Author: Ritwik Ray
A huff, puff, and a poof!
She appeared to us with a sparkle,
Whizzing around the figure of my Nurturer,
Leaving a trail of glitter on her ankles.
“Cindy, honey, darling, dearest
Why have ye become so sullen?
I’m yer Fairy Godmother, ya know.
Shame to see this all of a sudden.”
With a sob and tear, my Nurturer began
Her saddening, maddening lament.
Stepsisters, stepmothers, and servitude…
Stuck at home, oh, what a predicament!
What was to say? I wouldn’t know.
I was but a Pumpkin, lacking what you’d call a face.
No way to speak or sympathize, to sigh and clear my mind.
Sometimes being myself felt like being a disgrace.
What if I was different? What if I could change?
To shift, to twist, like roots and leaves, and leave behind this place?
Alas, I remained, like roots and leaves, stuck in a shabby garden.
An orange speechless fruit, a sorrowful little case.
“Hah, no sweat!”, began the Fairy Godmother.
Poof! Glitter! Her dress, now free from all damage
“Need a ride? Fret not!”, she said, as mice became horses.
Her wand turned to me, and… I became a carriage!
You know the rest, don’t you?
A ballroom dance with the prince,
Running back home before the clock struck twelve
So her presence would not seem amiss.
A leftover shoe, a quest to find its wearer
The shoe fits, the stepmother faints! The end of a chapter.
My Nurturer was now a princess, her mice now royalty.
Together they departed for their “happily ever after.”
But the shoe was not the only thing left behind.
For no one noticed me, a pumpkin, at the bottom of the palace stairs.
I’d been a carriage, I’d been something else, and yet here I was…
Left behind, rotten down, as my Nurturer lived unawares.
She appeared once more, with a sparkle and glitter.
“Ye’ve been left behind by the story, eh?”
What do I do, O’ Fairy Godmother? I don’t want to disappear!
I wish to speak, to be, to live, on my own say!
“Can’t do that if ye’re a pumpkin.
So how about this grace?
Ye can be whatever ye wish to be
and ye’ll always have a face!
But as always, terms and conditions apply!
For yer face will forever be wicked and wry
Dripping with agony, even if yer a sweetie..
You’ll always make the children cry.”
Ah well, so what? I get to be myself?
To speak, To change, To shift my shape,
And what better way to utilize my wish…
Than to terrorize the kingdom that left me no escape!
Transforming into a raven, I took flight,
Scanning the horizons, I found a cemetery in sight!
Landing on the grass, I took the form of a grave…
A warped face whispering, giving passer-bys a fright!
Once again I transformed, this time a witch!
Cackling through the skies, profanities abundant,
On a broom, seeking my next target,
Awaiting their inevitable plight!
I spied with my crooked eye,
A castle atop the hill so high!
My old Nurturer had expanded things, I see…
It would be rude to not fly by!
Landing on the regal window-side,
I became a pumpkin once more, for a reminder would be nice,
The only change that remained was my glowing, melting face…
As I awaited my old master to draw away the blinds.
A rustle, a shift, as the curtains moved…
I screamed! And laughed! Hah, she deserved it!
But… what? Someone just laughed back?
They’re giggling now? As if this was a skit?
A little child pops out of the cloth,
Grinning like an idiot…
Ah, well! Good for her!
As I thought of my Nurturer.
“Do more, do more!” The cretin asks,
And I oblige, yelping louder and louder,
We both find tears in our eyes
As we cry and cry with laughter.
“You’ll always make the children cry,”
Was what the fairy godmother had said,
Here I was, fulfilling the prophecy…
In a new, twisted way instead.
This twisting, this shift,
Is this not what I desired?
The power to be happy and free as I was,
I could bring it to the exhausted, the tired.
And so, the child and I,
Began a journey across the kingdom.
Spreading the messages of trickery and twists,
At least for a day, to alleviate the boredom.
All that now remains of me,
Is the tradition of the Hallows’ Eve
As the children transform into what they love,
I too transformed, you better believe!
– Jack O’Lantern, Pumpkin by birth.
