It was already the day close to the night of the dead, when my eldest son decided to collect all the pumpkins that were in the garden. One by one he collected them, with the intention of making a large pumpkin soup to celebrate the day of the dead, plus that would allow him to have the carapacho to decorate during that holiday.
To each pumpkin I work them meticulously with the object that these inspired fear between their friends, to whom I had invited to share the soup, cake and how much sweet they could imagine that is done with the pulp of the pumpkin.
Arrived that night where everything seemed to look wonderful, the courtyard decorated with pumpkins and all guests ate and drank cheerfully, was then when to the sound of music and noise was heard a shout among the present.
Everyone looked towards a point near the door of the house, there was then a great silence, it could be said that they were paralyzed with fear, with eyes wide open without being able to move, you could almost hear the breath of those present, when from inside the pumpkins began to come out noises, terrifying screams as if something was causing great damage inside, at the same time a very bright, blinding light was emitted from these that did not clearly identify what was happening.
It was thus, as my son without thinking twice took an axe that was hanging, the drawing trying to destroy the pumpkins, while people ran and if fixed course, only guided by his instinct of salvation.
Upright with a force that can only be attributed to the terror that invaded it, my son began to destroy those hundreds of pumpkins that tried to surround him until he could no longer.
Since that night I wander through the streets of my village trying to find my son, and every day of dead party I try to rescue him from the claws of the pumpkins.

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