by Jasmine Arch
The pumpkin’s toothy grin had grown a bit ragged. Anna lifted his lid and replaced the burnt-out candle with a new one.
“Let’s get you a facelift, buddy.” Chuckling at her own joke, she patted the Jack-o-lantern’s lid.
“Your turn next.” The hollow, reedy voice came from the pumpkin. The carved mouth moved, carefully forming each word. “It won’t hurt. Much.”
Anna yelped and stormed inside. Pulse pounding, she slammed the door.
“Damnit, Dave! When I said ‘Bring it to life,’ I meant using your carving skills, not a damn spell.”
She needed a new roommate. No sorcerers this time.
Jasmine Arch lives in a rural corner of Belgium with two horses, four dogs, and a husband who knows better than to distract her when she’s writing. Her love of the written word in all its forms and incarnations is only superceded by her deep abiding passion for caffein.