Pumpkin patch Stories

It was All Hallows’ Eve in the town of Windy Hollow, tucked away in a holler in the hills of Eastern Kentucky. And you should also be aware that things ran a little differently there, but different wasn’t always a bad thing. You see, each October, a patch of bluegrass sprouted up by the dirt road leading into town. And on that grass popped up a vine of the plumpest pumpkins anyone had ever seen. Most would take first priz...

“Oh my God Tommy, pull over, pull over!” Maria Casanova squawked, grabbing her husband’s rock-solid shoulder. He slammed on the brakes, making an abrupt right-hand turn up a shabby, weed-filtered gravel driveway. Tommy parked the car under a soaring, lifeless tree where a rotted out birdhouse dangled from a heavy branch. The dented black mailbox stood with the name Rey finger-painted in bold white letters. “I gotta have t...