Once Upon a Pumpkin

By Beka Gremikova

Tamrin’s prized pumpkin was missing.

Well, her second prized pumpkin. Her best one had vanished two weeks ago on the evening of Prince Charlin’s first ball. Then her second best one vanished the night of Charlin’s second dance. Months of hard work, love, and care down the drain.

It wouldn’t happen again. Tonight, Prince Charlin was hosting yet another gathering, and she’d use the opportunity to catch the thieves in the act and give them an old-fashioned what for.

Anticipation tingled through her as she stooped behind the shed, peering out at her garden. She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them.

“Did you forget your mittens again?”

Tamrin looked up to find her neighbor and co-conspirator standing with his arms crossed. Shadows smothered him, cast by the soft orange glow from the iron torches framing her garden. She blew on her fingers and coughed sheepishly. “Yes.”

Leo shook his head, but she heard the smile in his voice. “You should keep an extra pair in the shed. You’re always out here mulching your pumpkins.” He pointed at one of the many pristine, beautifully rounded gourds. “Why don’t you name them? I’d call that pumpkin Maurice.”

“Just because you name your knitting projects and your roses…”

“Roses like being named!” Leo protested. “Why shouldn’t pumpkins?”

Tamrin snorted. When she first moved to this kingdom, leaving her old life of poisoning to start anew, she’d accidentally trespassed among his roses. After convincing him she wasn’t a flower thief, she’d pawned him her old magic mirror and bought seeds to plant her own garden—starting with a pumpkin patch. She loved their imperfect, bumpy texture, their earthy orange color, and their robust flavor.  Slowly, she’d added squash, carrots, lettuce, and fruit trees.

Except for apples. She’d never touch another apple.

Rustling echoed from the far end of the garden. Two figures scurried through the hedgerow. Tamrin yanked Leo behind the shed, and he crouched beside her.

As the figures crept closer, Tamrin recognized the slight build and light step of their neighbor, Ella McAsher, and the glittering, gossamer wings of Ella’s companion.

A blasted fairy godmother. Fairies often took whatever they wanted for magical uses. Tamrin shook her head, sighing. I should’ve known. With her large, mournful eyes, Ella was a fairy godmother’s dream-damsel-come-true.

My luck to have such a plentiful garden, ripe for picking. Tamrin frowned. But why? Ella lives in a mansion with a respectable family. I’ve never heard rumors of hardship. What more could she want? Tamrin craned her head to snatch pieces of their conversation.

The fairy tiptoed up to Tamrin’s largest pumpkin, clapping her hands and crowing. “Oh, she’s got another one, Ella! It’s beautiful!” She ran her hands over its mottled body. “Pretty sturdy, too. It shouldn’t rupture under my magic like the other one did.”

“I don’t know about this.” Ella shifted, glancing over her shoulder. “We can’t go around stealing other people’s things all the time.”

“I told you, it’s not stealing.” The fairy sniffed and flapped her wings, shooting sparkling orange glitter into the darkness. “It’s called the Appropriation of Common Items for Magical Purposes.”

Common? This cursed, thieving fairy dared to look down upon the pumpkins Tamrin spent so much time cultivating? They were her art! Her healing! She leapt to her feet, about to spring out and lash them all with her tongue, but Leo held her back.

“Wait,” he whispered. “Look at Ella.”

The girl had stepped in their direction, wringing her hands, her eyes darting about.

Tamrin stilled.

Ella’s wan face was streaked with grime and burdened by an exhausted, wary expression.

An expression Tamrin recognized all too well. She’d seen it in herself ten years ago when she looked into a magic mirror and pushed herself nearly to destruction. Except one thing separated them—Ella was innocent, and Tamrin had not been.

Ella shook her head. “I still don’t think—”

“Oh, stop. This is the best way to escape your stepmother. Get you to the ball in a fancy carriage, betroth you to the prince, and you’re set for life! You’ll be safe.” The fairy gripped Ella’s shoulders.

Stepmother. Safe. Chills coursed through Tamrin, and she grappled blindly for Leo’s hand. His fingers found hers and squeezed while his other arm wrapped around her.

“You still want to go after her?” he whispered.

Tamrin shook her head, numb, unmoving as the fairy waved her wand. Tamrin’s beloved pumpkin grew larger and larger until it was no longer hers, the product of her hours of toil and sweat. Instead, it turned into a distant, magical thing that could carry a girl away from an abusive situation. Instead of a poisoned apple, this fruit became an enchanted carriage.

Tamrin might never get her pumpkin back—but better to lose a pumpkin than to leave another girl to suffer.

The clattering of the departing coach startled Tamrin from her thoughts, and she sank to the ground. “So, Ella’s stepmother is just like me.” She rubbed her chilled fingers against her soft woolen coat. “I hope Gwyneth survived.” Rumors about her stepdaughter abounded, but she’d been too scared to find out for certain. Too worried she’d done irreparable damage.

Leo wrapped her hands in his. “How you used to be. Just like I used to be a beast. In so many ways.” He squeezed her fingers. “I heard Princess Gwyneth revived and married a prince. And she’s doing well.”

Tamrin met his gaze and swallowed. “I think I’m going to donate my pumpkins to the fairies.”

“Maybe I’ll join a knitting group and do the same,” Leo mused. “Oh, and I made these for you.”  He withdrew a pair of mittens decorated with tiny gourds and wolves from his pocket. He bumped her shoulder with his. “No more cold fingers, promise?”

Lips trembling, Tamrin pulled on the gloves and flashed Leo a rare smile. “I promise.” Then she stepped out into the garden. “Now can you help me harvest Maurice?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beka Gremikova writes and dreams from the Ottawa Valley, Ontario, Canada. Her passions include travelling, folklore and myth, and geeking out over The Legend of Zelda. Her work is featured in Havok’s Bingeworthy and Sensational anthologies as well as other collections. In 2020, she also received Havok’s “Most Prolific Author” Award. When she’s not watching anime or Youtube snake-hatching videos, she can be found curled up in a corner with a mystery novel.

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