johndarnielle:

megacycles:

Talking Pumpkins

“The light shines for one night only. By morning, it’s extinguished forever. God leaves you on the porch, because He wouldn’t want to just throw you away, having gone to the trouble of picking you and carving you, and besides, He feels genuine affection for you: you’ve shared a day together. But in His heart he knows: you’re going to rot out there. Maybe some neighbor kids will show mercy and steal you from God’s porch and then he won’t have to spray your remains off with a hose like He did last year. ‘Who am I kidding,’ thinks God to Himself. ‘I’m going to just let it decompose out there again. I am Who I am and I can’t throw away the pumpkin I carved even when there’s barely anything left of it. How did I get like this?’

No one answers. He is talking to himself again. An autumn wind whines lowly in the pines: November. Probably be a cold one this year. That’s what the Almanac says, anyway.”