The Rise

I was but a regular pumpkin desperately sprouting in a field filled with fellow orange-skinned squash. Life was idillic; I had a loyal sun to keep me warm, a loving community of like-minded fruit, and a dedicated group of farmers that cared for me in my every need. I was growing up to be the largest pumpkin in my field; the most respected title of all.

One fateful day I was plucked from the earth by one of the farmers, placed in a wheelbarrow, and transported inside the trunk of a pickup truck. I was reunited with many other confused plants, all similarly uprooted and placed here to await their demise.
We had no idea what awaited us. We've seen many of our peers be taken from us in the same way that we have just been, and we could only assume this event to be a natural evolution of life. A sort of ascension, if you will. A one-way trip to a herbivorous heaven.
This was to be our destiny, to grow to our prime age and join our ancestors in the endless fields above. But like all those ancestors before us, we were soon going to find out that our real destination is much more heartless.

The truck came to a sudden halt. I could hear the echoing chatter of a large crowd. Our destination wasn't heaven, it was a bazaar.
The farmers carried us to their lonely stand. We stood there, on display for the whole world. Those of us that attracted attention were traded to strangers for mere pennies. Their future was going to be - literally - served on a plate. The rest of us, neglected by the crowd, remained on display for a full day, until it was time to close up shop.

The Fall

With a collective sigh of disappointment, the farmers loaded their unsold inventory back into the truck. Few crops remained; some beets, radishes, a few cauliflowers, and one pumpkin. We were unwanted, sentenced to repeat this day until we were finally bought. An unrelenting groundhog day of diminishing self-worth. Or it would be, had it not been for a misguided raccoon that startled the driver and led him to frantically steer the truck, tipping it just enough for me to fly out the trunk. Fortunately, I landed on the side of the street in one piece. Unfortunately, I wouldn't stay there for very long.

The powerful gusts of wind evoked by cars racing to their homes caused me to roll downhill into a forest. Stranded, what little hope for the future I had left was leaking out. It seems I wasn't destined even to please the appetites of the unsatiable titans - no, my fate was to wither away underneath this pine tree, alone and forgotten, unwanted and discarded. With neither light, water, nor appetising soil to feast on, my body would soon decay.

In the midst of night, I heard something trampling the leaves nearby. This silhouette was desperately wandering the night, and whatever they were looking for suddenly stopped mattering when they found me. A dark green hand reached out and lifted me from the ground high enough to meet the eyes of the mysterious creature. And I saw it was no creature. It was a human. A wrinkled, old, and inexplicably green-skinned woman. I was rescued from my lonely demise by a... a witch!

The Revenge

The witch took me to her lonely hut in the heart of the forest. She had plans for me. Whatever her maniacal intent was, she needed to create a monster for it. So she sliced a large opening on the top of my head and removed all the seeds and fibrous strands from within my body. She then neatly carved out two round eyes and a jagged smile to act as a face. The final step of my unsolicited surgery was a large candle. Not any regular candle, for it shined much brighter and radiated with enormous heat. She neatly placed the enchanted light in the centre of my head and stood back to examine her creation. She was proud.

In the brief moment that she entered the hut to look for brews to give me, I made my escape. The magical candle gave me power. I rolled out of a window and within seconds began to grow limbs, a torso, and a full-on body. I ran from the witch's hut without looking back. Now that I had a choice, I wasn't going to live in someone else's shadow again. No, I make my own story now.
And I knew exactly where I needed to go first.

The bright autumn sun arose over the farm. The farmers were hard at work: digging, hoeing, planting, exploting the earth of all that made it beautiful. Someone had to step up.
I approached silently, crawling through the wheat fields. Equipped wtih a scythe and an oversized brown coat that I borrowed from one of the scarecrows, I awaited for the perfect opportunity to strike.