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catkoAuthor: catko
Summary: Reaper, PG, with a hint of Andi/Josie.
Word Count: Almost 3,000.
A/N: For the Multi-Fandom Picture Prompt Ficathon hosted by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marishna . The icon is the picture prompt. Thanks as always to the crew at Reaper DMV, who are a constant source of inspiration and hilarity. Especially blue_sunflowers, who told me once about Tualatin, and pacejunkie for her excellent suggestions.
I. When he was little, his mom picked his Halloween costumes. He's seen pictures of himself as a bunny rabbit, a bumblebee. Two years as Superman. It rained the second year, and the color ran off the cape, looking like blood dripping on the blue polyester. But when he was in third grade, he and his friends were into creepy stuff, so he wanted to go as the Grim Reaper. Figured out how to use a black—well, navy blue—pillowcase, worn over his head, pointed corner up. A battle-axe instead of a scythe. Black cape that had been his mom's witch costume once years ago, still smelled like her perfume. He was excited to be scary. But when he put on the outfit, it made him feel weird. Like, creepy inside, and his skin tingled.
He had a plastic pumpkin for his candy. But when they were out trick or treating, he and his friends were horsing around on the sidewalk outside a neighbor's house. They started wrestling. The pillowcase slipped over his eyes, and suddenly he couldn't see. Flailing around, suddenly panicked, he flung his arms out, and felt himself falling. Let go of the handle, and the plastic pumpkin flew out into the street, spraying candy. And got run over by a orange and yellow pick-up truck with red flames on the side. He and his friends ran into the street, but the pumpkin was squashed, and candy was spilled all around. He wanted to cry but...he couldn't. His friends laughed and laughed. His parents seemed to feel bad, and gave him all the leftover candy they'd been giving away. But his excitement about Halloween had been crushed.
The next year, he went as a baseball player, and carried a grocery bag for his candy.
II. When he was eight, he was at a sleepover, and they watched the video "The Nightmare Before Christmas." Nightmare was right. For months after, the image would come back to him—that scary skeleton with the grinning pumpkin head delivering Christmas gifts that would bite you, and the dancing burlap sack bursting out with bugs. Somehow the two merged in his young mind, and he'd picture the bugs skittering, flooding out of that grinning pumpkin mouth, all over his Christmas gifts. Great. Another holiday ruined.
III. The year he turned 21 and became a bounty-hunter for Satan, well, that wasn't the best year. But maybe the lowest point of that whole weird time was Halloween. Andi was mad at him, and he was in the parking lot at the Bench, wearing green tights, a beanie, and that stupid, stupid pumpkin costume.
IV. The year he turned 22, he was on a break from the reaping, and pretending not to think what had happened to his dad. Trying to act normal around his mom. Working at the Bench, drinking at the Brick. Movies and making out with Andi. Wondering when the demon army would show up to kill him.
As October rolled around, Sam started wondering if his break might soon be over. Remembered how last Halloween, the Devil had complained about how none of his employees would work. Figured if there were anything big to do, the Devil would come calling on him. Because his track record of Halloween reaping was so stellar.
In a way it'd be okay with him. It wasn't a bad life, but he felt like he was just biding time. Sock and Josie had drifted back together, and Ben and Casady. So they did some triple dating. Which was fun enough. But his mind wasn't on it, and his heart wasn't in it.
October 31, the Bench was dressed up for Halloween, and so was Ted. That day, it was Gene Simmons of KISS. To add to the fun of the season, Josie came by, breathing fire, looking for Sock who had missed a lunch date. Again. Sam was sitting in the break room with Andi. She'd just started taking night classes, thinking to major in psychology. She was reading the text from her class on The Unconscious and the Subconscious. "Oh, Sam, it's so interesting! Look, last night I had a dream about pumpkins."
"Because it's Halloween? I know I have nightmares about pumpkins right about now. Covered in bugs. But maybe that's just me."
Andi punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Sweetie! Be serious. Here's what it says: To see a pumpkin in your dream, implies openness and your receptiveness to new ideas and experiences. A pumpkin is also symbolic of female sexuality. Alternatively, it may relate to the popular fairy tale of Cinderella where a carriage turns back into a pumpkin. In this regard, it may represent some situation in which time is running out. What do you think it means, Sam?"
"Uhhh. I don't know. It's over my head." He gave her a rueful smile. "You know me. College made me—"
Andi made an impatient gesture. "Yeah, Sam, I know. Sleepy. You keep bringing that up. But I think if you … I mean, you're so smart. If you'd just focus."
Sam felt a flare of anger. "Oh, really, Andi? Why? What would be the point? It's me, remember? I'm doomed for all eternity. Okay, you want me to interpret?" He stabbed his finger at the book, under the picture of the pumpkin. "There, where it says 'time is running out'? That part I do understand. And you should, too."
Andi flinched, and looked scared. Suddenly Sam felt terrible, wishing he'd held his anger in. He leaned toward her, to apologize. But she dropped her eyes back down to the book, murmuring almost to herself. "New ideas and experiences? I wonder what that could be?" Suddenly, she glanced at her watch. "Oh, I gotta get back to the garden section. See you?" He moved forward to kiss her, but she ducked her head, gathered up her book, and hurried out.
Sam got up, went to his locker, and, seeing the tacky masking tape with his name written on it, felt overwhelmed with frustration. He banged the cheap metal door open, then shut. Then slammed it open again for good measure. Loving the clang and metallic rattle. Arrrrgggghhhhh! Then he stopped short. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. As he was opening his eyes again, he felt a sudden rush of wind, felt his feet thud on soft ground. As his eyes came fully open, he—
—was standing outside, on a vast lawn, surrounded by mountains and a cold blue sky. He heard the rustle of the wind in the trees, and a thunk, thunk sound behind him. Trying to reorient himself, suddenly he heard a voice.
"Great to see you, Sam, my boy! How about rounding off your little vacation with a round of golf." He spun around to see the Devil wearing a natty suit, mahogany tan, and blinding smile. Swinging a golf club at a row of small pumpkins. Just like last year, but that was at the Bench, and this was...somewhere else.
"Pumpkin Ridge Golf Resort, Sammy! Just a few miles from Portland, Oregon, at the foot of the Tualatin Mountains!" The Devil gestured with the five-iron. "I've got a share in the development; the condos are selling like hotcakes! Ever seen the like?" Sam shook his head slowly, though strangely the area did look oddly familiar. He knew he'd never been to Oregon, though. Oh, crap, why was he even thinking about it? "No, and what does it matter? Just tell me why I'm here."
"Sam, Sam. Is that any way to greet me? We haven't talked in ... how long? Five months? Pretty nice break, right?"
"You said it would be seven months." Sam said hoarsely, even though, with all that was unspoken between them, he knew that was scarcely the point.
"Now, now, Sam, admit it. You got bored. You can't wait to get back in the saddle. And speaking of, how are things going with that sweet lady of yours? Girl of your dreams, eh? No regrets?" Sam felt a twinge of guilt, but suppressed it. "Never mind that. Let's just get on with it. What's the job this time?"
"Oh, Sam. Always so impatient. I wouldn't have called you in if it wasn't absolutely necessary. This is one that can only be caught on Halloween—he only comes out on this night. Actually, his is a fascinating tale. The originator of the jack o'lantern. Stingy Jack. Crazy farmer, back in what we now call Ireland." The Devil's looked out over the hills. Shook his head; straightened his tie. "Tried to pull one over on Yours Truly. Trapped me in a tree, in fact." A slight shadow crossed his face. "Would only let me down if I promised not to send him to Hell for all Eternity." He chuckled to himself, but his eyes looked grim, his teeth slightly clenched. "Oh, yes, I promised. But the joke was on him. You see, he'd done too much ill to go to Heaven, either. So, when he died, his soul was doomed to roam the Earth forever. Carved a turnip to carry. And I deigned to give him a burning ember"--for a second it looked as though his eyes glowed red—"to toss in there to light his way. But he found a way to get back at me. To make himself so evil that Hell couldn't keep him out. So he performs his dire deeds on Halloween night. Tries to ruin it for all the little kiddies out there. The occasional abduction. Random razor blades. No, that is no urban legend. It happens." All at once the Devil seemed almost gleeful. Rubbed his hands together. "Sabotaging Halloween. Rather hate to stop him. But, after all, a soul is a soul. The more the better, eh, Sammy?" He clapped Sam on the back.
Sam was in a daze, not sure what to make of the story. But, that was another thing that hardly mattered. "Just give me the vessel and let me get on with it, okay? I take it I have to go somewhere kids are trick-or-treating?"
"That is correct, my boy. Should be fun for you? Bring back memories of your happy childhood? It was happy, right?" Sam felt a clutch in his gut, with images of his dad, his mom, and that superman costume swirling in his mind. Closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them…he had his hand on the slightly-dented door of his locker, looking down at the opened vessel box on the floor. Inside was a hollow, bright orange, grinning plastic pumpkin head with handle. Just like the one he'd had when he was six. Last seen in the middle of the street squashed flat, spilling smushed caramels, coiling red vines, and Tootsie-roll pops onto the asphalt.
V. Later that night, Sam parked his car outside the Brick. Sat for a moment, shoulders slumped. It was the first soul-reaping he'd done on his own. He'd avoided telling Sock and Ben—and Andi, god, Andi—not wanting them to know he was back on the job. Let them enjoy Halloween, even though they'd agreed a week ago not to do costumes. After what they'd seen the past year, scary costumes had kind of lost their mystique. Anyway, it was done. He'd nabbed the soul in a quiet neighborhood with no kids in sight. This time it was a little—juicy, though. Not like an electric current or spinning light show. Everything had whomped into the pumpkin, and you could see it like a quivering mass. Ugh.
Plus, with the DMV closed for the night, and all through the weekend, he'd have to hang on to the vessel until Monday. Wrapped it in a Hefty bag in the back seat.
Sam sighed, and gathered himself to go inside. Maybe this would be the start of him distancing himself from the others, with the reaping that is. Try to go it on his own.
The Brick was pretty lively, though not many costumes had made it this late into the night. Sam made his way to the table in the corner, under the drooping cobwebs-and-bats hanging off the beer signs, where Sock and Ben were sitting. On the way back there, he heard a peal of laughter from the bar, and saw Andi and Josie sitting almost nose to nose, talking avidly. He paused, then shook his head and continued to the table, where Ben was already pouring him a mug from the pitcher of beer. Sock was squinting toward the bar. “Yeah, she’s hurtin’ bad. Only a matter of time she comes crawling back.” Ben looked dubiously at the two women, laughing uproariously. “I don’t know, Sock, they look like they’re having a pretty good time.”
“Naw, we’re better off without them. What better way to spend Halloween, drinking beer with men? Right? Right, Sammy, my boy?”
“Huh?” Sam looked up from staring into his beer. “What?” Ben stared. “What’s your problem, Sam? Is everything okay? Why are you sitting here, and Andi over there?”
Sam grimaced. "One, she had plans with Josie, and Josie doesn’t want to see Sock. Two—" He held up a second finger, then stared at it and fell silent. Shook himself. “It’s just...I mean, I really care about Andi, she’s like my dream girl and I wanted us to get together for so long, but now...now that we’re together, it’s like…I'm not sure it's right.”
“Oh boo hoo. Hey, that reminds me, I found these great Halloween jokes online. Lemme tell you—"
Sam's attention drifted, his head filled with the noise of the bar, and the vision of Andi and Josie looking so intent. Something was up, there, but he couldn't muster the focus to even think it through.
"So, oh, oh, get this. Here's another one." Sock waved his hand while Sam and Ben looked at each other disgustedly. "Why do jack-o-lanterns have stupid smiles on their faces? Huh? You'd have a stupid smile, too, if you just had all your brains scooped out!" As Ben groaned and picked up his shot glass, Sam suddenly felt dizzy. He flashed back on the soul he'd captured that night. Remembered the feeling of it swooshing into the vessel between his hands, like the life force was there, then gone. Wondered if he'd ever be able to laugh at a joke again.
The image of the vessel with its quivering contents made him think, oddly, of the picture in Andi's dream book, and the words came back to him: "...female sexuality...new experiences...Cinderella...time running out." He looked again at Andi and Josie, at the bar, laughing. Felt a sense of dread and foreboding steal over him. And he knew he and the Devil had yet another thing in common.
Sam really, really, really hated Halloween.
dutch_evilalex. Jack O'Lantern myth courtesy Wikipedia. Dream interpretation from www.brilliantdreams.com.
Summary: Reaper, PG, with a hint of Andi/Josie.
Word Count: Almost 3,000.
A/N: For the Multi-Fandom Picture Prompt Ficathon hosted by
marishna . The icon is the picture prompt. Thanks as always to the crew at Reaper DMV, who are a constant source of inspiration and hilarity. Especially blue_sunflowers, who told me once about Tualatin, and pacejunkie for her excellent suggestions.I. When he was little, his mom picked his Halloween costumes. He's seen pictures of himself as a bunny rabbit, a bumblebee. Two years as Superman. It rained the second year, and the color ran off the cape, looking like blood dripping on the blue polyester. But when he was in third grade, he and his friends were into creepy stuff, so he wanted to go as the Grim Reaper. Figured out how to use a black—well, navy blue—pillowcase, worn over his head, pointed corner up. A battle-axe instead of a scythe. Black cape that had been his mom's witch costume once years ago, still smelled like her perfume. He was excited to be scary. But when he put on the outfit, it made him feel weird. Like, creepy inside, and his skin tingled.
He had a plastic pumpkin for his candy. But when they were out trick or treating, he and his friends were horsing around on the sidewalk outside a neighbor's house. They started wrestling. The pillowcase slipped over his eyes, and suddenly he couldn't see. Flailing around, suddenly panicked, he flung his arms out, and felt himself falling. Let go of the handle, and the plastic pumpkin flew out into the street, spraying candy. And got run over by a orange and yellow pick-up truck with red flames on the side. He and his friends ran into the street, but the pumpkin was squashed, and candy was spilled all around. He wanted to cry but...he couldn't. His friends laughed and laughed. His parents seemed to feel bad, and gave him all the leftover candy they'd been giving away. But his excitement about Halloween had been crushed.
The next year, he went as a baseball player, and carried a grocery bag for his candy.
II. When he was eight, he was at a sleepover, and they watched the video "The Nightmare Before Christmas." Nightmare was right. For months after, the image would come back to him—that scary skeleton with the grinning pumpkin head delivering Christmas gifts that would bite you, and the dancing burlap sack bursting out with bugs. Somehow the two merged in his young mind, and he'd picture the bugs skittering, flooding out of that grinning pumpkin mouth, all over his Christmas gifts. Great. Another holiday ruined.
III. The year he turned 21 and became a bounty-hunter for Satan, well, that wasn't the best year. But maybe the lowest point of that whole weird time was Halloween. Andi was mad at him, and he was in the parking lot at the Bench, wearing green tights, a beanie, and that stupid, stupid pumpkin costume.
IV. The year he turned 22, he was on a break from the reaping, and pretending not to think what had happened to his dad. Trying to act normal around his mom. Working at the Bench, drinking at the Brick. Movies and making out with Andi. Wondering when the demon army would show up to kill him.
As October rolled around, Sam started wondering if his break might soon be over. Remembered how last Halloween, the Devil had complained about how none of his employees would work. Figured if there were anything big to do, the Devil would come calling on him. Because his track record of Halloween reaping was so stellar.
In a way it'd be okay with him. It wasn't a bad life, but he felt like he was just biding time. Sock and Josie had drifted back together, and Ben and Casady. So they did some triple dating. Which was fun enough. But his mind wasn't on it, and his heart wasn't in it.
October 31, the Bench was dressed up for Halloween, and so was Ted. That day, it was Gene Simmons of KISS. To add to the fun of the season, Josie came by, breathing fire, looking for Sock who had missed a lunch date. Again. Sam was sitting in the break room with Andi. She'd just started taking night classes, thinking to major in psychology. She was reading the text from her class on The Unconscious and the Subconscious. "Oh, Sam, it's so interesting! Look, last night I had a dream about pumpkins."
"Because it's Halloween? I know I have nightmares about pumpkins right about now. Covered in bugs. But maybe that's just me."
Andi punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Sweetie! Be serious. Here's what it says: To see a pumpkin in your dream, implies openness and your receptiveness to new ideas and experiences. A pumpkin is also symbolic of female sexuality. Alternatively, it may relate to the popular fairy tale of Cinderella where a carriage turns back into a pumpkin. In this regard, it may represent some situation in which time is running out. What do you think it means, Sam?"
"Uhhh. I don't know. It's over my head." He gave her a rueful smile. "You know me. College made me—"
Andi made an impatient gesture. "Yeah, Sam, I know. Sleepy. You keep bringing that up. But I think if you … I mean, you're so smart. If you'd just focus."
Sam felt a flare of anger. "Oh, really, Andi? Why? What would be the point? It's me, remember? I'm doomed for all eternity. Okay, you want me to interpret?" He stabbed his finger at the book, under the picture of the pumpkin. "There, where it says 'time is running out'? That part I do understand. And you should, too."
Andi flinched, and looked scared. Suddenly Sam felt terrible, wishing he'd held his anger in. He leaned toward her, to apologize. But she dropped her eyes back down to the book, murmuring almost to herself. "New ideas and experiences? I wonder what that could be?" Suddenly, she glanced at her watch. "Oh, I gotta get back to the garden section. See you?" He moved forward to kiss her, but she ducked her head, gathered up her book, and hurried out.
Sam got up, went to his locker, and, seeing the tacky masking tape with his name written on it, felt overwhelmed with frustration. He banged the cheap metal door open, then shut. Then slammed it open again for good measure. Loving the clang and metallic rattle. Arrrrgggghhhhh! Then he stopped short. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. As he was opening his eyes again, he felt a sudden rush of wind, felt his feet thud on soft ground. As his eyes came fully open, he—
—was standing outside, on a vast lawn, surrounded by mountains and a cold blue sky. He heard the rustle of the wind in the trees, and a thunk, thunk sound behind him. Trying to reorient himself, suddenly he heard a voice.
"Great to see you, Sam, my boy! How about rounding off your little vacation with a round of golf." He spun around to see the Devil wearing a natty suit, mahogany tan, and blinding smile. Swinging a golf club at a row of small pumpkins. Just like last year, but that was at the Bench, and this was...somewhere else.
"Pumpkin Ridge Golf Resort, Sammy! Just a few miles from Portland, Oregon, at the foot of the Tualatin Mountains!" The Devil gestured with the five-iron. "I've got a share in the development; the condos are selling like hotcakes! Ever seen the like?" Sam shook his head slowly, though strangely the area did look oddly familiar. He knew he'd never been to Oregon, though. Oh, crap, why was he even thinking about it? "No, and what does it matter? Just tell me why I'm here."
"Sam, Sam. Is that any way to greet me? We haven't talked in ... how long? Five months? Pretty nice break, right?"
"You said it would be seven months." Sam said hoarsely, even though, with all that was unspoken between them, he knew that was scarcely the point.
"Now, now, Sam, admit it. You got bored. You can't wait to get back in the saddle. And speaking of, how are things going with that sweet lady of yours? Girl of your dreams, eh? No regrets?" Sam felt a twinge of guilt, but suppressed it. "Never mind that. Let's just get on with it. What's the job this time?"
"Oh, Sam. Always so impatient. I wouldn't have called you in if it wasn't absolutely necessary. This is one that can only be caught on Halloween—he only comes out on this night. Actually, his is a fascinating tale. The originator of the jack o'lantern. Stingy Jack. Crazy farmer, back in what we now call Ireland." The Devil's looked out over the hills. Shook his head; straightened his tie. "Tried to pull one over on Yours Truly. Trapped me in a tree, in fact." A slight shadow crossed his face. "Would only let me down if I promised not to send him to Hell for all Eternity." He chuckled to himself, but his eyes looked grim, his teeth slightly clenched. "Oh, yes, I promised. But the joke was on him. You see, he'd done too much ill to go to Heaven, either. So, when he died, his soul was doomed to roam the Earth forever. Carved a turnip to carry. And I deigned to give him a burning ember"--for a second it looked as though his eyes glowed red—"to toss in there to light his way. But he found a way to get back at me. To make himself so evil that Hell couldn't keep him out. So he performs his dire deeds on Halloween night. Tries to ruin it for all the little kiddies out there. The occasional abduction. Random razor blades. No, that is no urban legend. It happens." All at once the Devil seemed almost gleeful. Rubbed his hands together. "Sabotaging Halloween. Rather hate to stop him. But, after all, a soul is a soul. The more the better, eh, Sammy?" He clapped Sam on the back.
Sam was in a daze, not sure what to make of the story. But, that was another thing that hardly mattered. "Just give me the vessel and let me get on with it, okay? I take it I have to go somewhere kids are trick-or-treating?"
"That is correct, my boy. Should be fun for you? Bring back memories of your happy childhood? It was happy, right?" Sam felt a clutch in his gut, with images of his dad, his mom, and that superman costume swirling in his mind. Closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them…he had his hand on the slightly-dented door of his locker, looking down at the opened vessel box on the floor. Inside was a hollow, bright orange, grinning plastic pumpkin head with handle. Just like the one he'd had when he was six. Last seen in the middle of the street squashed flat, spilling smushed caramels, coiling red vines, and Tootsie-roll pops onto the asphalt.
V. Later that night, Sam parked his car outside the Brick. Sat for a moment, shoulders slumped. It was the first soul-reaping he'd done on his own. He'd avoided telling Sock and Ben—and Andi, god, Andi—not wanting them to know he was back on the job. Let them enjoy Halloween, even though they'd agreed a week ago not to do costumes. After what they'd seen the past year, scary costumes had kind of lost their mystique. Anyway, it was done. He'd nabbed the soul in a quiet neighborhood with no kids in sight. This time it was a little—juicy, though. Not like an electric current or spinning light show. Everything had whomped into the pumpkin, and you could see it like a quivering mass. Ugh.
Plus, with the DMV closed for the night, and all through the weekend, he'd have to hang on to the vessel until Monday. Wrapped it in a Hefty bag in the back seat.
Sam sighed, and gathered himself to go inside. Maybe this would be the start of him distancing himself from the others, with the reaping that is. Try to go it on his own.
The Brick was pretty lively, though not many costumes had made it this late into the night. Sam made his way to the table in the corner, under the drooping cobwebs-and-bats hanging off the beer signs, where Sock and Ben were sitting. On the way back there, he heard a peal of laughter from the bar, and saw Andi and Josie sitting almost nose to nose, talking avidly. He paused, then shook his head and continued to the table, where Ben was already pouring him a mug from the pitcher of beer. Sock was squinting toward the bar. “Yeah, she’s hurtin’ bad. Only a matter of time she comes crawling back.” Ben looked dubiously at the two women, laughing uproariously. “I don’t know, Sock, they look like they’re having a pretty good time.”
“Naw, we’re better off without them. What better way to spend Halloween, drinking beer with men? Right? Right, Sammy, my boy?”
“Huh?” Sam looked up from staring into his beer. “What?” Ben stared. “What’s your problem, Sam? Is everything okay? Why are you sitting here, and Andi over there?”
Sam grimaced. "One, she had plans with Josie, and Josie doesn’t want to see Sock. Two—" He held up a second finger, then stared at it and fell silent. Shook himself. “It’s just...I mean, I really care about Andi, she’s like my dream girl and I wanted us to get together for so long, but now...now that we’re together, it’s like…I'm not sure it's right.”
“Oh boo hoo. Hey, that reminds me, I found these great Halloween jokes online. Lemme tell you—"
Sam's attention drifted, his head filled with the noise of the bar, and the vision of Andi and Josie looking so intent. Something was up, there, but he couldn't muster the focus to even think it through.
"So, oh, oh, get this. Here's another one." Sock waved his hand while Sam and Ben looked at each other disgustedly. "Why do jack-o-lanterns have stupid smiles on their faces? Huh? You'd have a stupid smile, too, if you just had all your brains scooped out!" As Ben groaned and picked up his shot glass, Sam suddenly felt dizzy. He flashed back on the soul he'd captured that night. Remembered the feeling of it swooshing into the vessel between his hands, like the life force was there, then gone. Wondered if he'd ever be able to laugh at a joke again.
The image of the vessel with its quivering contents made him think, oddly, of the picture in Andi's dream book, and the words came back to him: "...female sexuality...new experiences...Cinderella...time running out." He looked again at Andi and Josie, at the bar, laughing. Felt a sense of dread and foreboding steal over him. And he knew he and the Devil had yet another thing in common.
Sam really, really, really hated Halloween.
Banner by
dutch_evilalex. Jack O'Lantern myth courtesy Wikipedia. Dream interpretation from www.brilliantdreams.com.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-30 06:19 pm (UTC)It's my first experience with something this long; it's tough! I appreciate the feedback, as always, pace.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-30 06:25 pm (UTC)Oh I wouldn't go that far, I like the structure and I think most of it works very well together. All you would really need to do if you wanted is to tighten up that final bar scene making it all Sam's POV and eliminate whatever dialogue doesn't directly relate to your pumpkin theme. That would probably do it.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-31 07:29 pm (UTC)