Chapter 21: Punkin’ Chuckin’I feared it might be the last time I would see him alive. I imagined his spirit hovering, beating against his weakened body like the moths banging against the jar.
“Go!” Chester shoved me.
The goblin screeched and I staggered, searching for Chester’s marker.
The lantern inside my pumpkin barely held the darkness at bay. I thought again of the gun.
My father’s voice echoed in my head.
::What are you doing? Get the gun! Protect. Our. Land!::
The darkness swirled and snickered.
My grandfather joined my father.
::There is no magic! Fairy tales are for fairies! Kill the thing!::
My fingers itched to drop the pumpkin, but before I could commit to a change in plans, my boot kicked something.
“Stop,” I hissed, shaking my head. “I trust him!”
The voices melded
