Picture by MMNEKO

"I'm here to submit my entry for the carving competition!" Bella giggled as she placed her pumpkin on the table. You quivered as you felt your body slam the table, terrified that any bump might cause your orange skin to crack. You tried to call out to the judge, but the only mouth you possessed was a smile cut out of your flesh. "How cute," the judge said, pinning a paper number to your back, "Just put it over on table three." "Okay," Bella beamed, picking you back up and skipping over presumably table three. "You know the deal," Bella goated, "Win me first place and I'll turn you back, anything less than a blue ribbon and you'll be on the compost pile before the morning." You internally gulped, just hoping that her carving was good enough to beat out the others.

Your Halloween night was going as anyone would expect, between trick-or-treating, parties, and the occasional prank. The latter most of these is what ended up getting you in the situation you now faced. You were dared to smash the intricately carved pumpkin resting on the porch of a house that could only be described as 'spooky'. Not wanting to be a wet blanket, you ran up and smashed the gourd into an orange paste. You turned to run but slipped on the pumpkin guts, just in time for the owner of the house to open the door and gasp at what you had just done.

"I'm sorry," you blurted, still lying in a puddle of pulp, "It was an accident!" But her eyes told you she didn't buy it. You turned just in time to see your friends run away, leaving you to your fate when she inevitably called the cops. "That's fine," the woman said, offering you a hand which you took nervously, "It was an accident." You wiped a bit of squash off your clothes as the woman looked you up and down. "I'm Bella, by the way," she added, "And with a few changes, I'm sure you'd be a fine replacement." Before you could even ask what she meant, she placed her hand on your chest, a wave of ice-cold sensations emanating from the center of where she touched. You crumpled to the ground, forced into the fetal position as she began her work.

Your arms and legs started to merge with each other to form one continuous blob, the crack being filled in from other expanding areas of your body. Your skin became hard, an unyielding barrier protecting your insides, which were also changing. A vibrant orange overtook your hardened flesh, the same color as the pumpkin lying a foot from you. Your body grew tighter and tighter, shrinking in size until you were no more than 16 inches in diameter. The term diameter being a scary description since it meant your body was closer to a ball than a person. The ripe aroma of pumpkin filled your sense of smell to the point of gagging as you felt something protrude from the top of your head. The chilling sensation faded away, leaving Bella to grab you from the stem you had just grown.

"So symmetrical," Bella cooed, examining you in her hands, "You'd win the competition on genetics alone if they cared about that." Competition? What was she talking about? "Well, better get you carved!" She snickered, rapidly tracing a nail across your face. She snapped her fingers, and the areas she traced popping out of your body popped out cleanly, restoring your sight through your new eyes. "Simple, but delightful," she smiled, inspecting you once again, "Well, we'd better get going. Don't want to miss it!"

Now, on table three, you looked around at the gathering of jack-o-lanterns, which looked to be carved by master surgeons with how finely they were detailed. More and more gourds filled the tables, each one more impressive than the last, until finally they stopped coming. As if your humiliation wasn't enough, the judges came by, poking and prodding you as well as examining your every curve and cut. Some looked impressed, some didn't; making it impossible to tell whether you'd return to your body before returning to the stage. A well-done Spider-Man won third, meanwhile, an intricate pattern of fireflies won second place. You crossed your imaginary fingers as they held up the blue ribbon, praying to whatever deity would listen for them to pick you.