The Pumpkin Girl

Disclaimer:
Scooby Doo and all related characters are owned by Hanna-Barbara, Warner Bros., and/or Cartoon Network. All other characters, names, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, locals is coincidental.

Part One: The Little Pumpkin

The bloom appeared then dropped off after a time. A little pumpkin was born that morning. The little  settled on the soft ground and began to grow. The days passed
as he grew bigger. The days were warm but he had a leaf to shade him.

“How are you doin’ lil pumpkin?” He heard one day. It came from a big pumpkin in the next row.

“I’m doin’ just fine.” The little pumpkin tried to sound bigger than he really was.

“Good to hear it,” the older pumpkin replied in a kind voice, “tomorrow is the big day.”

“What day is that?” The small pumpkin hadn’t heard anything about ‘The Big Day’.

“Tomorrow is the day The Farmer opens the field for humans to pick their pumpkins for Thanksgiving.”

“I want to stay here. It’s comfortable here.” The younger pumpkin didn’t know what this Thanksgiving’ was but it didn’t sound good.

“You can’t stay here, all pumpkins must fulfill their destiny.”

“What must I do to fulfill my destiny?” ‘Whatever a destiny is. Why does Life have to be so complicated? ’ The little pumpkin thought to himself.

“Nothing. Remember, many are grown, few are chosen, but all must meet their destiny.”

The next day all the pumpkins woke to a beautiful day; the sun was bright, butterflies fluttered throughout the patch. The pumpkins took a drink of water from the dew that had
formed on the leaves in the early morning. When they were ready, The Farmer opened the gates and the people rushed  to find the perfect pumpkin.

“Pick me!”, “No, pick me!”, could be heard throughout the field. Many were chosen, taken away.

Even the older pumpkin was picked, “Remember your destiny,” he said as he was taken away.

But the little pumpkin wasn’t chosen. All day people walked by but he was never picked.

The Farmer closed the gates when the last person left the field. The little pumpkin was sad. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears formed at the corner of his tiny eyes. The leaf
that had shaded the pumpkin moved down to flick the tears away. Perhaps tomorrow the little pumpkin would be picked and find his destiny.