The Legend of the Pumpkin Thief

Professional Reviews

Rave Reviews for The Legend of the Pumpkin Thief!
"Charles Day's The Legend of the Pumpkin Thief should be every Halloween-crazy kid's favorite book—and a lot of us adults will love this wonderful tale as well. Part mystery, part fantasy, and part perfect Halloween scary story, it all adds up to 100% sheer delight. Bravo to intrepid young detective Nick, that black-suited Pumpkin Thief, and Charles Day for putting them together in this sweet-'n'-spooky novella."
~Lisa Morton, four-time Bram Stoker Award winner and author of The Halloween Encyclopedia.

‎"Charles Day has unleashed a brand new boogeyman for Halloween. The Pumpkin Thief is a scary, scary man. Luckily, for this small town, Day has also given us a hero in Nick that is up for the challenge. Add Legend of the Pumpkin Thief to the list of future Halloween classics for all ages."
~David C. Hayes, author and director of Blood Moon Rising, The Frankenstein Syndrome.

"The Legend of the Pumpkin Thief is an enchanting tale about a teen who wants to be a detective and the mysterious Halloween legend he needs to solve. With this engrossing cross between classic Hardy Boys tales and contemporary YA fiction, Charles Day grabbed my attention on page one and didn't let go until the end."
~Peter Giglio, author of Anon and Balance.

"A fantastic ride encompassing all the best elements of both the season and YA storytelling."
~David Dunwoody, author of Dark Entities and Unbound and Other Tales.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Nick sniffed the cold air that had started to settle in and around Chesterville, New York, his quaint upstate hometown, located in the Catskill Mountains. Halloween was one day away, a Friday this year. Nick looked forward to the holiday, one of his favorites, next to Christmas. However, early Thursday evening, he had something he enjoyed even better, a great mystery.

Nick flipped through the final pages of yet another mystery novel that fed his mind with exciting characters and great plots. As he sat in bed with his new favorite book held in his sweaty palms, the earth could have exploded into smithereens, his house pulled from its foundation by a tornado—it didn't matter what catastrophe might occur at this moment; Nick found himself fully immersed in the final chapter of the suspenseful literary masterpiece.

He loved stories about missing people, crazed or degenerate criminals intent on doing their victims harm, or a detective who was two clues away from capturing his suspects.

Although he was only 17, Nick already had read an ample number of mystery novels in his short life. He kept his own personal collection in a large cardboard box on a shelf in his closet, safe above wooden hangers holding football jerseys, dyed T-shirts, and ripped blue jeans, and he was about to add this latest mystery to his library. Just a few pages to go and he would know what these characters were up to . . . until he heard a voice from downstairs.

"Nick, time for dinner, I'm not going to call you again." His mother yelled up the stairs, apparently for the second time. Yes, nothing interrupted his concentration when he neared the end of a good mystery book—except his mom, with her threatening voice.

Nick's mother was not unlike other mothers in the neighborhood. He had some friends whose moms were the same when it came to gathering their families for dinner, but tonight was not the night. He wanted to finish the final pages before stepping back into reality.

"I'll be down in a minute, ma." Nick screamed back, but his eyes still focused on the book. Yet, he knew he'd be in trouble if he didn't heed her call. His father would eventually come upstairs and yell at him for not showing up at the table on time. He bookmarked the page, took a quick peek at himself in the mirror on his way out of his room, admired the short blond hair, blue eyes, and thin physique—still looking good, guy—then quickly ran downstairs to join his family.

As Nick walked into the dining room, he saw Samantha, his younger sister, already seated at the table, with a generous portion of meat and potatoes falling over the edge of her plate. Her dark hair, pulled up into pigtails, bobbed as she inhaled the aromas. And, coming out from the kitchen, with freshly baked dinner rolls, was Mom.

"Sit down, Nick," Mom said, passing him, while the smell from those warm rolls filled his nostrils and made his mouth water.

As Nick suspected, Mom, adorned in a silk blouse, yellow skirt, and high heels, dressed as if she'd just stepped out of one of those beauty magazines scattered about the house. However, he focused on those dinner rolls she'd placed on the table. He had to have one. As he went to grab a roll, Samantha's annoying voice short-circuited his growing appetite to savor the warm goodness.

"Glad you could make it, snot-face," she said, smiling at Nick.

There she was, in all her glory, his pigtailed brat of a sister.

Nick's appetite suddenly disappeared. He stared at Samantha, who continued to smile, and wondered how he could make his sister's life miserable at that very moment.

"That's it, sis, fill up on all that food you got there on your plate so you can keep getting nice and fat, because—"

"Ma!" Samantha yelled.

"Knock it off, Nicholas. Leave your sister alone and let her eat," Mom said.

Of course, her screaming was always his fault. Whether or not his sister was wrong didn't matter; it seemed that he'd be the guilty one. In fact, Nick knew that even if she stood on the dinner table and kicked the plates full of food to the floor, with his parents witnessing the whole event, he'd still be the guilty one, accused of making her do it.

"Yeah, okay . . . . I know it's my fault. Even though she called me snot-face, I'm the one who's guilty." Nick gestured, using his hands to show his frustration. "Whatever."

Nick watched his father come in while he argued.

"I don't care much who's at fault, what I want is for everyone to stifle it and eat your food . . .
understood?" He sat down at the head of the table.

"Ma, have a seat and join us." He looked to his left. "Nick and Samantha, not another word out of you two, or you're both grounded."

That's what Nick wanted to hear—fairness. His dad was harsh, when it came to disciplinary things, but he also was fair. Nick could reason with him on occasion, and he liked that.

"Oh, by the way," his father said, looking confused, "I was coming in from the rain and noticed the jack-o'-lantern on the steps out front is missing. Anybody know where it went?"

He knew his dad wanted an answer from him, by the stare he sent deep into Nick's eyes. The Stare of Death!

Nick felt singled out again. Sure, Dad, blame it on me. Score another for win for Sam.

Nick heard the drops of water as they exploded on the roof. Loud tapping sounded against the windows from the windswept rain. Halloween is tomorrow. Maybe one of the local punks in the neighborhood took it to use as a flying projectile.

Nick figured that since eggs were hard to come by on Halloween, especially for minors, it had to be a teenager who'd stolen their pumpkin, to toss around instead. That would make a nice mess on some unsuspecting neighbor's driveway.

Then it hit him. Here was his chance to find out who may have taken the carved-out pumpkin, and, maybe, assist in the apprehension of the punk. After eating most of his dinner, Nick excused himself from the table, then ran up to his room to gather a few items.

He shut his door, surprised his parents didn't question his early departure from their nightly dinner ritual. Not even an evil eye glanced his way from his mom. That had certainly made him feel better. No need to get on mom's bad side.

There was another good reason to venture out and start his investigation: to be far away from his sister.

She was trouble.

There was a mystery to solve, the case of the missing pumpkin, and he figured he'd start by checking to see if any of his neighbors were missing their pumpkins.

The new mystery reminded him of the stories he'd heard among his classmates: the urban legend of the Pumpkin Thief. He'd cut out an article about this legend from the school's newsletter a few years ago, when he'd first heard the story, intrigued by the creepiness of it all.

Nick wanted to read the article again. He went to his desk and rummaged through his stack of papers until he located the piece of tattered print, written by some kid, a Jeffery Beamer, in the Journalism Club. He'd certainly done his research on the urban legend. Nick re-read the whole thing while standing.

"Legend of the Pumpkin Thief, by Jeffery Beamer.

"One thing that truly amazes me is urban legends. I've heard a few good ones over the years, some from watching TV, others from Googling urban legends. So when some of my older friends in school shared with me the Pumpkin Thief legend, I just had to do a little bit of research. And this is what I found.

"Legend has it that around Halloween, this evil creature, the Pumpkin Thief, a tall, green-bean-thin figure in a black suit and large, orange tie, with a massive orange pumpkin for a head, and carved-out eyes, nose, and jagged mouth, would sneak into a town of his choosing and snatch up the pumpkins at night. He'd collect as many as he could hold, then he'd carry them away to a secret location.

"Why did he snatch up all the pumpkins? Well, my dear readers, folklore said it had to do with him trying to stop the townsfolk from using them to ward off evil spirits. You see, without the pumpkins to protect their homes, they were prey to all the ghosts, ghouls, and goblins that float around on Halloween, having fun on the one night when they get to celebrate all things horror. They run amok and frighten trick-or-treaters. It's their night, and the Pumpkin Thief does what he can to allow them to have fun on this special night.

"Now, although the urban legend has been discredited, I was able to retrieve some stories from people who said they have evidence that he is indeed real.

"It appears that a few local towns had confirmed that this Pumpkin Thief visited them. They had their pumpkins stolen, and on Halloween night, weird things happened to a few of the townsfolk. Some said they saw ghosts peering into their homes through the windows. One person claimed that a small goblin floating about his bedroom chased him. Another said his doorbell kept ringing, but no one was there. I even found a few photos from a nearby town that had these shots showing strange, large, orb-type lights floating above their homes on Halloween night.

"Of course, experts discredited these allegations, and no one had concrete evidence of a Pumpkin Thief caught red-handed grabbing pumpkins; nonetheless, the legend continues. Which town will be next?"

Nick stopped reading. He had enough to go on. One missing pumpkin certainly did not qualify as a visit from the Pumpkin Thief. But it was kind of cool, getting all worked up the night before the holiday, a special holiday devoted to celebrating evil and dead things. Nonetheless, the article intrigued him. Maybe I should look into this some more, find out who else might have been visited by this legend since Jeffery wrote the article. I need to track down the guy. I'm sure he's got more to tell.

He replaced the article on the pile of papers and went to pack his jacket pockets with all the detective tools he'd need for tonight: a flashlight, cell phone, and a small pair of binoculars. Those were all he had, so far. He'd ordered some other items out of one of his detective comic books, but they hadn't shipped yet. He loved all the detective gadgetry!

He knew what he wanted to do when he graduated from high school next June and tossed that strange, square-shaped hat in the air. He'd take the police exam and apply to the academy.

Nick's long-term goal, once on the police force: to achieve the rank of detective. Once he had the title, and access to all that high-tech gadgetry he'd seen on his favorite TV shows, he'd be happier than an ant in a picnic basket.

Of course, going to college to attain a degree in criminal justice, and majoring in forensics, was another goal, one he needed to finish first, since the police force required applications to have a two-year degree before they could take the exam.

His family's pumpkin had gone missing, most likely stolen, giving him the perfect opportunity for an early taste of detective work. Just the thought of it excited him, as he began preparations for tonight's quick investigation. He already had an idea who may have put their grubby hands on his pumpkin. Lou, the bully of his neighborhood!

Nick sat on his bed for a moment longer, still imagining how, one day, he'd succeed at what he wanted to do. He felt really motivated to finish boring high school and get into real life.

He'd already passed his road, test shortly after he turned sixteen, so he had accomplished that part of becoming more independent. Unfortunately, he'd driven around for only a short time because his car, a '95 Mustang GT, had blown some engine parts, and had been sitting in the garage ever since, because he couldn't afford the expensive repairs.

He'd lost his job at Burger King for being late too many times, and was still without a job. He'd asked his parents to lend him money for the repairs, but they refused to give him a dime because they felt he should have a job.

Sure, the engine parts he needed were expensive, and he'd promised he'd pay his parents back, but Dad explained that if he were to get a job first, they would consider loaning him the money.

"How am I going to get a job if I don't have transportation, Dad?" Nick tried to reason with him, but it did no good.

"Get a job close to town or school. You can ride your bicycle or take a bus. You need to start taking control of your life, son."

He would find one soon. In fact, he'd applied to the local hardware store, and the CVS in town, but they had yet to get back to him. He felt lost without wheels. Some of his friends drove to school, and Nick felt like an idiot taking the school bus. Life can really suck.

He also wanted a girlfriend. But girls didn't date guys who didn't drive. He had to have his car back on the road so he could get on with his life. The longer he was without a girl, the more likely he'd be going to the senior prom solo.

Nick had had a girlfriend, not too long ago, but she'd left him for some jock on the football team. Should have kicked his ass. He was sneaking over to her house to hang, when all along he knew I was dating her. Bastard.

He refused to go solo. No girl, no prom. Hell, he needed to get his car fixed.

Nick had to stop thinking so much before he drove himself into a serious depression. By forgetting things for a while, and instead, concentrating on solving a mystery afoot, he would feel better. He walked out of his room, closing the door behind him, then to the top of the stairs. But when he approached the first step down, he saw his evil little sibling with the pigtails at the bottom, looking straight up at him.

Samantha put both hands on her hips and smiled. "Where are you going? I'm telling."

"You've got to be kidding me, Sam. What is your problem? You're twelve, but sometimes you act like a spoiled baby. Do you really hate me that much?"

Nick hoped a little guilt would soften his sister up, and possibly keep her from saying anything to their parents. She seemed to have a relentless desire to make his life a living hell.

For real.

"You're playing stupid detective again, right?" She smiled, her arms folded. "Well, you're going to need me if you want to solve a mystery because I know how to be a real detective." She continued to smile, while blocking Nick's exit.

He knew her motive. She wanted to follow her big brother into a night of detective work, a complete gathering of clues, and hopefully witness a crime get solved through the quick actions of her detective brother.

He also figured she'd tell all her friends that her older brother could solve any crime that dared to enter her neighborhood. He could see it in her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Get your coat and let's go. It's getting dark out."

Nick wasn't the least bit happy about having to drag Samantha along, but he didn't want her telling her friends and parents any lies about his motives. Besides, she might be able to help keep an eye on things.

* * * * *

Nick and Samantha left the house together, first telling his parents he was taking his sister across the street to his friend's house. He knew they would've noticed Samantha missing, with her always under their feet.

As they crossed the street, Nick took out his flashlight, then directed its yellow beam to his neighbor's stoops and porches in search of pumpkins. He pointed the now-fading light at each home, every porch that may have displayed a pumpkin, as he walked farther down his street, Samantha by his side.

He was having trouble getting a clear view. Although the rain had stopped, a misty fog had taken over, making the beam from his flashlight reflect back into his eyes. That made it difficult for him to check for pumpkins, even with some porch lights on. As far as he could tell, none of the houses had any pumpkins on their porches, either. That bothered him.

Eventually he made it to the last house on the left, the home of Mrs. Needlewhitter, an eighty-seven-year-old widow who hated children. Nick knew she was a mean old lady, and he did his best to steer clear of her. Tonight was different. He needed to check her porch, just like he'd checked the others.

Nick slowly approached the gate, then jumped back in sheer fright, pulling his sister to the ground with him. Baxter, the old lady's German shepherd dog, slammed up against the fence, barking, snarling, and showing off his white canines.

Samantha cried and screamed. "I want to go home."

Her loud voice made the dog bark even more.

"Come on, sis, let's go. He can't hurt you. He's behind the fence," Nick said, lifting her up off the wet grass that left a fresh, green stain on the knees of her white pants. He shined his flashlight on Mrs. Needlewhitter's porch, noticing a few smashed pumpkins by her bottom stoop.

Could that be it? Had he found the culprit? An eighty-seven-year-old, half-crippled, almost blind, gray-haired . . . pumpkin thief?

Baxter stood on his hind legs, his massive front paws hanging over the top of the gate, snarling and barking at Nick as he came closer for a better look. He shined his flashlight in Baxter's eyes, turning them red as blood, reminding him of a movie he'd seen last week on the Chiller Channel, about this dog gone bad, evil incarnate, determined to do harm to those who'd messed with him while he was still a pup.

Nick shook this thought from his head and, instead, focused his attention on the front porch.

The porch light turned on.

"What's going on out there, Baxter boy? You see trespassers, is that it?" Mrs. Needlewhitter yelled through the screen door. "Get 'em, boy. Rip them to shreds. Dirty rat punks."

Nick couldn't understand why she said what she did, but he wasn't waiting around to find out what would happen next. He grabbed hold of his sister, then ran across the street, not looking back as they sprinted home. He still heard the old lady's dog, barking in the distance.

When they reached their house, Nick walked his sister up the front porch steps, and then opened the door. He gave his tearful sister a nudge inside. "Go, and don't say a word to mom or dad, you hear?"

She didn't look back or reply as she walked indoors.

He quickly shut the door, then sat down on his front steps to think of what he needed to do next. He'd found a few broken and smashed pumpkins, and Mrs. Needlewhitter might just be the pumpkin culprit, but why?

How?

How could she manage to sneak around and grab all those pumpkins? Or could this be the work of Lou, the bully? Or worse. Has the Pumpkin Thief chosen his town for this Halloween? My town? Nick had even more reason to find this Jeffery Beamer.

In the interim, Nick knew he had to gather some evidence, so he thought up a plan, a great plan on how he'd get closer to those pumpkins scattered about in her yard. This was going to be his first real detective work, and he knew deep inside that he was so ready to accomplish the task.