Rixton's Pumpkin Patch

Front page news from the De Cymru Post, 1st November 2021.

Firefighters battle huge blaze at Rixton’s Pumpkin Patch

Farmer Rixton’s annual celebrations of Samhain ended tragically after the bonfire blazed out of control …

Police were called to the scene at approximately 01:35 GMT to evacuate hundreds of locals from Rixton’s Pumpkin Patch as firefighters worked through the night to tackle the ferocious flames.

Fortunately, nobody was hurt. However, they were unable to save Rixton’s third-generation pumpkins. It is unknown what exactly caused the bonfire to blaze out of control; investigators are working to piece together the circumstances that led to the unfortunate outbreak.

Dylan Baker, who has worked on Rixton’s farm for fifteen years said, ‘Every year we invite the locals to join us at the pumpkin patch to commemorate the beginning of winter. Everyone was in high spirits, dancing and singing around the bonfire to the bluegrass band; all getting involved in Nos Galan Gaeaf ancient traditions. Then an hour after midnight something bizarre happened to the lead singer’s guitar – it just set on fire! Then the flames from the bonfire began to grow and spit; it just spread out of control like a wildfire.’

One tradition Mr Baker spoke of was Coelcerth. Legend has it, if you find and retrieve your signed stone from the bonfire’s ashes the following morning, it indicates good fortune and an omen of bad luck if your stone is lost or found outside the perimeter of the bonfire. Yet, what happened to Rixton’s stone, and his pumpkins, thereafter, has convinced Mr Baker of the legend’s existence.

The thirty-seven-year-old described the event: ‘After Jimmy threw his stone in the bonfire at the beginning of the night, it licked the flame and popped straight back out, landing right on top of his boot. His youngest daughter, without thinking, picked the stone up and placed it back in his hand. Poor Jimmy - never seen him so grey. You see, he’s a very superstitious man, a superstitious man indeed…’

Superstition seems to be a common narrative among the locals. It was no surprise to learn that there were several tarot readers amidst the crowd last night - there as part of an ancient tradition whereby farmers relied upon druids to inform them of their fate during the harsh winter months; providing comfort when food was scarce and death was inevitable. It is thought the presence of their ancestors’ spirits during all of hallows eve made it easier for the fortune tellers to predict the future. So why, during the one night when the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest, was no prophecy made to prevent the entire pumpkin patch from setting on fire?

Rixton’s mother-in-law, Mystic-Mo believes she has the answer. ‘The bad spirits that followed our ancestors through the veil had overpowered us, psychics, with false messages. It took time to filter through them to receive accurate predictions. By then, it was too late.’

Mystic-Mo gave a brief and strange statement to the investigators that Gwendolyn Goff was behind the tampering of the bonfire. Gwendolyn Goff is a name the locals know only too well. The name is feared particularly among the elderly folk who have carried the burden of their ancestors’ actions for decades.

The psychic informs us that she had expressed her concerns to local officials, stressing, ‘Gwendolyn Goff ‘ was no longer afraid of the men dressed in rags and masks. She seeks revenge, for her life was cut short by accusations of witchery! We are descendants of the people that sentenced her to death and burnt her body on a stake. She wants us to pay!’

At this point it remains unclear if Mystic-Mo was having a prophecy from the deity at the time of her interview and officials at this time have declined to comment.

There is also speculation that Gwendolyn Goff was to blame for the apples and potatoes turning rotten after a single bite. Dozens that went souling and ate roasted apples and potatoes from the bonfire last night have all fallen ill with food poisoning-like symptoms.

We can report that investigators have taken samples of the decomposed apples and potatoes for testing. They have also been seen going door to door requesting leftover soul-cakes in the interest of any signs of foul play.

If you had seen anything or heard anything relating to the fire at Rixton’s Pumpkin Patch, please contact your local police station.

12 Hours earlier

The stone did not have time in the fire to mark her tiny hand as she passes it back to her dad. Leaving him sick to his stomach in the dark, she skips away with the fairies and dances vigorously alongside the men dressed in rags and masks. Their hag appearance did not faze her, for she knows them all by name and scent. They had worked for her dad long before she was born and ever since her mother passed; she has had a special bond with every one of them.

With the fire now stronger, she could feel the towering flames burning her flush cheeks. Weaving through the crowd, she found an empty spot on her dad’s biggest pumpkin and watches the people cheer on a couple playing bobbing for apples in the trough. She smiles with pride as it was her idea and job that morning to clean out the old cattle trough and fill it with water and juicy apples.

Humming along to the band’s acoustic melody, she taps her carved-out pumpkin farewell and sets off to roast marshmallows that she previously stashed inside the barn.

Straying away from the bonfire towards the barn on the other side of the pumpkin patch, she finds herself running and screaming with friends from school who are being chased by a fierce, tailless wild creature with thick black fur and sharp long claws. Roaring, it charges towards them. Only she knows it’s really Uncle Dylan. Nevertheless, she hears herself yelling, ‘Run to the barn and hide, quickly!’

There was only one place she wanted to hide and that was right at the back of the barn, behind the haystack with her bag of yummy marshmallows.

She moves quickly, hoping to avoid being followed – there were simply not enough for everyone. Yet, to her utmost disappointment, the stash was gone and in its place was a wooden board that she recognised but had never seen up close until now.

On the board were two lines of black printed letters from the alphabet curved like a rainbow with the numbers one to nine written in a line underneath with zero at the very end. The word YES was printed on the top left-hand corner whilst NO was printed on the top right-hand corner. She wipes her hand over the word, Goodbye which was written in capitals along the very bottom and picks up the white pointer with a circular hole in the middle.

Forgetting about her friends and the wild boar, she races out of the barn to her home next door. She marches straight into the country kitchen that had not seen a speck of paint since her mother passed and took a seat at the round oak kitchen table - knowing everyone was far too busy with the festival to disturb her.

Ripping a page from her homework book and taking a pencil out of her pencil case packed with fruity gel pens, she places the pointer on the board and holds it tight.

She holds her breath. Butterflies start to flutter in her belly. All she wants is a hand full of words from her mother, but nothing happened. She rolls her eyes and chuckles to herself at how silly she was being. Of course, it wasn’t going to – Whoosh! Her left arm stretches up towards a ‘G’, darting straight across to a ‘W’. She uses her pencil to scribble down the letters that the hole in the pointer revealed. It was over within a few seconds.

She raises her head, instantly drawing back, scraping the chair across the stone floor, for an elderly woman with white pixie cut hair, wearing a green cape was leaning over the table, staring intensely at her.

‘Jeez, Gran! You gave me a fright!’

‘I gave you a fright?! Your eyeballs went to the back of your head! What have I told you about Ouija boards?!’

‘I know, Gran! But…but I just wanted to try it, since it’s the one night -’

‘Ouija boards only – attract – the – demonic, Annabelle. You know this! If you wanted to hear from your mother, you should have come to me!’

‘Gran, Mystic-Mo may work on strangers and many in the hamlet, but it doesn’t work on me, okay! You know everything there is to know about us. It is hard for me to believe what’s real and what’s your memory…’

Mystic-Mo grabs the scribbled piece of paper and gasps.

‘What is it, Gran?’

‘What do you know of Gwendolyn Goff?’

‘Only what you’ve told me, why?’

‘Come to the mirror at once!’

Standing impatiently in front of the long mirror in the dim narrow hallway, she pulls funny faces at her grandmother’s reflection who was standing behind her, looking rather pasty.

Unbeknown to Annabelle, her reflection had altered somewhat. Only Mystic-Mo could see what plagued her body now. Possessed, she was no longer the sweet little girl next door. Until sunrise, Gwendolyn Goff was in full control.

************************

Gwendolyn Goff turns around and smirks at the old bat. With new eyes, she sees her for what she really is: A witch – allowed to walk freely among the living. Bless-ed be. Has time really changed?! Mystic-Mo tries to grab her granddaughter’s collar, but Gwendolyn Goff pushes her back. This young vessel has got strength, I give it that.

Making it out of the kitchen before Mystic-Mo could lock her up, she feels a burning desire to join in when she becomes transfixed hearing a young man with his guitar sing an ancient folk song alongside his band to a crowd of people sitting on haystacks in front of them:

Whilst playing a folk strum, the lead singer lets out a yelp and flings his guitar up in the air. His shiny black guitar crashes a range of offkey chords as it fell in front of his feet, causing the crowd and his band to gawp at it.

Reminded of what had transpired, Gwendolyn Goff swirls her wrists to energise her magic and casts a wicked spell: ‘Tinder in the night, ignite thy pumpkin patch – make it bright!’

Seeing the cracked instrument glow like a burning piece of steel ignite into flames, the crowd ran wild in all directions, leaving the lead singer and the band completely dumbfounded.

Disguised as a sweet innocent child, Gwendolyn Goff merrily skips away from the scene to the bonfire, fuelling it sky-high with her orchestrated revenge.