The Jack O’ Lantern Man

Every Halloween, someone in town wakes up to find a jack-o’-lantern on their porch — always carved differently, always flickering with a strange green flame. Most think it’s just a harmless local prank.

But this year, the flame won’t go out. And when the pumpkin starts to whisper your name, you realize it’s not a prank — it’s a warning.

“Billy.” The boy’s name came from the flame.

“You’re never lonely in the flame, Billy.”

Scared, Billy felt pee running down his legs as he turned and bolted inside.

“Mom!” he cried. “The Jack O’ Lantern is speaking to me and I don’t like it!”

His mother didn’t look up from wiping the counter. “Billy, it’s Halloween, not story hour,” she said flatly. “Your father and I have told you before — only people talk. Go get ready before I cancel trick-or-treating.”

Billy swallowed hard. “But—”

“No buts.” Her tone was ice.

He ran off to his room. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was one of his classmates out there playing a trick.

He decided on his cowboy costume — cowboys had guns for protection, and he was scared of ghosts.

Billy raced downstairs, the plastic star on his chest bouncing. “Mom, I’m ready to go! Let’s get some candy!” he shouted.

His mom stood by the door, coat already on. “Alright, Billy. Let’s get this over with. Your father will meet us here when we’re done.”

She opened the door.

“Billy,” said the Jack O’ Lantern, voice soft and low, the green light flickering inside. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Billy froze. His mom didn’t even flinch — she didn’t seem to hear it at all.

“Don’t worry about your mother,” the voice went on. “You’ll love it with us, Billy.”

He shoved past her, running down the porch steps to the sidewalk.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked sharply. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You didn’t hear that voice?”

“No. And I’m tired of you pretending there’s one talking to you. Cut it out, or we’ll end the night now.”

Billy’s stomach twisted. He knew what he heard. But she wasn’t going to believe him.

He decided to stay quiet. His father would believe him when they got home.

The pair went door to door, collecting candy, apples, and even pencils. Not everyone handed out candy, but that was fine — Billy liked the pencils best. He used them to draw cowboys and aliens.

When they finally made it back to their house, his father was just pulling into the driveway. The pumpkin was still there, the green flame burning brighter now.

“Billy, it’s dark now,” the Jack O’ Lantern said. “We need to go. Leave your parents.”

“There’s the voice!” Billy yelled. “Did you hear it, Dad? The pumpkin is trying to take me!”

His father sighed, shoulders heavy. “Enough,” he said, walking up to the glowing pumpkin. “Is this the talking pumpkin?”

He bent down to lift it — but it wouldn’t move.

“It’s stuck,” he muttered. “Billy, did you glue this thing to the porch?”

The green flame flared.

“Tonight your parents die and you come with me!” the pumpkin roared.

A thick vine burst from beneath it, twisting up from the porch and towering over his father.