🎃🏍 PUMPKIN FIELD: RACE OF THE EVIL FORCES 🏍🎃

PROLOGUE — THE CONTRACT FROM HELL

Three days until Halloween. One pumpkin patch. One very unfortunate signature. And absolutely no adult supervision.

It all began when I, Tara, Fearless Ringleader of the Mystery Manor Guild, received an urgent message from Oksana.

“Tara, please gather everyone and come to the pumpkin patch. There’s been a… contractual misunderstanding.”

Well!

A mysterious contract? Three days before Halloween?

CONSPIRACY! 👑

I immediately put on my magnificent bejeweled tinfoil tiara, grabbed my Handy Dandy Journal, and summoned the guild.

DeNae arrived with sandwiches, emergency chocolate, and the expression of a woman who already regretted being related to me.

Julie brought a magnifying glass, a notebook, and a small bag of treats for any chickens we might encounter.

John arrived with a flashlight, a first-aid kit, and the absurd expectation that everyone would behave rationally.

Lala brought wine.

MAD arrived carrying hiking boots, a camera, and cocktail supplies.

And Rowan, our beloved Sparkle Goblin, materialized in a shower of glitter while eating a caramel apple he definitely hadn’t paid for.

“Wonderful!” I declared. “We’re prepared for anything!”

“We’re prepared for a picnic and a police investigation,” DeNae corrected.

At the pumpkin patch, we discovered Serafima Gvozd, legendary retired motorcycle racer turned pumpkin farmer, furiously waving a red envelope at a scarecrow.

The scarecrow wore a plaid jacket and an expression of deeply misplaced professional confidence.

“I am Panteleimon,” he announced. “Executive Director of Crop Protection.”

“You’re a scarecrow,” John observed.

“An executive scarecrow.”

Serafima shoved the envelope toward us.

Apparently, Panteleimon had entered the farm in the GREAT HALLOWEEN RACE OF EVIL FORCES.

The prize? The Golden Skull and the title of Most Terrifying Farm in the County.

The penalty for withdrawing?

PAYMENT IN HUMAN YEARS OF LIFE!

DeNae snatched the contract.

“YOU SIGNED A DOCUMENT WITHOUT READING IT?!”

Panteleimon rustled nervously.

“The font was exceptionally small.”

Lala sipped her wine.

“Fabulous. We’re going to die because a scarecrow needs reading glasses.”

Then Serafima revealed something extraordinary.

Twenty years ago, she had been a legendary night racer.

And behind the locked garage doors stood motorcycles she had sworn never to ride again.

My tiara practically vibrated.

“Motorcycles! Demons! Cursed contracts! THIS IS THE BEST HALLOWEEN EVER!”

John sighed.

“We haven’t survived it yet.”

Oksana smiled mysteriously.

“Everything you need is already here. You simply have to discover it.”

Which is Oksana’s favorite way of telling us absolutely nothing while knowing absolutely everything.

Suddenly, a glowing pumpkin rolled toward my feet.

Two enormous eyes opened.

A wicked grin spread across its face.

“BOOOOO!”

I screamed.

Rowan screamed.

The pumpkin screamed.

DeNae didn’t even blink.

“Three days,” she muttered. “I have to survive three days of this.”

📖 TARA’S HANDY DANDY JOURNAL — PROLOGUE

Dear Journal,

We have officially entered a race we didn’t sign up for, organized by evil spirits, thanks to a scarecrow whose greatest qualification is being full of straw.

Possible explanations:

1. Ancient Halloween curse.
2. Aliens controlling agricultural management.
3. Panteleimon is an idiot.

DeNae strongly favors number three.

I am keeping all possibilities open.

Mission Status: Pumpkin-powered pandemonium initiated! 👑🎃✨

🎃 DAY ONE — ELECTION WITH THREATS 😈

Collection: Demonic Pumpkins

📌 FOUND: FEROCIOUS BEN — “DEMONIC PUMPKINS” COLLECTION

Dear friends, I have witnessed some questionable election campaigns in my lifetime.

But NOTHING compares to a pumpkin threatening to eat its political opponents.

We arrived at the Mystery Manor pumpkin patch to discover campaign posters covering every fence post.

“VOTE FOR ME OR REGRET IT!”

“MORE SCREAMS! LESS SUNSHINE!”

“FREE FERTILIZER FOR EVERY CITIZEN!”

One candidate had promised to eliminate all taxes.

Unfortunately, he meant by eliminating all taxpayers.

“That one’s definitely a politician,” Lala observed.

Panteleimon explained that every demonic pumpkin had nominated itself for team captain.

“And how many votes did each candidate receive?” Julie asked.

“One,” he admitted.

“From whom?”

“Themselves.”

DeNae rubbed her temples.

“Of course.”

Serafima marched into the field.

“LISTEN UP, YOU OVERGROWN HALLOWEEN DECORATIONS! Whoever scares me the most becomes captain!”

I immediately raised my hand.

“Can I compete?”

“You’re not a pumpkin,” John said.

“That sounds like discrimination.”

“That sounds like biology.”

The competition began.

The first pumpkin transformed into a gigantic spider.

Julie calmly offered it a chicken treat.

Disqualified.

The second summoned a terrifying ghost.

MAD positioned herself beneath the spectacular moonlight and photographed it.

“Darling, the lighting is MAGNIFICENT!”

Disqualified.

The third pumpkin produced a vision of a world without chocolate.

DeNae went pale.

“That one is genuinely disturbing.”

Then the ground trembled.

A monstrous pumpkin emerged from the darkest corner of the patch.

Its name was FEROCIOUS BEN.

His eyes burned like molten lava. His enormous jagged teeth dripped green slime, and his vines slithered across the ground like possessed snakes.

“Ohhhhh!” I whispered. “He’s ADORABLE!”

“Tara,” DeNae warned, “please don’t adopt the demon.”

Too late.

Ferocious Ben opened his enormous mouth.

And instead of roaring…

He showed Serafima a vision.

The old garage.

Her beloved motorcycles rusting into dust.

The empty racetrack.

And Serafima herself, sitting in a rocking chair, declaring that her adventurous days were over forever.

The entire field fell silent.

Serafima stared at the vision.

Then she burst out laughing.

“YOU THINK I’M AFRAID OF GETTING OLD?”

Ben blinked.

“No, you ridiculous vegetable! I’m afraid of forgetting how to LIVE!”

With that, she grabbed the pumpkin by his vines, spun him around, and kissed his enormous orange forehead.

Ben turned bright pink.

His vines curled into little hearts.

And he fainted.

“HE SCARED HER WITH A MID-LIFE CRISIS!” Lala shrieked.

“Technically,” Julie observed, “he exposed her deepest fear rather than relying on theatrical intimidation.”

“Which makes him an exceptional strategist,” John admitted.

Serafima nodded.

“Ben wins. He knows fear isn’t always about monsters. Sometimes it’s about the things we stop daring ourselves to do.”

The judges appeared in a cloud of black smoke.

Their leader looked at the still-blushing pumpkin, then at Serafima.

For the first time in two centuries, a Halloween judge appeared genuinely uncomfortable.

“Captain approved.”

I immediately produced a tiny purple ribbon and tied it around one of Ben’s vines.

“Congratulations, Captain Ben!”

Ben attempted to bite my tiara.

Rowan sprinkled him with calming glitter.

Unfortunately, the glitter was enchanted.

Ben hiccupped.

Every pumpkin in the field simultaneously sprouted purple eyebrows.

DeNae stared at Rowan.

“Why?”

Rowan smiled.

“Festive?”

At sunset, Ferocious Ben took his place at the head of our demonic pumpkin army.

He had earned the captaincy by discovering Serafima’s true fear, then accidentally reminding her that courage doesn’t have an expiration date.

And I had learned something equally important.

Demonic pumpkins absolutely should not be allowed near expensive jewelry.

📖 TARA’S HANDY DANDY JOURNAL — DAY ONE

Dear Journal,

Today we survived an election where every candidate threatened bodily harm.

Ferocious Ben is officially our team captain.

His greatest talent is exposing people’s deepest fears.

My greatest fear remains someone confiscating my tiara.

Other important observations:

• Julie can apparently negotiate with giant spiders.

• MAD has photographed three ghosts and called them “atmospheric.”

• DeNae is now rationing chocolate.

• Rowan should never be allowed access to agricultural glitter.

• Serafima is definitely hiding something magnificent in that garage.

CONSPIRACY THEORY #47:

Ferocious Ben may be an alien life-form disguised as seasonal produce.

Investigation ongoing.

Mission Status: Captain elected. Democracy traumatized. 👑🎃🤣

Отредактировано Tara 031cde (2026-10-30 04:30:12)

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Tara 🇺🇸 031cde
Guild: Double D’s

🎃🏍 PUMPKIN FIELD: RACE OF THE EVIL FORCES
DeNae's Adventures — Prologue: The Contract Nobody Read

Three days before Halloween, my little sister Tara called to tell me she'd discovered something WONDERFUL on the grounds of Mystery Manor.

Experience has taught me that Tara's definition of wonderful generally involves glowing objects, unexplained noises, and a very real possibility of property damage.

"What did you find?" I asked.

"A MAGICAL PUMPKIN PATCH! And there's a motorcycle race! And DEMONS! DeNae, it's practically a family vacation!"

I started packing the first-aid kit.

By the time we arrived, the others were waiting beside an enormous pumpkin field. Julie was studying an invitation, John was examining a suspiciously old motorcycle, Lala was laughing at something with teeth growing out of the dirt, and MAD was admiring the sunset.

"The lighting is spectacular!" MAD announced. "Does anyone know if there's a bar?"

"I don't know about a bar," Lala replied, "but one of those pumpkins just offered to eat my shoes."

Our guild mentor Oksana appeared beside the farmhouse, looking entirely unsurprised.

"Welcome, everyone. Serafima needs our assistance."

Serafima Gvozd, the owner of the pumpkin farm, stood on the porch glaring at a scarecrow wearing a plaid jacket.

"Panteleimon signed us up for the Great Halloween Race," she explained.

"Wonderful. What's the entry fee?"

"There isn't one. But if we withdraw, the organizers collect human years of life."

I slowly looked at the scarecrow.

"You signed a contract involving HUMAN LIFE EXPECTANCY without reading it?"

"The print was very small," Panteleimon protested.

"His brain is also very small," Lala observed.

John adjusted his leather jacket.

"I'd like to examine the contract."

"I'd like to examine the DEMONS!" Tara interrupted.

Julie sighed. "And I'd like everyone to survive long enough for dinner."

That was when Serafima announced that she had once been a legendary motorcycle racer.

Twenty years retired.

And apparently about to come out of retirement.

From inside the locked garage came the unmistakable roar of an engine.

Tara squealed.

MAD raised an imaginary martini.

I opened my backpack and counted the bandages.

"All right. Nobody touch anything magical without asking. Nobody sign anything. And Tara, that includes you."

My sister had already wandered into the pumpkin patch.

"DENAE! THIS ONE HAS EYEBROWS!"

Three days until Halloween.

I already needed a vacation.

🎃 DAY ONE — ELECTION WITH THREATS
Found Item: Ferocious Ben — "Demonic Pumpkins" Collection

I woke to the sound of shouting.

Not human shouting.

Pumpkin shouting.

Apparently the demonic pumpkins had decided to hold an election for team captain.

Every pumpkin was running. Every pumpkin voted for itself. And every campaign poster threatened the voters with something unpleasant.

One read: "VOTE FOR ME OR BE COMPOST!"

Another promised "FREE NIGHTMARES FOR EVERY FAMILY!"

Tara was delighted.

"DeNae! They're having a political convention! We need campaign buttons!"

"We need a restraining order."

Serafima announced that the captain would be chosen through a terrifying performance. Whoever managed to frighten her would lead the demonic pumpkin team.

It sounded simple.

It wasn't.

The first pumpkin grew twelve spider legs and chased Panteleimon around the barn.

Lala nearly collapsed laughing.

"I've seen better legs on a dining room table!"

The second pumpkin transformed into a giant bat.

John calmly observed that its wing structure was aerodynamically impossible.

The bat sneezed, spun backward, and landed in a wheelbarrow.

Julie awarded it two points for enthusiasm.

The third pumpkin projected a horrifying image of everyone's greatest fear.

MAD saw an airport with every flight canceled and no martinis.

Julie saw a chicken coop with all the doors left open.

John saw his airplane being repaired by Panteleimon.

Lala saw a world where sarcasm was illegal.

Tara saw a mysterious glowing button with a sign reading "DO NOT TOUCH."

"THAT'S NOT SCARY! THAT'S AN INVITATION!"

And I?

I saw a dinner table surrounded by hungry guild members.

No food.

No grocery stores.

No emergency snacks.

I screamed.

"THAT IS ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE!"

Everyone turned toward me.

"That's the loudest she's been all day," John remarked.

Then the smallest pumpkin rolled forward.

He had a crooked glowing smile, angry eyebrows, and a tiny green stem sticking out of his head.

His name was FEROCIOUS BEN.

He looked harmless.

Which should have warned us.

Ben cleared his throat.

Then he produced an ancient motorcycle helmet and projected a vision into the field.

Serafima was suddenly standing on the ghostly road from twenty years ago, facing the very turn where she had nearly lost her life.

Her old racing rival appeared beside her, laughing.

"You couldn't beat the road then, Serafima. You won't beat it now."

For the first time, Serafima looked genuinely afraid.

Then Ben did something nobody expected.

He transformed the terrible memory.

The road straightened. The rival vanished. And there, waiting at the finish line, stood a younger Serafima, holding out her old leather jacket.

"You never lost your courage," the vision whispered. "You only forgot where you parked it."

Serafima stared.

Then she laughed.

A deep, glorious laugh that shook the porch.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Oksana smiled knowingly.

"He didn't simply frighten her. He made her face the fear she'd hidden for twenty years."

Julie nodded.

"That's much more impressive than spider legs."

Ben gave a triumphant little snarl.

Tara scooped him up.

"HE'S ADORABLE! Can we keep him?"

"Tara, put down the demon."

Ben promptly bit her campaign button in half.

Serafima declared Ferocious Ben the captain of the demonic pumpkins.

He had earned the position by showing the greatest terror of all: an old fear that hadn't finished haunting its owner.

By evening, Ben was marching his pumpkin army through the field.

They were terrifying.

They were organized.

And one of them had stolen my cheese crackers.

"THAT ONE IS NOT MAKING IT TO THE RACE."

📓 DENAE'S DAY ONE JOURNAL

Dear Journal,

Today I witnessed a pumpkin election in which every candidate threatened bodily harm, nobody accepted the results, and the smallest candidate won by making a retired motorcycle racer confront her past.

Honestly, it was the most productive election I've ever attended.

Tara has attempted to adopt Ferocious Ben.

John is drawing diagrams of pumpkin anatomy.

Julie is organizing the team roster.

Lala has begun calling Panteleimon "Vice President of Bad Decisions."

MAD found a beautiful spot for sunset photographs and is still asking about martinis.

And Oksana?

She already knew Ben would win.

Of course she did.

Found Item: FEROCIOUS BEN
Collection: DEMONIC PUMPKINS

Today's Survival Report:
Pumpkins elected: 1
Demons adopted: 0 (despite Tara's objections)
Snacks stolen: 1 package
Bandages used: 2
My patience remaining: Approximately 37%

Tomorrow involves rock music.

I have packed earplugs.

— DeNae 💚

Отредактировано DeNae (2026-10-30 04:52:21)

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DeNae 🇺🇸 67b526

Guild: Double D’s

День 2

Гильдия Ёжик в тумане

Мексиканские истории

К вечеру Серафима вытащила из старого сарая пластинку «Мексиканские истории».

— Вот под эту музыку я однажды выиграла гонку у самого дьявола, — сообщила она, осторожно сдувая пыль с обложки.

— И что вы получили в награду? — заинтересовался Пантелеймон.

— Его мотоцикл. Правда, утром выяснилось, что это была соседская коза. Но гонка была великолепная!

Ровно в полночь игла коснулась пластинки.

Над полем раздались первые гитарные аккорды. Из земли поднялся горячий ветер, запахло перцем и раскалённым асфальтом. Демонические тыквы принялись отплясывать так, что грядки заходили ходуном.

Свирепый Бен, назначенный вчера капитаном, неожиданно запел хриплым басом. Ему вторили остальные тыквы, а Пантелеймон, не выдержав, схватил две лопаты и начал изображать барабанщика.

Внезапно из-под земли показалась огромная голова с горящими глазами.

— КТО ПОСМЕЛ НАРУШИТЬ МОЙ СОН?!

— Серафима Гвоздь. А ты, стало быть, дух Дороги?

— Я НЕ ТЕРПЛЮ ШУМА!

— Тогда тебе не повезло. У нас тут рок-концерт.

Дух взревел, и по полю прокатилась волна чёрного пламени. Но вместо того чтобы испугаться, Серафима выкрутила громкость до предела.

Пластинка вдруг заиграла задом наперёд.

Из тыкв посыпались разноцветные искры, пугало пустилось в бешеный танец, а из колодца выскочил скелет в сомбреро и с гитарой.

— Это ещё кто?! — завопил Пантелеймон.

— Понятия не имею! Но играет неплохо!

Скелет ударил по струнам, и дух Дороги неожиданно замолчал.

Потом начал отбивать ритм огромными пальцами.

— ДАВНО Я НЕ СЛЫШАЛ ЭТУ МЕЛОДИЮ, — прогрохотал он. — ПОД НЕЁ КОГДА-ТО ГОНЯЛИ ПЕРВЫЕ ПРИЗРАЧНЫЕ ВСАДНИКИ.

Серафима улыбнулась.

— Значит, договоримся?

— ОТКРОЮ ТРАССУ. НО ПРИ ОДНОМ УСЛОВИИ!

— Ну?

— ЗАВТРА ВЫ ПРОЙДЁТЕ ЕЁ БЕЗ ВОЛШЕБНЫХ СОКРАЩЕНИЙ. НИКАКИХ ПОРТАЛОВ, ПОЛЁТОВ И ОБМАННЫХ ПОВОРОТОВ. ТОЛЬКО СКОРОСТЬ, МАСТЕРСТВО И СМЕЛОСТЬ!

— По рукам!

Дух ударил ладонью по земле. Над тыквенным полем вспыхнула извилистая серебряная дорога, уходящая прямо к багровой луне.

— А теперь дайте мне дослушать пластинку, — неожиданно попросил он.

Серафима рассмеялась и снова включила проигрыватель.

До самого рассвета над полем гремел рок, плясали тыквы, а древний дух Дороги подпевал так, что в соседней деревне проснулись даже покойники.

Утром Пантелеймон обнаружил на воротах объявление:

«За нарушение тишины после 23:00 — штраф».

Серафима прочитала его и довольно хмыкнула:

— Отлично. Значит, музыкальное испытание мы точно прошли!

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Свой среди своих
😉
ijn_2005

DAY TWO, continued · Wake Up and Don’t Regret
“Knight Rider”
🎸 LALA — Customer Service for Ancient Spirits
The Spirit of the Road rose from the earth wearing a crown of broken headlights.
“THAT SONG HAS NOT BEEN PLAYED CORRECTLY IN TWENTY YEARS.”
Serafima folded her arms. “Your bridge section was always too long.”
An excellent opening. Insult the geological emergency.
She had used the record’s sleeve to reconstruct his forgotten anthem. Now she offered him a bargain: open the route, and we would finish it properly.
He demanded proof.
We obliged.
John’s wrench became a drumstick. The well lid supplied percussion. Oksana’s microphone summoned a choir of offended crows.
Then Tara connected a cable labeled DO NOT CONNECT.
Every scarecrow in the county began playing air guitar.
Panteleimon performed an involuntary stage dive into a wheelbarrow.
The spirit listened.
“YOU HAVE LEFT OUT THE FINAL VERSE.”
DeNae turned the sleeve over.
“There’s a reason,” she whispered.
Mad reached for it.

Отредактировано Lala a3d26b (2026-10-30 05:13:38)

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Lala a3d26b

Double D’s Guild

День 2
Ежик в тумане

— Договорились, — кивнула Серафима.

— Второе: если выиграешь — не забирай славу себе. Скажи всем, что это дорога дала тебе шанс. А не ты её победила.

— Тоже честно, — согласилась она.

— И третье… — дух чуть наклонил голову, и в его глазах мелькнула искорка веселья. — После гонки сыграешь мне «Чёрного змея» ещё раз. Только без овощей в качестве бэк‑вокала.

Бо обиженно фыркнул.

— Эй! У меня отличный тембр!

Дух усмехнулся.

— Для тыквы — да. Для дороги — перебор.

Пантелеймон, который всё это время стоял, вцепившись в блокнот, торопливо записал: «Условие №1: честная гонка. Условие №2: слава дороге. Условие №3: концерт без бэк‑вокала». Потом, подумав, добавил: «И морковку убрать с трассы».

Серафима протянула руку духу.

— По рукам?

Тот на мгновение замер, будто не привык к таким простым жестам. Потом медленно положил свою полупрозрачную ладонь поверх её руки.

— По рукам, — пророкотал он. — И помни: дорога не прощает тех, кто забывает, что она живая.

Над полем вспыхнули огни, призрачная трасса замерцала, обещая скорость, опасность и… свободу.

Серафима повернулась к своей команде.

— Ну что, огородные монстры, — сказала она, улыбаясь. — Кажется, мы только что договорились с самой дорогой.

Бо гордо выпятил бок.

— Я же говорил, что умею пугать!

Пантелеймон вздохнул.

— Боюсь, теперь ты будешь пугать нас своими идеями постоянно.

— Именно! — радостно заявил Бо.

Серафима посмотрела на трассу, на свой старый автомобиль, на команду, которая, несмотря на всю свою странность, была теперь её опорой.

— Завтра, — тихо сказала она, — мы покажем этой гонке, что значит настоящая скорость.

И где‑то вдалеке, будто в ответ, прокатился низкий гул — то ли ветер, то ли дорога, которая шептала: «Я жду».

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