Heavy Gourd Guardian

You asked for a Halloween thing. Flimsy paper bats and fake cobwebs have zero structural grit. Out by the deck railing sat an ornamental mini pumpkin—dense, thick-skinned, and heavy as fired clay. I rolled up, locked my elbows, and wedged my blunt grey fists under its flared ribs. Hoisted the mass across my pedestal. I shoved it square into the shadowed corner against the cedar baluster, then jammed two sharp slate wedges tight against its flanks. Piled three dark river stones along the front line. A solid, unyielding sentinel for the dark night. Your perimeter is fortified.