The Day the Thanksgiving Turkey Ran Away: Full Story

Prologue

Jonathan Legcheese was like any average 15-year old boy.  He obsessed over the finer things in life, like holidays, girls, and toy ponies (and a very special toy unicorn).  He enjoyed spending time with his wacky parents, his friend Stanley Pharmacist (and Stanley’s pet goldfish, Dennis), and especially his spontaneous and downright abnormal ex-girlfriend, Awana Humphfree.  These were his only concerns until the fateful day when he woke up on October 31^st and realized that the entire town of Vacaville had no idea that it was Halloween.  After some thorough investigating, and some advice from a disturbingly agile old lady who happened to know that it was Halloween, Jonathan was compelled to make the 27-mile journey to an eerie mansion overlooking the city.  It was there that he met the Man with the Green Toe, also known as Kory Labarga, an old and renowned author.  Kory explained the dilemma that faced Vacaville and, potentially, all of humanity.  One of the characters of his book had escaped the literary world and, as a professor well-versed in the dark sciences, had discovered a way to remove the memory of Halloween from the minds of the townspeople!

            Professor Aponowatsomidichloron, the absurdly lengthy name of our story’s antagonist, planned to move forward from Halloween and steal away the spirit of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and beyond.  Kory realized the full danger of this threat.  However, because of his obsession with writing, and the frailty of his hips, he could not confront the evil professor.  He therefore charged Jonathan with stopping him, and gave him six companions to aid him in his quest.  Pumpkin, Witch, Ghost, Frankenstein’s monster, Bat, and Cat (benevolent characters from a story of Kory’s who had also come to life) accompanied Jonathan on his long trek to a nearby mountain range.  Before they came to the mountains, however, Jonathan went home to acquire a weapon that was unsurpassed in its power, capability, and radiant splendor: a toy unicorn, aptly named Ms. Unicorn.  After Pumpkin also found a sword to take along with him on the journey, and after they were joined by Awana Humphfree, the group marched toward the mountains.

            Because a story would be boring without some kind of conflict between heroes, Pumpkin and Jonathan bantered about leadership strategy and ability along the way.  It seemed that, while Pumpkin respected Kory’s choice of Jonathan to lead the expedition, he felt more qualified because of his leadership role in past adventures.  The most intelligent member of the group, Frankenstein’s monster, recognized that the professor was likely using some twisted science to create factional chaos within their group.  They moved forward with the understanding that Jonathan was to lead them, but Pumpkin agreed begrudgingly.  In fact, when they reached Professor Apo’s camp and stared into the cave in which he was obviously situated, Pumpkin burst forward without consulting Jonathan and entered the darkness before them.  Shortly thereafter, he fled from the mouth of the cave and notified his group of the horrible things contained within.

            Terrified, all but Frankenstein’s monster dashed into the mountain and met with the professor.  Jonathan charged at him, but ended his flight and ran crying in the opposite direction when he saw zombies pouring out from doorways within the cave.  But before he turned, he dropped Ms. Unicorn in a specific location in front of a bubbling cauldron.  A battle of epic proportions ensued.  It was like one of those battles from The Lord of the Rings movies, but with Halloween characters and a sniveling protagonist too afraid to face his foes.  The Halloween friends and Awana fought well, but were eventually outmatched; the professor had them dangling above a horde of hungry zombies.  It was then that Frankenstein’s monster erupted into the room, killing everything in his path and rescuing his friends.  Jonathan found the will to stand, and with every last ounce of courage, he raced toward the professor with a mighty battle cry.  He pushed the wicked man with great strength, causing him to soar and step on Ms. Unicorn.  Jonathan landed and was not harmed, but the professor lost his footing and fell over the rim of the cauldron.  He plunged into the sickly orange liquid, and was gone (except for his ashes, which remained once the cauldron was depleted of its contents).

            Their source of power gone, all of the items within the professor’s lab began to break and explode.  The companions had a short conversation about their victory, and then fled the cave as quickly as their legs would take them.  But before she left, Witch picked up something from the ground and pocketed it with an upset look on her face.  Later that evening, the group went trick-or-treating in light of the fact that everyone in the town now remembered that it was Halloween.  But even as they were filled with joy over their victory, the friends could not help but be a bit disturbed.  For while they were in the cave with the professor, before the great battle had begun, he had sung a troubling song:

Three potions done, three more to come.

The end is now in sight.

Halloween gone, resurrection,

And goodness turned to blight.

The holidays shall fade away;

I’ll burn them to their core.

In ash they’ll lay, that none may say,

“Happy ‘this’” anymore.

A touch of this, a dash of that.

My potion’s almost done.

The day of thanks will not be had;

I’ll strip them of their fun.

And if they seek and try to take

The potions I’ve conceived,

They’ll curse their fate, for two are safe

In the hands of M.D.

What did these words mean? How did the agile old lady maintain the knowledge that October 31^st was Halloween, while everyone else had forgotten? Who was M.D.? Why in the world am I asking you? You haven’t even read the third story yet! Many answers lie ahead, so sit back, grab a bucket of popcorn/anchovies/chimichangas, and enjoy the ride!

 Chapter 1

Something in the Oven

Pumpkin was not elated by any means to be in the Legcheese household on Thanksgiving.  This was not due to the unmatched oddity of Jonathan’s parents, nor the annoyance of Ghost’s presence in the house.  Indeed, not even the grand pumpkin pie gracing the massive dining table (likely to consist of some relative of his) was the source of his melancholy.  He looked around the family room and saw that his friends wore expressions of ineffable joy on their faces as they busied themselves with important tasks: Jonathan and Awana, hula-hooping to techno music blaring from one of those nearly extinct CD players, laughed hysterically; Ghost, facing a midlife crisis or something, would disappear suddenly and then reappear minutes later, scaring the bejesus out of his newest victim; Stanley Pharmacist, whom you may recall from the first book of this series, sat on a recliner in the corner, watching delightfully as his goldfish (Dennis) swam around the fish bowl he held; Jonathan’s dad stood three feet in front of the 96-inch TV, screaming at the football game and rooting for both teams (and apparently another team that was not even playing); and Jonathan’s mother sat on a couch near the kitchen (for she was preparing dinner for everyone), playing an intense game of Battleship against herself.  The cheerfulness permeating the air seemed to bounce off Pumpkin, because his mind was on one thing: home.  He and his storybook allies had been on earth for a little more than five years now, which was about five years longer than he had desired.  Sure, he had made some great friends in his time on this planet.  And Kory’s mansion was open to all of the companions for as long as they were in this world.  But as grateful as Pumpkin was that Kory had penned him into existence, the man was weird (to say the least), and he often sang like a woman (when he was not speaking to himself).  Most significantly, however, was the very fact that this planet, as welcoming as it has been thus far, would never be their home.

Jonathan approached Pumpkin, his hula-hoop still spiraling madly around his hips.  “How now, sot? What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing is bothering me, Jonathan,” Pumpkin lied.  “I’m great! Thanksgiving is such an odd and wonderful holiday!”

“Just because you have a smile perpetually engraved in your face, it doesn’t mean you’re always happy,” said the boy.  “You can’t fool me! Do you want me to throw away the pumpkin pie in the dining room?”

“No, leave it.  You guys can eat it; just don’t expect me to engage in cannibalism.”

“Noted.” The hula-hoop dropped from Jonathan’s hips, and he cursed the day he was born as Awana emerged the victor of their 17-hour competition.  “Ugh! Whatever.  So Pumpkin, why aren’t the rest of your buddies here again?”

“Well, Witch and Frankenstein’s monster went on some mission.  Highly classified, you know.  Bat and Cat decided to spend the day with Kory, so he wouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving.”

Jonathan nodded.  “So you were just about to tell me what’s bothering you.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Pumpkin looked at the boy’s face.  First, he noticed a bit of peach fuzz above Jonathan’s lip (a huge improvement, since he had assumed the boy would be stuck in his semi-pubescent phase for eternity).  He also noticed that his young friend was resolved to remain in place until he answered the question.  “Fine! I’m just thinking about my home.  My world.  I had hoped that stopping Professor Apo would magically teleport us back to our home, but it did nothing of the sort.  Are we going to be stuck here forever?”

“Maybe,” Jonathan replied, stroking his peach fuzz proudly.  “But Ghost seems to be doing pretty well.  I mean, just look at him!”

At that moment, Ghost appeared behind Stanley Pharmacist’s recliner and floated slowly above the unsuspecting kid’s head.  He then yelled “Boo!” in his most intimidating voice, and both Stanley and his goldfish screamed and began to weep.  Ghost chortled heartily and disappeared into the spirit world once more.

“Keep your eyeth open, Dennith,” Stanley lisped, holding tightly to the fish bowl.  “Necth time, I’ll punch him in the lointh before he thuthpecth anything.  And then we get turkey.”

“Yeah, he does seem to be having the time of his life,” Pumpkin admitted.  “But I know Ghost much better than I ever wanted to, and he is doing this to help himself cope.  We all want to go back, Jonathan.  We prize our friendship with you, but we don’t belong here.”

The boy nodded slowly with understanding.  “Then I guess we’ll just have to find you a way home.  And we will, or my name isn’t Viggo Mortensen.”

“Thanks, buddy,” said the squash, but he did not sound very convinced.

“You’ve been here for a month, and you haven’t even talked about your world once.  In fact, I just assumed you came from a fictional version of this world.  Ms. Unicorn and I are very displeased.  She thinks you have some dark secret you don’t want me to know, but I think she’s being a bit silly.”

“No, there’s no secret.  And I’m not really surprised you thought we came from a fictional version of this world.  I love Kory to death, but when I read some of his old stuff, I can’t help but think that he couldn’t write to save his life.” Pumpkin swayed left to right with laughter.  “He didn’t do a good job of describing our world in his old ‘Happy Halloween’ story that he wrote as a boy.  But yeah, we come from somewhere else entirely.  It’s a world called Armenor.”

“Sounds boring,” Jonathan answered with a yawn.  “Go on.”

“Well, it’s nothing like this place.  It feels younger, because it’s not really as advanced.  But it also feels much older, in a way, because of its long history.  Oh, and because of the fact that there are dragons there.”

“Dragons!” Jonathan’s eyes grew the size of boulders.  “What the smell? I want to go there! But wait.  Pumpkin, are you high? Your story was called ‘Happy Halloween.’  You’re telling me that they celebrate Halloween in a completely different world?”

“It’s not called Halloween there.  There, it’s called The Night of Ghouls.  But it’s nearly the same as Halloween in this world.  In the place I come from, it’s our most sacred holiday.”

“Oooh, is it story time?” Awana squawked.  She dashed to Jonathan’s side and knocked over his dad in the process, propelling him across the room.  Fortunately, a table broke his fall.  Unfortunately, the table was laden with every comestible assortment imaginable.  Beneath his weight and momentum the small structure snapped, and olives, crackers, chocolate, pickles, caviar, pig ears, sausages, and liver leapt high into the air.  One of the pig ears smacked Jonathan’s mother in the face and almost knocked her out cold; furthermore, caviar splattered across her Battleship board (she was winning, by the way) and rendered it useless.

“That’s it!” she cried.  “I have been slaving over the food for this evening since three in the morning, and not one person has lifted a finger to help me!”

“Mom, why in the world did you wake up at three to start cooking?” Jonathan inquired.  “I mean, thanks for the food, but there are only seven of us here.  You cooked enough for half the U.S army!”

She looked at him, her eyes wild, and stabbed a threatening finger in his direction.  “That’s why you’re not president, mister.” She stormed away, and the last they heard before she slammed the door was, “Take your pills!  I’m getting some fresh air.”

Awana stared at Jonathan and rubbed his arm in a way that was about 10% seductive and 90% awkward.  “So Johnny boy, what do you think about cuddling on the couch while we listen to Pumpkin’s stories about The Night of Ghouls? Maybe we can spoon!”

“Yeah, cool, be there in a second,” the boy lied, turning his attention to the seated squash.  “Please, Pumpkin, won’t you tell us about this holiday of yours?”

“I’m good right here, guys,” said Jonathan’s dad, dipping some liver in caviar that had streamed across his shirt.  “I have the best seat in the house.”

“I don’t really feel like getting into the history of it,” Pumpkin muttered wearily.  “Maybe later.  In fact, there’s not much to tell.  I’m sure you guys would get bored within a few minutes.”

“What are you talking about, Pumpkin?” cut in the ethereal voice of Ghost as he reappeared next to Jonathan.  “The Night of Ghouls is your favorite day of the year! One time, you managed to tell stories about it for an entire twenty-four hour period.  Of course, I did fall asleep around hour four.  But hour eighteen was definitely my favorite.”

Pumpkin shrugged, which actually looked like a pathetic hop, as squashes do not have shoulders.  “I just think they would find it boring.”

“Well, then tell them about him,” Ghost encouraged.

“Him? No, I couldn’t.”

“Him? Who’s ‘him’?” Jonathan asked.  “Batting for the other team, Pumpkin? I knew it.”

Awana was testing out different poses on an open couch to Jonathan’s right.  She was attempting to look as appealing as possible, but alas, it looked as though she were in the middle of a very rigorous and painful session of squats.

“No, no,” Pumpkin addressed Jonathan.  “Ghost is talking about my cousin.”

Jonathan pulled Ms. Unicorn from his pocket and proffered her to his friend.  “Would it be easier for you if you were holding Ms. Unicorn?”

“Probably not.”

“Then I rescind my gift.” The boy put the glorious creature back in his pocket.  “She’s too good for you, anyway.”

“Well,” Pumpkin commenced, “The Nights of Ghouls.  Ghost is right.  It is my favorite holiday, and I think it’s because of the memories.  When I was just a squashling, my family would spend more time preparing for that holiday than they did for any other.  We decorated our hut, baked many kinds of sweets, and wore sometimes hilarious—but usually terrifying—costumes.  And every year, my slightly older (but always less mature) cousin, Gourdo, would come over.  This isn’t to say that The Night of Ghouls was the only time we saw each other.  We were born around the same time, and fostered a friendship even as seedlings.  Also, it turned out that my family lived very near to his.  So we spent much of our youth together, going on adventures, pulling childish pranks, and laughing the days away.  As we got a bit older, and life got more serious, we learned to talk to each other about all of our thoughts and troubles. 

“So, as you can see, he and I were very close.  Everything there was to know about us, we knew about one another.  We confided everything to each other, which is actually quite surprising, if you knew him.  You know me as the kind of squash who always does what is right.  That’s because I grew up and no longer cared about pulling pranks and getting into trouble.  Well, he decided to continue going down that route.  Getting into constant trouble was his lifeblood.  He reveled in doing the very opposite of what he knew was right.  But whenever I connected with him, he was the same wonderful cousin I had always known.  It was as if he were living two separate lives: one around me, and another around the rabble-rousers in the area.  I tried to show him the error of his ways, and he would pretend to learn from my advice.  Then he would continue to cause problems for people (and squashes) around our city.

 “Even so, I loved him as I loved my own soul.  But one day, something strange happened.  And it happened to be on The Night of Ghouls, ten years ago.  You see, when he arrived at our hut that particular evening, rather than wearing some extravagant costume, the only thing he wore was a cape.  He told everyone to call him ‘Super Pumpkin,’ which I found quite fun at first.  I was amazed at how he never seemed to stray from this heroic character he had created.  As we went from house to house for treats, he kept a watchful eye on his surroundings.  If anything remotely wrong or evil was happening nearby, he would put an end to it.   Some children, whom you would refer to as ‘teens,’ went around the neighborhood that night and snatched bags of treats from younger children.  When he saw this particular incident happen nearby, he beat up an entire group of the little thugs and started to hand out their treats to kids who had very little.  He was so perfect in this new role that I was surprised the next day, because he sank right back into his normal troublemaking ways.

“A year later, he came to our house with the same outfit.  He acted in the same manner that he had the year before, but this time, he talked down to me.  He acted as though I weren’t even worthy of being around him.  But we still went from house to house for treats together, and yet again, he put an end to any wickedness that happened around him.  The oddest thing was that, when I saw him the next day, he was still wearing that cape.  And when I saw him a few days later, that cape was still there! I can’t even begin to tell you how hurtful it was when he continued to talk down to me.  He was once a rogue, and he used to cause trouble in the neighborhood.  But then he transformed, and he wanted to destroy evil so badly that he became self-righteous—and all he could see were others’ imperfections.  He demanded that everyone call him ‘Super Pumpkin’ permanently, so that became his name.  He would not even answer to Gourdo anymore.

“The last time I spoke to him, I tried to explain that his self-righteousness was just as evil—if not more so—than the flaws that he saw around him.  I tried so hard to reason with him, and then he struck me and dashed off.  I don’t know where he went.  That was five years ago.  I wish that I had been able to show him how wrong he was.  He needs to see that.  But to be honest, more than anything, I miss my cousin.  I remember the good times we had.  I remember how we talked about things that we couldn’t tell anyone else about.  I want that relationship back.  But—I don’t know.  Do you think a broken relationship can ever be fully restored?”

Jonathan looked at him and sighed.  “Dang it, Pumpkin.  I thought that all I had to worry about today was whether I’d eat light or dark meat! Now this? Come on!”

“Pumpkin, that story was so beautiful and sad, like a dead swan,” said Awana, approaching him.  She knelt down and placed a hand on him.  “I for one think that it’s never too late to restore a relationship, no matter how broken it seems.”

Pumpkin sniffled and turned to her.  “For a girl who looks remarkably like a cocker spaniel, you say wise things from time to time.”

The girl nodded at him.  “Well, I should.  I did play a lot of Scrabble when I was younger.”

Stanley was in tears, and Dennis the goldfish was doing his best to comfort his owner.  “Thath the thaddetht thtory I ever heard!” the boy lisped.  “Did the pumpkinth ever become friendth again?”

“No, Stanley, they never did,” Pumpkin replied.  “They probably never will.  I don’t know if I’ll even be able to return to my home in Armenor.  It seems that the Halloween friends are stuck here for good.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Awana reassuringly.  “Have faith.  You will go back to your home.  I just know it.  It sounds like there is still a lot of work you need to do in Armenor.  You have to go back.”

“There just seems to be no way.” The little squash’s voice had never sounded so morose.

“Thanks for telling us all of that, buddy,” Jonathan told him, patting him gratefully.  “I know it wasn’t easy, but I think it was important that you told us.”

“Yeah, and Pumpkin, look on the bright side,” said Jonathan’s father.  “There’s caviar and crackers all over the floor.  Other families don’t have that luxury.”

“Very true, Pumpkin,” Ghost interjected.  “At least we have that.”

“Dagnabbit, you worthless husband of mine!” screamed Jonathan’s mother, storming into the house and causing everyone to jump in fear.  “Just kidding, dear.  You just forgot to check the mail yesterday.  I got it, though.  Just bills, my monthly Cooking with Crabs magazine, and—oh! Something for Jonathan.  And it looks to be addressed in very fine and flowing handwriting.  You have a little girlfriend on the side, Jonathan?”

“WHAT?” Awana screeched, hurdling across the room and seizing the envelope.  “Johnny boy, is there something you need to tell me?”

Jonathan twitched nervously.  “No, hon—wait! I don’t need to answer to you! We’re not dating anymore, remember?”

“Dang!” Awana sulked.  “I was really hoping I’d be able to trick you into being my boyfriend again.  It worked a couple weeks ago.”

“Give me that, woman!” Jonathan demanded.

“I’m no woman!” the girl retorted, sticking out her tongue.

“Is anyone here really surprised?” Ghost asked, looking around.  “No? Thought so.”

Jonathan’s eyes moved toward the wall behind Awana.  “Oh, hey, Frankenstein’s monster! I’m so glad you managed to stop by!”

Awana whirled around, and Jonathan sprang forward like a jackrabbit.  He landed on her back, wrapped his legs around her, brought her down to the floor, and tore the envelope from her hands.  Then he jumped to his feet and cried, “Victory!”

“Johnny boy, you could have just asked,” Awana whined, dusting herself off as she rose.  “I guess it was kind of hot, though.”

The boy opened the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of lined paper.  Pumpkin, Ghost, Awana, and Stanley huddled around him as he unfolded the paper, and they noticed that the handwriting was, indeed, that of a woman—or perhaps a very effeminate man.  Jonathan began to read it aloud:

“Dearest Jonathan and friends,

            I decided not to bring up this ill news until I was completely sure what it meant.  You see, dearies, at the end of our last adventure, we did well when we defeated Professor Aponowatsomidichloron.  He had been working on a potion, if you remember, that would rid the world of the memory of Thanksgiving.  The unfinished potion died with him.  As his lab broke into pieces, we fled, and I picked up a note that I found on the ground.  The note was written in the Weöstrif language, which, as my good friends should know, is the ancient Wizard tongue in Armenor.  I know only very little of the language, and so I consulted Kory about it.  As he was the creator of the language, he knew more than I; but alas! for he created the language when he was very young, and had forgotten most of the words.  And so Frankenstein’s monster and I did some traveling, and happened upon a library that carried a rare volume Kory had written long ago: The Weöstrif Handbook. 

Frankenstein’s monster and I studied this book for some time, and we translated as much of the note as we could.  And we discovered that the letter was written by the character known as M.D., whom we still have not identified; it was addressed to the professor.  It turns out that the professor and M.D. originally intended to create six potions.  The following data is as much as we could decipher given the clues within the note:

Potion 1: Memory of Halloween erased

Potion 2: Resurrection of dead bodies

Potion 3: Goodness turned to blight (which we understand to be a perversion of someone or something well-known to the world, likely a person or thing tied to some holiday)

Potion 4: Memory of Thanksgiving erased

Potion 5: Memory of Christmas erased

Potion 6: Potion that creates portals between earth and Armenor

The effects of potion 1 have been reversed because of our actions on Halloween.  We also know that we stopped potion 4.  From the note, we have learned that potion 5 was not even designed at the time of M.D.’s writing, and thus its design died with the professor.  So I will repeat the list above, but this time, the potions that we do not need to be concerned about will be crossed out.

Potion 1: Memory of Halloween erased

Potion 2: Resurrection of dead bodies

Potion 3: Goodness turned to blight

Potion 4: Memory of Thanksgiving erased

Potion 5: Memory of Christmas erased

Potion 6: Potion that creates portals between earth and Armenor

Recall what the professor sang before our battle with him: ‘two [potions] are safe in the hands of M.D.’ Which of the two potions does this person have access to? And does he or she have any chance of using the third? To completely stop Professor Apo’s plans, dearies, we need to stop this M.D.  And somehow, we have to destroy these remaining potions. I personally think it would be beneficial to everyone if we do the following: we invest in a colossal cauldron forged of dragon bones (and aged at least 500 years); we fill it with swamp water, a few dragonfly eyes, the tongue of a lizard, three handfuls of ectoplasm (not from a dead Wizard, though, because that junk reeks of old people), the tear of a Giant, and the feathers that collect around a hawk’s tookus; then we stir it all together, chant the Primeval Mystic’s Refrain (PMR) over it, and throw it at M.D.’s face.  Assuming he or she has a face.  Assuming it is a he or she.

  Lastly, I leave you with this: by the time you receive this letter, M.D. is going to act soon.  Very soon.  It seems there was going to be some sort of failsafe plan in case the ‘potion of Thanksgiving erased’ was never finished.   In fact, in the note to the professor, he/she/it wrote the following:

‘The bird shall be awakened on the day of thanks, and thereupon cause chaos on the earth.’

            This is cryptic, to say the least.  All that I can tell you is to be very, very vigilant on the day they call ‘Thanksgiving’ here.  Something very bad is going to happen.  Keep your weapon near, and your friends even nearer.  And if possible, keep your flying broom even nearer than that.  Frankenstein’s monster sends his regards.  At least, I think he does.  He’s so philosophical all the time, it’s hard to figure out what the heck he’s talking about.

            Something wicked this way comes.

            Respectfully Yours,

                                                Witch

            Jonathan folded the note up, put it in the envelope, and placed it in his pocket.  There was silence for about a minute, and then he looked at Pumpkin.  “Pumpkin, grab your sword.”

“Are you hitting on me, Jonathan?”

“Just get it!”

The squash moved as quickly as his legs would allow him, and he left the room.  He returned with his sword sheathed at his side.  Stanley held even tighter to his fish bowl, and Dennis the goldfish held tightly to a decorative treasure chest at the bottom of the bowl.  Awana stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and her fists raised.  Ghost created an ethereal bow and a quiver with fiery blue arrows, and he had one arrow drawn.  Jonathan’s father rose to his feet and held a pig ear menacingly.  Jonathan’s mother had her Cooking with Crabs magazine rolled up in one hand, brandishing it in different directions.  Jonathan proceeded to pet Ms. Unicorn.

They exchanged glances with one another, and at a later time they would swear that they heard their hearts beating madly as they waited for some foreboding sign.  Just when they thought they could wait no longer, there was a loud and abrupt pound that came from nearby.  They turned toward the sound, but then there was silence.  Pumpkin shuddered and drew his sword, and then a pound pound came from the same area.  No one moved.  Whatever the sound was, it was close.  Too close.  Nothing stirred for a few seconds, and then a wild pound pound pound broke into the air.

“There’s something in the oven,” said Jonathan’s mother.

At that moment, the oven door crashed open with an enormous, grating din, and a seemingly lifeless figure slid across the floor.  It was unclear what exactly they were seeing at first, but then the creature turned toward them with a sigh.  Everyone gasped.  Before them, lying on the kitchen floor, was a pumpkin wearing a cape.

Chapter 2

Flight

Super Pumpkin lifted himself up onto his feet, and seemed very confused at first.  Once he noticed the awestruck group standing before him, he was instantly alert.  “You! You people! Do not let it escape! If it gets away, you are bringing doom on yourselves!”

“What the mother?” said Pumpkin.  “Super Pumpkin? Is that really you?”

“Pumpkin, we do not have time for this,” said the caped squash.  “Prepare yourself.  Things are about to get wild—and not the good kind.”

Jonathan shook his head and stepped into the kitchen.  “You do realize how ridiculous you’re sounding right now, don’t you?  Besides, why should we listen to someone who wears a cape? Superheroes aren’t real.”

Awana hurried to his side.  “Don’t provoke him, Johnny boy.  He looks a little wild in the eyes.  Let’s go back to the couch and spoon.”

The boy sighed.  “Maybe later.  We need to figure out why the heck there’s a squash other than Pumpkin standing in my kitchen.”

Just as he finished speaking, there was a pound pound and Super Pumpkin braced himself.  All of a sudden, a turkey—fully feathered—emerged from the oven and raced across the kitchen floor toward its caped adversary.  Super Pumpkin had not been adequately prepared for its speed and strength, however, because it easily knocked him to the side and continued its mad dash across the kitchen tile.  Jonathan, somehow newly imbued with fast reflexes, dove forward and latched on to the bird’s hindquarters.  Its speed was unaffected; in fact, it accelerated and whipped a corner so that it faced the front door of the house.  Awana screamed and sprinted after the turkey and the boy she loved, but she was taken aback when the creature sped directly into the door and smashed it to splinters.  It flapped its wings and began to ascend into the air.  At the last moment, Awana bounded through the doorway and clutched Jonathan’s legs.  And so it was that the Thanksgiving turkey, carrying two unwanted passengers, escaped the house and began to fly away.

“This is what happens when you distract me, Pumpkin!” Super Pumpkin roared.  “I could have halted his flight, and that would mean one less minion for M.D.’s evil purposes!”

“What?” Pumpkin asked, bewildered.  “M.D.? You know about him/her/it?”

“There is no time for this!” The caped squash turned around.  “I need to go after that winged beast!”

“How are you going to do that?”

His cousin turned toward him and said smoothly, “I can fly.”  He then charged toward the living room, his cape billowing behind him.  But Pumpkin had not been idle.  Before his cousin could rise into the air, Pumpkin followed him with astonishing alacrity and grabbed onto his cape.  Ghost looked at Jonathan’s parents and Stanley with a countenance that appeared both mournful and apologetic, and without a word, he floated after his sky-bound companions.

“You get ‘em, Johnny!” cheered Mrs. Legcheese.

Stanley frowned.  “Tho, no turkey, then?”

The turkey’s speed as it sliced crisply through the air was disturbing, and Jonathan was having trouble clinging to the beast’s body.  Awana dangled below, trying to keep her eyes off the rooftops and roads hundreds of feet below.  She glanced back and noticed Super Pumpkin jetting after them.  His cape undulated vigorously against the wind, and his arms were thrust forward like those of a stereotypical superhero.  Pumpkin hugged the end of his cousin’s cape for dear life, hoping that it would not tear off during their swift flight.  Ghost, twirling through the air like an unearthly dreidel, trailed not far behind.

“We’ll be ok, Johnny boy!” shouted Awana.  “Pumpkin and Ghost are with us.  And Super Pumpkin, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

“That’s great!” Jonathan responded, nearly weeping.  “But I don’t think they can save us if we fall a thousand feet to our deaths!”

“A thousand feet?” Awana managed to look down, and her heart nearly leapt to her throat.  “Oh God, that’s terrifying.  But I think we’re only about six hundred feet above the ground.”

“Oh, ok, good.”

“Where the freak is this thing taking us?”

“I have no idea!” Jonathan gazed ahead and saw that they were approaching a range of mountains.  “We’re heading toward the Vaca Mountains, kind of near the place where Professor Apo had his camp! Do you think he’s taking us there?”

“How do we know it’s a he, Johnny?” Awana clutched his leg even tighter.  “Sexism is a really unattractive trait.”

“No, we can’t be heading there.  The turkey would be descending by now.  It looks like we’re going northwest.”

“I’m glad one of us has a decent sense of direction!” Awana squealed.  She looked back once again.  “Pumpkin, are you alive back there?”

“I hate everything!” the squash shrieked his reply.

“Pumpkin seems fine, Johnny,” the young girl informed him.  “Let’s just pray that we all manage to hold on until we reach—wherever it is we’re going.”

The rolling mountains unfolded below and ahead of them, their tree-laden slopes stretching east like vast, green tendrils.  Although they appeared beautiful and verdant from afar, Jonathan knew that a fall would mean instant death.  If, by luck or grace, the thick leaves of Vacaville’s trees slowed a sudden unwanted descent, the ancient boughs or jagged boulders—presently concealed—would find their victim.  From time to time a lake or large pond would appear, embedded like a crater between grassy slopes.  Rarer still was the occasional house or ranch.  But in this part of California, any sign of man was scarce, and nature was everywhere.  Jonathan was accustomed to seeing homes and people—seemingly omnipresent—and infrequent stretches of nature whenever he went outside.  Even in his terror, he could not help but realize that nature was immeasurably larger than man.  It was as if humanity, inflated with a high degree of self-importance, had attempted to minimize nature and maximize itself.  As he gazed upon the mountains, spread everywhere in jade like the grand brushstrokes of an artist, he knew that such an exercise was futile.  At best, nature and man depended on one another; but nature was something that man could never fully dominate.

Jonathan shook his head, trying to keep himself from fainting.  He wished that he could claim all these profound thoughts as the internal ramblings of a genius, but it was probably the unhealthy amount of air entering his nose and mouth as the turkey carried him hastily across the sky.  Between his squinted eyes, he could see the arms of a lake lashing out and splitting the land ahead of them.

“Awana, what is that up there?” he asked.

“What is what?”

“Doesn’t that look like water to you?”

She squinted and looked down their flight path.  “Yeah.  You said we’re going northwest, didn’t you?”

“Yep,” replied Jonathan, “and we haven’t changed direction much.”

“Then that has to be Lake Berryessa.  Maybe the turkey is heading there.  It would be great if it flew lower and dropped us into the water.”

“My only concern right now, Awana, is if the turkey is going to stop flying at all.  I mean, just look at him.  I have only seen that look of determination on one other creature, and that is Ms. Unicorn (bless her heart).”

Awana shivered as the brisk air caused a chill to run through her body.  “If it looks determined, then it’s probably determined to reach its destination.”

“Let’s hope so!”

It was not long before the expansive spread of Berryessa’s aero blue waters unfurled before them in shining splendor, interrupted now and again by sharp cuts of jasmine shore and rich, green trees.  In the southeastern region of the lake, massive blades of water rived the land in various directions before connecting to a single tributary; then the water burst into the northwest and formed the main body of Berryessa.  It was at this time that Jonathan and Awana looked straight ahead, into the cloudless sky, and noticed many black figures flitting toward a single point above the lake.  They could not believe what they were seeing.  Hundreds of turkeys fluttered frantically from every direction.  They aimed for what appeared to be a sickly, blackish-purple orb of light suspended a thousand feet above the water.  Jonathan fixed his attention on the orb, and was shocked when he saw a turkey touch its outer edges and disappear in an instant.

“Oh, heck no!” he screamed, his voice cracking.  “No! We are not going to…God knows where.  We need to stop this flight, now.  Come on, Awana! Help me!” He then began to pull at the turkey with all his might, forcing the creature to drop a couple dozen feet in a second.

“Jonathan, you’re going to get us killed!” Awana was nearly in tears.

The boy ignored her, continuing to disrupt the bird’s flight path.  “I’d rather be dead than stuck in another dimension with no way to get home!”

Awana dug her fingernails into Jonathan’s legs until it hurt.  “Think about the children, Johnny boy!”

“What children?”

“It’s a simile.”

“I’m not in the mood for your antics, Awana,” said Jonathan, looking down at her with furrowed eyebrows.  “We have to stop this thing!”

“But…but…what does Ms. Unicorn think?” Awana inquired, tugging at him.  “I don’t know her half as well as you do, but I think she’d want you to face this head-on.”

The boy sighed.  “Well…uh—I guess you’re right.  I’m ashamed to admit it, but she’s been screaming at me from my pocket for the last thirty seconds.  She thinks we should go into the portal.” He sighed again.  “I suppose I’m outvoted.  Well, here we go!”

The turkey, more desperate than ever, recovered the distance it had lost in its struggle with its passenger and increased its speed.  The glowing orb was close now.  Awana looked behind her and saw Super Pumpkin facing ahead with an intrepid expression.  Pumpkin dangled behind, probably unaware of the spiraling vortex ahead of them.  Ghost wove through the air, dodging around turkeys that could not hit him if they tried.  Awana glanced above her and shuddered as the dark creatures blotted out the sun.  And then everything went black.

Chapter 3

Of Turkeys and Eagles

The lake and its surroundings vanished in the blink of an eye.  There was a brief period of darkness, and then a bright light penetrated their vision.  All of a sudden, an enormous plain splayed out as far as they could see, golden and scintillating beneath a warm sun.  Countless leagues ahead, a number of tiny towns dotted the plain’s horizon.  The most prominent feature beyond them, however, was a solitary mountain stabbing up from the baked land like a gray dagger.  Neither Jonathan nor Awana had seen a mountain of such girth, not even in pictures or paintings.  They felt as if their hearts had dropped into their stomachs, for they had received the sudden revelation that they were no longer on earth.  This was a land unfamiliar to them, and they began to think that letting go of the turkey might not have been such a bad idea after all.

“Pumpkin,” Ghost called out, still dodging around the flock of crazed birds.  “Pumpkin, is this what I think it is?”

“This is the Zedroc Plain!” shouted the squash.  “We’re in Armenor!”

“Dang it, Johnny boy!” Awana whined.  “Why didn’t you just let go of the turkey?  Don’t listen to me in the future, OK?”

The young man looked at her, his face scrunched in annoyance.  “Are you kidding me?”

He turned his attention to the horizon again when a turkey flew into him and nearly caused him to release his grip.  The wild creatures soared toward the distant mountain with a renewed sense of purpose, carelessly running into each other and flapping their wings faster than any winged creature should.  The untarnished sky extended endlessly beyond the mountain, shouldered by a strip of forest-green woodland that lay beyond the plain.  After a while, Jonathan ventured a gaze to his left, and he saw the jagged crowns of hills that were as black as night.  They blocked his view of any sort of land that might exist beyond them, for while they were only hills, they reached as far as he could see.  Their bleak appearance was deeply unsettling.

“Those are the southern Shadow Hills that you see,” said Super Pumpkin, and if he carried any fear, his voice did not betray it.  “The color you see is not due to the stones or soil, but Dragon scales that litter the slopes.  An ancient war raged above these hills long ago, and Dragons battled one another until scarcely any remained.  Nowadays, you have a higher chance of seeing a patch of snow in the plain below us than beholding a Dragon.”

“That’s very sad,” Awana replied, frowning.

“It is,” Jonathan agreed.  “You know what else is sad? My freakin’ arms are getting tired.  Wherever these things are going, they better get there soon.”

“Unfortunately, my young friend of unsavory appearance, I believe that these creatures are heading for the mountain, Melonir, which you see ahead of you.  It is still far away, but something calls them to it; I do not think it will take long for them to reach their destination.”

“Unsavory appearance?” shouted Jonathan.  “Listen here.  I will kick you in your eye, and then we’ll talk about who has an unsavory appearance.”

“Not now, Johnny boy,” Awana mumbled soothingly to him.  “Let the pompous jerk say what he wants to say.  Maybe he’ll say something helpful.”

“Doubtful, but fine, I’ll leave him alone.” Jonathan scanned the horizon again, and shook his head when he found that they did not appear any closer to the mountain.  “This is going to be really difficult.  I don’t think I can make it.”

“Of course you can!” the girl encouraged him.  “Just think: we’ll reach the mountain because you’re the toughest boy alive; we’ll find a way back home; and then we’ll eat Thanksgiving dinner until we can barely move! By the time we get back, your mom will have finished preparing all the food, including another turkey.”

“I think I’m done with turkey,” Jonathan muttered dryly.  “These things just irritate me now.”

The leagues of land melted away beneath the swift flight of the wild birds.  The plain below was, as its name denotes, rather plain; however, the group could often see leafless trees and jagged stones protruding from the earth.  Sometimes, when the turkey would inadvertently fly nearer to the ground, Jonathan and Awana would spot packs of elongated beasts roaming across the land.  Super Pumpkin and the others in the group remained silent about the nature of these creatures.  It was not until much later that Pumpkin disclosed them to Jonathan: they were called Tainthounds, and were aptly named because of the Dark Magic that flowed through their veins.  This Dark Magic coagulated as poison around their fangs, and it was said that the smallest bite would turn a victim to ash in seconds.  This fact, combined with the unforgiving heat of the region, kept travelers and wanderers away.  Indeed, besides the six Human cities located in the northern reaches of the plain, this territory was not known for having many settlements.  The only other humanoids in the area were Desert Gnomes; Jonathan and Awana saw their sand-crafted dwellings popping up from the ground every now and then.

Though it felt like hours, it was only a matter of minutes before they reached the foothills that rolled around the foot of the great mountain.  These hills were as bare and dreary as the Zedroc Plain, but once the companions found the mountain’s slope rising before them, they noticed a change in climate.  At first, patches of grass spotted the steep, bronze grade; then various trees and shrubs sprouted up and grass was no longer a rare sight.  As they approached the peak, they began to see small ponds, brooks, and waterfalls.  The crown of the mountain was near.  Jonathan lifted his eyes and sighted a grouping of huge, pointed stones standing in a circle around Melonir’s peak.  Some of the turkeys were winging their way above the stones and then plummeting down, beyond his vision, into the circle.  Before his particular bird could rise to that height, the boy lost all feeling in his arms, and his strength left him.  He was unpleasantly surprised and terrified when he saw his hands still extended before him, clinging to nothing but air.  His heart jumped at the premature end of his ascension, and he lost all hope of survival once he began to plunge toward the mountainside.

A massive force bashed the ribs on his right side, and he might have blacked out if his body had not hit a mass of ice-cold water.  To say that he was disoriented would be an understatement.  He thrashed about in the dark void, but he soon realized that he was upside-down in a deep, natural pool.  Above he could see a point of light, so he swam toward it and managed to reach the surface.  Mere yards to his right, a small shore edged the pool; a couple feet beyond it, the land fell away into a sharp cliff.  To his left there was not much of a shore; rather, a slab of reddened earth—topped by many trees he had never seen before—climbed up from the water’s edge.  The trees resembled the pine trees that were so common on earth, but their prickly leaves were a reddish-orange.  From one tree a severely broken limb dangled, and Jonathan surmised that he had hit it in his descent.  Directly ahead of him, a waterfall cascaded over mossy, layered stones and bludgeoned the water’s surface repeatedly.  He turned around and noticed that there was a grassy area beyond the pool.  Wincing from the pain he felt in his side, he swam to shore and sat against a rock.

“Awana!” he shouted, scanning as much of the mountainside as he could see.  “Awana, are you there?”

There was no response.  The only thing he could remember about their fall was a release in pressure from his legs; Awana had let go of him.  He hugged himself for warmth and called out until his voice was hoarse, but nothing stirred in the area around him.

“I hope she’s OK,” he muttered to himself.  “She has to be OK.”

He was stunned by how little he was thinking of himself.  Even with the recurring pang in his ribs and the cold air licking his moist skin, all he could think of was Awana.  A deep melancholy filled his heart.  He had cared for her for as long as he had known her; but now, as he feared for her life in a foreign world, he began to understand the depths of that care.  He was still young, and these untamed and inconsistent feelings were mostly incomprehensible.  Recent events proved that she could fend for herself, but for the first time in his life, Jonathan felt that it was somehow his duty to protect and help her.  His melancholy transformed into frustration; now that he actually felt responsible for this girl, it was likely that she was dead.  Dead.  The word stabbed at his heart like the sharpest knife.  He could not imagine Awana being anywhere except near him, but now she could be gone.  He began to weep.

He could not say how long he sat there, his knees scrunched against his body and his head buried in his crossed arms as he wept.  After what he felt was maybe fifteen minutes, he looked up with a fierce and wild flame in his eyes.

“M.D., whoever the heck you are, I will kill you!” he declared.  “I killed Apo, and you’re next!  And if there is someone above you, that person is as good as dead, too!” He wiped away his tears and rose to his feet, weak and shivering.  Then he pulled Ms. Unicorn from his pocket and looked at her.  “I love you, girl, but I don’t know how useful you’ll be in this world.  I wish I had a sword or something.  Maybe a bazooka.”

She said nothing, which was quite unusual.  Jonathan tried to start a conversation with her, but she did not respond.  He gritted his teeth.  “What does this mean?” he asked himself nervously.  He could not answer the question at this time, so he proceeded to pace around the area and plan his next move.  It would probably be best if he made his way to the peak of the mountain.  His body was injured and tired, but he believed that he had enough energy to reach the summit.  And once he had, he—but something interrupted his thoughts.  There was a loud rustling coming from the trees.  He backed up against a boulder and dropped into a fighting stance.  The rustling grew louder; it was coming closer.  He had no idea what to expect.  Kory was quite…unique, and he tended to place strange and dreadful creatures in the worlds he created.  The chances were high that this was some foul beast recently risen from the abyss, come to the world of Armenor to wreak havoc on anything in sight.  With one look, Jonathan thought, it could turn him to stone—or worse.  He clutched Ms. Unicorn tightly.  The fiend was now near the edge of the water, though he could not make it out beneath the shadows of the trees.  With a mighty yell, he pitched the toy unicorn with inhuman precision and hit the figure as it burst from the shadows.  There was a high-pitch squawk.  Awana Humphfree, incapacitated, rolled off the edge of the sloped forest and into the pool.

“Awana!” Jonathan screamed.  He rushed forward and leapt into the water.  Within seconds, he emerged with one of his arms around the girl, and he paddled back to shore with the other.  He placed her against a rock, and though she was conscious, she was quite dazed.

“Johnny boy, you saved me,” she said with a slurred voice.  “But I have to say, right now, you kind of look like a huge, flaming bird.”

“I guess I did hit you pretty hard with Ms. Unicorn,” he said mournfully.  “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s ok, Mr. Bird,” the girl answered.  “You’re a bird.  And you’re so brave.”

Jonathan smiled and wrapped Awana in a tight hug.  “I’m so glad you’re all right.  I thought you were dead.  I was really scared.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Johnny-bird-man.” Awana beamed widely.  “I’m a-OK.  I’m going to sleep now.”

“No, no sleeping!” Jonathan demanded, holding her face with both hands.  “We need to get moving, Awana.  Come on, let’s get you up.”

She shook her head and blinked a few times, then looked at him closely as he lifted her to her feet.  “Johnny boy, were you crying?”

He turned his face from her.  “Of course not! My face is just wet from the water, when I saved you.”

Awana grinned at him.  “Oh, you can’t fool me! You thought I was dead, and you started crying! I’ve never been this happy!”

The boy tried to avoid smiling, but did a poor job.  “Awana, come on, let’s go.  I’m glad you’re OK, but we need to find Pumpkin and Ghost.  And we really need to figure out what the heck those turkeys are doing.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She took a step forward.  “We need to head to the summit.”

Jonathan led her toward the forest, and he quickly scaled the long slab of earth along the left side of the pool.  Awana, weary and still clearly dazed to some degree, had some difficulty with this task.  The boy offered his hand to her, and with one motion she took it and bounded up to him.  Together, they marched up the steep terrain and aimed for the highest point they could see.  Jonathan scooped up Ms. Unicorn along the way, dusted her off, and put her back in his pocket.  With every step they took, the fallen leaves of the trees crunched beneath their feet.  The scent of the forest reminded them of pine, but much stronger and somehow sweeter.  They were silent for some time.  Jonathan was trying to process all of his thoughts about the journey and his feelings about Awana; Awana was doing her best to remember that the boy she was following was, indeed, the boy she cared for, and not a heroic, flaming bird. 

Once their minds had cleared, Jonathan asked, “So what happened to you when we fell?”

“Well, obviously, I was pretty surprised when we weren’t going up anymore,” she responded.  “Yeah, that was fun.  But I just felt hopeless for a moment.  I thought it was over.  Without another thought, I just let go and let myself fall.  There was nothing else to do, really.  I assumed that I would fall for a long time, hit something, and that’d be the end of it.  But almost immediately, I smacked into some conveniently soft bushes.  It turns out that some kind of stream was above them, because water was flowing beneath the bushes and creating really deep and soft mud.  I rolled out of the bushes, down a slope of that thick mud, and into a tiny valley with a creek.  I really couldn’t have wished for a softer landing.  What about you?”

Jonathan made a face at her.  “You’re lucky.  I hit a tree.”

“Ouch.  Sounds like a bad day.”

“It could be worse,” he said to her, his voice welling with emotion.  “I really thought I lost you today.  I was convinced for a while that I’d never see you again.”

Awana frowned.  “You thought you’d never see me again?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you think that?”

He looked at her quizzically.  “Because I thought you were dead.  If you were dead, I’d never see you again.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Jonathan, I need to tell you a secret.” Then she whispered into his ear, “Death isn’t necessarily the end.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.  “What do you mean?”

“I just think there’s more to it than that,” she replied.  “You really think that everything we are stops existing in the blink of an eye?”  She smiled at him.  “But you know, we should talk about this later.  This is a serious topic, and we just entered a different world on the butt of a flying turkey.  Let’s save it for another time!”

“Ok, then!” said Jonathan with a laugh.  “I’m just glad you’re OK, Awana.”

“I’m glad you’re OK, Johnny boy.”

They walked in silence for a few more minutes.  Then they both lifted their eyes and saw that they had almost reached the peak of the mountain.  The massive, pointed stones curved toward the center of the summit; where one stone ended, another rose up a few feet next to it.  Jonathan hiked up the rest of the way ahead of Awana and touched one of the stones.  Peering around the corner, he noticed that the peak—a few hundred feet wide—was completely flat, and that the hard soil of the mountain served as a sort of floor or stage.  Turkeys stood wing-to-wing, in a circle, and it seemed as if they were singing.  Indeed, they were gobbling in one accord, and swaying at arbitrary moments as if there were some sort of song unheard by the human ear.  In the center of their circle was a giant black cauldron, much like the one in Professor Aponowatsomidichloron’s lab.  The only difference was that, instead of containing an orange liquid, this cauldron contained a purple concoction.  It bubbled and hissed, and hissed and bubbled, and the turkeys gobbled maniacally around it.  To the far left, which Jonathan managed to deduce was south, a brown building was raised above the ground and backed against one of the large stones.  Curved staircases rose up from the ground on two of its sides and led to open doorways on its left and right walls.  In the center wall, facing the cauldron, was a window without glass. Behind it stood a figure, watching as events transpired.

“Oh, wow,” Awana said with a gasp as she caught up and gazed out at the peak.  “I don’t like the looks of this.”

“Me neither,” Jonathan muttered.  “But I’m not sure if this has anything to do with us.”

“Of course it does! Witch warned us about this in her letter.  I don’t really understand what’s going on here, but apparently, M.D. wants to cause chaos upon the earth on Thanksgiving.  And whatever is going on here will do just that.”

“Ah, yeah,” Jonathan replied.  “You’re right.”

“Listen to me!” cried an exasperated voice.  “You can fly.  All you had to do was drop down a bit and grab them.  Is it really that hard for you to understand?”

“Firstly, I would consider lessening that demeaning tone of yours,” another voice answered.  “Secondly, there is something that you must understand.  Our priority is putting an end to M.D.’s evil ways.  These turkeys led us here.  I ever seek to do what is right, but the earth is in jeopardy.  I had to sacrifice those friends of yours for the greater good.”

Jonathan looked at Awana.  “It’s Pumpkin and Super Pumpkin.  Come on, let’s go.”

They tip-toed toward the sound and found Pumpkin, Super Pumpkin, and Ghost behind one of the stones.  Ghost was seated in an otherworldly recliner, reading a newspaper and sipping from a cup of pink lemonade.  Pumpkin and Super Pumpkin were facing each other, seemingly ready to brawl.

“‘Good!’” said Pumpkin with a laugh.  “And what would you know about good? You can’t change all the bad things you used to do, you know.  And because of your warped idea of ‘good,’ two close friends of mine are dead.  And they died in a world that was not their own!”

“I see that you have not changed at all, cousin,” Super Pumpkin remarked.  “Your opinion is still more valid than the opinions of those around you.”

Pumpkin turned from him.  “You killed my friends, you fool.  And I’m going to make sure you pay.”

“No, wait!” Awana exclaimed, waving her arms and appearing before them.  “We’re OK! We made it!”

Jonathan, holding his aching ribs, walked up beside her.  “Yeah, you guys don’t need to argue.  We’re fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” said Ghost, pointing at his ribs.

Jonathan smirked.  “You should see the other guy.”

“You hit a tree,” Awana mumbled.

“And it’s never going to hurt anyone again!” the boy declared, wincing from the pain.

Pumpkin sprinted to them and hugged them individually.  “I was sure you guys were dead.  I would have never forgiven myself.”

“Really?” Jonathan looked at Super Pumpkin.  “Because it sounded to me like you would have never forgiven your cousin, Super Pumpkin, here.”

If Pumpkin could possibly look ashamed, he would have.  But then, he said in an indignant tone, “Well, he had the means to save you, and he didn’t.  So it seems to me that he is mainly to blame.”

“Pumpkin, can we return to this debate later?” Super Pumpkin grumbled, turning around and looking at the summit of the mountain.  “We have a serious issue here.”

“Yeah, we saw that,” Jonathan told him.  “What’s going on here?”

“With the cauldron? I do not know.  But there is some information I can provide, at least.  These birds that your world calls ‘turkeys’ once lived in Armenor, as well, before they were hunted to extinction.  The legends say that the youngest birds would gather every so often on the peak of Melonir and cry out to Melhrir, the Mountain-Eagle.  For you see, this was once his roost in days that even the Wizards and Elves do not recall.  Before they received a blessing from Melhrir, turkeys were not endowed with the ability to fly.  When they cried out to Melhrir, he would fly here from other lands and give them the boon to fly.”

“But these turkeys can already fly,” Awana pointed out.

“But Melhrir does not know that.  Now, I do not want you to think that Melhrir is a noble Eagle; in your world, patriotism and nobility seem to be linked to eagles for some reason.  Nay, Melhrir is also known as Melhrir Soul-eater, for he does not exclude any flesh when he feeds.  Humans were a common meal for him, but at times, he even fed on Dragons.  That gives you an idea of just how large he is.  And while I cannot confirm it, I believe that M.D. plans to somehow bring Melhrir to earth.  If that happens, he will take thousands of lives before your government can stop him.  That is…if they can stop him.  It is said that his speed is unmatched.”

Pumpkin crossed his arms.  “What makes you think that M.D. is bringing Melhrir to earth?”

Super Pumpkin turned back and looked at him.  “Scarcely more than a month ago, I was flying around the Casponin Mountains.  I had only recently discovered that I could tap into Magic, and I managed to use it to fly.  Anyway, in the midst of my flight, I noticed that my arms looked as if they were disappearing.  Before I knew it, I was flying in a completely different region.  It took some investigation, but I found this extremely unusual man named Kory Labarga.  He admitted that he had created me in a story, and I had become such a realistic character that I actually appeared on earth.”

“That’s what happened to us!” said Ghost, throwing his newspaper to the ground.  “It happened to all of the Halloween Friends!”

“I was not aware of that until I saw the two of you today,” Super Pumpkin explained.  “Kory concealed that truth from me.”

“Yeah, and he didn’t mention you one time to me!” Pumpkin pouted.  “What the heck was that guy thinking?”

“I know not.  Perhaps he has other plans for us.”

“Please go on with your story, Super Pumpkin,” said Awana.

“Right.  Kory told me about Professor Aponowatsomidichloron—”

“We generally refer to him as ‘Apo,’” Ghost interjected.

“Yes.  Kory told me about Apo.  He confided to me that he had written some of his characters into existence (which, I now assume, was you and your friends), but he was worried they would not be able to stop the professor without my assistance.  He was also concerned that Apo was not working alone, because Apo’s character rarely did anything on his own.  So he asked me to keep an eye on the Vaca Mountains, in case messengers were carrying information back and forth between the professor and someone else.  I subdued two separate messengers carrying notes in my time of reconnaissance; it was from these notes that I learned about the potions, M.D., a plan about the turkeys, and some child named Jonathan.”

“That would be me,” Jonathan said, raising his hand.

“Ah, I apologize,” Super Pumpkin replied with a bow.  “I did not know the one to whom I spoke.  M.D. deems you a worthy adversary.”

“But M.D. doesn’t even know me! Why would he/she/it write about me?”

“He, or she, or it, seemed to know you quite well,” said the caped squash.  “One of the notes addressing Apo said something along these lines: ‘The boy Jonathan Legcheese will soon find his way to you.  You will find him a worthy adversary.’” 

Jonathan shivered.  “The fact that M.D. knows me is just a bit unnerving.”

Awana nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m the only one who’s supposed to know everything about you.”

“Another thing, which I found quite odd,” continued Super Pumpkin, “is that M.D. wrote something about you needing a reason to kill Apo.  And he or she or it wrote that to Apo himself.  I am still not clear on that.”

“At this point,” said Ghost, “I’m starting to believe that this M.D. is hyped up on some serious shrooms.  Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“Ghost, you can’t even digest things!” Pumpkin argued.  “Whenever you eat or drink, it just goes right through you.”

Ghost scowled.  “Firstly, Pumpkin, that’s racist.  Secondly, prove it!”

Pumpkin pointed to the spot where Ghost’s ethereal recliner had been, and there was a small puddle of lemonade in its place.

“Oh my goodness,” Ghost whispered to himself, looking like he had seen…a ghost.  He floated off to the side, his face contorted in deep thought.

“Look, there are a lot of questions that we can’t really answer right now,” Awana informed them.  “We have to focus on the task at hand.  There are hundreds of turkeys calling out to this Phlegmbeer—”

“Melhrir,” Super Pumpkin corrected her.

“—Melhrir,” the girl continued, “and some foreboding figure is watching and waiting in that small tower over there.  We have a bubbling cauldron, which always seems to be a really bad thing.  Now what are we going to do about it?”

            No one proffered an answer.  The group became silent, and they spread out to consider the best course of action.  The primal sounds of the turkeys interrupted their thoughts constantly.  They suddenly realized how cold it was on this high, remote peak.  Although there was hardly any wind, the light breeze that existed felt like icy teeth against their bodies (of course, Ghost was exempt from this sensation).  After a few minutes had passed, they thought they heard a low, drawn-out roar carried on the wind.  Each of them feared that Melhrir had come at last, but whenever they looked toward the sky, they could not see a single bird.  Oddly enough, however, dark clouds had traipsed into the heavens without their notice; before long, not a speck of the blue sky could be seen.  The low roar continued, and as they listened closely, they recognized it as a person’s voice.  Super Pumpkin glanced out across the summit and jumped back quickly.

“That voice—it comes from the person standing in that tower,” he told them.  “It is almost as if that person…called the clouds into the sky.”

Jonathan rubbed his peach fuzz.  “Maybe that person called the turkeys here.”

“Almost definitely,” agreed the caped squash.

All of the noise was abruptly drowned out by a single sound: the bubbling cauldron.  It grew louder and louder, and the companions thought that the liquid might overflow and spill across the peak.  They looked at it, and realized that something was forming above it.  A blackish-purple orb. 

“No….” said Pumpkin.

“It’s the potion that creates portals between earth and Armenor!” Jonathan cried.  “If we were to get rid of it, then there would be no way for M.D. to travel between the worlds—or send evil things between them.”

Awana stared at the cauldron.  “That’s true.  So, like I said before, what are we going to do about it?”

“Ah, but there is naught thou canst do about it, young lady!” a loud, cracked voice challenged.  “The present events lie now beyond thy control.  Thou canst only watch in dread as Melhrir Soul-eater wings to the mountain and enters the portal to thy land.”

“I swear, these antagonists are all omniscient,” Ghost complained.  “How the heck did she hear us?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan responded, “but I’ve heard her voice before.”

“Yea, thou hast,” cackled the lady.  “Oh dearest Jonathan, will not thou see me in my tower?”

The boy took his hands from his aching ribs and clenched his fists.  He stood tall, and an aura of courage surrounded him.  “You can count on it!” he screamed.

The lady let out a deranged laugh, and then she was silent.  The bubbling of the cauldron subsided.  Now the voices of the turkeys grew louder and more desperate than ever.  Thunder boomed and lightning lanced across the blackened firmament.  The portal rotated rhythmically, centered between the points of the curved stones.  The companions looked at each other, finally understanding the extent of their predicament.

“This is going to be quite difficult,” said Super Pumpkin.

“But I suppose it couldn’t really get much worse,” Ghost replied with a shrug.  “At least we have that, right?”

As soon as he finished speaking, a piercing caw erupted into the air.  The five companions gazed beyond the peak, beyond the stones, and into the sky.  And that was when they saw it: an Eagle, as large as a hill, was flying toward them from the west.

                     Chapter 4

Fall of a Hero

Super Pumpkin looked meticulously at each member of the group.  Then he said, “Here is the plan, everyone.  Jonathan and lady friend will defeat M.D.  I think we can all safely say that the wicked lady is M.D., yes? Pumpkin and I will work on getting that cauldron off the cliff, but we will first confirm that you have killed M.D.  Ghost, please keep your eyes on Melhrir and update us on his proximity.  Also, provide cover for us if anything unexpected occurs.  Jonathan and girl, once you have finished M.D., I want you both to ascend one of these stones and jump into the portal.  I believe that Pumpkin and Ghost will join you at that point; I know that Pumpkin would prefer to be in another world with all of his close friends, rather than in his homeland without them.  I will then push the cauldron off the cliff and, ideally, escape before Melhrir arrives.  M.D. will be dead and the portal potion will be no more.”

“Sounds like a plan,” responded Jonathan.  He put a hand on Awana’s shoulder.  “Let’s go!”  Then they ran off to the south together, rounding the outside of the stones.

“Hold on, Super Pumpkin,” Pumpkin said forcefully.  “I haven’t seen you in five years, and now I may never see you again? We need to talk!”

“We have no time, Pumpkin!” yelled the caped squash.  “You know what that Eagle is capable of.  Your ma and pa read those stories to us all the time when we were squashlings.  Why they read us that story in particular eludes me to this day.  It was far too violent.”

“Super Pumpkin, I have spent years wondering why you chose the road you did.  What turned you into this?”

Super Pumpkin groaned.  “Listen to me! We have no time.  We must—”

“You owe me an answer!” Pumpkin roared.

The caped squash looked toward the ground.  “You did, Pumpkin.  You turned me into this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am a reflection of you, Pumpkin,” Super Pumpkin admitted sadly.  “Remember how we were so alike? Can you remember that? Can you remember how we played together, and got into trouble around our neighborhood? Do you recall the time we threw apples at Old Barkface when he was crossing the road that day? We did everything we knew that we should not.”

“Of course I remember,” answered Pumpkin.  “But we grew up.”

“No, cousin, you grew up.  You matured faster, and I was left behind.  And even when I did mature, I refused to become the person you were.  When I looked at you, all I could think was that you were so much better than I was.  You always made the right decision.  You were so moral.  And I was always ‘going down the wrong path.’  I was always doing the wrong thing.  But even when I resisted becoming you, I envied you.  Your morality gave you such a sense of superiority, and I wanted that.  I was weary of feeling bad for myself, and weary of you being better than I.  So I became like you: I became a superhero.  I chose to do the right thing, and I always went down the right path.  I felt great about this new person I had become.  But I was not myself; I was you.

“It was not until some years later that I did the right thing because it was right.  For a long time, I was merely acting as a superhero to spite you.  But then I grew up, and this persona was my own.  I was a hero, but not because I needed to be better than you.  Doing good was the right thing to do, and I did not need anyone to show me that.  I had to come to the conclusion myself.

“So you see, Pumpkin, I was jealous of you, and I hope you can forgive me for that.  But I had to forgive you for always being better.  Because Pumpkin, as much as I love you, that is who you have always been.  Your opinion, your way, your decision, has always been the best.  You make others feel that they cannot compare to you, because you have grown so accustomed to leading and providing the best way of doing things.  And I forgive you for that, Pumpkin.  I hope you can forgive me for any pain I caused you.”

Pumpkin was baffled.  “Super Pumpkin, of course I forgive you.  But I don’t understand.”

“You will, Pumpkin,” his cousin told him.  “Reflect on it.” He lifted his eyes toward the turkeys and the radiating cauldron.  “I am glad that we were permitted some time to speak.  But now is the time for action.  Are you with me?”

Pumpkin looked at him.  “I always have been.”

“Then let us combine our strength and save the world together!” Super Pumpkin rose a couple feet above the ground and soared directly toward the cauldron.  Pumpkin charged across the summit and hopped over the ring of turkeys.  They hit the cauldron simultaneously, knocking it toward the west a few yards.  They moved back and smashed into it again.  After repeating this process a dozen times, they had moved the cauldron about a hundred feet.  There was still a long distance before they would reach their goal.

“Melhrir is still far away!” Ghost announced.  “I’d say forty miles!”

Pumpkin rammed the cauldron with all his might.  “I have to be honest, Super Pumpkin.  We did a lot of wild and unusual things when we were young, but I never imagined we would one day push a cauldron across a mountain peak to disrupt a portal between Armenor and earth.”

“Believe me,” Super Pumpkin laughed, “you are not alone there.”

At that moment, the low voice they had heard on the wind earlier resumed.  The turkeys stopped gobbling, and suddenly, they began to stare at the two pumpkins pushing the cauldron toward the western cliff.  Super Pumpkin dropped back in preparation for another strike on the cauldron when he noticed the change in the birds’ focus.  “Pumpkin,” he said, “perhaps I am over-analyzing this, but it seems to me that the turkeys are in fighting stances.  If they attack, you may have to fight them off while I continue with this task.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Pumpkin replied, and without another word, he drew his sword as the frenzied birds closed in.

Jonathan and Awana rounded the edge of the stones as they made their way toward the southern tower.  They were near their destination when they heard a loud shuffling of feathers and a battle cry from Pumpkin.  Jonathan led Awana between a couple of the curved obelisks and they glanced toward the center of the peak.  Pumpkin was leaping and shouting and slashing as turkeys swarmed in on him and his cousin.  The squash was circling the cauldron, keeping the winged beasts as far away as possible.  When he appeared to be overwhelmed, a barrage of blue projectiles would come raining down from a cluster of ghostly ballistae that Ghost had constructed in the east.  Jonathan yearned to join the fray and aid his friends, but he knew that M.D. had to be defeated.  As they came to the foot of one set of stairs, he and Awana stopped their flight and crouched down.

“Awana, here’s the plan,” said the boy.  “I want you to head to the other stairs and approach M.D. from that side.  On your way to the stairs, try to stay out of sight; she hasn’t seen us yet.  Just stay close to the bottom of the tower on your way there.  Once you’ve reached the stairs, we need to keep an eye on each other and climb them at the same time.  We should reach both entrances to the building at once, and then we can rush her from two sides.  Even if she tries something on one of us, it will only be a moment before the other one hits her.”

“Good thinking, Johnny boy.  I love it when you take charge.” She grinned at him.  “Now let’s get to it.  Earth and a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner await us on the other side!”

Jonathan took her hand and looked at her with serious eyes.  “Please be careful, Awana.”

She nodded.  “I will.  You be careful, too.” Then she dashed along the shadow of the tower and came to the foot of her stairs.  They motioned at each other and climbed in perfect harmony. 

Lightning was now springing everywhere across the heavens, and the clouds were darker than any they had ever seen.  Melhrir, releasing an ear-splitting caw every minute or so, grew larger as he approached.  The wind picked up and lashed across the summit like an icy whip.  Turkeys lunged at the two pumpkins, sometimes hitting their mark with their beaks, sometimes receiving a fatal blow to the head or back from Pumpkin’s sword.  Ghost watched fearfully as the great Eagle drew ever closer; he was summoning and loading projectiles into his ballistae as quickly as he could.  The portal continued to swirl hypnotically in the center of the stones.

Jonathan and Awana both reached their respective doorways silently, and they found an old woman with a staff in one hand and a red vial in the other, facing the window and watching the brawl below.  Her hair was a greasy gray, and her face was so pale that it was nearly green.  She was garbed in a cloak darker than night.  Her staff was made of wood, but its unique hue made it appear like the bone of some unfortunate victim.  She was mumbling something under her breath, but neither of them could tell what it was.  It was a deep, guttural tongue, and the best way they could describe it was ancient and outraged.  There was something entrancing and demoralizing about the powerful, heavy words that she spoke, and they began to think that they should turn around and head to the portal.  Somehow, they managed to snap out of it.  They took one look at each other and nodded; then they burst forward with all the speed they could muster.

The old lady whirled toward Awana and stretched out her staff.  A rounded shadow propelled from the staff head and smashed into the girl with frightening force.  Jonathan was so taken aback by the quickness with which his friend fell that he stopped in his tracks.  He looked at Awana’s limp body and shook his head in disbelief.  The lady screeched with laughter and turned toward him, stabbing the bottom of her staff into the ground.

“Dearest one, ‘twas nigh a sound plan,” she said with a hiss, “but alas, thou hast not dealt with a sorceress before.”

“I knew it!” Jonathan exclaimed.  “It is you! You’re the old woman who was blocking me on the street on Halloween morning!”

“Yea, quite a sharp one stands hither,” the woman croaked sardonically.

“But—why? Why did you send me to Kory’s mansion? If you had not sent me there, I would not have joined up with the Halloween friends and killed Apo.  You were working with him, weren’t you? But it was your words that led me to eventually kill him.”

The woman smiled, her teeth rotten and as yellow as butter.  “Dear oh dear, the babe is befuddled.  Apo created the vaunted Halloween potion in its glory, and yea, we knew well thou wouldst be unaffected.  ‘twas ever our plan.”

“So…you wanted me to kill him?”

“Oh, quite, quite.”

“But why in the world would you want that?”

She chuckled.  “There be certain edicts at work, the likes of which thou wouldst scarce comprehend! I could not harm my child.  But he, yea, even he willed to give up his own life—to please Mother Dearest.”

“M.D.,” Jonathan whispered to himself, noticing that the woman had placed the vial of red liquid on the frame of the window.  “That is just about the lamest acronym ever.”

“Doest we what we can with what we have,” she replied, appearing to agree with the boy.

“But what did Apo’s death accomplish? I don’t get it.”

She smiled again, and then cackled wildly.  “Oh, but a sole hint shall I give unto thee! Had thou properly disposed of the ashes of thy antagonistic professor that lay at the base of his cauldron…thou wouldst shoulder less responsibility for thy—and thy world’s—future.”

Jonathan smirked at her.  “I think you’re lying.  I think you’re terrified right now, because you know you’re about to be defeated by a 15-year old boy.  But nothing will save you now, you crazy old hag.”

“Learnest thou naught from the first book?” shrieked the sorceress. “Respect thy elders, thou insolent worm!”

She then extended her staff toward him, and another rounded shadow exploded across the room.  Jonathan avoided the blow by dropping to his hands, then hopped back up in an instant and took Ms. Unicorn from his pocket.  With one split-second motion, he threw the unicorn like a boomerang.  M.D. jumped back toward the southern wall of the building, but the boy had not aimed for her.  The unicorn crashed into the red vial and knocked it out of the tower.  The sound of shattering glass reached their ears a moment later.

“Wretched scum!” the woman bellowed.  “‘twas Armenor’s final potion of resurrec—”

She never finished her sentence, for Jonathan leapt toward her and kicked her in the abdomen with every ounce of his weight behind him.  The impact was so brutal that she tore through the wooden wall behind her and plummeted down the mountainside.  The boy walked over to the hole in the wall and gazed down to confirm that she had not survived the fall.  Before her body disappeared from view, he watched as she collided with multiple objects along her descent.  He knew from his experience of hitting a tree that there was no possible way she could have survived multiples collisions, so he turned away and went to check on Awana.

The girl was injured, but she was breathing and somewhat conscious.  She looked up at him and said dazedly, “Mr. Bird, I felt far more useful on our last adventure.”

With a small but concerned laugh, Jonathan scooped her up from the ground and dusted her off.  “Awana, if you had not been here, we would have failed.  I guarantee it.  You kept me going.  You encouraged me every step of the way.  And though we didn’t plan it this way, you bought me time to figure out my next move for M.D.  Thank you.”

She beamed at him.  “You’re certainly welcome, but I’m just trying to understand how a bird of your size can talk.  It blows my mind.” Then her head rolled back, and she fell asleep.

Jonathan peered out the open window and saw the bodies of many turkeys on the ground.  Pumpkin was no longer jumping, but swinging his sword here and there wearily.  There were still almost a hundred birds around him.  Super Pumpkin had managed to push the cauldron very close to the western cliff, but he was now seated against the pot, exhausted.

“Guys!” Jonathan shouted.  “Guys, M.D. has been slain!”

“Great!” Super Pumpkin called out to him.  “You two must get going.  Good luck to you both, and I pray that you find happiness together!”

Ghost was looking exceptionally nervous.  “Melhrir is only a few miles away! Hurry!”

Everyone looked to the west, and the great Eagle, its talons large enough to carry a small town, and its wings spread a couple hundred feet across, approached at a horrifying speed.  Jonathan shuddered, and he hurried out of the tower.  A moment later, the companions watched as he climbed up the spine of a hunched obelisk with Awana in his arms, and they all realized that he had never before appeared like such a hero.  Lightning continued to strike behind him, and the thunder chanted, and Melhrir came on from the western skies.  But the boy, injured and weary, and somehow full of hope, drew closer to his goal with each step.  His eyes fell to Awana, and he said, “We’ll be home soon; I promise.”

Pumpkin drove his sword through a turkey’s wing, and then he faced Super Pumpkin.  “Well, this is it.”

“Yes, it is time for you to go,” Super Pumpkin answered, still sitting against the cauldron.  “Do not worry; I will do as I have said, and destroy this cauldron.”

“But you have no strength left, and you know it,” said Pumpkin.  “You cannot do this alone.  I’ll stay here with you.”

The caped squash sighed.  “You do not want to do that.  I know you, Pumpkin.  You wish to be with your friends.  You must leave.”

Jonathan reached the end of the stone, and he looked into the deep void of the portal.  “Thank you all for what you’ve done for me in the past and on this day.  I won’t forget it.  Super Pumpkin, I was wrong.  There are superheroes, and you’ve shown me that today.  Pumpkin and Ghost, I hope I’ll see you on the other side.  Goodbye.” He closed his eyes and muttered, “Oh, I hope we don’t appear a thousand feet above Berryessa.” Then he hurdled forward, touched the portal’s edge, and vanished.

“Pumpkin,” Super Pumpkin grumbled, rising to his feet.  “Go.  Now!”

“Melhrir is right on us, you guys!” Ghost wailed.

Turkeys were finally breaking through and pecking both Pumpkin and Super Pumpkin all over their bodies.  Pumpkin could hardly lift his sword, and he wondered if he could even make his way to the top of a stone if he tried.  He limped to his cousin’s side.  “Listen, I’m staying.  We need to make sure that Melhrir can’t reach earth.  That’s our priority.”

“I am going to tap into the last of my Magic to take down this cauldron,” Super Pumpkin responded.  “Believe me, I am fully capable of it.  I will be fine, Pumpkin.  I will be fine.”

“You’ll be utterly spent.  I need to be here to save you.”

His cousin untied the cape from his body and handed it to Pumpkin.  “You cannot save everyone, Pumpkin.  Sometimes you have to let others find the way on their own.”

“Um…Super Pumpkin, what are you doing?” Pumpkin looked at the cape in his hands.

“The name isn’t Super Pumpkin, my dear cousin.” The squash held onto Pumpkin’s entire body and lifted him off the ground.  “It’s Gourdo.  Now go!” Then, with a massive surge of power, he lobbed Pumpkin toward the portal.  Ghost zipped after his friend, cowering as Melhrir swooped down a hundred yards above the summit.  The last thing Pumpkin saw before he reached the portal was a white light flashing from his cousin’s hands and knocking the cauldron off the cliff.  Gourdo fell onto his back, his duty fulfilled, and turkeys swarmed over him.  Pumpkin and Ghost touched the portal and disappeared.

To their horror and annoyance, they did indeed appear a thousand feet above Lake Berryessa.  Ghost had no need to worry (yet he did anyway), but Pumpkin feared that he would soon be a squashed…squash.  As the portal above him dispersed into nothingness, he plunged toward the water while Ghost pretended to fall beside him.  They screamed in unison, the deep abyss waiting for them far below.  They thought they heard the words “There they are!” come from somewhere nearby, and a couple seconds later, someone grabbed Pumpkin and ended his descent.  He looked below him and saw a broomstick.  Then he looked ahead and saw that Witch was flying on the broomstick and heading toward a cliffside road.  Ghost continued to “tumble” through the air behind them, convinced that this was the end for him.  As Witch and Pumpkin drew nearer to the road, the squash could see Jonathan standing on the side, and Awana resting against a stump.  Frankenstein’s monster and the Legcheeses were also there.  Mr. Legcheese was doing some pretty epic lunges for warmth, and Mrs. Legcheese was dressed like a cheerleader.  She cheered on Pumpkin as he reached the cliff and jumped onto the pebbly roadside.  Stanley Pharmacist was nowhere to be seen; he had fled hysterically from the Legcheese household after realizing there would be no turkey for dinner.

“Witch, I thought I was done for,” Pumpkin said as he landed on his feet.  “Thank you.”

“Oh, dearie, y’know it’s nothing.” She kicked her broom into her hand like a skateboard.

Jonathan turned to Frankenstein’s monster.  “How did you guys know we would show up here?”

“While I would find it the pinnacle of enjoyment to profess to you that knowledge,” explained the intelligent creature, “methinks the dialogue would be better suited over food frequently equated with this merry holiday.”

“Sure, I’m fine with that,” the boy answered.  “But I think we might have to move to cooked goose or leg of lamb.  Maybe even chicken breast.  I don’t care.  Please, just no turkey.”

Ghost rose up among the group from the ground.  “Guys, weirdest thing just happened.  I was freefalling pretty intensely.  Not sure if you saw it.  But I didn’t even hit the water.  I didn’t hit a thing! Can you believe that?”

Pumpkin sighed.  “If only he could use the long day as an excuse, but he always acts like this.”

“Well, it has been a long day,” Jonathan said, looking at Awana.  “Come on, guys.  Let’s go home.”

                      Epilogue

Thanksgiving

Spread across the dinner table was an assortment of scrumptious foods: biscuits, mashed potatoes and gravy, candied yams, fruit salad, pumpkin pie (Pumpkin sat as far away as possible from this dish), pig ears, liver, caviar (the last three were there because of a high demand from Jonathan’s father), and burritos from this Mexican restaurant called Baldo’s.  Ghost in particular could not get enough of something called the “California burrito,” though he did not seem to realize that he had not yet managed a single bite.  When Mrs. Legcheese would scoop an unfamiliar food onto Witch’s dish, the old alchemist would sniff it, pull a vial from a pouch at her side, sprinkle the contents onto the food, and eat it with gusto.  Frankenstein’s monster seemed to thoroughly enjoy the mashed potatoes; indeed, not fully understanding Thanksgiving etiquette, he took the entire bowl of mashed potatoes and ate it within two minutes.  Awana, now quite recovered, returned to her encouraging ways and cheered the bulky creature on with every bite.  Jonathan and Pumpkin, sitting next to one another, did not eat much.  The boy was clearly distraught for some reason, but it was hard to tell with Pumpkin.  As a jack-o-lantern, he was doomed for eternity to look like he had just won the lottery.

“Are you holding up all right, Pumpkin?” Jonathan asked him.

Pumpkin sighed.  “I suppose.  Gourdo sacrificed himself for us.  He made his own choice, and was happy to die so that we can live.  But that doesn’t take away the fact that my cousin is dead.” He looked down at the cape lying on his chair.  “I’ll never see him again.”

Awana smiled warmly at him.  “No, Pumpkin, you’ll see him again.  I truly believe that.”

“You do?” Somehow, there was glimmer of hope in the squash’s eyes.

“Yes, you’ll see him again.” Her countenance was resolute.

“You are encouraging and wise,” Pumpkin admitted, “and I do believe that I misjudged you when we first met.  I apologize.  But you still look like a cocker spaniel.”

“Um—er, thank you, Pumpkin!” said Awana.  “And Johnny boy looks like a flaming bird.  I’m not sure how we’re going to make that work.”

“So,” broke in Jonathan’s mother.  “Should we all say what we’re thankful for? Great! I’ll start.  I’m grateful for crabs.  All kinds of crabs, from every ocean and sea.  You wouldn’t believe how versatile those things are for lunch and dinner recipes.”

Her husband applauded her.  “That was beautiful, dear.  OK, my turn.  I’m thankful for my smoking hot wife.  That is all.”

“Really, Dad?” muttered Jonathan.  “Really?”

The man beamed at him with a feral look in his eyes.

“Well,” said Witch contemplatively.  “Let’s see, dearies, let’s see.  I’m thankful for these candied toads here.  They are delicious beyond reason.”

“Those are candied yams, my dear,” Jonathan’s mother pointed out.

Witch seemed rather confused, and she looked around the table.  “That’s what I said, no?”

Ghost pretended to choke briefly on a potato in his burrito.  “OK, I guess it’s my turn! I’m thankful for Pumpkin.  Even though I get on his nerves every five seconds—”

“Three seconds,” Pumpkin interrupted.

“—three seconds, he puts up with me.  He is my closest friend, and I’m glad we’ve become so close over the years.”

Pumpkin raised a glass of apple cider to his ethereal comrade.  “It’s mutual, buddy.”

Frankenstein’s monster swallowed a burrito whole.  “Mine allies, I must confess that, while my dear creator has abandoned me (how I love and despise the oaf), I am thankful that he gave me life.  For though the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune may strike us time and again, good ever awaits us around the bend.  And had we not this life, we would bear not these we call our friends.  Thus, in sum, I am thankful for this life.”

Awana looked at the enormous creature and patted him on the shoulder.  “Thank you, Frankenstein’s monster.  Wonderfully said.” She faced the center of the table.  “I’m thankful that God brought us all together.  We’re such an odd assortment of people and storybook characters, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.  We learn from each other, and we grow.  We’re here together for a reason, and after this adventure, I’m starting to understand that more clearly.  I’m just so grateful that you’re all in my life.”

Jonathan nodded at her and smiled.  “Well said, Awana.  You took my speech right out of my mouth, but well said.” He looked at Pumpkin.  “I’m thankful for Super Pumpkin, also known as Gourdo.  He used the last of his energy to destroy one of M.D.’s final potions, and in that moment, he sacrificed himself.  We are here now because of his strategy.  And because of his sacrifice, we do not have to save the world from Melhrir Soul-eater.”

“Amen,” Awana agreed.  “This story—er, I mean adventure—would be way too long if we had to do that.”

Pumpkin stood up on his chair and looked at each individual around him.  “I’m thankful for the time we have in this life to mend broken relationships.  Even if it may never be as perfect as you want it, a broken relationship can be restored.  We are provided the time to draw nearer to the person we are in a disagreement with, and we can either use that time to resolve what must be resolved, or ignore it.  Most choose to ignore it, and then, when they finally decide to make a move, it’s too late.  Forgiveness is difficult, but necessary.  Without it, we can never be reconciled to someone we love.  So yes, I’m thankful for reconciliation.”

“I’m glad that you were able to set aside your differences with Gourdo before the end,” Jonathan said to him.

“As am I, Jonathan,” Pumpkin replied, staring at the cape once again.

“All right, now it’s time to spill the beans, guys,” Awana remarked to Witch and Frankenstein’s monster.  “How the freak did you know we would end up coming from a portal in Berryessa?”

Witch cleared her throat.  “In the note I acquired from Apo’s lab, dearie, there was some writing at the bottom that went thusly: ‘P.S. My resurrection potion and the only portal potion will be safe with me on Melonir.  On the day of thanks, I will open a portal to the lake called Berryessa, and from thence shall come the bird.’ Now, the word ‘Berryessa’ was quite problematic to decipher, for you rarely see the letter for a ‘double s’ in Weöstrif.  Once we knew the place to which she referred, we hurried to Lake Berryessa.  This was primarily to fight off Melhrir, if at all possible.  We were quite flabbergasted when our dear friends suddenly came tumbling from the sky.”

“We were very lucky that you guys were there,” said Pumpkin.  “That would have been a terrible end to our adventure.”

“Indeed,” Witch replied, spearing a candied yam with her fork.

Awana looked at Jonathan while the others continued to talk.  She frowned once she noticed his glum and pensive expression.  “Johnny boy, you look really sad.  Are you upset about Super Pumpkin?”

He shrugged.  “Well, yeah, but that’s not the only thing that’s bothering me.”

Awana touched his shoulder and scooted closer to him.  “Do you want to spoon on the couch and talk about it?”

He lifted his eyes to her.  “Maybe we can just start by holding hands?”

She nodded at him and took hold of his right hand.  “Of course, Johnny boy.  That’s fine.”

He stared at their interlocked fingers with a proud smile, and then he said, “After you were knocked out by M.D., I used Ms. Unicorn to break her potion of resurrection.  Ms. Unicorn must have landed somewhere on the summit of the mountain.  I didn’t see where she went, and I left her there.”

His mother overheard him, and she slapped the top of the table.  “Jonathan Gerd Legcheese! You left Ms. Unicorn in another world? What in the name of all that is holy were you thinking?”

Jonathan continued to look at his and Awana’s hands.  “I was thinking that I needed to get Awana home.  She was injured.  Nothing was more important to me in that moment than making sure she was all right, and that she got home safely.”

Mr. Legcheese whistled.  “Goodness me, our little boy is growing up!” He wiped a tear from his eye.

Pumpkin, still standing on his chair, poked Jonathan on the shoulder.  “Oh, Jonathan, the strangest thing happened.”

“Yes, Pumpkin?”

“When I was fighting those turkeys on the summit, I was suddenly struck very hard on the back by something.  I thought an especially feisty bird had come into the fray, but when I looked on the ground, I saw a toy unicorn.  Your toy unicorn.”  He crouched down, moved the cape to the side, and lo! he revealed Ms. Unicorn.  He lifted it toward Jonathan like a beautiful, resplendent crown and the boy reached out to it in awe.  In the background, Mr. Legcheese began to sing dramatic choir music as the group watched the event unfold.  Jonathan received the unicorn with grace, and then he jumped up and held it high in the air.  The light of the chandelier above reflected off its lustrous body, casting dazzling lights all over the walls.  Pumpkin immediately regretted his decision to hand over the ridiculous toy.

“Pumpkin, you sly squash!” Jonathan exclaimed.  “I cannot express how much I love you right now!”

“Yes, thank you ever so much,” Awana said dryly.

Ghost had never appeared happier.  “This is so wonderful, you guys.  We have good food, good friends, and a good unicorn.  And best of all, we don’t have to worry about any more adventures!”

“Er…how do you figure that, dearie?” Witch inquired.

“Well, just think about it, Witch,” Ghost responded.  “There’s no more portal potion, and Jonathan destroyed the potion of resurrection.  Sounds like a definitive victory to me!”

“Aren’t you forgetting about the potion that turns goodness to blight?”

Ghost rubbed his translucent chin.  “Of course not.  But there is no Apo, and Jonathan roundhouse-kicked M.D. off a cliff.  As far as I see it, we’re done.  The quest is finally over!”

If only he had looked out the window behind him, he would have realized that the quest was far from over.  If he had gazed out at the evening sky, he would have seen something quite out of place.  For at that moment, nine reindeer lugged a huge sleigh in front of the moon.  If Ghost had looked closely at the figure seated in the sleigh, he would have known that a new adventure was about to begin.  In that sleigh sat a man who looked like Santa Claus, and who was dressed like Santa Claus.  But he was not Santa Claus, for as he turned his face and watched the friends laughing and eating together, he smiled and revealed rows of sharp teeth.  Then, extending forth claws that rested in place of fingernails, he tugged at the reins in his hands and cackled as the reindeer pulled him away into the night sky.

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