After a long trudge home, Joelle would find herself under a stressing interrogation by a sternly concerned motherly vegetable.

“Joelle, Joelle, Joelle… How many times do I have to tell you…?” The mother cautiously began, “A Good Pumpkin learns to BEEEE CAREFUL! It’s been the third time within an entire month where I’ve had to save my Little Baby Boo from smashing…”

Clearly Joelle didn’t see what the problem was. To her, she was just trying to have a little fun. The little pumpkin improperly responded with a few upset moans, only to receive a stern-like stare from her towering mother. She would look to her father, whom seemed nonchalant about Joelle’s active nature. However, he seemed to have sided with mother on this one, adding to the fact that Joelle was always putting her mother in more danger as much as she did for herself. Although, he did hum to himself that he would love to try out that rolling stunt that she did today.

Mother Pumpkin was steamed, but slowly she would turn away and calm herself before she popped a seed. Joelle didn’t move from her stool, but she did stare at her mother with some concern. The little pumpkin would make a few urging sounds, attempting to turn her around. While noises didn’t budge her at first, a short little scuttle would surely do the trick. Joelle leaned forward and gently rubbed her curl against her mother’s smooth skin. The adorable curl knew she was ticklish, secretly urging a gentle smile on the crumpled mother’s face. The mother would gently take one of her lengthy vines and rub it against her pumpkin child, lovingly caressing her against her rigid body.

“Oh, Joelle…” The mother began, “Sometimes I forget how much of a sweet child you are. Always so energetic, yet so concerned.”

“Das’ because I’m brave,” Joelle would mumble under the seeds of her tongue.

“Hmmm… I know, sweetie. But…” the mother would interject, “There is a difference between being brave and being foolish.” Mother Pumpkin would then lift Joelle and place her back into her stool. She would begin to lecture her on bravery, and how it would only get a lone pumpkin so far. To the mother, there lies a huge, dangerous world that seemed no match for a pumpkin, especially for a miniature-sized pumpkin as she. Trudging outside of the vines would ensure that the local wildlife would not be friendly. What if Joelle was cut? Or hit her head on a stone? Or her vine was cut? Joelle sat there, paying less attention to the message of her mother’s lecture, but rather imagining herself exploring the outer world. In that young, little brain of hers, Joelle was active, an explorer jumping over large rocks, swimming through the streams, flying through the forest, and even battling the harsh weathers that would prevail. Yes, it looks like our dear girl has fallen into La-La-Land, a place fit for the imagination of a child, but not a place for parents to take pride in. It seems as if everyone was suddenly cheering for her. They could all be heard chanting out, “Joelle! Joelle! Joelle! Joelle! Joelle!”

“JOELLE!” a sudden shout flew in, stumbling the little pumpkin out of her stool. The little pumpkin yelps as she fell backwards, rolling onto her stem and laying upside down, revealing the underbelly of the tiny pumpkin. Both the mother and the father stood there, watching their enchanted child be lost in her own fantasy world. The mother sighs and shakes her head before continuing her explanation, “Please, dear. You need to be safer… Especially with the winter coming soon.”

Joelle arguably whined, objecting to the worries of winter. From the little experience she’s had, winter seemed like nothing more than a continuous season of cold. Despite this, she still asked why they had to worry about winter or even the cycles of nature in general. It’s always the same every year. Grow. Eat. Plant. Hibernate. Grow. Eat. Plant. Hibernate. Grow. Eat. Plant. Hibernate. Grow. Eat. Plant. Hibernate. Why can’t they do anything different during the winter? A small grumble is heard from the entrance of their hollow home.

“Why, I agree,” the grumbly voice slipped in, “I say the more we sleep out durin’ winter, the less we got all times to play!” Joelle smiled brightly as she hopped out of her stumble. She calls out, “Grampa!” before hopping over to the old man. Grampa Pumpkin, an old, withered, long-nose pumpkin uses his rope-like vine to embrace his eager granddaughter. The old fruit chuckles, commenting on how joyfully energetic she’s become since he last saw her. The withered coot was a slender pumpkin. In his heyday, he was tall, proud, and known as the bravest pumpkin there was. People would tell stories of his greatness and would give up even their most valued parts just to be under his presence. Grampa Pumpkin hopped into a lone stump and twitched his little vine mustache. Mother Pumpkin didn’t think much of her father’s sudden arrival, but once that old codger opened his mouth, both parents would be in for hours of elderly rambling. The father took a glance outside and saw that the sun was beginning to set. He gently brushed his vine against his wife, and the two set off into the more secluded sections of the garden, leaving Joelle to listen to her grandfather’s eclectic tales.

Nighttime has risen upon this lone vegetable garden. The moonlight shined high in the sky as the animals nestled in their burrows and their trees, and the local forms of fruits and vegetables slowly nuzzled back into their proper resting place. The tomatoes have perched back into their tilled beds of dirt, the potatoes have buried themselves back into the ground, and the corns perch back onto their towering stems. Grapes and berries bouncing back into their original places, and finally the pumpkin patch can all be seen connecting their stems back to their initial vines. Grandpa Pumpkin had his vine connected to his mustache, but he was already asleep after telling his spunky granddaughter tales of his own bravery. Joelle sat with him as quiet as she could be. But for a young child like Joelle, sleep wasn’t all that viable or necessary. The little pumpkin gentle nestled out of her grandfather’s lap and quietly hopped out into the garden. Once there, she got to take in a big sight. Her eyes widened as she took sight of the bright, shiny moon. The little girl even stretched her tiny little vine curl upwards in an attempt to grab it. Oh, what a dream that would be. 

Tonight, the garden was quiet, peaceful, and just secluded enough for a little pumpkin to explore. It was around this time when the fireflies started to flutter about, whizzing through the skies in pairs of three, and sounds of grass shivered in the gentle wind. Joelle carefully snuck through the pumpkin patch as quietly as she could, following the fireflies and their everlasting light. The blades of grass tickled her underbelly as she crept by her neighbors. A giggly grew as she watched the glowing insects rest inside the mouth of a very lean pumpkin. The firefly shone its bulb brightly inside, radiating the resting squash fruit until it became a makeshift nightlight of illumination and sensitivity. The second firefly rested on Joelle’s curl, walking down her stem and atop her skin. The bulb of an insect flashed its light beam as it walked on Joelle’s face. The little pumpkin sneezed, startling the bug and causing it to fly away. The firefly hovered above the pumpkin patch and began to drift away. Joelle gave chase to this multilegged creature, following its colorful light against the pale moon sky. Little did Joelle know was that as she followed the miniscule beast, she strayed increasingly farther from the garden. Joelle hopped and stretched and strained the curl on her tiny little vine as she effortlessly reached for the airborne insect. Suddenly, a tiny rock stumbles into Joelle’s path, knocking down and causing her to roll down a long, steep hill.

The fall was long and tumultuous. Joelle trundled down the hill with increasing speed. So much so that it wasn’t long until she ends up cutting through the protective vines, barreling out of the forest and into a strange land. The little pumpkin’s stumbled had slowed to a crawl, and the little squash plant rested on her face to contain herself. A tiny groan escapes her lips before a blaring sound throws her in shock. Suddenly, the little girl was found gasping for breath as she found herself in this land of walking trees, frigid grounds, and creatures of the night that felt scarier as the darkness created estranged silhouettes over their immeasurable skinfolds. Joelle gulped silently while her eyes shot left and right intensely from the ongoing activity that occurred all at once. Blaring noises left and right. Beasts made of strange carbon fiber piercing her vision, with lights so bright that her little eyes burst into tears from their power. It was clear that Joelle had strayed far from home, and she had no place in the outlandish world. To make matters worse, little earthquakes caused the little fellow to bounce and hop around ever so slightly, pulling her closer to the frigid, concrete ground. Joelle tried hopping back to the safe grass beneath her, but their power was ever so invasive… so forceful… that she almost had no power to escape.

The pumpkin hopped and hopped as hard as she could, trying to escape the clutches of these invisible beasts. It wasn’t until a sudden force shot Joelle back into the bushes, landing her back into the forest. The pumpkin girl jumped and turned her eyes behind her, only to be horrified by the shadows of a pair of long, tree-like legs standing where she flew through. Joelle quickly turned back to the forest and ran, ran as fast as a little pumpkin with no legs could ever run before. There was nowhere to go but home, a place where Joelle can rest alongside her family and friends, and hopefully to put an end to this living nightmare.