In the small town of Maple Hollow, pumpkins filled every porch on Halloween night. They came in every size and shape—round and tall, bumpy and smooth, glowing with orange light. But in the middle of the town square, something very unusual stood out.
It was a pumpkin that wasn’t orange at all. It was bright white, smooth as snow, and it shone faintly under the moonlight. Children whispered about it, calling it “The Ghost Pumpkin” or “The Magic Lantern.”
Ellie, a curious girl with braids, couldn’t stop staring at it. “Why is it white?” she asked her brother Max.
“Maybe it’s cursed,” Max teased, trying to sound spooky. “Or maybe it’s haunted by a ghost!”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Or maybe it has a secret.”
After trick-or-treating, when the crowd thinned, Ellie and Max tiptoed back to the square. The white pumpkin sat quietly in the center, its surface glowing softly. Ellie reached out and touched it. To her surprise, it felt warm.
Suddenly, the pumpkin trembled. A tiny crack appeared at the top, and with a soft pop, a little swirl of silver light rose into the air. The children gasped as the light shaped itself into a smiling face.
“Hello!” the pumpkin said cheerfully.
Max nearly dropped his candy bag. “Did that pumpkin just talk?”
The glowing face nodded. “Yes. I’m the White Pumpkin, and I only wake on Halloween night.”
Ellie leaned closer. “Why are you different from the others?”
The White Pumpkin chuckled, a sound like autumn leaves swirling. “I was grown from a seed kissed by the moon. While orange pumpkins shine with candlelight, I carry stories and secrets inside. Would you like to see?”
The children nodded eagerly. The pumpkin glowed brighter, and silver mist spilled onto the ground, swirling into shapes. Slowly, the mist formed scenes—families carving pumpkins, children playing in costumes, neighbors sharing candy. Each image shimmered like a living memory.
“These are the stories of Halloween,” said the White Pumpkin. “Every year, I collect the laughter and joy of this night. Then I share it with those who are brave enough to find me.”
Max grinned. “That’s amazing! So you’re like a storyteller pumpkin!”
“Exactly,” said the White Pumpkin. “But there’s one more thing. To keep my magic alive, I need a promise.”
Ellie tilted her head. “A promise?”
“Yes,” the pumpkin replied. “Promise me that every Halloween, you’ll share joy—not just candy, but kindness, laughter, and stories. That way, the magic of Halloween never fades.”
Ellie and Max glanced at each other. It seemed like a big responsibility, but they both knew it was the right thing to do.
“We promise,” they said together.
The White Pumpkin glowed so brightly that the whole square shimmered with silver light. Then the glow faded gently, and the pumpkin grew quiet once more, looking like an ordinary white lantern.
The children hurried home, their hearts racing with excitement. That night, as they told their parents about the magical pumpkin, Ellie whispered, “Halloween isn’t just about costumes. It’s about memories.”
Max nodded. “And about keeping promises.”
From that year on, Ellie and Max made sure every Halloween was filled with laughter, kindness, and stories. And each time they passed the town square, they saw the White Pumpkin waiting—silent, glowing, and full of secrets—ready for the next Halloween night.
