FoodSmart(Christopher Long) I am sitting in the security office of FoodSmart supermarket watching in muted colours as the images cycle past on the CCTV monitor.

It is ten o’clock the night before Halloween and on the screen shoppers wander up and down the aisles getting party supplies and costumes in preparation for the spookiest night on the calendar. I lean back in my black swivel chair, my thoughts drifting to the Halloween party that I am attending after work. I hope that everyone makes an effort this year and comes in costume. Charlie turned up in his regular clothes last year, almost ruining the entire evening.

My thoughts are brought back to the present when I see something out of the corner of my eye. What was that? My hand automatically reaches for the joy stick which enables me to take manual control of the cameras and switch between them. By the entrance I notice a woman looking in the pumpkin display boxes. She is of medium height with shoulder length auburn hair and is methodically taking out the pumpkins and throwing them on the ground with such force that they are disintegrating on impact with flesh and seeds flying everywhere. I hurry from the office to the shop floor and approach the entrance.

As I arrive I see that my colleagues, Charlie and Rex, are blocking the customer from inflicting further damage upon the pumpkins. She is shouting: “Get out my way! It can’t happen again!” Charlie shouts: “Please calm down Ms.” The altercation is attracting the attention of the other shoppers who stop what they are doing and gather around to watch. Some take out their smartphones and start filming. I ask the crowd to disperse and continue their shopping.

I walk slowly towards my colleagues, being careful not to slip on the splattered pumpkins: “Charlie, Rex, I will take it from here.” They turn towards me miming the word crazy before walking off. The woman resumes her vandalism. I approach her, my shoes being covered in pumpkin, and say: “Ms, would you like to come with me please?” She appears oblivious to her surroundings and continuously repeats: “It can’t happen again!” I frown and say louder: “Ms, come with me please.” She hears me this time, jumps a little and obliges. I led her into a side room and closed the door. The room is sparsely furnished with a water fountain and a brown table. I offer her some water and she nods. After filling a clear plastic glass and putting it on the table in front of her she whispers: “Thank you.” I move around the table and sit opposite her. “What is your name Ms?” I enquire. “Ruth Smith,” she answers. “Well Ms Smith, would you like to tell me what that was out there? What have you got against pumpkins?” “You wouldn’t understand,” she says quietly. “Try me,” I responded. She replies: “Pumpkins killed my family.” I take a deep breath to prevent myself from laughing. “Pumpkins, the vegetables? You think pumpkins killed your family?” “I don’t think,” she says firmly, “I know.”

My mind is racing trying to figure this woman out. Was I in the presence of a murderer? Did she kill her own family and the guilt is causing her to project onto an innocent member of the squash family? If so, why come to a supermarket and confess to a security guard? It was a funny way to come clean. Man, I watch too many detective dramas. I forced myself to abandon this train of thought. “Would you care to elaborate on that, Ms Smith?”

With trembling hands she takes a sip of water and tells me her story. “Last Halloween I was sitting watching the television with my two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, and my husband Sam. When we heard banging on the front door and the sound of breaking glass followed by footsteps. We mounted a defence but we were overwhelmed by pumpkins. They had black hairy limbs and glowing red eyes. Demon pumpkins.”

"What did these demon pumpkins want?” I ask, thinking to myself: 'How crazy is this woman? Demon pumpkins!'

She continues: “They wanted revenge on humanity for the murders we have perpetrated on their kind over the years.” “How do you know?” I ask. “They told us,” Ruth replies simply. “Me and my family were going to be the first of many.” A tear rolls down her cheek, she wipes it away with her hand. I pass her a tissue, which I take from the box on the table. She takes it, wipes her eyes and says: “Excuse me.” “ What happened then?” “We tried to escape by running for the door but the pumpkins used their bodies like bowling balls and we were knocked unconscious. I quickly regained my senses and managed to escape. The pumpkins were distracted by the senseless bodies of my husband and children. I ran for my life, not looking back. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, leaving Sam and the girls at the mercy of those, those...monsters.” “So why come into the supermarket and destroy the pumpkins display?” I inquire. “It was the only thing I could think of to stop it from happening again.” she says firmly.

I am about to ask more when I think angrily: Pull yourself together, how long are you going to indulge her delusions? With irritation in my voice at being so easily side tracked I say: “You will be receiving a letter in the next few days informing you of the fine and the amount you have to pay.” I push myself up into a standing position and escort her to her car. “Have a good night, Ms Smith.” She turns to me and says: “What is your name?” “Jonathan,” I reply. “Be safe Jonathan,” she says before shutting the door and driving away.

As I watch the tail lights of Ruth Smith’s red car drive into the distance, I am thinking how strange the last few hours have been. I look at my watch. It is a minute to midnight. I go back inside chuckling, thinking to myself: 'Pumpkins murdered my family', that sounds like a great title for a low budget horror film or a really bad pulp fiction paperback. I go back into the security office and collect my coat, car keys and phone. My shift is over.

Before leaving I take one last look at the security camera feed. What I see petrifies me. The bodies of Charlie and Rex lie in the freezer aisle surrounded by pumpkins with black hairy limbs and glowing red eyes, exactly what Ruth had described. I watch in horror as the creatures rip and tear chunks of flesh from their victims. More descend from the display boxes and disappear from view. “Where are they going?” I wonder. Although, I fear I already know the answer. This has to be a nightmare. Wake up! Wake up!

Banging on the office door breaks my paralysis. I rush to lock it. There is no escape, no other way out. My only hope is that the door holds. It doesn't. Crashing inwards the creatures enter. One takes up position in front of me, growls and bears razor sharp teeth while the others surround me and start chanting and stamping on the floor. I shut my eyes to block out the hideous faces. However, I can still feel the glowing red eyes watching. Next comes a crushing weight, then... nothing.

Dear readers, I hope you sleep well and won’t have nightmares.
Happy Halloween!

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