The Pumpkin Glow
The October air drifts through my open window, cool and laced with the scent of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke. My room is bathed in the warm flicker of candlelight, jack-o’-lanterns grinning from their perches on the nightstand, the windowsill, even the floor. Their soft glow dances across the wooden walls, painting them in shifting patterns of gold and amber.
I pull my favorite quilt closer, sinking deeper into the pillows with a sigh. Outside, the trees rustle, their autumn leaves whispering secrets to the wind. The world feels hushed, as if October itself is tucking everything in for the night.
It’s been a long day, but a good one. The Harvest Festival is only a few days away, and I spent the afternoon helping to carve pumpkins in the town square. My hands still remember the feeling of scooping out their insides, the scent of fresh pumpkin clinging to my fingertips. Strings of fairy lights were draped across shopfronts, laughter filled the streets, and for a little while, it felt like I was part of something bigger—something timeless.
Now, in the quiet of my room, I feel the season’s magic settling around me like a lullaby. I turn to the small jack-o’-lantern beside me, its carved grin almost mischievous. “Goodnight, Jack,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
The candle inside flickers, just for a moment—almost like a response. I smile sleepily. It’s probably just a trick of the light… or maybe, just maybe, the kind of magic that only exists on October nights.
I close my eyes, letting the warmth of my pumpkin-lit sanctuary wrap around me. The wind hums through the curtains, carrying the soft sounds of autumn—leaves swirling, branches swaying, the distant hoot of an owl.
As I drift into sleep, my dreams are filled with golden leaves dancing in the air, laughter echoing through the festival streets, and jack-o’-lanterns winking knowingly in the night.
Outside, the moon watches over the sleepy town, casting silver light over rooftops and pumpkin patches alike.
And in my room, the lanterns burn just a little longer, standing watch until morning.
A cozy story imagined and conjured for you by The Queen of Halloween 365
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