When Pumpkins Breathe
What one loves seldom leaves.

What one loves is seldom left behind. Happy Hallowtide, all!
ππππΎππππππΎππππππΎππππππΎππ
The garden bathed in silver moonlight, pumpkin vines coiling beneath fresh soil. Sandra's fingers ran along the cool skin of a pumpkin--it throbbed, as if in a dream.
Old Sebastian had said that they grew best near Hallowtide--when the Earth recalled the names of those within them.
She edged closer to the ground, her eyes on a flicker of light sparking deep within. For a second, she believed it was her reflection. Then, the pumpkin--
Smiled.
Her grandmother's smile.
Tender.
Knowing.
Sandra teared, not with sadness, but knowing--
That nothing she loved ever truly left.
It grew again---sprouting different vines.
ππππΎππππππΎππππππΎππππππΎππ
Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental
About the Creator
Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin
Hi, i am an English Language teacher cum freelance writer with a taste for pets, prose and poetry. When I'm not writing my heart out, I'm playing with my three dogs, Zorra, Cloudy and Snowball.

Comments (3)
Oh, this is so beautiful. I love the ideas of a smiling pumpkin and sprouting different vines to represent Hallowtide, Michelle.
This is beautiful! I really love these lines: "nothing she loved ever truly left. It grew again---sprouting different vines." We have this magical way to carry everything we love in our heart, making them last forever. Happy Halloween! π
You are on a roll with this unofficial Challenge. Happy Halloween, Michelle! πππ