before returning inside. When Percy heard the key turning in the front door’s lock and his mother returned from work looking exhausted, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me that my father was a fairy?” “You’ve seen your grandfather, and he told you, didn’t he?” Percy’s mother took off her shoes and sat down to rub her feet. “Yes, he did. Why didn’t you tell me?” Percy leaned on the doorway to the living room and stared at his mother. Percy’s mother shrugged and glanced at him. “It just felt silly to tell you that your father was a fairy. I don’t think many boys want to hear something like that.” It was a simple explanation. “Is that why I’m different than the others?” Percy tilted his head and kept his eyes on his mother. “Yes, perhaps. Although, I think the bullies would bully anyone who looks different or is weaker or prettier than they are. That’s the nature of bullies,” she replied. “It happens everywhere in every school. You’re not alone. We have tried changing schools, but nothing seems to work out well.” She gave Percy a stern but concerned look and asked, “Are the other boys teasing you at school again?” “I’m fine,” Percy lied. He knew they didn’t have many choices in schools. All the other schools would be further away, and it would take more time to travel there and longer trips on the school bus, which he hated. “Did you eat anything? I can warm you some casserole leftovers from yesterday if you’re hungry,” his mother said, standing up and straightening her back. “I’m always hungry,” Percy replied, grinning. And they went to the kitchen. After his mother had the plates ready and the food heating on the stove, Percy said, “My grandpa gave me some pumpkin seeds to plant, and he wants me to give them to other people and not keep any ourselves. I planted them in the backyard.” His mother nodded, stopped stirring the food, and turned her head to stare at Percy. “Is there something special in these seeds? Are they fairy seeds?” “I guess they are,” Percy replied, adding, “He said they will help me with the bullies next Halloween. I have to go around this town and hand out them to those who have bullied me.” “Even if they are not magical seeds, that’s a nice thought, and it might help you to make friends,” his mother replied. The Pumpkins Every day after school and then when the summer break started, Percy kept watering his pumpkins. He loved to see little yellow flower buds and watch them open into a star-shaped beauty. The dark green leaves were large, covering the flowers under them. His grandfather taught him a little song to entice the bees, the butterflies, and the hummingbirds to come and enjoy the flowers and pollinate them properly. Percy’s grandfather gave him some powder to sprinkle around the perimeters of the pumpkin patch to keep the harmful bugs away. He also insisted that Percy learn another song to keep the squirrels and other critters away from the pumpkins. “You must sing this once a week; otherwise, you might find out that someone had taken a bite of your pumpkin, and then the pumpkin would rot and die. You’ve come so far with these pumpkins that you have to follow my instructions to the end.” Percy thought singing to a pumpkin patch was silly, but he did as his grandpa told him to do and hummed to the patch while watering it. The next morning, the backyard was busy with bees, white and yellow butterflies, and tiny hummingbirds. Percy was pleased. He would try anything to get the bullies to leave him alone. If this helped, then it would be worth all this trouble. However, he didn’t want his mother to hear him singing, so he only did it when she worked late. At the end of the summer, he saw tiny, colorful pumpkins form under the leaves. They were not all orange; some were black, green, spotty, and dark red. The pumpkins grew well but not as fast as the plants had done. It seemed that the pumpkins knew that they had to be ready on the 31st of October and not any sooner. The next school year started the same way as the previous one ended. Percy was pushed against the wall, and his books were thrown onto the floor, and no one cared to stand up to help him. He never cried or said anything to these bullies, which made them angrier, and they tried to get him to show his emotions. Percy never complained or asked them to stop. He knew it wouldn’t help. They would continue bullying him. When his mother saw him coming home after the first day of school, his bag torn and his clothes dirty, she sighed. “They are still bullying you, aren’t they?” “Yes, they always do.” Percy looked defeated with his hunched back. His mother’s eyes followed his stooped figure as he went quietly to his room. He glanced outside to his backyard and saw the growing pumpkin plants. The pumpkins were now bigger than his fist, and he could see them from his window. “Can you help me?” he whispered through the window as he stared at the pumpkins. A breeze came from nowhere, and the large leaves waved at him. He was sure the leaves waved and responded to him. He tried again, “You are growing fast. Will you be ready by Halloween?” Again, the leaves waved in the wind. And the wind calmed down right after that. Where did the wind come from? Or was it all just fairy magic? Percy wondered. All Hallows’ Eve Finally, the month of October had ended, and All Hallows’ Eve was here. Percy had a half day at school, and when he got home, he took his bike and went to see his grandfather again for final instructions on what to do with the pumpkins. They had grown enormously. Some were the size of his head, and some were smaller, like the size of a football. All the pumpkins were different colors, patterns, and shapes. Some were round, some oval, and some were flattened in the middle. His grandfather sat on a bench in front of his tiny cottage. He wore a brown tunic with a hoodie and had his wooden cane next to him. “Percy, how nice to see you. I bet you will be busy tonight.” He winked at him, and Percy gave him a weak smile. He still didn’t know what, if anything, the pumpkins would do. Percy sat next to his grandfather on the wooden bench and said, “The pumpkins grew well, and they all look different. What should I do with them next?” “You will deliver them one by one. Remember to deliver the right pumpkin to the right person. Don’t mix them up because these are magical pumpkins; they recall what you told them when you planted them on the ground. You have to be sure that you hand them out correctly.” His grandfather looked stern as he said that. “Do I have to deliver the pumpkin to the person who bullied me, or can I just leave it at the bully’s home address?” Percy asked. He really didn’t want to meet any of his bullies face to face in his free time. “You can deliver the pumpkin to their home address. That’s fine. The pumpkin will know what to do if it is in the right place. It will help you to get your revenge,” his grandpa replied. “My revenge? I’m not sure I want revenge. I just want them to leave me alone,” Percy protested. Revenge could lead to retaliation, and everything would be even worse. “They will leave you alone after this. Believe me. A wood fairy’s word,” he said, glaring at Percy. “You’ll be respected after this. You won’t have to run away or hide. They will stay away from you, I promise.” “I hope that’s true,” Percy said quietly. His grandfather took a small pocketknife from his tunic and handed it to Percy. “Use this when you cut the pumpkin from the plant. Don’t trample any of the vines or the leaves; the pumpkins won’t like that. You have to respect them so they will do what you ask them to.” “Okay, I can cut them carefully without breaking any vines or leaves.” Percy took the knife and turned it around in his hand. The handle was carved with figures that looked like vines and trees. “Is this a special knife?” “Yes, it belongs to your family. Your father sent it to you. It has wood fairy magic.” “Thank you.” Percy pocketed the knife and then turned to face his grandfather. “If he can send gifts here, then why can’t he come, or why can’t I go there where he is now?” Sighing, his grandfather patted his back. “Traveling back and forth between two realms is not easy. Your father did it once, but he doesn’t want to do it again. He can send items through the portal between realms. That’s easier than physically visiting the other world.” Percy nodded. It made sense. He decided to visit his father one day regardless of how dangerous it was. He wanted to see where his father lived and where his ancestors came from. “But can I visit him?” “Yes, but you might not be able to return here if you go there. What would your mother do then?” His grandpa tilted his head and studied Percy’s face. “She would be devastated if she loses you.” “I guess I couldn’t leave her,” Percy admitted. “She could come with me. I’d love to have our family together.” “Hmm, I see what you think. Nothing is easy in life. You can dream about a journey to your father’s world, but I would not suggest going there. It wouldn’t be any different for you there than here because you’re only half-fairy. You’d be teased because you are not like the other fairies.” Percy’s grandfather saw the sadness in Percy’s eyes and said, “We will talk about it some other time. Now, it’s time for you to go and deliver the pumpkins.” Percy stood up and said, “I hope you’re right that the pumpkins will help me to get rid of bullies because I don’t know what else to do. I can’t keep changing schools all the time.” “Believe me. The pumpkins will do what they are meant to do,” his grandpa said and watched as Percy took his bike and waved goodbye. Poor boy, Percy’s grandpa thought as he watched Percy drive away. He’s stuck between two worlds, and no one accepts him as he is. He is a kind and lovable boy. He should be treated better. The Delivery On his journey, halfway back home, Percy suddenly realized he had overlooked a crucial detail. He needed to consult his grandfather regarding what to do with the pumpkins before he delivered them. With a swift turn of his bike, he raced back to his cottage. Arriving in haste, Percy called out to his grandfather, who promptly emerged from the cottage. Breathless and anxious, Percy blurted, “Grandpa, I forgot to ask if I should carve faces into the pumpkins!” His grandfather, wearing a mischievous grin, replied, “Ah, Percy, you can certainly carve them if you wish, but it’s not a necessity. If you do decide to carve, remember to use the special knife I gave you. It imparts additional magical powers to the pumpkins,” he added, winking slyly. “Thank you, Grandpa! I must hurry now; there’s so much to do before tonight,” Percy said as he spun his bike around and sped back in the direction he had just come from. Percy left the kitchen lights on at home, went to the backyard, and carefully selected a large pumpkin adorned with faint yellow stripes and green spots. He consulted his list to ascertain to whom this particular pumpkin belonged, took out his knife, and started carving. He decided to carve the face fast, nothing fancy or detailed, because he had many pumpkins to deliver around the town. Outside, it was still light and would be for several hours. He cut the pumpkin from its vine, carefully avoiding walking on any vines of leaves, carried it inside to the kitchen, and placed it on the rustic wooden table to await its transformation. There, he sat hunched over a Halloween pumpkin, his eager eyes reflecting the pumpkin before him, clutching a well-worn pocketknife, its blade glistening in the kitchen light. With deliberate care, the boy’s small hands gripped the knife’s handle as he studied the pumpkin’s surface. His brow furrowed in concentration as he envisioned the face he wished to carve. His fingers, guided by excitement and nervousness, traced the outlines of a jagged grin on the pumpkin’s surface. The pocketknife’s blade began its meticulous dance, slicing through the pumpkin’s flesh with a soft, rhythmic scrape. Percy felt like an invisible hand was guiding the knife, making fast slashes and creating something wild and magical, much faster than he could have done with any ordinary knife. As he carved, the boy’s face mirrored the emotions he was etching onto the pumpkin – a wide, mischievous grin with sharp, triangular teeth. Each blade stroke brought the eerie smile to life, one cut at a time. Occasionally, the boy paused to assess the work, sweat glistening on his forehead as he continued the intricate work. The pumpkin’s innards, a slimy tangle of seeds and pulp, were scooped out and set aside, making room for the flickering candle to illuminate the newly formed features. The boy’s knife moved skillfully, shaping eyes that seemed to glint with an otherworldly light. Finally, he completed the sinister visage by cutting out a crooked, triangular nose. With a sense of accomplishment and a touch of awe, Percy stood up and stepped back to admire his handiwork. The once faceless pumpkin had been transformed into a haunting jack-o’-lantern, its eerie expression now a testament to the boy’s Halloween spirit and a harbinger of the spooky festivities to come. The thought of delivering the first pumpkin to the home of the notorious bully weighed heavily on Percy’s mind. With determination and purpose, he cradled the pumpkin in his arms, feeling its heavy weight. Leaving the comfort of his home, Percy looked determined, his steps echoing with both resolve and a hint of anxiety. He trusted his grandfather, but he feared facing the bully. Luckily, he didn’t have to go far, just a few blocks. The large and imposing pumpkin felt like an appropriate offering to match the magnitude of the bully’s mean reputation. As he arrived at the bully’s residence, Percy carefully placed the pumpkin on the side of the driveway, a silent but poignant message. It was a gesture of peace, a plea for understanding, or perhaps a challenge, all wrapped into one silent act. With a lingering glance at the pumpkin, Percy quickly retreated, anxious to move on to the next pumpkin in his mission. And so, the hours passed, each marked by Percy’s unwavering commitment to his task. With dedication, he continued to carve pumpkins one by one, each destined for the doorstep of a different bully. Now a blazing orange orb on the horizon, the sun cast long shadows across the neighborhood, signaling the approaching end of a long and exhausting day. Fatigue weighed on Percy as he neared the conclusion of his mission. His hands were sore from the carving, his heart heavy from the emotional journey he had undertaken. Yet, as the last rays of sunlight painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, he found solace in the knowledge that he had completed his job. Percy had no idea how the magic in pumpkins would work. He guessed these pumpkins would draw their magic from the fairyland, and because they were delivered to his bullies, he suspected there was a malice curse or an evil spirit attached to the seeds he had planted and grown into pumpkins. The Fairy Magic As the evening cast its gentle shadows, Percy sat comfortably in the kitchen, savoring a cheese and tomato sandwich. As he relished each bite, his thoughts fluttered toward the mystery of the pumpkins. Throughout the summer, Percy had dedicated himself to the diligent care of those pumpkins, nurturing them with devotion. Tirelessly, he had ensured that the summer heat didn’t parch their roots and that insatiable bugs didn’t feast upon their dark green leaves and sprawling vines. The task had become more than a mere chore; it had evolved into a passionate pursuit, and Percy had unwittingly transformed himself into a skilled and caring gardener. As Percy chewed on his sandwich, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. His toil and devotion had borne fruit – or, in this case, pumpkins. Yet, anticipation washed over him as the night grew darker and the stars twinkled. What if, just maybe, these pumpkins harbored a secret, waiting to reveal itself on a night like tonight, on All Hallows’ Eve, as his grandfather had promised him? With each passing moment, Percy’s curiosity deepened. He couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight, something exciting might happen, and his life might take a bewitching turn due to the fairy magic that he knew floated in his veins just like his grandfather had told him. Percy stood up and walked to the kitchen window. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the moon ascended. This is the time when the pumpkins should show their magic, he thought. Even though he wasn’t there to see the pumpkins, their enchantment stirred, causing them to emit an eerie, luminescent glow from within. This ethereal radiance was a signal that they had awakened, ready to weave their ingrown fairy magic upon the residents of the houses where they were delivered. As the evening continued and the darkness deepened, the magical pumpkins emitted silver-tinged gas, which swirled through the air like a spectral mist. This gas carried a potent fairy magic that affected those who encountered it. Those who inhaled this mystical vapor found themselves succumbing to a series of vivid hallucinations that would make them see supernatural and eerily realistic creatures like spectral witches, werewolves, ghosts, goblins, and monsters and overwhelming all their senses. As Percy stared outside, he saw one of his bullies, the same sturdy boy with long black bangs who had pushed him down to the ground on the first day at school, running out of his house, looking scared and screaming for help. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if he thought someone was following him. The bully boy was dressed like Dracula for Halloween, but now he looked pale as snow as he ran along the sidewalk. “Help! The monsters are chasing me! Anyone, please, help me!” A couple of adults stopped him, trying to ask what was wrong, but he just pointed behind him and said, “Don’t you see them? They are right there coming after me! I will be dead if they catch me!” As the adults didn’t see anyone nearby, they were convinced that it was just the boy’s imagination in play. They shook their heads and walked away. Curious, Percy kept watching the events folding outside. The next one of his pumpkin victims appeared panting and puking on the side of the road. He also asked for help from the adults he met. He explained that witches with glowing eyes and flowing robes stirred cauldrons of shimmering potions in his front yard, and they had forced him to eat bats’ legs and moldy cabbage from her cauldron. The adults laughed. “Funny story! Keep at it,” they told him. They believed that he was acting because it was All Hallow’s Eve. None of the adults noticed anything extraordinary, even if both boys swore ghosts and monsters were around. Percy went outside to see the pumpkins at work. He walked along the street, checking up on the houses where he had delivered the pumpkins. At each home, he saw the bully emerging outside, crying, screaming, pleading for help, or curling up in their yard, fearing the supernatural powers working around them. The next victim came running out and explained that he saw ethereal processions of ghostly figures, all shrouded in mist, parading through the walls of his home. They had wanted to take him with them to the other side, to the land of the ghosts. He had run out when he figured out what the ghosts wanted. One bully sat on the sidewalk holding his head as terrifying monsters emerged from the dark corners of his mind, their growls and roars shaking the very foundation of his sanity. As Percy strolled ahead, viewing the power of pumpkins, his grandfather appeared next to him. He hadn’t heard him coming, but suddenly he was there. “Are you pleased with the pumpkins’ power?” Grandfather turned his head to Percy and stared at him with his eyes shining with fairy magic. “Yes, I guess,” Percy replied. “I don’t know if this will stop the bullying.” “It might. And if it doesn’t, then we’ll work out something else. If these bullies don’t want to lose their sanity, they will stop what they have been doing,” his grandfather replied. “Fairy magic is powerful; you have only given them a tiny taste tonight.” The pumpkin-induced hallucinations were petrifying as they blurred the line between the normal world and the supernatural. The bullies found themselves caught in a tormenting dilemma, their hearts torn between the intoxicating allure of fear and the instinctual urge to flee from the nightmarish apparitions that haunted their senses. The supernatural visions were both tempting and repellant, beckoning them further into the abyss while urging them to retreat from the unknown. Their transformation was palpable. No longer did they swagger down the school hallways with the same arrogance. The once-feared bullies, who had reveled in their dominance, now hesitated to venture anywhere alone, haunted by the memories of the paranormal visions that had left their minds scarred. They refused to be the first to enter a dimly lit room or explore shadowy corridors. Their newfound anxiety and vulnerability were apparent to all, and the bullies were now objects of pity rather than terror. As the shadows continued to dance in the corners of their minds, the bullies’ once-mighty careers as tormentors faded into obscurity, forever altered by the magic of that unforgettable All Hallows’ Eve. *** Percy’s life unfolded in the human realm, where he lived with his mother and attended school like any ordinary child. However, hidden beneath the facade of his everyday existence, a yearning dwelled within him—a secret wish to journey to the enchanting fairyland and reunite with his fairy father. In the quiet moments, when the world was still and his heart whispered dreams, Percy would confide in his grandfather. “I didn’t know the pumpkins would be so powerful. The bullies have changed. I can live now with my mother without being afraid of them. It’s the first time in this world this has happened.” The old fairy would listen to him. “That’s what I hoped. Fairy magic is powerful. Maybe someday you will visit your father with me and learn more about the magic we can create.” “I’d like that.” Percy’s smile brightened his face. His grandfather advised Percy. "You'll have to grow here and learn the ways of this human world before you can enter the fairyland. And that moment has not yet arrived." Patience was the virtue Percy would have to master, for the clock of fate ticked to its rhythm, and the fairyland would remain beyond his reach for now. Meet Arla Jones, a multi-genre author hailing from the picturesque landscapes of Finland, now making waves in the literary world from the tranquil shores of Michigan.
With a penchant for exploring diverse genres, the author captivates readers with tales that traverse the realms of mystery, romance, thriller, sci-fi, and fantasy, weaving intricate narratives that transport audiences to worlds both familiar and fantastical. When not penning captivating stories, the author enjoys gardening and painting.
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About the Author:S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland. “Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.” Archives
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