The Pumpkin Man

invisible souls. Animated and engaged, but eerily wordless. Jenn could hear every breath that the men next to her drew in, and that reminded her. The world—or perhaps more specifically, the afterworld—was watching.

“Meredith,” she breathed. “I’ve tried to reach you before, and I am not sure if it was really you who answered. I hope that you can hear me now, because I’ve waited so long to talk to you and I really do need you. But things here are a little . . . messed up right now. I need to know something, and I think you can help.”

She took a quick glance at Nick and Travis. Both men had their eyes closed to slits, struggling presumably to keep their minds clear. She was the only one who wandered.

“Did the Pumpkin Man kill Kirstin?” Jenn asked finally.

The planchette shivered, as if its motion was somehow blocked. Then it slid off YES for a moment, only to slip back on. It didn’t move.

“Did the Pumpkin Man kill Brian?” Nick asked. His voice was quiet yet firm. He had to know.

Again, the wooden ring shivered and moved under all of their fingers, slightly off the mark and then quickly back on.

“No surprise,” Nick murmured.

“No,” Jenn agreed.

She quieted as she felt her fingers slip through the air; the board seemed to take control of itself for a question. All of their hands moved across the wooden surface, letters forming the first word, which Nick read out loud.

“‘Ask.’”

Huh. Meredith seemed to have a question for them. And word by word, the planchette spelled it out, moving quickly between letters and then pausing between words. Nick read them out, slowly and in order:

ASK

TRAVIS

DID

HE

KILL

ME?

At the word “kill,” Travis’s face went bedsheet white. But he didn’t immediately pull away, instead allowing the ghost to finish her sentence. The damage was already done, and he waited to see what Meredith would do to him from beyond the grave.

“Did you make the Pumpkin Man?” Travis asked, his voice reedy and desperate in the empty space.

The planchette did not move.

“Answer the question Meredith asked,” Jenn suggested. “Did you kill my aunt, Travis?”

The man pulled his hand back from the wooden circle and pushed away from her and Nick at the same time. He crawled backward, crablike, slipping farther away from them, though there was really no place he could go.

“I was only trying to help her at first,” he began.

“Did you kill my aunt?” Jenn insisted, her voice dead and cold. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” Travis said, his voice trembling. There would be no arguing with her. “I killed Meredith. But I had to. She was using the Pumpkin Man to get rid of all the people who’d hurt him when he was alive. It was wrong.”

Nick rose from Jenn’s side and stepped toward him. Travis was visibly shaking.

“What made you think killing Meredith was going to stop the Pumpkin Man from continuing to manifest? I mean, once she called him, he was loose, right?”

Travis shook his head. “He used to only come on the nights she used the board.”

“Didn’t it take some time before the bodies showed up? So, how do you know he came those nights. Did you see him?” Nick asked.

“No,” Travis said, clearly hesitating. “I know because . . . because . . .” He backed farther away from Jenn and Nick. He moved toward the bones that hung on the wall.

“I know because every night after Meredith had me use the Ouija board, I fell into a heavy sleep. In the morning, I woke up with knives on the floor covered with blood. She was using the Ouija board to open the door to the killer, and then she helped that spirit hide in my body until nightfall. So in a way, I am the Pumpkin Man. Or at least I was until recently.”

“You twisted little psychopath,” Nick yelled. “You killed Brian!” He started toward Travis, who backed toward the altar. The storekeeper didn’t refute the accusation.

“Wait,” Jenn demanded, and Nick stopped, one fist still raised. Travis leaned away with his back to the wall of bones. “If you are the Pumpkin Man . . .”

Travis shook his head. “I’m not. The Pumpkin Man . . . he just . . . ‘rides me,’ is what Meredith used to say.”

Jenn shook her head. “I get it. But if you—for all intents and purposes—are the Pumpkin Man, then that means you killed my father, too. Please tell me why. He was in another state; he had nothing to do with Meredith. They never even talked.”

Travis sighed. “Your father made one major mistake,” he said. “When he came out here to put Meredith’s estate in order, he took some things home with him. Things that needed to stay in this house. I don’t normally remember much of what happens when I’m possessed—a few memories sometimes seep back the next day—but I do remember a few things about that trip, probably because he had to take over for such a long time. He had to book a plane, fly to Chicago, find the apartment and then get back. I know some of what happened.”

Travis stared at Nick and Jenn and tightened his lips, thinking. Finally he elaborated. “Meredith bought the Pumpkin Man a special set of knives when he was alive, and she made some kind of spell over them to exaggerate his skill in carving. Don’t get me wrong, he was good without them, but with them? Well, that’s when he became known around here as the Pumpkin Man. Those knives are important in all of this. Your father somehow found the Pumpkin Man’s knives. I flew to Chicago to take them back.”

“But . . . why weren’t they at your place if you were the one who’s been using them?” Jenn asked.

Travis shook his head. “I used them, but eventually they always came back here. To this room, in fact. A night or two after I cleaned everything up, the knives would disappear from my apartment. I know because one time I opened my eyes and I was here with those knives in my hand. Believe me, I totally freaked out. I mean, I knew the place; your aunt and I used the Ouija board here. But, waking up from a dead sleep and finding yourself here, in a room full of bones, in someone else’s house . . . ?” He shuddered. “It was almost worse than knowing what the Pumpkin Man used me to do.”

Jenn opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped and reconsidered. “What did you mean when you said you were the Pumpkin Man until recently?”

“I mean, I didn’t kill Emmaline,” Travis said. “And I didn’t hurt your friend.”

“Kirstin?” Jenn offered.

He nodded.

Jenn was perplexed. “You killed the others but not them? Why?”

Travis shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

“So, what makes you think you didn’t?”

“The knives disappeared again,” Travis said. His voice shook. “I haven’t seen them in days.”

“So, where are they?” Nick asked. He didn’t announce This sounds like bullshit, but the tone of his voice did.

“I don’t know,” Travis said. “I woke up in my car near San Francisco a few days ago, and they weren’t with me. I didn’t remember driving there, which means the Pumpkin Man took me there—but I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything horrible. Normally after any night the Pumpkin Man takes my body, I’m a horrible mess: blood, dirt, whatever. This time, though, I just woke up on a strange road in a strange place. My clothes were fine. No blood.

“I didn’t have the knives anywhere in the car either. I went home and looked for them, and they weren’t there. Usually after an . . . event, the knives are still with me and I clean them up and get rid of any other evidence. The next night they disappear. I usually remember snippets of how they disappear, though, and where. Usually they come back here, and I go back to my room and fall into a deep sleep.

“This time, that didn’t happen. There were no bloody knives to clean up. I drove myself home wondering