A graveyard seemed a peculiar location for a pumpkin patch. Tombstones, fresh mounds, wilting flowers, mourner’s remnants… and a small collection of orange orbs stands out from the drab landscape. Even from a distance you couldn’t help notice they were all the same size: average; none puny or gigantic, all just right. As if chosen. You had to get really close to notice the dripping orange paint, the stumps still bleeding into the earth, and the faces that needed no carving.

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