Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater

It was a cold, silent night. The wind whistled and howled, its gales rasping against the glass window pane. A waning crescent hung from the pitch-black sky, shrouded in the blue-tinted grey clouds. I stared through the telescope, my mind full of wonders as my gaze met with the moon. Dormount was such a pretty village at night. Within my room, posters and photographs were affixed to the walls, displaying constellations, galaxies, skies, suns, moons and stars. All of which were my passion. From the ceiling, a solar system sent light flowing into my room.
~Peter, Peter.~ 
A sound, a low grumble. It opposed the usual night sounds of Dormount; of which usually consisted of crickets' songs and rustling tree branches. And then, I realized the sounds must have belonged to mother's voice, coming to check up on me. I leapt into my bedsheets, switching off the lights in such a quick sequence I had forgotten I had even done so. Mother would kill me if she caught me awake at this time of night again.
~Pumpkin eater.~ 
Footsteps. The grumble I had heard earlier sounded once again. Except, this time, I could interpret them as faint words. Was mother talking to someone? But who? We were the only ones who were here, since father was at work, as far as I knew. Lightning flashed. It sent light flooding into the room, lighting up my reflection in the mirror opposite me and my bed.
~Had a wife but couldn't keep her.~ 
The sound grew louder, no, closer. A screeching sound caused my eardrums to throb with pain, it was so loud it was unbearable. It was as if metal was being dragged across the floorboards, coming closer and closer. Closer and closer. By now, I had began to call out; "Mother? Is that you?", but my voice was overcome by the metallic screeches.
~He put her in a pumpkin shell.~ 
Now, it was clear to me someone was singing a melody of some sort. It was too masculine and low-pitched to be my mother's voice, though who else could it be? Paranoia ached through my bones, dreading the thought of a stranger inside my own home. The screeching got louder. My heart beat furiously against my chest, as if trying to escape the girl that held it prisoner. Each of my breaths were shaky, whilst every part of my body trembled in uttermost fear.
~And there he kept her very well~
I bit my lip. For some reason, I couldn't convince myself everything was okay. I couldn't convince myself that it was anything but danger. I couldn't. I couldn't function. I was too afraid, afraid of what was behind the door, of what was singing this eerie symphony. Another flash of lightning sent shivers down my spine, lighting up the mirror across the room. But in the brief showcase of my reflection, I wasn't alone.
~Peter, Peter pumpkin eater...~
The words were unmistakable. Not only that, but something had been standing in the doorway, I had been sure of it. My inner instincts told me to hide, hide beneath my bedsheets and quilts, build a fortress of pillows and never leave. But I was frozen. Frozen still in the unnerving uncomfortable position that I always try to avoid sleeping in. The sound of multiple throbbing heartbeats echoed constantly in my mind, always there. Slam. The sound of my window shutting.
~Had another and didn't love her~
My stomach twisted and turned inside my body as each word entered my ears. At this moment, I leapt out my bed, shuffling to a corner of the room. I clung onto my teddy bear tightly and began to cry, as any 14 year old would do. "Father if you're playing a trick on me, I swear!-" I yelled, my voice cracking and shattering as it left my throat, interrupting myself.
An unnerving silence gave me time to lift the tears shrouding my sight.
And there I saw a shadowy figure, standing still in the darkness. Lightning lit the yellowish-white silhouette of a toothy grin.
~Up the chimney he did shove her.~
This line stood out from the rest, as if the man before me was telling me my fate. He whispered it in an eery tone, staring down at me with one hand gripping the axe, the other gripping the scissors.
"Peter, Peter, the Pumpkin Eater."
Those were my final words, despite the fact I am sure I was not the one speaking them.
----
Pumpkin Eater Police Case,        Log #143                                  6th June 1986
The case on the 14-year old victim, Janice Braford, and her 39-year old mother, Mary Braford, has finally been concluded. Each of their corpses has been found, together, in the chimney of their own home. It seems the "Pumpkin Eater", who is usually known to cut up his victims and stuff the remnants into pumpkin shells, has more than just one method of killing.
This time, it seems the two corpses were tormented with a sharp unidentified object, as their eyes were gorged out, along with the daughter's tongue. Then, the two must have been forcefully shoved up the compact chimney and secured with barbed wire, perhaps even alive, for it would seem they both suffocated on soot before dying of blood loss. The idea of them being alive has been sparked from multiple scratches, seeming to have originated from human nails, in the insides of the chimney. Both victims had multiple uneven broken nails to support this theory. No clues were left behind for us to know who the killer was - it may not even be the Pumpkin Eater, but it seems to be too a similar case to not relate somehow.
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