Robert said nothing. He narrowed his eyes at the monitor but couldn’t find anything that could’ve done it. Metallic clinks echoed from inside the freezer. There was no camera in there, so they had no way to see what was happening.

  Squish… chomp… squish… chomp.

  Then came the crack of bone, like something chewing it into fragments.

  “You stay here.” Robert stood, gripping his gun. “I’ll check it out. If something happens, call the cops.”

  “You stupid? You think you can handle whatever the hell’s in there?” Frank snapped. “Calling the cops right now sounds like a much better idea.”

  “They won’t come. You know our police department, if no one’s dead or injured, they won’t bother. Try telling them, ‘Something invisible is attacking my grocery store.’” Robert growled.

  Frank inhaled, defeated. “Fine… Just be careful.”

  Robert nodded and pushed the door open. He stepped into the hallway, legs tense with every move. The closer he came to the freezer corridor, the harder his heart hammered. Thoughts raced wild:

  What the hell are you doing? This is insane.

  Turn back. Tell the cops there’s an intruder. Let them figure it out.

  But the image of his bedridden wife and his daughter working through college flashed through his mind. His grip tightened. He drew a deep breath and kept going.

  At the steel door, he raised his gun, finger ready on the trigger. Another breath, and he charged in.

  A blast of freezing air slapped him in the face, thick as fog pouring from a glacier. Frost clung to the door, catching the flicker from the LED lights.

  The freezer smelled of cold metal, raw meat, and coolant. Shelves lay toppled, snack bags shredded, bits of meat scattered everywhere.

  “Who’s in here? Show yourself!” Robert shouted.

  No human reply but a low, guttural growl, warped and rough as if it came from a torn speaker.

  A huge dark shape dragged itself from the storage corner. It looked like a bear the size of a car, coated in black fur that brushed the ceiling. Its eyes glowed, jaw stretched back toward its ears, rows of tiny teeth jumbled together. Dozens of arms jutted from its body like tree roots, dripping with wet, sickening pops as they moved.

  “What the fuck?! Die!!!” Robert roared and pulled the trigger.

  Gunshots boomed, bullets slicing through the thing and punching into the steel behind it.

  No blood. No pain. His gun might as well have been firing air.

  The monster roared again, shaking the freezer. Boxes crashed to the floor. It lumbered toward Robert.

  A crushing force poured from its body, locking Robert in place. Sweat rolled down his face.

  Move! Move, damn it! He screamed in his head. But his body refused.

  He could feel death breathing down his neck.

  A hand grabbed his arm and yanked him free. It was Frank.

  “Run!”

  They sprinted, but a shadow whipped through the air, and lights burst out. Darkness swallowed the store.

  Something heavy chased them.

  Thud… thud… thud…

  Then, whip!

  Vine-like tendrils snapped around their legs, dragging them down. Robert fought, but the grip felt tougher than a rope.

  The monster crept closer. Ten feet away now.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Robert fired again and again. Nothing. Sweat poured down their backs.

  The creature opened its maw impossibly wide and ready to snap...

  Then silence. No roar. No cold. No smell. Nothing.

  Robert froze, his chest heaving, and his shirt was soaked in sweat. The hallway stood empty, riddled with bullet holes.

  “What… what the hell just happened…”

  “Thank God. Robert, I swear, this is the last time I go along with your dumb ideas!”

  Neither man noticed the figures standing and watching from just behind the shelves.

  “So it’s this thing,” Acher muttered.

  On the cold ground, the monster illusion faded like smoke, revealing a tiny creature about half the size of a basketball. Its body was round, glowing bright orange, with fiery eyes of the same color and a jagged crack for a mouth, flames licking and roaring from within. On its head sat a pot lid like a helmet. It panted hard, trembling, staring up at them with wide eyes.

  “Looked like it just used a Veil of Lies, right?” Aaron said. “But… what is this thing?”

  “He is a ghostfire pumpkin,” Acher replied. “A native species of the Underworld. They’re usually quite harmless unless you threaten their young or their territory. This one won’t last long here. Human food barely fills him, and only for a short while. They need to absorb pure dark magic regularly; otherwise, they will fall sick and die.”

  Aaron pulled out his EPhone and searched.

  “Oh, they’re half beast, half plant. Also called Will-o’-the-wisp pumpkins.” He began reading aloud. “With their infernal flame, they make great helpers in alchemy, metalwork, and even magical cooking. They can be raised as rare pets and serve as tough guards for your home, since they are brute-rank demons.”

  Luther crouched beside the tiny pumpkin. Its glowing eyes were full of fear, exhaustion, and hunger.

  “What’s your name?” he asked with a soft voice.

  The creature opened his mouth and squeaked like a frightened mouse:

  “Squeak squeak (Name? What is… name?)”

  His voice grew weaker, and his light dimmed.

  Luther paused. Instead of restraining or sealing him, he knelt and rested his hand on his little head, sending a bit of dark magic into him.

  The pumpkin shivered, but then calmed. His breathing steadied. The glow in his eyes returned, brighter now as he looked at him.

  Aaron tilted his head. “So… now we just need to send him back to Hell, right?”

  “That’s the plan,” Luther said. But before he could open a Hell portal, the pumpkin wrapped two tiny vines around his leg in a desperate plea.

  “Huh?” Aaron chuckled. “Seems like he doesn’t want to go yet.”

  The pumpkin squeaked a few broken sounds, then scurried toward the store’s back door, glancing back at them again and again. It waved its vines for them to follow.

  Acher frowned. “It wants to show us something.”

  “Let’s follow,” Luther said.

  They left Market Basket, chasing the little pumpkin through empty midnight streets, across weed-choked fields and past rusty fences and silent neighborhoods. Wind sliced through the dark, and dim streetlights flickered over dew-soaked asphalt.

  At last, the pumpkin hopped into an abandoned cemetery, where crooked gravestones leaned into the wild grass, and moss devoured the old crosses.

  In the center stood a large grave, its cracked stone too worn to read. The pumpkin hopped forward and spat out scraps it had gathered: crushed snacks, torn pieces of meat, even a dented Coke can, laying everything before the grave.

  “It’s… offering tribute?” Aaron whispered.

  Acher shook his head. “No. It’s feeding.”

  Only now did the boys notice two smaller pumpkins beside the grave, shriveled, dark, their flames all gone.

  The larger pumpkin nudged them with his vines, making soft choking noises like a crushed sob.

  “Must be his family…” Aaron murmured.

  Luther stood silent. Then he stepped forward, lifting the withered pumpkins into his arms. Dark magic surged around him, shifting the air. Cold mist sparkled like stardust. A breeze swept through, carrying the scent of soil and green grass.

  The dead pumpkins twitched, and faint fire sparkles leaked through their closed eyes.

  The big pumpkin scrambled onto Luther, wrapping his vines around both smaller pumpkins, letting out a joyful squeal as he felt warmth return to their bodies.

  Aaron’s eyes widened. “How’d you do that? They were already dead, right?”

  “They died. For just a short while,” Luther answered. “Their souls hadn’t. Returned to the Flow yet. So I could. Call them back.”

  “Basic power of a Reaper,” Acher said with a shrug. “Forget about just resurrection, he can even grant some kind of immortality if he wants.”

  Aaron’s jaw dropped. “I thought only matured divine beings could do that!”

  “Death is his domain,” Acher explained, “so he can tap a piece of that authority even as a mere adept mage. But it’s not like a divine blessing. Even if he makes a creature immortal, only their soul endures. The body will keep aging until it is nothing more than a living heap of skin and bones, unable to move. Who wants that kind of eternity? To live well and live forever, you must walk the path to godhood or be blessed by a true divine being.”

  “Got it,” Aaron muttered.

  The big pumpkin hugged the smaller ones and stared at Luther as he opened a small portal to Thymos.

  “Let’s go home,” Luther said.

  The pumpkin looked at the portal… then at Luther… then he wrapped another vine around his arm, looping again and again, refusing to let go.

  “Want to go with us?” Luther asked.

  “Squeak... squeak...” the pumpkin squeaked desperately.

  “Let’s keep them,” Luther told Aaron and Acher.

  “That’d be awesome!” Aaron’s eyes lit up. “I always wanted a pet, but my mom is allergic to cats and dogs, so Dad banned everything.”

  “You’ll have to feed them dark magic every day and buy special food for them,” Acher warned.

  “Sure,” Luther nodded. “I’m rich now.”

  If this were before selling the Etherstones, he might’ve hesitated; raising these three little pumpkins didn’t sound cheap. But now? Money wasn’t a problem at all.

  “Up to you kids,” Acher said. “But if they make a mess, you’re the ones cleaning it.”

  “No big deal.” Luther smiled from the heart and said. “Let’s go.”

  They took to the air, heading toward the glowing lights of Boston in the distance.