A Chance to Fall Contest Winner - ProseOfStories

The road led to a quaint yet diminutive farm area. A modest house and barn stood before her, accompanied by a rusted tractor to her left and a muddy pumpkin patch to her right.

Having noticed the sign by the road as she cycled back from class, she couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. "Free pumpkins!" adorned the sign in elegant cursive black pen, instantly capturing her interest.

The pumpkins were visible from where she stood, playful creatures hopping around inside the chicken-wired fence. A small dog barked incessantly, seemingly trying to assert its authority over the lively scene.

Approaching the wire, she crouched down to get a closer look at the animated pumpkins. Each one displayed vibrant hues, with varying shades of greens and oranges creating a dazzling spectacle. Yet, her attention was immediately drawn to the creature nestled in the corner.

The tiniest white pumpkin she had ever laid eyes on played gleefully in a pile of leaves. Witnessing the adorable creature, her heart skipped a beat, and she knew in that moment that she couldn't leave it behind — it had to come home with her.

The small, weathered farmhouse served as a backdrop to the lively scene. However, an eerie stillness surrounded the dwelling; the lights were off, and the curtains drawn shut.

She was certain she had seen lights flickering inside upon her arrival. As she glanced back at the pumpkin, its large eyes gazing up at her, she mustered the courage to approach the seemingly spooky house.

Despite the chilling aura emanating from the shack, a glimpse through the slightly open curtains revealed a warm, crackling fire inside. Compelled by both curiosity and the desire to give the little pumpkin a home, she mustered the courage to knock on the door, anticipating a response that never came.

Undeterred, she lingered for a moment before peering inside the window again. This time, she noticed a substantial figure moving across the room, the play of shadows revealing the worn edges of furniture and the dim glow of a hearth.

Resolute, she knocked again, this time with more force. Determined to leave with that adorable pumpkin, she shouted, "Hello!" while continuing to pound on the wooden door. The wood creaked and splintered as she hammered her fist onto it.

A sudden crash echoed from within, accompanied by the distressed squeal of a cat and the deep voice of a man cursing. Startled, she took a step back, her head tilting to the side as she contemplated finding another pumpkin patch. This one didn't seem entirely legitimate.

Just as she was about to give up and leave, the farmhouse door was yanked open, revealing a tall man who appeared to be only a few years older than herself. He wore a lumberjack coat, and in his arms, a black cat struggled against his grip. its fur ruffled from the abrupt disturbance.

Taken aback for a second, the man raised an eyebrow at her. "You knocked?" His voice was gruff, its resonance comparable to the vibrations of bark on bark. His piercing gaze seemed to assess her with a mix of surprise and annoyance.

She took a moment to respond. Despite the cold emotions emanating from the rather large man, there was something oddly alluring about him that she couldn't quite explain. The flicker of the hearth's light played across his features, creating shadows that hinted at a complex history.

"Yeah, uh, I saw your sign for the pumpkins. I thought I'd knock," she spoke, her eyes never fully meeting his. The intimidation she felt, coupled with his sheer size, made the task impossibly difficult.

He looked at her blankly for a second. The cat held in his arm began to purr, seemingly content in its comfortable position.

"They're free. I don't want any payment. Take one and get off my property," he scoffed, moving to shut the door on her. However, her foot came out to stop his actions.

Summoning her courage, she forced herself to be brave. "I can't reach over the fence. You need to unlock it," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrow in return. The tension between them hung thick in the air, the silence briefly broken by the distant hooting of an owl.

Once again, he stood and stared at her for some time, his gaze penetrating. Her internal monologue continued, This guy has some serious antisocial issues, she thought, the mystery of his demeanor intriguing her even more.

After a moment, he sighed, pushing past the door and heading for the patch. She smiled, skipping behind him happily, her anticipation building with each step.

He unlocked the fence, placing the cat upon it, its agile form navigating the uneven wire with ease. With a certain grace, he pushed his way into the hoard of lively pumpkins. The man smiled as the small creatures began to surround him, their playful energy palpable in the crisp autumn air.

She was taken aback by his action, her curiosity growing as she observed the ease with which he connected with the animated pumpkins. The lopsided and awkward nature of his smile, however, indicated a lack of practice in such situations, adding a layer of vulnerability to the mysterious farmer.

Crouching down, he picked up a particularly lively orange pumpkin. The energetic thing squirmed so hard that it almost leaped from his arms, emitting a joyful squeak. He stood to his full height and raised the creature for her to take.

She hesitated for a second, "Sorry, I kinda wanted that little one in the corner," she spoke sheepishly. "The white one? It's playing in the leaves behind you," she smiled.

He looked shocked for a moment, and she gave him a questioning look. But he just nodded and placed the orange pumpkin back on the ground, where it quickly rejoined its friends.

The man gently picked up the other creature and brought it through the fence, locking it behind him.

He went to pass the pumpkin to her, before stopping and asking, "Are you sure?"

She wasn't entirely sure what he meant but took the little guy from him anyway. "Of course. I've had pets before. I even have a ginger cat right now," she said, smiling at the black cat which still sat on the fence post, eagerly watching the pumpkins at play.

His eyes were drawn to the cat as well, and he smiled at his feline friend, nodding his head. "I meant nothing by it. I can see you're a good parent," he said, acknowledging the way she cradled the small pet in her arms. The little pumpkin squeaked gently as it began to fall asleep.

"Just many have passed him up. They tend to enjoy the extroverted ones. They have little patience for the shy, lonelier type," he added, and from the way he spoke, she wondered if he was referring to the pumpkin in her arms. She noticed the way his smile dipped.

"They're pretty easy to get along with. I understand them. You know, the meek ones. They are always the easiest to love," she smiled at the man. He quickly looked away from her, but she could see the smile tugging at his lips. A warm feeling spread through her heart.

They stood still for a moment, the silence loud but oddly comforting. As her new little friend yawned, and she felt the first raindrops from the late autumn sky, she knew she should head home.

"Thank you," she spoke, gaining his attention in a second. She blushed, "For this little guy," nodding to the sleeping creature in her arms. In reality, it was a thanks for the hope she now felt from meeting this stranger.

He inhaled, his chest rising and falling, and the lopsided smile returned.

Again, the silence enveloped them, but she didn't want to leave without something to draw her back to him. "Betty," she said, her free hand extending in an offer for him, a gesture that felt like the first brushstroke on the canvas of a peculiar connection.

It took him a minute, the weight of the moment hanging in the air, but he finally grasped her hand, his grip rough and large in her much smaller and softer one. "Rennick," he responded, the simplicity of the introduction containing a world of untold stories.

She smiled, and he nodded. Turning to head down the path she had come, Rennick gently placed the sleeping pumpkin in the basket of her bike, covering it with a folded picnic blanket. She wheeled her bike to the end of the winding path, leaving just enough distance to still hear the sounds from the other pumpkins.

Glancing back at the farm, she found Rennick still standing in the same spot, cat in hand, smiling as he noticed her turn. A small wave passed between them, a shared understanding of a moment that defied explanation, like the lingering notes of an unfinished melody.

Before she continued on her way, she caught a glimpse of the farm in her periphery, the figure of Rennick becoming a stationary silhouette against the backdrop of rustic tranquility. It was as if the farm itself cradled the memory of their peculiar encounter, a scene painted by the hues of autumn.

Gazing at the peacefully snoozing pumpkin, a smile of excitement lit up her features. It suddenly occurred to her that she had forgotten to ask for some extra milk, but the oversight didn't bother her.

"Another reason to return tomorrow," she murmured to the purring pumpkin.

Word Count: 1,604