A Carved Smile

The indoor air was getting far too suffocating, so I slipped out beneath the front door crack onto the dark wooden porch. Sitting right by the railing was a hollow orange pumpkin, smirking under the amber streetlamp. I climbed the damp plank steps and marched straight toward its wide, jagged face. With both hands, I jammed my green tool into its toothy grin, wedging a stray dead autumn leaf deep between its carved fangs. Now it looks properly terrified. The night on Elm Street finally has some bite.