The Pumpkin King

== WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC CONTENT. ==
The Pumpkin King: Harvest of Blood
In the heart of the forgotten countryside town of Hollowbrooke, there was a legend older than anyone could remember—a tale of a cursed pumpkin patch that no one dared to visit, especially on Halloween. The Pumpkin King, they called him—a grotesque, sentient monster born from the soil itself. His thirst for blood was endless, and his cruelty knew no bounds. But this Halloween, the people of Hollowbrooke would learn the hard way that legends are far more terrifying when they come to life.
Backstory
Many years ago, before Hollowbrooke was even a town, the land was the site of an ancient harvest festival. The villagers who lived there were a strange lot, performing bizarre rituals to ensure a bountiful harvest. One year, during the height of their celebrations, the village faced a terrible famine. In desperation, the villagers sacrificed an outsider who had stumbled upon their festival. His blood soaked the earth, and from that cursed soil, a single pumpkin grew, larger and more twisted than any the villagers had ever seen.
The moment they harvested it, a terrible force was unleashed. The Pumpkin King, a malevolent entity born of their sacrifice, emerged. His carved face was frozen in a wicked grin, his jagged teeth gleaming under the pale moonlight. He slaughtered the entire village, his vine-like arms strangling and tearing apart anyone in his path. Afterward, he disappeared, but the blood-soaked earth of Hollowbrooke remained cursed forever.
Chapter 1: The Awakening
It was the night before Halloween, and a group of teenagers—Sarah, Derek, Julie, and Mike—decided to prove the old legends wrong. They ventured into the cursed pumpkin patch to take photos for their social media accounts. As they laughed and teased each other under the full moon, they found the largest pumpkin they’d ever seen. Its surface was rough, scarred with strange symbols, and its size was monstrous, easily towering over them.
“Look at this thing!” Mike shouted. “We should carve it.”
As they approached the pumpkin, the ground beneath them began to shake. Vines, thick and covered in thorns, shot out of the soil, wrapping around Mike’s legs. He screamed, but it was too late. The vines tightened, slicing through his skin like razors. Blood gushed from his legs as the vines pulled him toward the pumpkin, which had now split open, revealing a gaping maw filled with rows of jagged teeth.
Before anyone could react, the vines yanked Mike into the pumpkin’s mouth. His screams were cut short as the jaws clamped down, crushing his body in a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed from the pumpkin’s maw, painting the ground red.
The Pumpkin King had awakened.
Chapter 2: The Slaughter Begins
The remaining three tried to run, but the vines slithered after them with terrifying speed. Derek was the next to fall. A vine shot through his chest, impaling him from behind and lifting him into the air. The others watched in horror as Derek was slowly pulled apart, his limbs torn from his body in a shower of blood. His screams echoed through the night as the Pumpkin King’s laughter filled the air.
Sarah and Julie managed to reach the edge of the pumpkin patch, but as they turned to look back, they saw the vines dragging Derek’s dismembered body toward the monstrous gourd. His severed head was placed at the top of the pumpkin, the eyes still wide in terror, as the Pumpkin King wore it like a crown.
Chapter 3: A Town’s Nightmare
The Pumpkin King’s reign of terror didn’t stop with the teenagers. As the sun set on Halloween night, he made his way into Hollowbrooke, his hulking form illuminated by the flickering streetlights. His carved face glowed with an eerie orange light, and from his jagged mouth, laughter boomed across the town.
His vines slithered through the streets, snatching victims from their homes, ripping them apart with cruel precision. Families were slaughtered as they huddled together, doors locked, hoping to survive the night. One man was dragged out of his house, his eyes gouged out by the Pumpkin King’s vine tendrils before being flung against the town’s clock tower, his body shattering upon impact.
The Pumpkin King moved through the town like a reaper, leaving nothing but carnage in his wake. He found the town’s elementary school and burst through the doors, the children’s Halloween party inside turning into a massacre. Vines whipped across the room, decapitating some and strangling others. One child, barely ten, had her face peeled off by the Pumpkin King’s jagged claws, her body tossed aside like a ragdoll.
Chapter 4: The Festival of Flesh
As the night wore on, the Pumpkin King dragged his victims—dozens by now—back to the pumpkin patch. The bodies, mangled and torn apart, were piled high at the base of his throne, a twisted scarecrow’s cross made from the bones of the dead. Their blood soaked the earth, feeding the cursed soil from which he had arisen.
In the center of the patch, the Pumpkin King began a ritual, summoning forth the spirits of the ancient villagers who had once sacrificed the outsider. Their ghosts screamed in eternal torment as he tore their souls from the ether, devouring them one by one. With each soul consumed, his form grew larger, more grotesque. His eyes blazed with fire, and his vines stretched for miles, reaching every corner of the town.
By dawn, Hollowbrooke was a wasteland of death. The once quiet town had become a graveyard, its streets running red with blood, its buildings burned to the ground. The Pumpkin King, now towering over the town, stood triumphant, his laugh echoing through the smoke-filled air.
Chapter 5: The Final Survivors
By morning, only Sarah and Julie remained alive, hiding in the ruins of the church. They had seen everything—the massacre, the children, the families—all reduced to corpses. Their hearts were heavy with grief, but they knew they couldn’t give up.
As the Pumpkin King approached, his body now towering over the church, the two survivors made one last desperate plan. They lured him into the churchyard, where they had gathered every gas can they could find. As the Pumpkin King’s vines burst through the windows, they lit the gasoline.
Flames engulfed the Pumpkin King’s massive body, but instead of screams, there was only laughter. His carved grin twisted into something even more sinister as he walked through the fire, his pumpkin flesh charring and cracking but never burning away completely. He grabbed Julie with a vine, lifting her into the air and crushing her ribs with a sickening crunch. Blood poured from her mouth as she was torn in half.
Sarah, the last survivor, screamed in rage and despair. She charged at the Pumpkin King with a kitchen knife, stabbing at his thick, charred skin. But it was no use. He grabbed her, lifted her high into the air, and slowly impaled her on a spike made from his own twisted vines.
As her blood dripped down onto the cursed soil, the Pumpkin King let out one final, booming laugh.
Epilogue: A New Reign
The town of Hollowbrooke was never found. By the next morning, the entire place had vanished, swallowed up by the cursed earth. In its place stood a new pumpkin patch, larger than before, and at its center, the Pumpkin King sat on his throne of bones, waiting.
Every Halloween, a new town would disappear, its people vanishing without a trace, its streets soaked in blood. The Pumpkin King would never stop. He was eternal, born of sacrifice and sustained by carnage.
The harvest would continue, and the blood would flow forever. Chapter 2: The Blood Harvest
The Pumpkin King’s vines slithered through the streets of Hollowbrooke with a dark hunger, as if the town itself was nothing more than a banquet waiting to be devoured. The night had barely begun, and already the air was thick with the stench of blood. The houses, once lit with festive Halloween decorations, were now splattered with crimson. The Pumpkin King had no mercy, and his cruelty went far beyond simple slaughter. He was an artist of pain, and tonight, his canvas was the entire town.
The Execution of Derek
Derek’s body hung in the air, impaled on the thorny vine that shot through his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps, blood bubbling at his lips as the jagged tendril twisted inside him, slicing through muscle and bone. His face was pale, eyes wide in terror, as he dangled like a piece of meat before the Pumpkin King. But this was only the beginning.
With a flick of its vines, the Pumpkin King flung Derek toward the town square. His body landed with a sickening thud in front of the old fountain, cracking his ribs on the stone edge. He tried to crawl, his shattered bones grinding inside him, but there was no escape. The Pumpkin King descended upon him, its massive pumpkin head glowing with a hellish light.
The Pumpkin King’s vines wrapped around Derek’s wrists and ankles, lifting him into the air. Then, with a terrifying slowness, they began to stretch him. His limbs were pulled taut, his joints popping one by one, dislocating with sickening cracks. Derek’s screams pierced the night as his arms and legs were yanked further, skin splitting, muscles tearing. Blood poured from the seams as his body was ripped apart, limb from limb, until finally, with a wet, gruesome snap, his torso split in two, sending his guts spilling onto the cold cobblestones below.
His severed limbs were mounted on the buildings surrounding the square like grotesque trophies, and his head—eyes still wide with terror—was impaled on a spike and placed atop the fountain as a warning to anyone who dared to fight back.
The Market Square Massacre
The Pumpkin King’s rampage continued through the market square, where dozens of people had gathered, thinking they would be safe if they stayed in numbers. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
The first victim was an elderly woman, too slow to run. She was caught by a vine that coiled around her neck like a noose. In one swift motion, the Pumpkin King yanked her upward, snapping her neck with a grisly crunch. Her lifeless body dangled in the air as the vines twisted tighter, popping her head clean off her shoulders. Her decapitated corpse fell to the ground, while her head was hurled into the crowd, hitting a fleeing man in the face.
Panic erupted, but the Pumpkin King was far from finished. He grabbed another victim, a young man, by the legs. The vine lifted him high before slamming him onto an old, rotting wooden cart. The impact shattered his spine, but the Pumpkin King wasn’t satisfied. His vines wrapped around the man’s legs, and with a violent tug, they were torn from his body, leaving a gory trail of blood and exposed bone. His screams were drowned in the flood of blood pouring from his severed legs as he was left to bleed out in the dirt.
Nearby, a father tried to shield his daughter behind him, but the Pumpkin King had no sympathy. His vine lashed out, wrapping around the man’s throat and dragging him toward the wooden stocks that had been part of the town’s Halloween decorations. In a cruel twist of fate, the Pumpkin King used the very stocks to imprison the man, slamming his head into the wooden holes and locking it in place.
The man thrashed and screamed, begging for mercy, but the Pumpkin King’s vines weren’t done. They wrapped around his midsection, squeezing tight until his abdomen burst open, spilling his intestines onto the ground. The daughter, paralyzed with horror, watched as the Pumpkin King used another vine to force-feed her father his own entrails, shoving the bloody ropes of intestines down his throat until his body convulsed in agony. The man choked on his own blood, eyes rolling back in his head as his body finally went limp.
The daughter didn’t even have time to react before she, too, was grabbed. But her fate was crueler still. The Pumpkin King dragged her to the guillotine—a medieval execution device that had been set up as a decoration for the town’s haunted house. With a sadistic grin, the Pumpkin King forced her head beneath the blade.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, too terrified to move. The young girl’s sobs were the only sound as the Pumpkin King placed her hands on the guillotine’s lever, forcing her to pull it herself. The blade dropped with a brutal shunk, severing her head in a clean cut. Her body slumped forward, head rolling across the platform before being snatched up by a vine, placed beside her father’s still-twitching corpse.
The Iron Maiden
The Pumpkin King’s lust for torment seemed endless. He made his way to the center of the town square, where the final survivor of the market massacre—a young woman named Emily—was hiding in the shadows. She trembled as she watched him approach the Iron Maiden, another Halloween prop that had been used in the town’s haunted house display.
With a horrific glee, the Pumpkin King forced her into the device. The iron spikes dug into her skin as the door slowly closed, pressing her body against the sharp points. Emily screamed, blood pouring from her mouth as the spikes punctured her lungs, her body contorted in agony. The Pumpkin King didn’t close the door all the way—no, he wanted to savor her pain. He left it open just enough to keep her alive, to make sure she suffered as long as possible.
Her blood ran down the spikes in thick rivulets, pooling at her feet as she gasped for breath, each movement driving the spikes deeper into her flesh. She wouldn’t die quickly. The Pumpkin King had made sure of that. He wanted her agony to last.
A Pyre of Flesh
With the square littered with corpses, the Pumpkin King wasn’t content to leave the bodies where they lay. He gathered them—every severed limb, every decapitated head, every torso ripped open—and stacked them high in the center of the town. Blood dripped from the grotesque mound of flesh as he built a pyre from the remains of his victims.
Then, with a wave of his vine-like arms, he set the pyre ablaze.
The fire roared to life, casting a hellish glow over the town as the stench of burning flesh filled the air. The screams of those who were still barely alive in the pile echoed in the night, their skin bubbling and charring as the flames consumed them.
The Pumpkin King stood before his burning creation, his glowing eyes reflecting the inferno he had wrought. His jagged mouth curled into a twisted smile as he watched the pyre burn, the crackling of flesh and bone like music to his ears.
The town of Hollowbrooke had become a slaughterhouse, a medieval nightmare brought to life in the most brutal way imaginable. And the Pumpkin King, bathed in the light of the burning bodies, stood victorious, ready to continue his harvest of blood.
Category:Halloween
Category:Story
Category:Special Event
Category:Cosmic Entity