The Fen Blow and the Pumpkin Kings, 5

Ted North is feeling unwell and stressed by memories of a strange encounter.

Teenagers, Charlie and Sally, Bill and Alison and Stephen had nothing better to do in the evenings than to create annoyance. They would hang about outside the chip shop in the village, cat calling at anyone who walked past, embarrassing old ladies. When that pass-time lost its attraction, they would wander round the village opening gates which, should remain closed, kicking over bins and shouting out loud to wake up babies and cause dogs to bark. They had often caused havoc down at the allotments and Ted North and Pete South were sick of them. Ted had thought of a way to get them back for the vandalism they had caused to his pumpkins in the past and he told Pete about it.

“I’ve had a good idea to dissuade those yobs tonight.” He told him.

“Oh, yes, and what’s that then, may I ask?”

“I’m going to put up a sign in the pumpkin patch tonight.”

“And what will that say, then – Keep off.” Pete laughed knowing that whatever the idea was, it would probably be futile.

“The sign says ‘One of these pumpkins is injected with cyanide’, that should do it”

Pete chuckled. “Yes, that should put them off, to be sure.”

Ted: “The vegetables are all doing well and I don’t want to lose any of my pumpkins.”

Pete: “Nor me. I’m proud of my pumpkins this year, they’re doing great.”

Ted: “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get the crown this year, Pete!”

Pete smiled happily to himself. He had been thinking the same thing.

The next morning, the gardeners arrived at their plots as the sun was rising up above the trees.

Phil Potter took one look at his plot and shouted out: -

“The bastards, look what they’ve done. My vegetables have gone.”

The vegetables, which had been growing since March, were due to be put on show at the Witchfordley Federation of Allotments Association display on September 10th. He had been growing as many vegetables as he could and the produce was going to be sold and the donations given to the local hospice in Langwitch. He had lost 600 beetroot, 60 carrots and nearly a sack’s worth of potatoes. The vandals had indeed caused a lot of trouble.

Ted and Pete were pleased to notice that their pumpkins were intact.

The heavy, round gourds offered a more difficult target than root vegetables, yet the threat remained.

.The First Sign
That night, Ted North found it hard to get to sleep. He felt feverish and could not get the vision of that extraordinary, animated scarecrow figure out of his mind. He finally gave up trying to sleep and went downstairs to make himself a cup of tea, making one for Mary, too, feeling sure he had disturbed her. As he filled the teapot, he noticed again that the wind was getting tricky.
We’re in for a windy spell, he thought, and that is not good news in the run up to Halloween.

He carried the tray upstairs and saw that his wife was opening her eyes.

“Are you all right Ted?” asked Mary.

“Not really dear. I can’t sleep and I don’t feel very well. I feel feverish and there is a spot on my forehead that feels tingly. Would you have a look at it for me in the morning?”

Mary sat up. Her motherly instincts inclined her to look straight away, but in the dim light, there was nothing much to see.
“When did you notice it feeling strange?” she asked.

“Earlier this evening. It feels just like I’ve been stung by an insect. There are quite a few mosquitoes around at the moment and you know how irritating their bites can be.”

Mary went to fetch the allergy cream. While she was gone, Ted decided he had to tell her the truth, no matter how unbelievable it sounded.

“I don’t want to scare you Mary, but I need to tell you something,” he began as she returned.

“What is it dear? What is the trouble?”

“This afternoon, when I went for a walk to wind down after the Festival, I saw a stranger coming up the road from the direction of Langwitch. He looked very odd. He was tall, wore a black suit and a black hat, and straw was poking out from underneath it and from his cuffs.”

Mary looked worried. She decided to make light of it. “It was probably just one of the scarecrow wardens, dear.”

“No, it wasn’t. There was something very strange about this man. He had a very strange face, greenish in colour, and his eyes were orange. He didn’t look human.”

“Now you’re going too far, Ted. Whatever are you suggesting?”

“I know it sounds far-fetched, Mary, but I think it might be the Pumpkin Man, the one from the legend. He walked past me without seeing me, and Mary, I couldn’t move. I was absolutely rooted to the spot until he had gone right past and down the track past the pub to the allotments and the church.”

Mary gently applied the cream to his forehead, feeling a cold knot of dread form in her stomach. The wind howled softly outside, carrying the deep, earthy smell of the Fens. The Fen Blow was stirring, and something dark had just walked down the track to the Abbey gardens.

+++

Shirley and her sister Samantha were at home discussing all things vegetable and enjoying a cup of tea on Samantha’s garden seat after tea.

“So, remind me again about the legend of the pumpkin man?” asked Shirley, looking over the top of her half-moon glasses.
Samantha shifted her position on the seat, swiping away a white-tailed bee, and began the story: According to the legend, if the Fen Blow should occur at Halloween, it is said to release the spirit of the Pumpkin Man, the vengeful ghost of a monk, who lived in this area in the Abbey – hundreds of years ago. When his spirit is released, he returns to the Abbey Gardens, which is where our allotments are now, because that is where he found his lovely Alice, lying dead. It is said he is seeking revenge for the loss of his love and for the loss of his own life… for he was found dead the next day, lying amongst the vegetables.”

“Oh! How intriguing. I must investigate further, murmured Shirley, already deciding to gaze into her globe later that evening when it got dark.”

Settling herself at her sister’s dining table, Shirley assembled her crystal ball on the dark greed chenille tablecloth and said a few words of introduction. Humming to herself quietly, she felt herself going into the zone and as she stared into the ball, the images began to appear:-

Flashback to Witchfordley –Circa 1450 -The Abbey of St. Etheldreda in Witchfordley

Brother Robert could think of nothing else but Alice during all his waking hours. He spent moments in reflection when he should have been praying; imagining what it would be like to touch her white shoulders and kiss the nape of her neck where the dark tendrils of raven hair caressed her skin. He drowned in her dark eyes, which seemed to look right inside him. Sometimes he thought her eyes were more like those of a large black cat, so green were they and luminous. As she worked in the garden in front of him, he watched her bending down to tend the plants. Was it his imagination that she always had her back to him, the better to admire her curvy shape? He tried not to let her see him watching, but sometimes, as if she knew, would turn quickly and his face would flush red in embarrassment for daring to look. As she walked past him, he always caught the delicate smell of lavender, but there was something else, something mysterious, something he couldn’t identify in its fragrance.

Alone in the night, he tossed and turned, tortured by his thoughts of her. His clothes were rough on his skin, but his skin was alive with passion for her and he knew no antidote. He watched the crucifix hanging on the wall of his room, the only adornment. He wanted to hurl it down. He could smell the lavender, even when she was nowhere near. It seemed to drift into his very dreams until he didn’t know if he was asleep or awake. He feared for his sanity, thinking he would go mad with the wanting of her.

Shirley saw him writing in his secret journal:

Brother Robert wrote in his secret journal: - As I wander among the fragrant scented herb garden’s flowers, my eyes blinded by the beauty seen, yet Sweet Lady Alice’s love, is all my heart desires, yes will I brave purgatory’s hot fires for just one tender kiss, from those lips, red as these poppies.

I know she sees me even now, over by yonder bough of tree; that fair sweet lady, smile just for me, please set my heart to peace. That face, those eyes, those heavenly tresses, I will devour all I see. Those marriage vows taken, not so long ago are precious yet….

Shirley watched intently as the story unfolded…