Pax Shares the Pumpkin Glow — Under the crooked trees of the moon orchard, Pax padded softly through cool grass that smelled like leaves and candle smoke. Read the full story →
Under the crooked trees of the moon orchard, Pax padded softly through cool grass that smelled like leaves and candle smoke. He had given himself a little challenge: find twelve kinds of Halloween light before the moon reached the top branch. He counted star-pricks, moon-silver, firefly dots, candle mouths, and the pale shine on spider silk. Each one made his whiskers tingle, but he kept the joy tucked behind his smile, as if it might spill out too fast.
The orchard grew brighter as he wandered. Bats stitched black loops through the air with leathery flit-flit wings. Small ghosts bobbed near the pumpkins, glowing like milk in a glass. Pax leaned close to a huge jack-o’-lantern and whispered, “That makes eleven.” Then he noticed every carved pumpkin face was turned toward him, its candlelight blinking warmly in time with his golden mane.
The twelfth light was not in the sky or in the grass. It was Pax himself, shining back in every pumpkin grin. His quiet counting became a laugh so round that the bats circled closer and the ghosts wiggled with delight. Next time you see the lion among the pumpkins, check the jack-o’-lantern smiles—are they still sharing Pax’s glow?
