Privacy Policy 1

Bernard the Pumpkin Bard

By: Griffin Cobb

Strolling down a wet cobblestone alley, Bernard made his way between the oddly angled walls of Hallowhaven. Brick and mortar bent out at odd angles, sometimes lined with pipes curving up and down in whimsical shapes. The silhouettes were eye-catching enough, but the muddy mess of greens, blues, and oranges painted onto the architecture flaunted the weirdness of the town, especially when caught in the moonlight like tonight.

Not much about Bernard stood out except for the large pumpkin that took the place of where one might expect a head. In contrast to his purple attire, an orange pumpkin sat on Bernard’s shoulders, with two triangles carved to form eyes and a sharp-toothed grin right below. The walking jack-o-lantern carried on his journey towards a lone pastry shop, a goal in his heart and a presumable candle in his head, light flickering out of his carved face.

Those who knew this pumpkin man knew his official title to be Bernard the Pumpkin Bard, Minstrel of Hallowhaven, and Consort to Her Misery Yanna Elwart, though he preferred Benny to his friends. He arrived in Hallowhaven nearly three years ago, his pumpkin head fitting in amongst the entire populous of monsters. From ghouls, goblins, minotaurs, pixies, and the occasional politician, Hallowhaven was a city filled with creatures of the night.

Over the three years of his arrival, Bernard became renowned for the songs and stories he shared from tavern to tavern, eventually earning him the nickname “The Pumpkin Bard.” So widespread were rumors of his talents that the royal court eventually invited him to play in front of the very Queen of Hallowhaven, Her Misery, Yanna Elwart. With yet another legendary and rousing performance, Bernard was able to tack on “Minstrel of Hallowhaven” to his title. And after just a year of his performing, Bernard courted the Queen, though some say she was the one to court him. Either way, the city rejoiced as they announced their relationship, a symbol of unity as a pumpkin of the people rose to royalty.

This glorious union happened a day shy of two years ago. With the anniversary fast approaching, this journey of Bernard’s was inspired. He was a pumpkin man with a pumpkin plan, on his way to buy a present for his love.

Though it should be an easy task, the bard had a flare for the dramatic and wanted to keep his outing a secret. So his journey needed to take place away from the public eye, slinking among the alleyways of Hallowhaven.

Bernard tried his best to step around puddles and avoid openings to the public streets, though his nerves betrayed him. Without thought, he whistled as he went, the sweet melody echoing out his unmoving mouth and bouncing off the brick walls. After a few careful steps, Bernard began to sing a simple song.

As Bernard rounded yet another corner, his soft song still made its way to a small steep of stairs, reaching a pair of long grayish green ears.

“Aw, no way, is tha’ Benny?” A high-pitched, scratchy voice answered Bernard’s nerve-induced singing, freezing him in his tracks. A small, scraggly figure was just ahead of him, sitting on the backdoor steps of a local bar. Grayish fur feathered off the edge of their greenish skin, swathed in a mix of gray and brown cloth. On their head was a leather cap, tassels hanging off the sides, and a pair of goggles sitting around the top. Through holes on the side, long floppy ears perked up to Bernard’s song. The large black eyes of Cork the Goblin met his, with a sharp-toothed smile pulled across their face.

“It is you!” they said, standing up to their short full height.

Bernard sighed, his fear wearing away to regret. “Hey there, Cork.” When he first arrived in Hallowhaven, Cork became one of his first friends, not entirely of his own volition. The life before fame had many nights spent in dilapidated taverns, a territory Cork had been awfully familiar with. As Bernard grew in fame, Cork continued to follow him around, lending support where they could and pickpocketing coin when they wanted. They typically targeted the politicians, so neither Bernard nor anyone else cared.

Cork waddled down the steps and up to their pumpkin friend. “Boy, am I glad to see you. Why’re ya lurkin’ round the alleys?” Bernard had always thought of Cork’s voice as if someone ran a nail across a chalkboard during puberty. It had taken all this time to get somewhat used to it.

“Just, just taking a stroll, Cork. Needed to clear my head,” said Bernard.

“Couldn’t ya just use a spoon for that?” Cork said. It pained Bernard to know they were dead serious in their question.

“That’s- whatever. Listen, do you think you could keep from telling anyone you saw me? I’m trying to lay low.”

“Really?” Cork said. “You neva’ try an’ lay low. You love attention.” Cork was right, but explaining anything else would take away the last bit of secrecy Bernard had left.

Cork chimed back in before he could respond. “Which, I’ve actually go’ a fava’ I need ta ask ya for.” Bernard’s regret once again returned to fear. “I, uh, well, ya know how we’re real close an’ all. I told some guys in th’ tavern,'' Cork pointed back at the door they were sitting in front of, “that I could get ya to do a couple a’ songs for us.”

Bernard rubbed his mostly symbolic brow. “And, why would you say that Cork?”

“I was tryin’ ta seem cool! You know I have a hard time makin’ friends, an’ they were closin’ off ta me.”

“Cork you can’t just keep telling people I’ll perform for them if they’ll be your friend”

“Why not? You like ta perform, I like friends, it’s a win-win.” They looked up into Bernard's glowing triangles of eyes, “C’mon, please, for your ol’ pal Cork?”

Their incredibly crusty and dull attempt at puppy eyes didn’t do much to sway Bernard. He was, however, incredibly weak to the prospect of attention. He’d dodged the busy streets to help avoid the temptation. But he believed that his conviction was not something he would falter on so easily.

“Fine, just this once.” Bernard had vastly overestimated his conviction.

“Aw thank ya! You won’t regre’ it my orange-headed friend.” Cork said. “C’mon, c’mon, follow me. Everyone should still be waitin’.” Cork ran back up to the door and led Bernard inside. Even if the Queen knew he was out and about, she wouldn’t know that he was getting her a gift, right?

By the time they had reached the tavern floor, Bernard had thoroughly convinced himself of his new line of logic and confidently strode towards the bar. The Poison Apple, he’d recognized it to be, was one of the first venues he’d been paid to perform in. Local legend now, he would occasionally stop by and give a quick show for old time’s sake. But affairs of the court had kept him busier than he’d liked. It was refreshing to return once more.

“Ghouls, gals, and goblins in between,” Cork announced. “Th’ one, th’ only, Bernard th’ Pumpkin Bard is here!” A busy interior with a vast mix of creatures and conversation all at once went quiet, turning towards the two.

Bernard raised his hands, faint trails of purple following his gloved fingertips. With an exaggerated strumming motion and a flash of violet light, a beautiful lute appeared in his hands, strings already harmonizing into a chord.

“Lovely to be back, everyone,” he said.

In an instant, the entire bar erupted into cheers and greetings. All at once, everyone walked up to the strumming pumpkin.

“Benny! Where’ve ya been mate?”

“I knew you’d be back around Benny. Good to see you!”

“Got any new tunes, Benny? You’ve had plenty a’ time I’m sure.”

To the best of his ability, Bernard tried to respond to the conversations he could. Cork to his side stood proudly with their chest puffed out.

“I told ya! Let it be known tha’ Cork is a goblin a’ their word.” they said, outstretching a hand. Next to them a werewolf and zombie rolled their eyes, reluctantly pulling out a couple pieces of coin and slapping them into Cork’s hand.

Bernard slowly worked his way through the crowd and up to the bar. Standing behind it was a tall, broad woman with dark red skin, small horns curling out her forehead, and jet black hair falling around them. Gold jewelry adorned every facet of her body, from earrings to nose piercings to bracelets that clinked against the glass she was cleaning.

Bernard said to her, “Hope I’m not causing too much trouble for you, Ms. Belial.”

The devilish woman put her glass down, a tail whipping out from behind her and wrapping around the towel she’d been holding. “You know you’re always welcome here Benny.” She rested her elbows on the table and gave a slight wink to Bernard.

“Well how kind of you,” said Bernard. He turned his back and rested on one of the stools, tuning his lute. Now facing the crowd, he said “It’s been quite a while, everyone. The Poison Apple holds a special place in my heart, as do you all, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to take a moment out of my busy schedule to have some fun.” Cheers and thanks from the bar met his remarks as everyone began taking their seats once again.

Over to the side, Cork coughed, “A-hem.”

Bernard sighed. “And thank you, Cork, for inspiring this little impromptu show.” The goblin nodded and smiled, standing with as much pride as their small stature could convey. They found a stool next to a central pillar and hopped up onto it, feet swinging back and forth as they now focused on Bernard.

“Anyways,” said Bernard, now refocused on the crowd. “I’m only here for a short time, so let's make it worth it. Any recommendations?”

A few voices chimed up, offering classical poems and stories. Some called out for performances they had heard Bernard play before. Eventually, Bernard pointed out a voice that caught his ear and began strumming away, filling the bar with an elegant dance of notes soon accompanied by a lovely voice, slightly echoing out of the carved hole he had for a mouth.

Cork watched on with both pride in themself and awe for Bernard. Sure he was good for coin, but Cork always did love watching him play. The first nights together in the taverns had been their favorite memories, back when only they would listen to the pumpkin-headed bard. They’d felt special.

Right beside them, a voice spoke. “How is it you know Bernard?”

Cork jumped back up against the pillar. “AH WHA-” they yelled, hands swinging up in a martial defense. Thankfully Bernard had just finished his song, so the crowd's applause drew away any attention it would have caught.

Standing next to them was a hunched-over lizard person, a black cloak covering ruddy brown scales that sheathed their face, large bulbous green eyes somewhat staring in Cork’s direction.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell! Don’t just- ya can’t jus’ sneak up on someone like tha’!” Cork took a couple deep breaths to try and regain some composure.

The lizard individual blinked one eye after another.“I did not mean to scaring you, friend.” A needle-like tongue shot out of their mouth at every consonant. They reached a thin-scaled hand out to Cork.

Cork made no move to shake the hand.

Several moments passed with the handheld in place.

Slowly the hand retreated back into the cloak.

“Well, what is it your name, friend?” said the lizard.

“M-my name’s Cork. Cork th’ Goblin,” they said.

“Hello, Cork. I am the lizard maiden, Arse end.”

Two slow, heavy blinks.

“You’re, you’re wha’?” said Cork.

“My name. It is Arse end Looping.” She grabbed two edges of her cloak and slightly curtsied.

Cork was confused. A bit scared, but mostly confused.

“I-I’m just gonna call ya Loop,” said Cork

“That is acceptable. Now, how do you the know Bernard, Cork the Goblin.”

“We been friends eva’ since he came ta Hallowhaven.” Cork managed to shake off some of their unnerve as they fell back into their reminiscing. “I was th’ first one ta really notice his talents. I go’ a keen eye an’ n’ even keena’ ear.”

Loop nodded. “Indeed, Bernard is very talent, and quite the handsome as well.” Every word dragged through her mouth like her voice had tripped and fallen into molasses.

“I mean, he’s jus’ a pumpkin head. Not much ta look at, but whateva’ floats yer boat,” said Cork. At this point, Bernard was nearing the end of his second song. Though he was but one bard with one lute, the song seemed to fill the entire bar.

Another roar of applause as Bernard finished the performance, which had ended with him kneeling atop the bar, jazz hands jazzing while his lute magically floated in front of him. He was visibly panting before he took a moment to hop back down to his stool and catch his breath.

“God I’ve gotta work out more,” mumbled Bernard. Fixing his posture, he looked down at his watch. He was reminded it had stopped ticking a week ago and made a mental note to stop by the local clockwork.

He gestured back to the crowd. “Alright, you all have been wonderful, but we only have time for one more song, so let's make it a good one.” Another cacophony of voices, suggestions, and drunken gurgles.

In a brief lull, one hand from the side shot up in the corner of Bernard's vision. “Oh oh oh! Me! I’ve got one!” The crowd looked back to see a small skeletal child holding their detached left arm up in their right hand.

Ms. Belial from behind the bar looked over at the adult-sized skeleton next to the child. “Nicholas I swear I thought I told you ta stop bringin’ Darby in here! This ain’t no place for a child,” she said.

The skeleton addressed as Nicholas waved a tankard back at the bar. “It's better than him sittin’ at home just rattlin’ around! He’s socializin’, leave ‘em alone.” Ms. Belial scoffed and went back to her work.

“Alright, alright,” said Bernard. “You two can figure that out later. Now, Darby, what was your suggestion?”

Darby plugged his arm back into his shoulder. “I wanna hear the one about you and Her Misery falling in looooove.”

The crowd turned back to Bernard, collectively going “Ooooooo.”

“Oh stop it. I’m turning orange over here.” Bernard laughed to himself. “But that's an excellent suggestion, Darby. It just so happens to be one of my favorites as well.” Bernard grabbed his lute by the neck, and with the other waved over the body. The same purplish aura surrounded the instrument, before a slight poof. Now in Bernard’s hand was a small fiddle, his other hand holding a slight bow.

Cork leaned over to Loop, tapping her on the shoulder. “Oi, pay attention ta this one. It’s my favorite!”

Bernard tilted his pumpkin to the side, resting the fiddle on his shoulder before pinching it in place with his head. A hush fell over the patrons of the Poison Apple as Bernard dragged his bow down across the strings. Now softer, gentler, the sounds of the fiddle seeped into the audience like a mist. A moment of just the fiddle passed before Bernard began to sing.

The crowd remained utterly silent, enthralled by the ballad of their beloved pumpkin bard. Cork slowly whipped away a tear before pulling up their vest and blowing their nose into it.

Cork leaned down to Loop. “Absolutely beautiful, ‘innit?” they whispered.

Loop leaned uncomfortably close to Cork. “Yes, truly. The queen is must be very a lucky woman.” Cork leaned back away from her.

Bernard continued to fill the room with his fiddle, a refrain from the lyrics emphasizing the howling strings. He rocked his body in tide with the music, his pumpkin sinking forward the more lost he became within the song. Once again he began to sing, melody floating about the tavern.

Another crescendo of his fiddle, Bernard slouched his head even further down.

Abruptly, the fiddling and singing stopped, the bar now suddenly vacuous of sound. A moment passed before the crowd began to mutter in the silence.

Cork hopped off their stool. “Benny, you alright up ‘ere?”

Bernard waved their hand, the fiddle disappearing with a puff of purple smoke. He sat for a second with his head hung low. “Uh, um, I-” He quickly stood up, shuffling down the bar. “One, one moment everyone, if you’ll excuse me.” Before he could finish, he ran down the bar and behind the stairs, into a bathroom followed by the sound of the door locking.

Muttering erupted into conversations of concern, worry, and confusion as the patrons tried to understand what had just happened, still a bit jostled by the sudden change in atmosphere.

Cork looked around for a moment before running to where Bernard had locked away. Knocking on the door, they whispered. “Benny! The ‘ell are you doin’?”

“Cork? Uh, just, oh god, shit. Uh,” Benny whispered back, trailing off.

“Listen I get stage fright n’ all but– actually, no, I don't understand. You neva’ get stage fright! The fuck is goin’ on?”

“I, uh, it’s complicated. Fuck, why is this happening now?”

“Wha’ is happenin’? Benny get out here an’ maybe we can hel-AAH!” Before Cork could finish, the door cracked open as Bernard’s hand reached out, grabbed Cork by the front of their shirt, and pulled them inside before locking the door back.

“TH’ FUCK ARE YA DO-” another hand clasped over Cork’s mouth, muffling the rest of their profanities. Looking up to Bernard with anger, Cork became incredibly confused once again.

Standing before them, was the same purple attire adorning the stocky build of Bernard. But above the shoulders was no longer a pumpkin. Instead was a pale face of a man, square jaw adorned with a mangled scruff of a beard. He had a prominent nose set between two light brown eyes and a heavy-set brow. Shaggy brown hair crept across the sides of his head, yet noticeably thinned on top. If Cork knew what a human was, they would understand this man to be one.

“Listen, Cork. I need you to listen very carefully to me, and not scream, okay? Can you do that for your good friend Bernard?” said Bernard, now with a mouth that moved with his words.

Cork’s eyes stayed wide as they continued to scan across this new, smaller head of Bernard.

“Okay Cork, if I take my hand off your mouth, will you promise not to scream? I promise I’ll explain this, if you just give me a chance.”

Face still stretched in shock, Cork slowly nodded their head.

Bernard sighed, and slowly took his hand off their mouth.

Cork took a step back, eye’s still trained on Bernard’s. “Wha’, in th’ pumpkin fuck, are you?”

“I’m Bernard, still. Bernard the bard. The pumpkin part is, uh, it’s a bit iffy.”

“Wha’ do ya mean it's a bi’ iffy YER HEADS ‘SPOSE TA BE A FUCKIN PUMPKI-” Bernard swept his hand over Cork's mouth again, his other putting a finger to his lips to shush them.

“Yes yes I get it my head’s not a fucking pumpkin that’s what I’m trying to explain,” said Bernard, taking his hand back off Cork once again.

“So, you’ve jus’ been, what, runnin’ around with a pumpkin stuck on yer head?” Cork looked down to the bathroom floor to see the unlit head of Pumpkin Bernard resting on its side, a hole carved where the neck usually rests.

“Listen,” Bernard said, “ I’m not from Hallowhaven, sure. But I’m not from anywhere else around here. I’m from a place called Salem, a place that doesn’t have any monsters or skeletons or goblins or anything, just people like me.”

Cork walks over to the pumpkin head. “My goblin mind does no’ comprehend mos’ a wha’ you jus’ said, but I’ll play along for th’ sake of it. How, then, didya end up here?” they said.

“I, I’m not too sure.” Bernard sat down on the toilet and rested his head in his hands. He took two heavy breaths. “Where I used to be, it was just so empty. I’m not sure how else to put it. I was tired. I couldn’t stand all that emptiness. One day I just started walking, no direction or anything. I don't know what I was thinking. I don’t think I was thinking. I just walked. Maybe I was hoping I’d find something, or something would find me. Either way, I eventually ended up in a pumpkin patch. No idea where I was since pumpkins didn’t grow in fuckin Salem. But the moment I stepped into the patch, I- I fell. From what, to where, god, it’s beyond me. All I know is I stood back up in a pumpkin patch, and the next thing I found while walking was Hallowhaven.”

He looked over to see Cork had taken a seat next to his old pumpkin head, staring at him, slowly pulling pieces of pumpkin off the bottom and placing it into their mouth.

“Cork no! The fu- stop!” Bernard slapped a piece of pumpkin out from Cork's hand.

“I was curious.” Cork’s shoulders sank in. “So, wha’? Th’ pumpkins jus’ a disguise? Why?”

“I was fucking scared! Where I’m from, monsters and shit, they’re myths, and scary ones at that. For all I knew I’d walk in and everyone here would eat me.”

“So, you pretended ta be a vegetable instead?”

A moment of silence passed over the two of them.

“Touche,” said Bernard. “But that’s not the point. After wearing that pumpkin around for so long, once I knew everyone here was just normal and, nice, it was too late to give up the rouse.”

“You jus’ said yaself, everyone here’s nice! Everyone woulda been fine wit it,” said Cork.

Bernard rubbed his temples. “I, Jesus, listen Cork. I didn’t have much where I was from. Hallowhaven is the best home I could have asked for. But I just-” Bernard took a deep breath and sat up. “It’s hard for me to imagine the town loving Bernard the Bard as much as they love Bernard the Pumpkin Bard. It’s just hard.”

“Well, wha’ about Her Misery? Does Queen Yanna know?” Cork asked

Bernard laughed “She does, thankfully. She saw right through me.”

Cork smiled. “See? If th’ Queen can still love ya without th’ pumpkin, then so can we.”

“Ha, thank you, Cork.” Bernard pat Cork on the head. “I don’t know if I’m ready to reveal it all just yet, but, and I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, I’m glad you saw the real me.”

“O’course buddy.” Cork went over to grab the pumpkin. “So wha’ happened to this in th’ first place?”

“It’s just a bit old, the back cracked. I usually switch 'em out every couple of days, but I was only planning on being out a short time to-” Bernard suddenly remembered why he’d gone out in the first place. “Oh, fuck! Shit, I was supposed to be picking up a gift for Yanna today.”

“That’s why you were sneakin’ around th’ alley? Why’d’ya let me stop you, then?” Cork handed Bernard back his pumpkin.

“You asked me! Don’t dodge the blame!” Bernard lifted up and placed the pumpkin back onto his head. As he let it rest, it once again slid forward. “Shit.”

A knock wrapped against the outside of the bathroom door. “Excuse me.” Cork recognized the voice as Loop’s. “Mr. the Pumpkin Bard? Cork the Goblin? Are you two still being in there?”

Bernard looked down at Cork. “Who the fuck is that?” he whispered.

“A creepy ass lizard woman who thinks you’re hot,” said Cork.

“What?”

Cork shrugged.

“Okay, okay. Shit.” Bernard stared down in thought, his pumpkin head askew to the left. A small gasp indicated he’d thought of an idea. “Alright, Cork, I’m gonna need your help.”

“Me? Wha’ for?”

“I’m gonna need you, to act like you’re attacking me.”

A familiar moment of confused silence fell once more.

“An’, how’s tha’ gonna help us?” said Cork.

“Just trust me on this. If there’s one thing I can do well, it’s make a performance believable.”

“Benny, that's ludicrous! Why would I ruin my image like tha’?”

Another flick of the wrist and more purple smoke flowed around Bernard’s hand before poofing into a small brown sack. He lowered it down to Cork, now revealing it to be full of gold coins.

***

Loop knocked on the bathroom door once again but was batted away as the door violently swung open.

“Stay back everyone!” Bernard yelled as he stumbled out, Cork grappled around his pumpkin head. “They’ve finally lost it.”

Cork flailed their arms down onto Bernard while incoherently screaming. Bernard grabbed their vest and pretended to try and pry them off, all while stumbling closer to the back door in which they’d both entered.

The bar, still muttering and growing concerned for their treasured pumpkin pal now locked their eyes onto the maddening scene.

Ms. Belial stepped out from behind the bar. “Cork! What in the hell are you doin’?” She was only met with more screams.

“Not to worry!” yelled Bernard. “I have this under control. I’ll just take- ah, shit- just take them out back and give ‘em the ol one-tw-” His declaration was cut short as Cork shifted their weight, leading Bernard into the banister of a staircase. He caught himself from falling, but his pumpkin had now shifted completely backward, blocking his vision.

“Shit, Cork! I can’t see!” he whispered, but it was still drowned out by Corks' continued screaming. Bernard tried his best to remember the direction of the door, now stumbling with each step before he could feel his arm slam into the doorknob. With panic and regret, he threw open the door and ran back into the alley, nearly falling before bashing Cork’s head on the doorway, mitigating his fall.

“Shit, ow!” Cork yelled in between their continued screaming, now echoing down the alley walls.

Bernard continued to run to his best estimate of left, hand brushing against the wall to keep him upright. As he gained some distance from the Poison Apple, Cork eventually stopped screaming, and they slowed their pace.

“Cork, the hell? Was the screaming necessary?” said Bernard.

Cork, still clung to Bernard’s pumpkin, said, “You paid for a performance, an’ ya go’ one.”

“Sure. God, that's gonna be a pain to explain later.”

“You’re tellin’ me. I’mma be banned for months thanks ta this.”

“It’s, it’s fine, we’ll take care of it later. Now get off for a sec, I can’t see.”

As Cork went to drop off Bernard's shoulders, they looked back to see a dense black fog filling the alley they’d just come from.

“Wha’ in the bloody hell,” they said. They focused their vision on the center of the alley and saw a small figure moving toward them. From out of the fog, the hunched lizard form of Loop was sprinting with unnerving speed straight at them

They tapped Bernard on the side of his head. “Benny, Benny run.”

“What? Cork I still can’t see, get off-”

“Benny, run, now!” Cork reaffixed themself onto Bernard’s twisted pumpkin helm and kicked their foot into his side. Bernard, confused, scared, and without many senses about him, began to sprint forward.

“Cork! What’s happening?” Bernard yelled.

Cork looked back to Loop, who still sped behind them. “That fuckin’ lizard lady’s tryna kill us! She’s go’ shadows n’ shit followin’ ‘er!”

“What does that even-” Bernard yelled back as Cork turned back forward and saw the alley begin to curve to the side. A small yelp escaped before they gripped onto the pumpkin and leaned their bodyweight onto Bernard’s left shoulder.

“LEEEEEEFT!” they yelled. Instinctually Bernard turned his sprint using Cork’s weight as a compass. They began running parallel once again.

“Phew, nice goin’ Benny,” Cork said. Looking back once again, they saw the pouring black fog creep behind them, but no sign of Loop.

“Roight, I think we lost ‘er.” From behind the turn, Loop’s figure lept from the ground and stuck onto the wall. She began to zip back and forth between the walls, now gaining on the duo.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” Still looking back, Cork saw the fog rise into a tidal wave, filling the alley behind them with Loop flipping along the edges of it. From the middle of the new opaque, gaseous wall, a bolt of smoke shot out towards Bernard.

Cork yelled, “DUCK!” They pushed down on Bernard’s head forcing his shoulders to buckle and lean down, nearly knocking him onto his stomach. The line of smoke whizzed past the both of them before smashing into a section of the wall ahead of the. Though it seemed mist-like, the impact of the smoke sent bricks scattering, leaving a crater in the wall fifteen feet above the ground.

“THE FUCK WAS THAT?” Bernard yelled. Still blind, he could now hear what sounded like a roaring tide behind him, then a sudden blunt impact and scattering of debris ahead.

Cork looked back to where they were running. “I told you, crazy fuckin lizard. Now jump!” Cork pulled up on Bernard’s head as he took a running leap over the bricks scattered on the ground.

“This is surprisingly intuitive,” said Bernard through heaving breaths. “Listen, you know where Gothel’s Baked Goods is? That’s where we’re headed.”

Cork affixed their grip onto the stem atop Bernard. “Aye aye cap'n!” They continued to run and weave between alleyways, side-stepping each volley of smoke from Loop, who began to fall slightly behind them as they fell into a synchronized rhythm.

After a sharp turn, Cork looked back to see if Loop and the wave of shadows had fallen. A moment of silence gave them a hopeful pause, until the flood of smoke washed against the corner, more violent than ever. Loop, no longer bouncing off of the walls, sat dead in the middle of the wave, only her crooked face peering out as she rode the fog forward. Webs of shadow began flying out of the wave, sticking to bricks, pipes, and various boxes before flinging them towards Bernard and Cork.

To the best of their ability, Cork steered Bernard away from each makeshift projectile.

“How bout a taste of your own medicine!” Cork yelled. From within their vest, they grabbed the satchel of gold Bernard had given them and tossed it at Loop’s head. The bag fell about fifteen feet short before being engulfed by the wall of fog.

“Damnit,” said Cork. They then realized what exactly they had just lost. “Damnit!”

The mad dash continued forward, Bernard breathing heavier and heavier. As his performance had shown earlier, Bernard was far from physical prowess and slowed down after his long-winded sprint.

“Cork, how close are we? I can’t keep doing this much longer.” Cork took a quick glance ahead to see Gothel’s in sight, a hundred or so feet away.

“Almos’ there, just keep-” Cork was cut short as a tendril of shadow shot from behind, flinging a leather sack right into Bernard’s back. The impact flung Bernard forward, hitting the ground chest first. Cork detached from the pumpkin, tumbling about five feet in front of their bard friend before skidding to a halt.

Once they’d stopped, Bernard pried his arms to his side, pushing himself up slowly. In front of him, he saw his pumpkin head shattered, with a twisted Cork groaning just beyond it.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said, grabbing his shirt and trying his best to shove his head fully inside. “Uh, this is- you’ve caught us at a bad time! Please, no a-autographs right now.” He started to shuffle on his knees towards Cork, whispering “Cork, a little help?”

Groaning, Cork unfolded their crashed body and woozily stood up. They stumbled over and once again grappled onto Bernard’s now pumpkinless head. Looking back, they saw the wave of black fog slow, as Loop lowered from the center to the ground, walking out towards the two.

Cork yelled out, “Wha’ do ya want from us? Who’re you anyway? Arse end Loop, wha’eva the fuck ya called yourself. Stupides’ name I eva’ did here!”

Loop trotted forward, the shadows now halted behind her. Bernard, oddly, had stopped shuffling away. He pushed back off the ground, standing up and lifting Cork as they still held his head, before grabbing them and pulling them off.

“Arse end? Wha- wait,” he said as he turned around to face Loop. “Yanna?”

“Hello Bernard,” said Loop.

Cork, now held underneath Bernard’s arm, looked up at him. “Wha’, who?” They looked back to the lizard woman, only to see her form quickly overtaken by shadows. The dark mist swirled around, higher and higher up, until poofing away. In their absence stood a woman, easily seven feet tall, slender and graceful. She was wrapped in a long black dress that faded into wisps of shadow and mist, contrasting her pale gray skin. Her face held an elegance, long graceful features contoured as if carved out of marble.

Cork stared in awe, slowly pointing at her. “Benny, i-is that the Queen?” they said quietly.

Bernard put Cork down and began walking up to Yanna Elwart, Queen of Hallowhaven and the woman he was attempting to surprise. “Yanna, what the hell?” said Bernard.

“Good the evening love, you are all right?” said Yanna. Faint whispers trailed her words, echoing everything she said quietly. Her voice was immeasurably more regal and soothing than her lizard form, though she still carried the sporadic pauses and odd word placement.

“I mean, I’m a bit freaked out. Other than that, sure. Why the hell would you chase us?” Bernard said.

Yanna pointed a spindle-like finger towards Cork. “This one was attacking you, were they not?” Cork remained speechless on the ground.

“Ah, oh.” Bernard took a second to think how their scheme would have looked without the context only the two held. “No, no, they were just covering for me, my head was falling off.” He gestured to the smashed pumpkin. “But, why were you in the tavern in the first place?”

“You had sneakinged out, so I thought I would play with.” Yanna reached into her torso, her hand disappearing amidst the shadowy dress. From it, she pulled out another pumpkin, carved exactly like Bernard’s typical pumpkin face. “You had also forgetting your new pumpking, so I bring it to you.”

Bernard’s brow fell from its confusion and let out a small laugh. “That, that makes so much sense.” He reached out and grabbed the pumpkin. “You saw me sneak out?”

“Heard,” Yanna said. “You sing very loud while the sneaking.”

Bernard blushed, like a different vegetable had replaced his head.

Yanna cocked her head to the side. “Why were you the sneaking, Bernard?”

“Oh, shit, right.” he blushed harder. “I was gonna try to surprise you with, actually.” He turned around to see Gothel’s Baked Goods just a few yards away. “Here, wait right here for a second.”

Yanna nodded her head, as Bernard replaced his. Pumpkined up, he walked into the storefront, leaving Yanna in the alley alone with Cork, who stayed stunned, staring at the Queen.

Silence passed between the two for several moments. The shadows behind Yanna still filled the alley, occasional tendrils flaring out followed by incoherent whispers.

“I am sorry for throwing the things at you,” Yanna eventually said.

“I’m sorry for committin’ treason.” Cork remained sat on the ground.

More moments filled with awkward silence and the occasional ethereal whisper passed until Bernard walked back out, white box in hand. He went up and presented it to Yanna, who took it into her own hands.

“This, is what I was sneaking out for.” Yanna opened the box to reveal a pastry in the shape of a pumpkin, garnished with tiny candied beads.

Yanna looked back up to Bernard with a bright smile and wide eyes, her gaunt features carrying the emotion of excitement rather adorably. “This is the food that you did get me on our first outing!” she said.

Bernard took the pumpkin off his head.“I thought it would have been a nice surprise, so I tried to get it without you knowing. Sorry.”

“Isn’t that, like, cannibalism?” Cork had walked back up next to Bernard, seemingly rid of the shock of Yanna’s reveal.

“Cork, I’m not an actual pumpkin. We just went over this.”

Cork shrugged.

Looking back up at Yanna, they said “Your Misery, I’m terribly sorry for sayin’ all those mean things ta you when you looked like a lizard lady.”

Yanna kneeled slightly and pat Cork on the head. “You are forgiven, Cork the Goblin.”

“Oh yeah. Cork knows the whole not-a-real-pumpkin-man thing, but I think they’ll keep it a secret,” Bernard said. “Right, Cork?”

“O’course! I’m a Goblin a’ my word. Plus, ya did pay me.” Cork remembered the payment they had fruitlessly thrown away. “Damnit,” they whispered.

Yanna once again reached into her shadowed dress, this time pulling out the small satchel of gold Cork had thrown, and set it in Cork’s hand.

“Oh wow, thank ya’ kindly Your Misery!” Cork squealed.

Bernard rolled his eyes but let himself chuckle. “I did have an idea, Yanna, to avoid this happening again.” Yanna cocked her head at him again. “It would be nice to have someone specific go to get us pastries, instead of running around ourselves.”

“Oh, a royal runner of the pastries?” she said.

Bernard looked down at Cork who had been doing a small dance to themself to celebrate the return of the gold. Eventually, they noticed the two staring at them.

“Oh, me?” Cork said. Bernard nodded. Cork’s face lit up into a wide, sharp-toothed grin.

“Me, a royal pastry runna’? Your Misery, could I?’

Another reach into her dress, Yanna pulled out a long, gnarled staff of wood. She tapped both Cork’s shoulders and said, “I, Yanna Elwart, Queen of Hallowhaven, declaring that Cork the Goblin now is the Royal Runner of Pastries.” Bernard gave a soft clap.

“I, I really don’ know wha’ ta say Your Misery, thank ya,” Cork said. They looked over at Bernard. “Benny, how much am I gonna get paid?” Bernard stopped clapping.

Yanna looked back to Bernard. “Well, what is it you are doing now?”

Bernard placed his pumpkin back on. “I was thinking, we might wanna go back to The Poison Apple and clear as much air as we can.”

“Ah, that is the good plan,” Yanna said. “You never finishing my the favorite song of ours.”

“Guess we’ll have to fix that,” said Bernard. “C’mon Cork, we’ve gotta think of an excuse for you going apeshit.”

“Aye aye, boss!” Cork fell in tow as Bernard took Yanna’s hand. Together they walked back into the alley, shadows now receding before the royalty of Hallowhaven.