The First Pumpkin Lantern — Under the crumbly hush of the autumn garden, Vessa stitched silver thread onto her hat and frowned at her empty lantern hook. Read the full story →
Under the crumbly hush of the autumn garden, Vessa stitched silver thread onto her hat and frowned at her empty lantern hook. Everyone at the Moon-Market carried lights made by their own hands, and she had only a bent twig, three buttons, and fingers sticky with sap. The pumpkins around her smelled like rain and cinnamon leaves. Then one round pumpkin sneezed. “Don’t carve me,” it whispered. “Wind lives in my ribs.”
Vessa knelt so fast her boots squeaked in the damp dirt. Inside the pumpkin, a pale seed rattled like a tiny bell. She twisted her twig into a handle, tied the buttons for eyes, and braided dry grass beneath it so the wind would have a place to hum. When she lifted her handmade pumpkin, its smile glowed from within, not with fire, but with captured moon-breath.
At the market, the other witches stopped mid-jingle. The pumpkin sang, soft and hollow: whooo, whooo, home. Ever since that night, little witch lanterns are made from pumpkins, so the moon-breath can find its way back each fall. Next time you spot the smiling pumpkin in Vessa’s hand, see if you can tell where the secret wind is hiding.
