The Hollow Harvest - Pumpkin Patch

[Crenna]

The First

.

.

Stepping out of the maze, a veil of silvery fog stretches as far as you can see. Between the strands of fog, rows of enormous pumpkins sit amongst the vines. Some are carved while others are untouched, some nicked and scratched, while others pristine and perfect. Small lights float amongst them - fireflies, seemingly more interested in some rather then others.

Among the shadows, figures move about attending to the patch. These are the Harvest Hands, a collection of scarecrows entrusted with keeping the ground in order, and helping you in your journey.

"Oy! Visitors! Everyone wake up! Places, places!"

Right at your feet is a glowing Jack-O-Lantern, grinning up at you. "Welcome welcome! This here is the pumpkin patch. Another fun event organized by our lovely mistresses. The rules here are simple. You must select one of the very fine pumpkins that you see to take with you. But you can only take one. So explore to your hearts content! Talk to them, find the one that best speaks to you!"

"Hey! Don't forget about the lanterns!" Another pumpkin yells out.

"Oh right right. I forget you mortals can't see in the dark. There are lanterns at the beginning of the patch, feel free to pick one up to aid in your search."

"Harvest Hands!"

"I am getting to that! Fates, can't you let me do my job without micromanaging me, seed brain." A sniff, "Anyway, there are some very helpful fellows wandering about and can answer questions, solve riddles or even sing a little diddy! Don't be afraid of them. Though, if they get a little clingy, it is just because they are lonely."

Having said their piece, the pumpkin gives a stationary nod. "Good luck! Enjoy your time here!" It then goes quiet as if it never had spoken in the first place.

 

[Heather_the_Writer]

@Heather_the_Writer

The Third

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.

The Third Sister gives a little hum of approval. "Left it is! Oh, how decisive. I do admire a girl who knows her own mind."

She turns on her heel, skirts swishing through the straw, and accompanies you towards the junction ahead. The corn grows quite dense here, the broad leaves overlapping to form an untidy archway overhead. The lanterns are also fewer and farther between, sometimes catching the occasional silvery thread of a spiderweb that is strung between the stalks.

Around the bend where you saw the little girl vanish, there is a long and similarly narrow and overgrown pathway ahead. The sister travels along it with you until you both reach a weathered wooden gate that stands patiently between two cooked fence posts. Beyond it, the warm orange glow of lanterns illuminates clusters of pumpkins, hay bales and the distant outline of a farmhouse. The evening air already feels cooler, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves.

The sister approaches the gate and gives it a little push. Its hinges creak, but the gate opens easily. You might catch the sister whisper something that sounds suspiciously like a polite thank you.

"Oh, look at that! We've found our way out, after all."

She turns towards you, clasping her hands together underneath her chin. Her black eyes are sparkling beneath the shadow of her hood, and her smile is positively beaming.

"Thank you for allowing me to accompany you, my dear! I haven't been able to explore the maze in quite some time! Do keep that key safe, won't you? I have a feeling it might come in handy very soon."

She gives you a playful little wink before stepping aside to let you through, and as she closes the gate behind you, you can swear you hear the playful giggle of a little girl behind you from somewhere inside the maze you've left behind.

(Thank you for playing in the corn maze! Your character has successfully completed this section. Once the new section opens, you will be able to continue on your adventure.)

Isabel let out a sigh. The antique key is safely put in her pocket., "I hope I made the right choice. I cannot go home without Ann junior... thank you, my lady. I do not know your name. Might I ask what it is?"

She smiled at the enveloping darkness; silver threads that promised spiders glimmered. Honestly? She felt it was refreshing. Hearing a nearby giggle made Isabel sigh again. Corn stalks made it hard to see anything.

"You're welcome." She automatically replied.

The odd gate went unquestioned. Despite the fog taking over, it was warm. Now, the farmhouse, on the other hand...


....


Pumpkins, as far as she could see. Large, small, medium, everywhere. Isabel felt overwhelmed.

A voice caught her attention. She stepped back in fright. She shut her mouth; then smoothed her skirts. Isabel had heard of many magical families, but never speaking plants. These sisters must be very powerful, indeed. Isabel snapped back to being the perfect lady again.

"I, thank you. Yes, one lantern please. Thank you. Harvest Hands, talking scarecrows, of course. I think the maze was wonderful. And so is this pumpkin patch. Everything looks well taken care of. The highest praise, yes, indeed."
She took a small, cute blue lamp. It felt adorable. Other adventurers were spotted. Maybe one of them saw Ann? As she walked over to the closest person, she eyed the pumpkins.

... There were too many ....

 

[Rimechapel]

GEORGE

.

.

@Heather_the_Writer
"Pssss!"

Then a pause, for probably too long to not be creepy. Was there anyone there? Just pumpkins - perhaps the nonverbal variety, and a scarecrow. However it wasn't moving. Was it? And it didn't have a mouth. Did it?

"Pspspspspspspspspsps. Hey. Pspspsps."

It was definitely moving now, rubbing its big old cornhusk fingers together in a way that demonstrated both profound dexterity and an utter lack of understanding that most decent people would find such a motion offputting. It was like five raspy paper knives, all rubbing together at once, and the scarecrow was wiggling his head just a little with the effort of making the "pspsps" noise. The scarecrow wore a nice jacket, a red shirt, blue jeans, and a dapper hat. If Edward Scissorhands were a scarecrow but nowhere near as charming as Johnny Depp... that might be this scarecrow.

"Oh. You're not a cat. Well no wonder you didn't come running! Hey. Hey, c'mere. I got something to share with you."

All at once the scarecrow was frightfully close and wiggled its cornhusk fingers in your face!

"Ahh! Got'cher nose!"

Given the apparent lack of pain or anything else that might be expected upon the literal removal of a body part as noticeable as a nose, the legitimacy of this statement could be questioned. But... would you check? What if the scarecrow had in fact somehow gotten your nose? After all, you'd just come through a very strange corn maze with very unusual women who led you to talking pumpkins and a scarecrow that was evidently talking with you.

"Hah! Oh man, and it's a cute one, too! Wow!" The scarecrow rustled its big rustly fingers together. Whether it held something as small as a nose within them was quite difficult to perceive. "Okay. Okay okay. I'll give your cute lil sniffer back. Soon. Real soon! I'm not stalling, I promise, I just, err... gotta think of... something. Oh, hi, by the way. I'm George. What's your name? It's a fair trade - a name for a name. Don't worry, I'll give it back later, too! See? I'm nice! I'm so nice! I'm the nicest crow-scarer of pumpkinlandia! At least since the gerrymandering, anyway. Now that other chap doesn't get a say. Heh! Heheh."

"Well well well anyway, I got a cool story! I got a real cool story. It's so cool. Just wait. When I tell you how cool it is, you'll... you'll um... uh..." he scratched the back of his head with his cornhusk fingers. "... Wanna hear a joke? Okay, great, I love jokes! I love them so much that if you guess it right I'll give you back your nose! Maybe something else, too! Okay. Okay okay. Ready? Here's the joke."

"How do you get a turtle with no arms and no legs to cross the freeway? I'll give you a hint; you take the F out of free, and you take the F out of way."

 

[AmphitriteSea]

If there was ever an ‘oh shit’ moment in Amphitrite’s life, it would have been the moment those cute little fiery orbs had led her to the three sisters. She had genuinely thought she was being sent to the underworld.

Those wide, frantic siren eyes blinked as the reality set in.

Even worse, she had run into and now, with her hands literally tied and nowhere to go, she was stuck by her arch-nemesis, which seemed punishment enough in itself.

And if she could in that moment, she would have apologized to the dragon. Poor guy was just trying to find his way back to a woman he presumably loved, and she had dragged him along into the mess. That part had weighed on her conscience the heaviest. She had made her choices and reaped the consequences, and well, he was innocent in all of this.

————

Her heart had been pounding in her chest. She thought that was it. She was stuck there for eternity. No more siren songs. No more frolicking in the fields. No more blue tides and bubbly lullabies.

But then the next thing she knew, she had landed in a pumpkin patch. No longer tied down, Amphi let out a breath of relief, clasped her hands together, and looked up. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, for real this time, I’ll listen. I pinky swear!” But as her head tipped back, she nearly lost her balance.

Something was off; something felt strange.

“Huh?” She moved her head and had swayed forward. Her head... it felt heavier?

A moment passed and Amphi raised her hands to her head, feeling strange vertical grooves and a smooth surface, but not like skin—at least, not skin that belonged to her human form.

She raised her hands higher and higher up the rounded sides of her face. She didn’t feel her ears or her long pink hair, and instead felt… bald!? That was her second-worst nightmare. In it’s place, she felt a stump.

“Oh no… oh no, no, no,” Amphi started muttering, having a panic attack followed by a scream.

She was a jack-o’-lantern. And at her feet was another one, much smaller. It kindly spoke to her and this time:

She heard the rules. She would remember them. This time, she would listen.

Amphi cautiously approached a lantern, plucking it into her fingers. “Ha… um, don’t mind me.” She gave a sheepish smile and cleared her throat. “I’ll only pick one teeney-tiny, little pumpkin.”

There were so many to choose from. It was nearly overwhelming, and well now, Amphi looked like she belonged in it, but she held up the lantern, descended deeper into the patch, and listened to her gut feeling for whichever pumpkin called out to her.

 

[WriteAngry]

The First

.

.

Stepping out of the maze, a veil of silvery fog stretches as far as you can see. Between the strands of fog, rows of enormous pumpkins sit amongst the vines. Some are carved while others are untouched, some nicked and scratched, while others pristine and perfect. Small lights float amongst them - fireflies, seemingly more interested in some rather then others.

Among the shadows, figures move about attending to the patch. These are the Harvest Hands, a collection of scarecrows entrusted with keeping the ground in order, and helping you in your journey.

"Oy! Visitors! Everyone wake up! Places, places!"

Right at your feet is a glowing Jack-O-Lantern, grinning up at you. "Welcome welcome! This here is the pumpkin patch. Another fun event organized by our lovely mistresses. The rules here are simple. You must select one of the very fine pumpkins that you see to take with you. But you can only take one. So explore to your hearts content! Talk to them, find the one that best speaks to you!"

"Hey! Don't forget about the lanterns!" Another pumpkin yells out.

"Oh right right. I forget you mortals can't see in the dark. There are lanterns at the beginning of the patch, feel free to pick one up to aid in your search."

"Harvest Hands!"

"I am getting to that! Fates, can't you let me do my job without micromanaging me, seed brain." A sniff, "Anyway, there are some very helpful fellows wandering about and can answer questions, solve riddles or even sing a little diddy! Don't be afraid of them. Though, if they get a little clingy, it is just because they are lonely."

Having said their piece, the pumpkin gives a stationary nod. "Good luck! Enjoy your time here!" It then goes quiet as if it never had spoken in the first place./div]

"Insane?", I asked with an insulted pout. "I prefer imaginative. Good day."

"Good riddance" called the other characters, but I wasn't sure if I felt the same leaving Apathy behind.

The weight of the flat coin didn't quite fill the hole it had left. It was a strange feeling, like a missing tooth: I knew it was supposed to be there and I couldn't stop feeling the cavity, and I couldn't help myself probing at the hole.

Well, I was sure it would find a way to return. It always did, crawled out from some crevasse I had previously stuffed him at. Nobody really liked him, but nobody could really live without him. He would fill up the hole he had left like rainwater a pothole, and I felt my feet striding lighter.

I rolled the coin between my fingers, and definitely not so nimbly as proper male protagonists did in fine movies, and soon I just rolled my thumb around its flat. Follow the magical fog. I did not look back at the Vendor Stalls, or at the strange witch that had read her book upside down, and I had the feeling that neither did they look how I strode.

---

Hardly ever entering the maze left me wonder if it still had served its purpose: everybody who goes in the maze leaves something behind, right? I never did enter the maze and still managed to leave something behind - only to find something else in front of me.

I pick up a lantern, and check at my coinpass if it points a way or not. I roll the coin on my palm and my thumb finds a notch in the rim. Maybe it was stupid to believe such magic, maybe not, but I'm talking with Witches and Vocal Vegetables here. Anyway, I act as if the notch was a needle pointing the way, and oh boy, there's around a thousand pumpkins that-a-way. I shrug and follow the lucky coin, and point with the lantern.

"Okay, lantern. I need a very fine pumpkin. Mind showing which one in that direction?"

I can feel the three of them staring through my eyes, and I feel all of them more or less unsatisfied on my choices. I choose not to listen to them.

 

[jahdeen]

Every failure came with a lesson. Today's lesson: the Three Sisters were not lenient, but they weren't brutal in their punishment, either. Echo didn't exactly enjoy being scorned, but he didn't mind the restraints too much. At least the phantom hands were softer than metal chains, and he wasn't being experimented on or tortured.

All things considered, he could live with a Jack-o-Lantern for a temporary head.

After listening to the talking pumpkin-head, Echo tried to rub his chin in thought, but his fingers only found the rubbery surface of gourd. He felt along the carved shape of his new face. From what he could tell, he'd been given triangular eyeholes and a thin line for a mouth; quite a grumpy-looking expression. Stranger still was the back of his head. His finger traced along the thin carved lines: two long hooked curves mirrored one another, intersecting in the middle and trailing outward at the bottom.

In other words, a butt.

He found that strangely endearing.

Echo could see the glow of the candle inside his head, but the pumpkin field was dreadfully dark. He fumbled for the first lantern he touched, and as luck would have it, he picked one with an extinguished wick. He frowned--or tried to. He could choose another lantern, but after the first trial, he hesitated to make a decision that might disrespect the environment around him.

Oh, right!

Echo felt for the stem of his head. He tugged, lifting up the carved top, then took out the lantern's candle and touched it to his internal flicker. Fire licked at his fingertips to no effect. Once he sensed the drip of wax, he stuck the now-lit candle back in his lantern. Perfect.

He didn't wander too far into the patch. He spied Amphi's (@AmphitriteSea ) pumpkin-head further ahead, but decided to leave her be for now. She seemed a bit upset and uneasy--perhaps space would be best until she found her choice of pumpkin. Echo weaved carefully around the pumpkin vines at his feet. If any of these were indeed living and speaking specimens like the one that gave him instructions, he wouldn't want to hurt the poor things.

Before long, he spotted a yellowish pumpkin with a bumpy top, about the size of a basketball. Echo knelt and picked it up, inspecting it with care. The thing was sort of ugly, with a large indent on its side that marred its spherical shape. Yet Echo felt a strange connection to it. Maybe it was the yellow, or maybe it was the imperfections. But it felt like his. Still, a suspicion pricked the back of his mind.

"How do I know it's the right one?" he wondered aloud to no one in particular.

 

[Mikki]

Darla smiled at the display of the patch, the bright orange against a dark ground, more scarecrows, and... a talking pumpkin! Cute! She crouched down close to listen to the pumpkin and smiled as it finished. Spying the teeniest tiniest white flower in the weeds, she plucked it, and set it down on top of the now quiet pumpkin.

"Thank you~," muttered softly before she began meandering through. Again, that fiddlesome tic. She opened and closed the lighter with a metallic clink, clink, clink.

Darla seemed unbothered overall, eying the pumpkins and travelling further into the patch. Attempting to get away from whatever others there might be, and in search, mostly, for something a little.... unorthodox but charming.

Her smile pulled down at the scarring that had sworled her right eye shut, leaving a lopsided eye that still fluttered it's lashes when she looked around. To her, it was just skin. Nothing fancy. Black hair framed her pale face, while a sickly pale pink set of lips curled into a wry smile.

Still, she walked, unafraid of the shadowy bits. Feeling a little more at home in the dark edges of the patch. Lanterns reflected off of the lense in her good eye as she turned.

Darla was quite glad she had decided to wear the sneakers. They were probably better suited to her walking about. Though, underneath her skin, the urge to run barefoot was ever present. For now, though. Human would do.

"Hmmmm how does one choose a pumpkin? Or maybe one will choose me? Let's see... let's see..." She pursed her lips in thought.

"Oh well don't you have character." She crouched down near-to a pumpkin that had bumps over it's surface, and appeared to have dried out skin to one side.

"What do you think? Is it the pumpkin or the person who chooses?" She unwrapped another caramel and popped it into her mouth.

"Or does it matter?"

 

[ChaosTheory]

Chaos stumbled out of the corn maze energetically. It would be tempting to say she was running, but Chaos did not run. She did trip, when checking the fae and cornman did not come after her and her golden popcorn. A moment she paused. Partly to check whether her ankle was still working after her spectaculair fail and because she wasn't sure that she had thanked the lady good and proper for either the rescue, or the popcorn. "How impossibly rude of me. I should go back in and find her, except... better not. I shall shout into it and hopefully see her around yet."
So turning around gingerly, Chaos cradled the popcorn to her heart, took a deep breath and yelled at the top of her lungs.

"THANK YOU weird KIND LADY!!! I'LL GIVE YOU A HUG WHEN I SEE YOUUUUUU."
Perhaps she should offer to share her popcorn as well and she gave it an affectionate pat. Maybe, maybe not. For now it was... this.
Pumpkins and scarecrows. A whole lot of pumpkins, and she was allowed to take one. That was a great deal better than the popcornman she met earlier, provided she found a nice and chaotic pumpkin. So priorities first. Chaos took the time to find a lantern that shone just the way she liked it. Not too bright, not too dim. Nice and warm, but not overly so. Lighting was everything as anyone could tell you.

"Alright Chaos girl, you've got this. Get in there, don't scare anyone. Don't trip over pumpkins. Don't get bitten and turn into a werepumpkin, you don't have time for that!"
Stepping up to the edge, it was time to consider her best strategy and the best was... randomized chaos. So she didn't pick a straight line, but started to weave and turn. Take straights and diagonals, all for the greater good.

 

[Crenna]

If there was ever an ‘oh shit’ moment in Amphitrite’s life, it would have been the moment those cute little fiery orbs had led her to the three sisters. She had genuinely thought she was being sent to the underworld.

Those wide, frantic siren eyes blinked as the reality set in.

Even worse, she had run into and now, with her hands literally tied and nowhere to go, she was stuck by her arch-nemesis, which seemed punishment enough in itself.

And if she could in that moment, she would have apologized to the dragon. Poor guy was just trying to find his way back to a woman he presumably loved, and she had dragged him along into the mess. That part had weighed on her conscience the heaviest. She had made her choices and reaped the consequences, and well, he was innocent in all of this.

————

Her heart had been pounding in her chest. She thought that was it. She was stuck there for eternity. No more siren songs. No more frolicking in the fields. No more blue tides and bubbly lullabies.

But then the next thing she knew, she had landed in a pumpkin patch. No longer tied down, Amphi let out a breath of relief, clasped her hands together, and looked up. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, for real this time, I’ll listen. I pinky swear!” But as her head tipped back, she nearly lost her balance.

Something was off; something felt strange.

“Huh?” She moved her head and had swayed forward. Her head... it felt heavier?

A moment passed and Amphi raised her hands to her head, feeling strange vertical grooves and a smooth surface, but not like skin—at least, not skin that belonged to her human form.

She raised her hands higher and higher up the rounded sides of her face. She didn’t feel her ears or her long pink hair, and instead felt… bald!? That was her second-worst nightmare. In it’s place, she felt a stump.

“Oh no… oh no, no, no,” Amphi started muttering, having a panic attack followed by a scream.

She was a jack-o’-lantern. And at her feet was another one, much smaller. It kindly spoke to her and this time:

She heard the rules. She would remember them. This time, she would listen.

Amphi cautiously approached a lantern, plucking it into her fingers. “Ha… um, don’t mind me.” She gave a sheepish smile and cleared her throat. “I’ll only pick one teeney-tiny, little pumpkin.”

There were so many to choose from. It was nearly overwhelming, and well now, Amphi looked like she belonged in it, but she held up the lantern, descended deeper into the patch, and listened to her gut feeling for whichever pumpkin called out to her.

Pumpkins

.

.

As you descend down the path, the fog closes around you but it is not suffocating. It is more like a cozy blanket around your shoulders. The lantern illuminates your path but not much further than a foot or so before you. As you stop to look at one pumpkin, you hear whispering voices before one speaks out from the dark. "Are...are you one of us?"

As you follow the voice, it comes from a circle of pumpkins, their hollow eyes all staring at you (Or maybe just staring straight and you are in their sightline.) The voice speaks again, coming from the middle pumpkin. "Are you one of us?"

Another pumpkin snorts, "She isn't one of us! She has legs! Have you ever seen a Jack O'Lantern with legs?"

A different voice, "Maybe she is a new type of pumpkin! It isn't like we get to explore the world or anything. Who knows what else is out there?"

"But she has a Jack O' Lantern head! Have you ever seen a guest with a pumpkin head? I think not! She had to be one of us"

"I think your brains got scooped out, seedbrain. Hey you! Are you a pumpkin or a human?" The chorus of voices die down as they wait for your answer.

 

[Heather_the_Writer]

GEORGE

.

.

@Heather_the_Writer
"Pssss!"

Then a pause, for probably too long to not be creepy. Was there anyone there? Just pumpkins - perhaps the nonverbal variety, and a scarecrow. However it wasn't moving. Was it? And it didn't have a mouth. Did it?

"Pspspspspspspspspsps. Hey. Pspspsps."

It was definitely moving now, rubbing its big old cornhusk fingers together in a way that demonstrated both profound dexterity and an utter lack of understanding that most decent people would find such a motion offputting. It was like five raspy paper knives, all rubbing together at once, and the scarecrow was wiggling his head just a little with the effort of making the "pspsps" noise. The scarecrow wore a nice jacket, a red shirt, blue jeans, and a dapper hat. If Edward Scissorhands were a scarecrow but nowhere near as charming as Johnny Depp... that might be this scarecrow.

"Oh. You're not a cat. Well no wonder you didn't come running! Hey. Hey, c'mere. I got something to share with you."

All at once the scarecrow was frightfully close and wiggled its cornhusk fingers in your face!

"Ahh! Got'cher nose!"

Given the apparent lack of pain or anything else that might be expected upon the literal removal of a body part as noticeable as a nose, the legitimacy of this statement could be questioned. But... would you check? What if the scarecrow had in fact somehow gotten your nose? After all, you'd just come through a very strange corn maze with very unusual women who led you to talking pumpkins and a scarecrow that was evidently talking with you.

"Hah! Oh man, and it's a cute one, too! Wow!" The scarecrow rustled its big rustly fingers together. Whether it held something as small as a nose within them was quite difficult to perceive. "Okay. Okay okay. I'll give your cute lil sniffer back. Soon. Real soon! I'm not stalling, I promise, I just, err... gotta think of... something. Oh, hi, by the way. I'm George. What's your name? It's a fair trade - a name for a name. Don't worry, I'll give it back later, too! See? I'm nice! I'm so nice! I'm the nicest crow-scarer of pumpkinlandia! At least since the gerrymandering, anyway. Now that other chap doesn't get a say. Heh! Heheh."

"Well well well anyway, I got a cool story! I got a real cool story. It's so cool. Just wait. When I tell you how cool it is, you'll... you'll um... uh..." he scratched the back of his head with his cornhusk fingers. "... Wanna hear a joke? Okay, great, I love jokes! I love them so much that if you guess it right I'll give you back your nose! Maybe something else, too! Okay. Okay okay. Ready? Here's the joke."

"How do you get a turtle with no arms and no legs to cross the freeway? I'll give you a hint; you take the F out of free, and you take the F out of way."

As Isabel walked, she began walking faster; for no descernible reason. When she spotted a scarecrow with weird pants (but nice hat) in front of her, she ignored it. Or, tried to. Isabel considered herself an adaptable young lady. Another talking scarecrow didn't scare her.

The scarecrow with foreign pants stood in front of her. He wiggled his fingers towards the young lady, and she stepped back. Isabel took hold of her satchel. Then crossed her arms.

"I am a human, good sir. Now, have you seen a young girl with a green jacket, blonde hair, blue eyes? Her name is Ann Junior-"

Fingers touched her face. She let out a strangled cry, and scrambled backwards. Her nose was gone. Gone. How does that even happen? And what was a Gerrymandering, anyway?

After a moment of silent glaring, Isabel cleared her throat. Her glare was well practiced.
"... Right. George. Thats it, right? Well. Do not get near me again without permission. Or my fire ants will attack you. Glad we communicated on this."

"Call me... Buendía. It means a good day in my native language. Quite beautiful, wouldn't you agree? May I please get it back? I gave you my name." She was still upset with him, and it showed.​

She took a deep breath.

"I enjoy stories. Yes, I also enjoy jokes."

The joke made no sense.

"... What's a freeway? Do you mean the silk road? Is that important to the joke? And... Ree-way?"

 

[Batcat]

The First

.

.

As you take your first step, the stalks part in front of you, offering a path that just fits you. There was a chuckle from behind you as the cat grins, "Ah, a true soul after my own heart. You do well to follow your instincts."

The cat gets up and stretches with a yawn. "I do not know what the next path entails for you but good luck. And remember to keep that compass handy." Suddenly, bat like wings appear from its back as it starts to take wings. Now that you get a good view, you are staring at a Bat Cat, a rare creature who only reveals itself to those it chooses. It winks at you, "Until next time, sister." It then disappears over the stalks, flying away.

Turning back to take the path before you, you realize that the path behind you has been swallowed up with stalks meaning that you can only go forward. The compass needle just spins in a circle, also indicating that you can only go straight. After you take a few more steps, the path widens to reveal a thick fog that obscures your view. Then you hear a voice in your head, the Bat Cat reminding you to follow your instincts. So you take a step forward into the fog...

(Thank you for playing in the corn maze. Your character have successfully completed this section. Once the new section opens, you will be able to continue on your adventure.)

Holding the compass close, Aimi gently nibbled on her lip as she looked down at the spinning needle before looking back the way that she had come... Only to see more fog. "Well, no other way but forward, I suppose," she said softly before turning back to continue her journey, only to realize that the fog in front of her had cleared quite a bit. Not entirely, but enough for her to see that she now stood before the largest pumpkin patch she had ever seen!

Her ears flatten slightly as she spots movement in the shadows, but before she can figure out what it is she's looking at, the voice causes her to nearly jump out of her skin. Tail floofed up, it takes her a moment of frantic searching for her to realize where the voice was coming from. Blinking, she cocks her head to the side before crouching down in front of the talking jack-o-lantern. Harvest Hands? Glancing up, she looks again at the field. Now that she knew what to look for, it was much easier to make out the scarecrows as they moved about the pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns. She let out a soft sigh, running her fingers over her tail to un-floof it as she listened to what the jack-o-lantern had to say.

So, we're to pick one to take with us, huh? Thankfully, she didn't need a lantern, as she could see quite well in the dark. Turning her attention back to the now-quiet jack-o-lantern, her head cocked to the side once more as she gently poked it. "Well so far, you're the only one who's literally spoken to me, but I get the feeling I can't simply pick you, can I? Though technically you're a jack-o-lantern, not a pumpkin." She wasn't even sure if the jack-o-lantern would respond to her. If it chose to remain silent, she would see if the compass was still spinning or if it would point her in a direction once more or, failing that, pick a random direction and begin browsing the various pumpkins.

 

[Rimechapel]

As Isabel walked, she began walking faster; for no descernible reason. When she spotted a scarecrow with weird pants (but nice hat) in front of her, she ignored it. Or, tried to. Isabel considered herself an adaptable young lady.

The scarecrow with foreign pants stood in front of her. He wiggled his fingers towards the young lady, and she stepped back. Isabel took hold of her satchel. Then crossed her arms.

"I am a human, good sir. Now, have you seen a young girl with a green jacket, blonde hair, blue eyes? Her name is Ann Junior-"

Fingers touched her face. She let out a strangled cry, and scrambled backwards. Her nose was gone. Gone. How does that even happen? And what was a Gerrymandering, anyway?

After a moment of silent glaring, Isabel cleared her throat. Her glare was well practiced.
"... Right. George. Thats it, right? Well. Do not get near me again without permission. Or my fire ants will attack you. Glad we communicated on this."

"Call me... Buendía. It means a good day in my native language. Quite beautiful, wouldn't you agree? May I please get it back? I gave you my name." She was still upset with him, and it showed.​

She took a deep breath.

"I enjoy stories. Yes, I also enjoy jokes."

The joke made no sense.

"... What's a freeway? Do you mean the silk road? Is that important to the joke? And... Ree-way?"

Buendía

.

.

@Heather_the_Writer
"Aw, fire ants? Man. You're no fun, even if you do like jokes and stories and stuff."

It seemed sullen at first, stooping a little. As you continued talking, it straightened up almost cheerfully. Or psychotically.

"Yeah! Yeah! Silk Road! Mmm, so silky and smooth, like... like, er. Um. Asphalt. White asphalt. Or concrete. You know. Stuff you walk on. And there's no toll! Because it's F​RE​E!"

Practically vibrating with excitement, it watched you try to puzzle it out. Its fingers - or corn husks? - trembled and reached once, twice, four times towards you, but the threat of fire ants kept him from committing. Or perhaps it was your apparent disapproval. Whether it was reaching out to help, or provide a clue, or abscond with yet another one of your body parts, one may never know. Whatever the case, it seemed to slowly wilt at the final utterance of "Ree-way."

"Maaaaaaaaaaaan. Nobody ever takes the F out of way. Humph. It's... it's not hard, I swear. You just... take it out."

The scarecrow flicked one hand at you, seeming disappointed and begrudging. Did something fly out? Was that a speck of dirt or maybe a grain of corn that popped you in the face? A nocturnal flying bug, perhaps? Nothing at all but a trick of the moody light?

"The nasally ones never are good at sniffin' out the clues. Hey, I'm keeping your name, but have your cute dumb nose back, I guess. You'll probably need it. Even pumpkins need noses."

The wilty demeanor faded a little as the scarecrow shrugged broadly, putting his arms akimbo in kind of a "what do you even want from me" sort of way. Or, perhaps, the traditional way scarecrows frequently stand.

"Anyway, George," it gestured to you when it said 'George,' as though to indicate that it was referring to you by your name, "probably your silly friendosaur is eating pumpkin pie. Which, if you think about it, is pretty messed up. That'd be like if I came to your house and ate your fish out of your aquarium. Your talking fish that I know you absolutely have, because that's just what people like you have. Talking fish, and fire ants."

"And what better place to eat something than a hayride stop, huh? I ask you now!" It jostled a little, as though to stamp a foot without wanting to commit to raising a knee. "It's er... over... that way. I think. Man, I dunno, just take the silky freeway. You literally cannot miss it. You got a lantern. Follow the gourds, George. Tell them Buendía sent you, they'll give you a cookie or something. Just remember to ask how much it costs...."

And then the scarecrow was still. Passive aggressively still. Or perhaps... inert?

 

[Crenna]

Every failure came with a lesson. Today's lesson: the Three Sisters were not lenient, but they weren't brutal in their punishment, either. Echo didn't exactly enjoy being scorned, but he didn't mind the restraints too much. At least the phantom hands were softer than metal chains, and he wasn't being experimented on or tortured.

All things considered, he could live with a Jack-o-Lantern for a temporary head.

After listening to the talking pumpkin-head, Echo tried to rub his chin in thought, but his fingers only found the rubbery surface of gourd. He felt along the carved shape of his new face. From what he could tell, he'd been given triangular eyeholes and a thin line for a mouth; quite a grumpy-looking expression. Stranger still was the back of his head. His finger traced along the thin carved lines: two long hooked curves mirrored one another, intersecting in the middle and trailing outward at the bottom.

In other words, a butt.

He found that strangely endearing.

Echo could see the glow of the candle inside his head, but the pumpkin field was dreadfully dark. He fumbled for the first lantern he touched, and as luck would have it, he picked one with an extinguished wick. He frowned--or tried to. He could choose another lantern, but after the first trial, he hesitated to make a decision that might disrespect the environment around him.

Oh, right!

Echo felt for the stem of his head. He tugged, lifting up the carved top, then took out the lantern's candle and touched it to his internal flicker. Fire licked at his fingertips to no effect. Once he sensed the drip of wax, he stuck the now-lit candle back in his lantern. Perfect.

He didn't wander too far into the patch. He spied Amphi's (@AmphitriteSea ) pumpkin-head further ahead, but decided to leave her be for now. She seemed a bit upset and uneasy--perhaps space would be best until she found her choice of pumpkin. Echo weaved carefully around the pumpkin vines at his feet. If any of these were indeed living and speaking specimens like the one that gave him instructions, he wouldn't want to hurt the poor things.

Before long, he spotted a yellowish pumpkin with a bumpy top, about the size of a basketball. Echo knelt and picked it up, inspecting it with care. The thing was sort of ugly, with a large indent on its side that marred its spherical shape. Yet Echo felt a strange connection to it. Maybe it was the yellow, or maybe it was the imperfections. But it felt like his. Still, a suspicion pricked the back of his mind.

"How do I know it's the right one?" he wondered aloud to no one in particular.

Pumpkins

.

.

A voice answers you back, "How do you know that you are the right one?" Looking down, you see that one of pumpkins with a face has tipped up to face you, its hollow eyes staring into your soul. "How do you even know you are real? How does anyone know? Have you considered that we just exist on an internet forum some where? Being controlled by mentally dubious people?!"

It wiggles closer to you, intent on giving you a tirade that you did not ask for. "Look at you! I bet you did not have a pumpkin for a head before you came here. But now you do! Nothing is real! It is all made up! Free your mind. Those witches trap souls here! You should have never entered. But for a low low price of $199.99, I will give you the steps on how to get out of here unscathed! It is a great value. You would be dumb not to not take it. Then again, you have a pumpkin head so maybe you aren't the brightest bulb in the toolshed!"

It seems you have activated a Trollkin, a pumpkin that has somehow found podcasts (whatever that is, you just know it exists for some reason) and now it is intent on making sure you hear what it has too say. "Free your mind! The aliens are out to get us! You got to be wise. Banks are just run by shadow people! Invest in gold! That is where the real money is."

You have an urge to kick the Trollkin. But will you risk the wrath of the sisters again?

 

[firefly]

"Insane?", I asked with an insulted pout. "I prefer imaginative. Good day."

"Good riddance" called the other characters, but I wasn't sure if I felt the same leaving Apathy behind.

The weight of the flat coin didn't quite fill the hole it had left. It was a strange feeling, like a missing tooth: I knew it was supposed to be there and I couldn't stop feeling the cavity, and I couldn't help myself probing at the hole.

Well, I was sure it would find a way to return. It always did, crawled out from some crevasse I had previously stuffed him at. Nobody really liked him, but nobody could really live without him. He would fill up the hole he had left like rainwater a pothole, and I felt my feet striding lighter.

I rolled the coin between my fingers, and definitely not so nimbly as proper male protagonists did in fine movies, and soon I just rolled my thumb around its flat. Follow the magical fog. I did not look back at the Vendor Stalls, or at the strange witch that had read her book upside down, and I had the feeling that neither did they look how I strode.

---

Hardly ever entering the maze left me wonder if it still had served its purpose: everybody who goes in the maze leaves something behind, right? I never did enter the maze and still managed to leave something behind - only to find something else in front of me.

I pick up a lantern, and check at my coinpass if it points a way or not. I roll the coin on my palm and my thumb finds a notch in the rim. Maybe it was stupid to believe such magic, maybe not, but I'm talking with Witches and Vocal Vegetables here. Anyway, I act as if the notch was a needle pointing the way, and oh boy, there's around a thousand pumpkins that-a-way. I shrug and follow the lucky coin, and point with the lantern.

"Okay, lantern. I need a very fine pumpkin. Mind showing which one in that direction?"

I can feel the three of them staring through my eyes, and I feel all of them more or less unsatisfied on my choices. I choose not to listen to them.

@WriteAngry

Mr. Gourdman

.

.

The fireflies inside the lantern congregate to the side of their vessel that your face is closest to, as if listening intently. At your question, they immediately start flying in slow circles inside the lantern, ready to do their job. If only it were going to be that easy.

"Did someone say FINE PUMPKIN!?"

A tall, rough figure emerges from between two enormous pumpkins, hay rustling with each enthusiastic step. A large carrot proudly juts out from its face, above a row of, frankly, alarmingly large, straight teeth made of porcelain.

"Oh-ho! A customer!" It exclaims, clasping its hands together. Its a bit difficult to do since its fingers are only loose ends of straw, but it manages to convey the right sentiment. "And just in time, too. I was beginning to think this season was a bust!"

At the appearance of the scarecrow, the fireflies buzz with a little more energy.

"You're all a bit chatty tonight, aren't you!" The scarecrow exclaims, bending at the waist with a soft crackling noise and peering at them closer, "Luckily for you, friend, I'm fluent in Firefly! Yep. A difficult language, indeed. It's all that flashing and wiggling. It takes a particular sort of intellect."

The fireflies jump around again and his face pulls into a frown. "Well, that's a bit rude. The sisters told me that double denim is all the rage at the moment!"

He clears his throat and straightens quickly, extending a hand towards you and inviting you to grasp the vague bunch of straw in greeting.

"Mr. Gourdman, at your service, sir! Senior Harvest Hand, Pumpkin Inspector, and purveyor of the finest gourds this side of the corn maze!"

The scarecrow pulls out a small notebook and pen, inexplicably wielding both in his straw-fingers. He begins furiously scribbling.

"Now, I understand you're looking for a particularly fine specimen. Excellent. Excellent! You've come to precisely the right fellow, I assure you!"

He gestures grandly to towards the sprawling patch in the direction you were interested in. Pumpkins of all shapes and sizes sit nestled amongst sprawling vines; some smooth and round, others twisted and misshapen, or bearing scars and markings. A few wear carved faces and grinned or grimaced at you in the low light. illuminated from something within. Loose fireflies drift between them, their little lights briefly catching on the dewdrops gathered along the leaves.

"I have three particularly fine candidates in mind for you, good sir. Three exceptional specimens, each with their own...special qualities."

1. The first one he leads you is enourmous, perfectly round with burnished orange skin and a thick upright stem. It is carved with an elaborate grin that displays almost as many teeth as the scarecrow. Its eyes are half lidded, making the overall effect of its expression to be that of immense self-satisfaction. Its currently gazing at its own reflection in the neighbouring pond, and the fireflies in your lamp glimmer on the waters surface like stars as they lazily fly around in their vessel.
   
   "First, we have this magnificent fellow! Just look at the symmetry! The colour! That robust stem! A truly outstanding example of the harvest this year."
   
   "Finally," The pumpkin says, its huge mouth moving languidly and casting striations of light across the ground, "Someone with eyes."
   
   The scarecrow coughs.
   
   "Yes, well, modesty isn't one of it's strongest qualities. What is, however, is its greed. Oh-ho, yes! This big boy cannot stand having less than the very best. Whatever it has inside that big maw has got to be the shiniest, most valuable, coolest whatever-it-is in the whole patch!"
   
   "Yes. I am amazing and I have the best stuff. Now, move. You're blocking me from seeing myself."
   
   
2. He guides you to a smaller pumpkin tucked beneath a tangle of broad, dark leaves. Its skin is uneven and mottled, with pale patches and scratches beneath a bent and broken stem. Two tiny carved eyes glow suspiciously at you above a crooked mouth that looks permanently displeased.
   
   "Now, don't let appearances fool you! This little fellow is a perfectly respectable specimen and can be quite charming when he comes out his leaves! Otherwise, he's a little shy most of the time."
   
   "No I'm not!" The Pumpkin grumbles, "I'm just surrounded by idiots." He gives the enormous pumpkin you were just looking at a pointed glare. "Do they not see what happens to the pumpkins here? Not care?? They get carried off by any riff-raff that comes through, never to be seen again! No thank you. I have roots here. Friends."
   
   "Oh, that's right. I'm sorry to hear about Perry, old chum."
   
   "Bah! It's his own damned fault. Wouldn't stop looking after himself, preening and grooming and batting his leaves at anyone that came passed. No wonder he got chosen and carried off. At least I got his treasure, though. It was a bit of a squeeze but I got it to fit." The pumpkin tuns around abruptly, showing you its back, and something jingles inside its body. "But you can't have it! It's mine. We had to fight off a whole pack of rats to get it and I'm not letting it go! Shoo! Just because you're fireflies I don't mean I won't bash you!" The fireflies don't seem too bothered, maintaining their pleasant flight paths inside the lantern.
   
   
3. The third pumpkin is a short distance away, and the scarecrow slows to a careful but very theatrical sneak-step, as though afraid to disturb something very delicate. The pumpkin itself is nothing special-looking; medium sized and orange-brown, it sports a few ridges and patches with a long, spiralling stem. Unlike the other to, this one has no carved face. Instead, a faint golden light pulses beneath its skin, illuminating it from within. A sound comes from inside it.
   
   Click...click...click.
   
   Mr. Gourdman takes a small step backward and lowers his voice. "This is a rather unusual specimen. Rather a lot of character, actually, once you spend some time with it. However, sometimes it does mutter things. Strange things. Ominous things..."
   
   While fairly lazy thus far, the fireflies in your lantern are now quite a buzz with activity. It seems like near this pumpkin they are more active, and glow brighter.

Stepping further back to an apparently safe distance from the pumpkin, the scarecrow then turns to you and snaps his notebook shut.

"Of course, I must remind you that we have a strict one-pumpkin-per--customer policy here at the Hollow Harvest. No exchanges, no returns, and absolutely no compensation for any trauma, damages or death incurred."

He blinks at you expectantly and brightly through his big, circular spectacles.

"Well? Which of these fine specimens takes your fancy? Or perhaps you'd like a closer look before making such an important decision?"