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The initial sign that led you down the little gravely road today, this crisp, chilly day of October, was a worn one, made of sun-bleached wood with hand-painted, fading letters that simply said Salem's Pumpkins. It had a massive, carved pumpkin resting on the ground below, its cunning grin and squinting eyes ever beckoning you to bring its faceless brethren home if you only dared to travel down this winding path. Maybe it did take you to this Salem-person's pumpkins, and maybe it didn't? Who knew where you'd end up in your quest for pumpkins? How far would you go and what would you do to retrieve those pretty orange vegetables? Is it worth it?
Haha, I got you there. It's just a pumpkin patch at the end of the road. A smaller, lush field of pumpkins of various sizes and colors, lined with lots of haybales and the occasional maple tree, some decorated with festive lights and lanterns. There was a small, empty, makeshift parking lot right next to it, and a tiny, timeworn shed with gardening tools and stuff like a cartwheel and broken pots strewn about in the front. The shed was decorated with carved pumpkins and lanterns that needed lighting. While he didn't appreciate trick-or-treaters at his doorstep, he still always made an effort at this time of the year, that strange man with the strange name, the one that people barely knew, yet loved gossiping about. Somehow people knew more about him than he did, how odd...
His build and clothing made him look like a black, animated stick figure in the distance. But on closer look he wore mucky rubber boots, black jeans with grass stains and gardening gloves as he carried a second wooden sign under his arm. A black, knitted jumper and a black scarf kept him warm. Both had hay on it, he usually looked tidy and clean but there really was no use fretting over his looks when tending to the pumpkins.
Up for sale was a green, smaller type of decorative pumpkin, big, orange ones, and the rather popular, white and smooth type that seemed to sell well this year. The wooden sign that he was about to hammer into the ground next to a big scale stated their prices, along with a warning which gave away at this likely wasn't the first time he sold pumpkins for halloween;
Green and orange pumpkins $2/lbs
White pumpkins $3/lbs
Don't you dare haggle with me you bloody skinflint
The initial sign that led you down the little gravely road today, this crisp, chilly day of October, was a worn one, made of sun-bleached wood with hand-painted, fading letters that simply said Salem's Pumpkins. It had a massive, carved pumpkin resting on the ground below, its cunning grin and squinting eyes ever beckoning you to bring its faceless brethren home if you only dared to travel down this winding path. Maybe it did take you to this Salem-person's pumpkins, and maybe it didn't? Who knew where you'd end up in your quest for pumpkins? How far would you go and what would you do to retrieve those pretty orange vegetables? Is it worth it?
Haha, I got you there. It's just a pumpkin patch at the end of the road. A smaller, lush field of pumpkins of various sizes and colors, lined with lots of haybales and the occasional maple tree, some decorated with festive lights and lanterns. There was a small, empty, makeshift parking lot right next to it, and a tiny, timeworn shed with gardening tools and stuff like a cartwheel and broken pots strewn about in the front. The shed was decorated with carved pumpkins and lanterns that needed lighting. While he didn't appreciate trick-or-treaters at his doorstep, he still always made an effort at this time of the year, that strange man with the strange name, the one that people barely knew, yet loved gossiping about. Somehow people knew more about him than he did, how odd...
His build and clothing made him look like a black, animated stick figure in the distance. But on closer look he wore mucky rubber boots, black jeans with grass stains and gardening gloves as he carried a second wooden sign under his arm. A black, knitted jumper and a black scarf kept him warm. Both had hay on it, he usually looked tidy and clean but there really was no use fretting over his looks when tending to the pumpkins.
Up for sale was a green, smaller type of decorative pumpkin, big, orange ones, and the rather popular, white and smooth type that seemed to sell well this year. The wooden sign that he was about to hammer into the ground next to a big scale stated their prices, along with a warning which gave away at this likely wasn't the first time he sold pumpkins for halloween;
Green and orange pumpkins $2/lbs
White pumpkins $3/lbs
Don't you dare haggle with me you bloody skinflint
Melissa winona red lightning was riding in her mom's aylssa Nicole Red lightning camero. Suddenly she spotted at the end of a dusty road. The pumpkin patch and the field of pumpkins, haybales and decorations. Melissa says "let's get a pumpkin to carve for our house". Aylssa smiled and pulled into the dusty parking lot. They pursued the pumpkins til Melissa picked out a perfect green and orange one. Aylssa took out the 2.00 dollars to pay for it. The mother and daughter then waited at the end of the driveway for the owner Salem to appear to pay him for the pumpkin they chose. And to compliment him on his treamoudous pumpkin patch.
Aylssa and her daughter entered the near by shed. Aylssa left 2.00 dollars and a note saying. "Dear sir, here is 2.00 dollars for the pumpkin we picked out from your field. Have a happy hallowen. Aylssa and Melissa red lightning". They put the pumpkin they picked out in the trunk and drove off into the dark spooky Halloween evening.
((I apologize for not replying. Real life caught up to me and I had to prioritize other things over RPR. I'm also in a creative slump, so I'm closing the thread.))
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