Personal Narrative: Scrumptious Perfection

As I ran, I felt my foot come down on top of a moss filled rock, and I knew I was in trouble. The slick moss ripped away from the slab of granite and it sent me flying. I knew the fall would be inevitable, and took the it as best I could and prayed for some luck. Branches ripped apart my face, snapping from the contact. Blood flicked up into my eyes. My shoulder made contact with the trunk of a tree as the rest of my body dug into the mud. My legs flipped up over me, crashing into piece of granite bulging out of the ground, pain traveled its way up my leg.

The story “Pumpkins” was first published in the journal “Western Humanities Review”. This journal accepts online submissions only, and charge a small submission fee. Flash fictions must be at 1,000 words or less, but authors can submit multiple submissions, as

I saw the perfect pumpkin all the way in the back of the patch. I picked one up and it was perfect. As I turned it around, it was really a pumpkin zombie. The eyes were dark red, seeds were coming out of its mouth, and green ooze dripped from its ears and nose.

I, Deputy Gough received a call reference a white Ford truck driving in the Gamester trailer court all over the roadway. Upon my arrival I spoke with David Vore and Jennifer Vore. Jennifer Stated that Randy was the driver of the white Ford truck that said, “All Good Construction.” David and Jennifer both stated that they saw the truck drive through the yard hitting a slow child at play sign and the stop sign.

Sitting in that cold chair with the scent of disinfectant and latex gloves wafting around, I wished to be back in my bed dreaming again of eggs and bacon. Just as I was about to settle and accept my fate, it hit me, pain I had never imagined possible. I rushed to the bathroom and immediately began to vomit from the intensity of pain I felt in my lower abdomen.

Francine Prose's short fictional piece, "Pumpkins," was about a therapist who was having an epiphany, with how this sudden incident that has happened in town, affects him so greatly. The short piece also played with the significance of the pumpkin in an interesting way. One thing that I noticed in my first read of Prose’s short piece was that it has a very serious and heavy tone. For example, just within the first two lines, “There was a terrible accident. A truck full of Halloween pumpkins is speeding…”. As well as the beginning sentence of paragraph two. The second thing that I had noticed in Prose’s piece was that the story was being told through the therapist perspective. Although it took me several reads to catch this, each time I read

Kat’s hands trembled, and her throat threated to close off. He had to believe her. “Jake roped a calf . . .” She repeated the events of the shooting, tormented by her own confusion.

As night comes all my stirring thoughts gather. I lay in my murky room and almost as if I am looking at myself from outside my body. I feel as if I am away in a dark bitter cold place, but this place provides comfort as it whispers in a strident voice the idea “perfection”. ‘Perfection Perfection Per- fec- tion ‘I repeat to myself. Funny how if you repeat a word long enough it no longer feels like one. This word this ever so churlish word began to bind me it became mine I embraced as it sucked the life away from me. Perfection became my own special parasite that I nurtured and cared for.

Jake recuperates and uncovers evidence proving her innocence. The real shooter, Duvall, followed Rodriguez’s orders. Now Jake’s goal is within reach, but he must also save his family and his grandfather’s legacy.

Katrina lay soundlessly in her bed as the wind whipped and whistled against the glass of the window. She was awakened abruptly by the casting glow of a flashlight shining in on her and then trailing around the house. She slinked to her window to peer around the pane, but the light was no longer there. Instead there was a pumpkin head smashed against her window atop of horse’s body. The pumpkin began to speak and as it did, it left a trail of fog on the cold fall night. It told her never to tell anyone that she saw a pumpkin peering in on her and that if she told anyone he would burden her from her sleep and there would be no trace of her left behind. Oddly enough this voice resembled the schoolmaster, Ichabod Crane.

RUN! GO NOW!” Ava screamed as she was pushing Mia. They both rushed up the stairs and swung open the door at the top as the big, heavy, door that creaked when you opened it. The door leaded to the outside of the big creepy house. It was like a dog chasing a cat. Ava lived right next door so all they had to do was hop the fence and they were safe. Ava pulled herself up and leaped over the fence so fast like she had done that a million times before. and was perfectly safe but Mia was stuck. “Come on Mia! They are right behind you!” Ava shouted as she was peeking through the fence. Ava grabbed Mia’s hand and pulled her over. They both fell to the ground, and looked at each other with so much

It was a frigid Fall day, with kids raking up the warm colored leaves into piles that seemed high enough to climb then proceeding to destroy those piles by jumping into them. There was one kid named Nate who didn’t partake in the repeated destruction of leaf piles; he was much more interested in carving pumpkins. It was his favorite thing to do during Fall; but, neither his friends or family enjoyed touching the disgusting, gooey insides of the pumpkins, so they refused to make jack-o-lanterns with him. While on the way to buy some pumpkins to buy, Nate saw a flyer for a pumpkin carving contest. He was enthralled with the idea of a whole contest being dedicated to see who is the best at making jack-o-lanterns. This idea of a contest excited

Then, with the sound of the feather shattering over and over again, came a scream. Bone-chilling, it shook me to the core, shocking the fibers of my mortal being. How painful it was! Like a spear hurled with the mission of death, the impact suffocated my being with

It was a warm day in Masaya I don’t remember the exact date but it was around 2009. As I usually do I went to visit my brother who lives at my grandmother’s house. I didn’t expect that that day my life would change forever because i discovered the true meaning of perfection.

It was Halloween night and I had work off the next day so I decided to take it easy and watch a movie. Working at a bakery wasn 't exactly stressful so much as demanding. My boss expected too much, but I needed the money. I peel off my costume and get into my night-suit - a white t-shirt and shorts - and crawled onto the couch in my livingroom, snuggling in with my blanket. I find some terribly crappy horror film and begin watching it half-heartedly. Just over thirty minutes in, I hear the sound of a pot fall down in the kitchen. I think nothing of it because gravity works it 's magic all the time, no reason to