Hey all, got inspired by an old art pic I found I did, and thought I’d expand the story on it for Halloween. I had a little help with ChatGPT to flesh out the idea, but the bulk of the story is mine. Hope you guys like it!
If you wish to see the women who inspired the victims, send me a message!
Chapter 1: The Disappearances
The hospital was buzzing with rumors by the time Emily noticed that Sam H, Sam B, and Dana hadn’t shown up for their shifts. Sara had disappeared first, then Dana, and now both Sams. The mounting dread weighed heavily on Emily, who, just a week ago, had shrugged it all off as nothing more than coincidence. But four coworkers, all vanishing without a trace, and all after mentioning the same pumpkin patch on the outskirts of town—it was more than coincidence now.
Dana had been so excited about that pumpkin patch. Emily remembered how Dana had gone on and on about the place, her eyes lighting up as she described the pumpkins that were supposedly “the best in the region for carving.” The same patch had come up in conversation with both Sams too. None of them seemed concerned—just eager to win the hospital’s annual Halloween carving contest.
But now, as Emily stood alone in the empty break room, the chill in the air gnawing at her nerves, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing suspicion that something terrible had happened.
That night, as Emily lay in bed, she found herself thinking of the last thing Dana had said before leaving the hospital that fateful day: “I’m going to find the biggest pumpkin ever! You wait!” It had been said in such a lighthearted tone, but now, those words echoed in Emily’s mind with a sinister edge.
She had to find out what happened. Emily was the last one left, and her gut told her that the pumpkin patch was connected. She couldn’t shake the growing sense of dread, but she knew one thing: if she didn’t go out there, she might never see her friends again.
Chapter 2: Eliza the Witch
Long before the pumpkin patch had fallen into disrepair, the land had belonged to Eliza—a powerful witch with a sinister obsession. Eliza lived for the sound of laughter. Not just any laughter, though. No, she craved the perfect laugh—the kind of laughter that could only be drawn out through relentless, unbearable tickling.
It all started centuries ago, when Eliza, an outcast from the nearby town, had been scorned for her peculiar ways. The townspeople shunned her for her strange love of tickling, seeing it as twisted and unnatural. Furious at being cast out, Eliza retreated deep into the woods and used her powers to curse the land. The pumpkin patch, once a thriving farm, became her domain—a place where she could exact her revenge on those who dared to enter.
But Eliza’s curse wasn’t one of mere physical torment. It was psychological. She lured her victims in, drawing them with promises of the best pumpkins, and then, one by one, she would ensnare them. Her magic gave her control over the vines that grew in the patch—vines that moved like serpents, winding their way around her prey, immobilizing them, stripping them of their shoes and socks, and exposing their most vulnerable spots: the soles of their feet.
For Eliza, it wasn’t enough to hear her victims laugh—she needed to own their laughter. She would tickle them endlessly, forcing out giggles, cackles, shrieks, and sobs, but she was never satisfied. She was always searching for the perfect laugh, a sound so pure and melodic that it would quench her insatiable need.
And so, every year, she waited, hoping that the next group of unfortunate souls who wandered into her cursed patch would hold the key to the laughter she so desperately craved.
Chapter 3: Dana’s Fate
Dana had arrived at the pumpkin patch at dusk, the sky a deepening orange as the sun sank below the horizon. She was filled with excitement, imagining the massive pumpkin she would bring back to the hospital, winning the carving contest by a landslide. She parked her car just outside the patch and eagerly hopped out, her boots crunching on the dry leaves that lined the path.
As Dana wandered deeper into the field, her eyes scanned the rows of enormous pumpkins, her grin widening with each step. Some of them were so large they looked as though they could swallow her whole. But it wasn’t just the size of the pumpkins that caught her attention—it was the strange, almost inviting way the vines curled around the ground, as if beckoning her closer.
She bent down to examine one particularly enormous pumpkin, reaching out to touch its smooth, cool surface. Suddenly, something tightened around her ankle. She looked down to see a vine—thick, green, and pulsing—slowly winding its way up her leg.
“What the—?” Dana’s voice trailed off as more vines shot out from the earth, wrapping around her other leg, then her arms, pulling her down to the ground.
She struggled, trying to free herself, but the vines were impossibly strong. They coiled tighter, immobilizing her as she felt the cool evening air brush against her skin. Then, to her horror, the vines began to pull at her boots, unlacing them with precision.
“No! No, no, no! Let me go!” Dana shrieked, thrashing her legs in vain, but the vines were relentless. Her boots were yanked off, one after the other, leaving her in just her thick wool socks.
But it didn’t stop there. The vines crept up her legs and tugged at her socks, slowly peeling them off, inch by inch, until her bare feet were exposed to the chilly air.
Dana’s breath hitched as she felt the vines slither over the delicate skin of her soles, their touch light at first, almost teasing. But then the tickling began in earnest.
“Hahaha! No! Please, stop!” Dana’s laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as the vines slid between her toes, brushing against the sensitive arch of her foot. Her body convulsed with hysterics as the relentless vines explored every inch of her feet, their touch maddening.
The tickling was unbearable, the sensations overwhelming. Dana thrashed and screamed, her laughter echoing through the empty patch. The more she struggled, the tighter the vines gripped her, holding her in place as they focused on her most sensitive spots—her soles and the tender spaces between her toes.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Please, I can’t—I can’t take it! HAHAHAHA!” Dana’s voice cracked as tears streamed down her face, but the vines didn’t relent. They moved with purpose, tickling her into a state of helplessness.
Suddenly, Dana heard a voice—a soft, cold voice that sent shivers down her spine.
“Such lovely laughter,” the voice cooed. “But it’s not quite right.”
Through her tear-blurred vision, Dana saw her. Eliza.
The witch stepped out from the shadows, her dark cloak billowing around her as she approached. She knelt beside Dana, her eyes gleaming with cruel delight.
“You’re almost perfect, my dear,” Eliza said, her fingers grazing Dana’s flushed cheek. “But your laughter…it’s not the one I’m looking for.”
With a wave of her hand, the vines intensified their attack, focusing on the undersides of Dana’s toes, making her scream with fresh peals of hysterical laughter.
“You’ll laugh forever in my patch,” Eliza whispered. “Until I find the one who is just right.”
Chapter 4: Sam H’s Torture
Sam H had always been cautious, but something about the pumpkin patch called to her that night. She couldn’t explain it, but as she drove down the narrow dirt road, her mind was consumed with thoughts of Dana, Sara, and the others. She hadn’t heard from them in days, and the nagging feeling in her chest told her the pumpkin patch had something to do with it.
When she arrived, the air was thick with mist, and the pumpkins loomed like silent sentinels in the moonlight. She parked her car and stepped out, her heart pounding in her chest as she ventured into the eerie quiet of the field.
It didn’t take long for the vines to find her.
Before she could react, they shot out from the ground, wrapping around her ankles and pulling her to the ground. Sam screamed, thrashing wildly, but the vines were relentless. They twisted around her wrists and legs, pinning her down as they slowly worked their way toward her feet.
Her shoes were the first to go. The vines tugged at the laces, pulling them loose and sliding her sneakers off with ease. Sam’s breath hitched as her socks followed, peeled away by the persistent vines until her bare feet were exposed.
“No…no! Not my feet!” she cried, her voice trembling.
But the vines didn’t listen. They began to tickle her soles with a feathery touch, sending jolts of unbearable sensation shooting up her legs. Sam’s body convulsed with laughter, her hands clawing at the ground as she tried to escape the relentless assault on her feet.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Stop! Please, I can’t—HAHAHAHAHA!”
The witch appeared, watching with gleaming eyes as Sam H’s laughter filled the air. But, just like with Dana, Eliza’s face twisted with disappointment.
“Your laughter…it’s lovely,” Eliza mused, her voice low. “But it’s still not quite right.”
Chapter 5: Sam B’s Trial
Sam B was always the skeptic, the one who laughed off urban legends and eerie coincidences. But by the time her friends had disappeared one by one, her skepticism began to waver. She had heard the rumors—the strange stories about the pumpkin patch on the outskirts of town—but she never believed them, at least not until Dana, Sam H, and Sara vanished.
It wasn’t like them to just disappear without a word. When she had last spoken to Dana, her friend had been full of excitement about finding the perfect pumpkin for the hospital’s Halloween contest. That was the last time anyone had heard from her. Now, as Sam B stood in the hospital parking lot, staring at her phone, she could feel the weight of fear settling in her chest.
“I have to know,” she muttered to herself, pocketing her phone and getting into her car. She couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling any longer. She had to go to the pumpkin patch herself. Maybe she’d find nothing, or maybe she’d find answers.
The drive was tense. The further she got from town, the darker and more isolated the road became. By the time she reached the entrance to the patch, the sky had darkened completely, and the only light came from the moon, casting long shadows over the field of towering pumpkins.
As soon as Sam stepped out of her car, an eerie feeling washed over her. The air was thick, almost suffocating, and the silence was unsettling. She could see the massive pumpkins in the distance, their orange forms glowing faintly in the moonlight.
She took a deep breath and made her way into the patch, her footsteps crunching on the dry leaves beneath her feet. The further she went, the more uneasy she became. The pumpkins seemed too perfect, too large, as though they had been carefully cultivated for something more than just Halloween decoration.
Suddenly, Sam felt something brush against her ankle. She looked down, her breath catching in her throat as she saw a vine slowly curling around her leg. She tried to step back, but another vine shot out from the ground, wrapping around her other leg.
Panic surged through her as she yanked at the vines, trying to free herself, but they were strong—unnaturally strong. The more she struggled, the tighter they wrapped around her legs, pulling her down to the ground.
“Let me go!” Sam shouted, her voice echoing through the empty field. But there was no one to hear her. The vines continued to wind around her body, immobilizing her as she felt something tug at her shoes.
She watched in horror as the vines began to pull at the laces of her sneakers, slowly unlacing them with a precision that made her skin crawl. Her shoes slipped off one by one, exposing her feet to the cool night air. But the vines weren’t finished. They coiled around her ankles and started to peel off her socks, inch by inch, until her bare feet were completely exposed.
“No…no, please,” Sam whispered, her voice trembling with fear.
The vines didn’t listen. They slithered over her soles, the touch light at first, but enough to make her flinch. Then the tickling began in earnest.
“Hahaha! No! Stop!” Sam’s laughter burst from her lips as the vines brushed against the sensitive skin of her feet, teasing the arches and slipping between her toes. The tickling was maddening, relentless, as the vines seemed to know exactly where she was most sensitive.
The more she laughed, the tighter the vines held her, their touch growing more insistent as they explored every inch of her feet. Sam’s body convulsed with laughter, her mind spinning as the sensation became too much to bear.
“HAHAHAHA! Stop! I can’t—HAHAHAHAHA!” Sam’s voice cracked as tears of laughter streamed down her face. The vines danced across her soles, their touch impossibly light and torturous. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—only laugh.
Then she heard it. A voice. Soft, almost a whisper, but filled with a cold, malicious delight.
“Ahhh…another lovely laugh,” the voice cooed. “But is it the one I seek?”
Sam’s laughter was cut off as she looked up and saw her. Eliza, the witch who controlled the cursed pumpkin patch, stood before her, her eyes gleaming with dark amusement. She was tall, her figure shrouded in a long, tattered cloak, her hands outstretched as though she were savoring every moment of Sam’s torment.
Eliza knelt beside Sam’s bound form, her fingers grazing Sam’s bare feet, sending another wave of ticklish sensation up her legs.
“You’re so close, my dear,” Eliza murmured, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “But your laughter…it’s not quite perfect.”
With a flick of her wrist, Eliza commanded the vines to intensify their assault, focusing on the tender spaces between Sam’s toes and the soft undersides of her feet. Sam screamed with laughter, her body shaking as the tickling became unbearable.
“I—HAHAHAHA—please—stop!” Sam begged between fits of hysterical laughter, but Eliza’s smile only widened.
“I will find it,” the witch whispered, her voice soft and menacing. “I will find the perfect laugh.”
Chapter 6: Emily’s Arrival
Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. It had been days since she’d last seen or heard from her coworkers, and every attempt she made to contact them had gone unanswered. It wasn’t just the disappearances that bothered her—it was the eerie rumors surrounding the pumpkin patch.
Dana, Sam H, and Sam B had all mentioned it in passing before they vanished. It was a small, obscure patch on the outskirts of town, but according to the stories, it was said to be cursed. People who went there never returned. The pumpkins were supposed to be the best for carving—large, vibrant, and perfect. But there was something more sinister lurking beneath the surface, something that no one could explain.
Emily had always been rational, the kind of person who didn’t believe in ghosts or curses. But as the days passed and her friends remained missing, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing dread that filled her every time she thought about that pumpkin patch.
It was late one evening when Emily made up her mind. She couldn’t sit back and wait any longer. She needed to find out what had happened, even if that meant going to the patch herself. She grabbed her coat, her phone, and a flashlight before heading out to her car.
The drive felt longer than it should have. The road was narrow and winding, the trees closing in on either side as Emily made her way toward the outskirts of town. The closer she got, the heavier the air seemed to become, pressing down on her chest like a weight.
When she finally arrived, the patch was eerily quiet. The massive pumpkins loomed like shadows in the moonlight, their round forms glowing faintly against the darkness. Emily parked her car and stepped out, her heart pounding in her chest.
As she made her way into the patch, the air grew colder, and the ground beneath her feet felt unnaturally soft. There was something about the place that felt wrong, like the very earth was alive, waiting.
“Dana? Sam?” Emily called out, her voice barely a whisper in the stillness.
There was no response. Only silence.
She ventured further into the patch, her breath coming in short, quick bursts as her nerves tightened with each step. She could see the rows of massive pumpkins stretching out in front of her, but something caught her eye. Movement.
Emily turned, her flashlight beam cutting through the darkness, and froze. In the distance, she saw them. Pumpkins. But they weren’t just pumpkins. They had faces. The faces of her friends—Dana, Sam H, and Sam B—carved into the glowing orange flesh, their expressions twisted in a grotesque mix of laughter and terror.
“No…no, this can’t be real,” Emily whispered, her stomach churning with fear.
Before she could react, she felt something wrap around her ankle. She looked down, her heart leaping into her throat as she saw the vines—thick, writhing tendrils snaking up her leg. She tried to pull away, but the vines tightened their grip, yanking her down to the ground.
Emily screamed, thrashing as the vines coiled around her legs, her arms, pulling her down until she was immobilized. Her shoes were the first to go, the vines deftly unlacing them and slipping them off her feet. Her socks followed, peeled away with slow, deliberate precision.
Her bare feet were exposed to the cool night air, and before she could comprehend what was happening, the tickling began.
Chapter 7: The Witch’s Favorite
Emily’s heart pounded in her chest as the vines wrapped tighter around her limbs, rendering her completely helpless. She was pinned on the cold, damp ground of the pumpkin patch, her arms stretched out above her head and her legs held apart by the thick, writhing tendrils. The night air was heavy with the scent of earth and decay, and her breath came in shallow gasps as fear gripped her.
Her bare feet, now exposed to the cool night air after the vines had carefully stripped away her shoes and socks, tingled with the sensation of the cool breeze. But that tingle was nothing compared to what was coming.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw her. The witch.
Eliza emerged from the shadows like a phantom, her dark cloak billowing around her as if it were alive. Her eyes glowed with a predatory gleam, and a twisted smile curled at her lips as she approached, her footsteps eerily silent on the soft earth.
“Well, well, well,” Eliza purred, her voice soft and mocking. “It looks like I’ve found my last little guest. And you, my dear, I have been saving for something special.”
Emily tried to speak, to plead, but her throat felt dry, her voice stolen by the overwhelming fear that gripped her. All she could do was stare up at the witch as she knelt beside her, her hands reaching out to graze Emily’s exposed, vulnerable feet.
“I’ve had so much fun with your friends,” Eliza continued, her tone playful, almost giddy. “They laughed and laughed for hours, but none of them gave me what I needed. Their laughter, while delightful, just wasn’t… perfect.”
Her fingers lightly brushed against Emily’s soles, sending an electric jolt up her legs. It wasn’t a tickle yet, just a faint touch, but it was enough to make Emily flinch, her toes curling involuntarily.
Eliza’s smile widened at the reaction, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh, you’re sensitive, aren’t you? That’s good. That’s very good. But we’re only just beginning.”
The witch sat down beside Emily’s feet, her fingers hovering just above her soles as if savoring the moment before she began. Emily’s entire body tensed, her breath hitching as she prepared for what she knew was coming.
And then it began.
Eliza’s fingers made contact with Emily’s soles, starting with a light, feathery touch. The witch’s fingertips glided over the soft arches of Emily’s feet, barely grazing the skin, but the sensation was enough to make Emily’s body jerk as a helpless giggle escaped her lips.
“Hehehehe! No… please…!”
The words were barely audible, muffled by the bubbling laughter that spilled out of Emily’s mouth. The touch was maddening—so light, so delicate, but impossibly effective. The witch’s fingers danced over her feet with an eerie precision, as if she knew exactly where Emily was most sensitive.
“Oh, you have such a lovely laugh already,” Eliza teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “But we’re only just getting started. Let’s see how much more you have to give.”
With that, the witch changed tactics. Her fingers moved with more purpose now, scratching lightly along the ball of Emily’s foot, just beneath her toes. Emily’s reaction was immediate. Her laughter exploded, her body thrashing against the vines that held her in place.
“HAHAHAHA! NOOOO! PLEASE! HAHAHAHA!”
The witch giggled with delight as she watched Emily squirm, her fingers now focusing on the spaces between her toes. Eliza used her sharp nails to gently scratch the delicate skin between each of Emily’s toes, one by one, as if she were playing a delicate instrument. Emily’s laughter turned desperate, her voice cracking as she struggled to breathe between the hysterical giggles.
“Ticklish here, aren’t we?” Eliza taunted, her fingers moving to Emily’s other foot, repeating the same excruciating process. She teased and tormented each individual toe, her fingers slipping between them, sending waves of ticklish agony through Emily’s body. “Oh, I think we’ve found your weak spot.”
Emily was beside herself with laughter. Her entire body ached from the relentless tickling, her feet tingling with the sensation of Eliza’s fingers dancing over her skin. She tried to pull away, to somehow escape the torment, but the vines held her fast, leaving her at the mercy of the witch.
“HAHAHAHA! NOOOO! I CAN’T—HAHAHAHAHA!” Emily’s laughter was raw, uncontrollable, and it only seemed to encourage the witch further.
But Eliza wasn’t done. She had more tricks up her sleeve.
“Let’s try something new,” the witch said, her tone filled with dark excitement. She waved her hand, and the vines responded. Several smaller, thinner tendrils slithered toward Emily’s feet, their tips brushing against her toes with feather-light touches. These new vines were even more sensitive than the witch’s fingers, and they explored every inch of Emily’s soles with excruciating precision.
Emily screamed with laughter as the vines wrapped themselves around her toes, pulling them apart gently, exposing the soft skin between them. The tiny tendrils tickled the delicate spaces, flicking and teasing in ways that made Emily’s mind spin with the intensity.
“HAHAHAHA! NOOO! NOT THERE! PLEASE! HAHAHAHA!” Emily’s voice was hoarse from laughing, but the witch only smiled wider.
“Oh, yes… there,” Eliza cooed. “Right there. That’s where it tickles the most, isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your laugh. This is the spot that drives you wild.”
The vines twisted and wriggled, their tips brushing over every sensitive part of Emily’s feet, especially the arches, the balls of her feet, and those torturous spaces between her toes. Emily’s body convulsed with laughter, her mind overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensations.
Eliza leaned closer, her voice soft but menacing. “You’ll laugh for me forever, my dear. I’ll have your laughter—every last bit of it. And you know what? I think you might be the one I’ve been waiting for.”
With a wave of her hand, Eliza intensified the tickling. Her fingers returned to Emily’s soles, joining the vines in their torment. She scribbled her nails along the arches of Emily’s feet, while the vines continued their merciless attack on her toes. The combined sensation was too much for Emily to bear. She thrashed wildly, her laughter turning into silent gasps as her body convulsed with ticklish agony.
“HAHAHAHA! STOP! PLEASE! I CAN’T—HAHAHAHAHA!” Emily’s voice was barely a whisper now, her body trembling as the witch pushed her to the edge of her endurance.
But Eliza showed no mercy. She tickled and tickled, her fingers and vines working together to torment every inch of Emily’s feet. The witch’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched Emily break, her laughter becoming weaker, more desperate.
“There it is,” Eliza whispered, her fingers still moving with terrifying precision. “That laugh… that’s the one I’ve been waiting for.”
Emily could barely think, barely breathe. The tickling had consumed her completely, her body and mind lost to the overwhelming sensation. She was no longer in control of her own laughter—it belonged to the witch now. Eliza had taken it, and she wasn’t going to let go.
For what felt like an eternity, the witch continued her torment, drawing out every last giggle, every last shriek of laughter from Emily’s broken body. And when Emily thought it was finally over, when she thought she couldn’t laugh any more, Eliza leaned down and whispered in her ear:
“You’re mine now, Emily. You’ll laugh for me forever.”
Chapter 8: Eternal Laughter
Emily’s laughter had reached a point of madness. She had laughed until her voice was raw, her throat burning from the intensity of her hysterical screams. The tickling never stopped, not for a moment. Her body was drenched in sweat, her muscles aching from the relentless convulsions, her mind teetering on the edge of breaking. And yet, the witch’s fingers and the writhing vines didn’t let up. Every inch of her soles, her arches, the balls of her feet, and between her toes was mercilessly tormented, as if Eliza’s hands and the vines were designed to exploit every single nerve ending.
Emily’s face was a mask of uncontrollable laughter, her cheeks wet with tears as she gasped for air between bouts of hysterical, agonized giggling.
But Eliza’s patience was nearing its end, her dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, Emily,” the witch whispered softly, as her fingers slowed, though the vines still gently teased the sensitive skin of Emily’s feet. “You have truly been a delight.”
With a snap of her fingers, the tickling stopped. Emily’s body slumped against the earth, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her feet, still tingling from the torment, twitched involuntarily as if they were preparing for the sensation to return at any moment. But for now, the vines loosened their grip, giving her a brief reprieve.
Emily wanted to speak, to beg, to plead, but her voice was gone. Her mind was still spinning from the torture. She felt broken, emptied of any strength, her spirit hanging by a thread.
The witch rose to her feet, her shadow looming over Emily. “Your laughter was… exquisite,” Eliza said, her voice tinged with dark satisfaction. “But now, it’s time for you to take your rightful place among your friends.”
Emily’s eyes widened in terror as she saw Eliza wave her hand in the air. The ground beneath her trembled, and out of the earth, a large, glowing pumpkin began to rise. It was massive, much like the ones that surrounded her, but this one was different. This one was meant for her.
The vines slithered around her once more, this time lifting her limp body toward the pumpkin. The hollow face carved into the front grinned with a sinister, almost welcoming expression. Emily tried to struggle, tried to resist, but the tickling had taken every ounce of energy from her.
As she was drawn closer to the pumpkin, she heard it. The laughter. It wasn’t just any laughter—it was the voices of her coworkers, trapped in the pumpkins around her. Their voices were muffled but clear, each of them giggling, begging for mercy.
“Please! Someone help us! Hahahaha! Let us out!” Dana’s voice echoed from the pumpkin next to Emily’s, her laughter filled with a frantic desperation.
Sam B’s voice joined in, her words barely discernible between fits of giggling. “It tickles! Oh god, it never stops! Hahahaha! Please, stop it! Hahahaha!”
And Sam H, whose laughter had a broken, weary tone, whispered through the night. “Make it stop… please… I can’t take it anymore… Hahahaha!”
Emily’s heart raced as the realization hit her. This was her fate. She was going to join them, trapped in a pumpkin for eternity, her laughter never-ending, her body at the mercy of the witch’s curse.
“No… no… please…” Emily croaked, her voice barely a whisper as the vines pulled her toward the opening of the pumpkin.
Eliza’s face appeared before her, her smile wide and cruel. “Oh, Emily, it’s too late for that. You belong to me now.”
With that, Emily was lowered into the pumpkin, her body disappearing into its glowing interior. The moment her feet touched the inside of the pumpkin, the tickling returned. But this time, it was even worse. She felt the sensation as if hundreds of tiny hands were dancing across the soles of her feet, teasing her arches, flicking the sensitive spaces between her toes.
Her laughter erupted again, uncontrollable and maddening. “HAHAHAHAHA! NOOO! NOT AGAIN! HAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE STOP!”
Inside the pumpkin, the tickling was relentless. She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape. Her bare feet were suspended in the air, fully exposed to the torment, while her hands and body were immobilized by unseen forces. The sensation was everywhere—light, feathery touches mixed with sharp, teasing strokes that kept her on the edge of insanity.
The witch’s voice echoed inside the pumpkin. “This is your home now, Emily. You’ll laugh for me forever, just like your friends.”
Through her blurred vision, Emily could see the glowing faces of her coworkers in the nearby pumpkins, their mouths twisted in endless laughter, their eyes filled with despair. They were all trapped, just like her, their voices merging in a chorus of helpless giggles and pleas for mercy.
Dana’s voice rang out. “It never stops! Hahahaha! My feet! Hahahaha! It tickles so much! Oh god, it tickles!”
Sam B screamed, her voice breaking with every breath. “No more! Hahahaha! Please, no more!”
And Sam H, her voice barely audible, whispered through her giggles. “We’re stuck… forever…”
Emily’s own laughter joined the chorus, her body twitching uncontrollably as the tickling consumed her. The sensation was unbearable, yet there was no escape. It was as if the pumpkin itself was alive, using its magic to tickle her endlessly, her feet the primary focus of its torment.
“HAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! NO MORE! HAHAHAHAHA!”
But there was no mercy. The vines within the pumpkin continued their relentless assault, teasing every inch of her feet, never letting her have a moment of relief. She could feel every flick, every stroke, every tiny caress that sent her into fits of hysterical laughter.
And through it all, the witch watched from outside, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“I’ll leave you here for now, my dear,” Eliza said, her voice soft but filled with malice. “But don’t worry… I’ll be back. Every year, I return to my patch to enjoy the laughter of my pumpkins. And yours, Emily… yours is my favorite.”
With a final wave of her hand, Eliza vanished into the night, leaving Emily and her friends trapped in the cursed pumpkins, their laughter echoing through the empty field.
The tickling never stopped. Not for a moment. Emily could feel it on every nerve, every inch of her soles, her toes. She screamed and giggled, her mind slowly slipping into madness as the tickling continued endlessly, a torment she would never escape.
And every year, the witch would return to listen to her favorite laugh—the laugh of Emily, the one she had been searching for all along.
Forever tickled. Forever laughing. Forever trapped.
Epilogue: A New Victim
It had been almost a year since Emily and her coworkers had vanished. The hospital still buzzed with rumors, but most of the staff had long since moved on, explaining the disappearances as unsolved mysteries or tragic accidents. Except for Meghan.
Meghan had heard the whispers about the pumpkin patch on the outskirts of town, the one everyone said was cursed. She wasn’t the superstitious type, but something about the stories gnawed at her curiosity. The tales of laughter—endless, frantic, helpless laughter—sounded too bizarre to believe. And yet, something compelled her to visit the patch herself, as if the pull of the place had taken hold of her, just like it had her predecessors.
The road leading to the pumpkin patch was overgrown and deserted, barely visible under a thick layer of fallen leaves. The trees towered on either side, casting long shadows in the fading light. Meghan drove in silence, the air in her car heavy with a sense of foreboding. She parked just outside the patch, her heart beating faster as she approached the entrance.
The field stretched out before her, rows upon rows of massive pumpkins glowing faintly in the twilight. They were enormous, almost unnaturally so, and as Meghan stepped further into the patch, she felt an eerie stillness settle over the land. There was no wind, no sound, nothing but the soft crunch of leaves under her feet.
She wandered through the rows, her eyes scanning the pumpkins, and then… she heard it.
Laughter. Faint at first, like a distant echo, but as she ventured deeper, it grew louder, more frantic. Meghan’s breath caught in her throat as she neared a particularly large group of pumpkins, their faces carved into grotesque grins, twisted with an unnatural expression of joy.
And then she saw them.
Each pumpkin contained a face—faces she had seen in photographs at the hospital. The first was Dana, her features contorted in a wild, hysterical grin, her laughter spilling out uncontrollably from the glowing orange shell that encased her.
“Hahahahaha! It tickles! Hahahaha! Please stop! Hahahaha!” Dana’s voice rang out, desperate, as her eyes darted frantically inside the pumpkin, trapped and helpless.
Next to her was Sam B, her face locked in a perpetual laugh, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gasped for air between fits of giggles.
“HAHAHAHA! No more! I can’t take it! HAHAHAHAHA!”
Sam H was next, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror, yet her mouth stretched into an unending grin as laughter poured from her lips.
“It won’t stop! Hahahaha! Make it stop! Hahahaha!”
And finally, there was Emily. Her face was the most haunting of them all, her laughter raw and broken, her expression a mixture of pain and delirium. She was the witch’s favorite, her laughter louder than the others, more piercing, more desperate.
“HAHAHAHA! Please! No more! Hahahahaha! Please, someone help me! HAHAHAHAHA!”
Meghan’s heart raced as she stepped back, her eyes wide with disbelief. She turned, intending to run, but something stopped her. A pressure on her ankle. She looked down and saw it—a vine, thick and pulsating, slowly curling around her leg, tightening its grip.
Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to pull away, but the vine held firm, its grip slowly growing stronger. The laughter of the trapped nurses grew louder, echoing all around her, blending into a cacophony of hysterical giggles and pleas for mercy.
Meghan’s body tensed, fear gripping her as the vine slithered higher, its touch cold against her skin. She knew what was coming. She had heard the stories. And now, she was living them.
The laughter filled her ears, the sound of it so overwhelming that it seemed to seep into her very soul. As she struggled to free herself, the laughter of the pumpkins echoed through the night, and in the distance, she could almost hear a faint, cold voice—Eliza’s voice.
Another laugh to collect. Another victim for the patch.
As the vine tightened its grip, Meghan’s heart raced, her mind spinning as she realized her fate was sealed. The witch was coming for her too.
And then… the vine pulled.
The End… for now.
If you wish to see the women who inspired the victims, send me a message!
Chapter 1: The Disappearances
The hospital was buzzing with rumors by the time Emily noticed that Sam H, Sam B, and Dana hadn’t shown up for their shifts. Sara had disappeared first, then Dana, and now both Sams. The mounting dread weighed heavily on Emily, who, just a week ago, had shrugged it all off as nothing more than coincidence. But four coworkers, all vanishing without a trace, and all after mentioning the same pumpkin patch on the outskirts of town—it was more than coincidence now.
Dana had been so excited about that pumpkin patch. Emily remembered how Dana had gone on and on about the place, her eyes lighting up as she described the pumpkins that were supposedly “the best in the region for carving.” The same patch had come up in conversation with both Sams too. None of them seemed concerned—just eager to win the hospital’s annual Halloween carving contest.
But now, as Emily stood alone in the empty break room, the chill in the air gnawing at her nerves, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing suspicion that something terrible had happened.
That night, as Emily lay in bed, she found herself thinking of the last thing Dana had said before leaving the hospital that fateful day: “I’m going to find the biggest pumpkin ever! You wait!” It had been said in such a lighthearted tone, but now, those words echoed in Emily’s mind with a sinister edge.
She had to find out what happened. Emily was the last one left, and her gut told her that the pumpkin patch was connected. She couldn’t shake the growing sense of dread, but she knew one thing: if she didn’t go out there, she might never see her friends again.
Chapter 2: Eliza the Witch
Long before the pumpkin patch had fallen into disrepair, the land had belonged to Eliza—a powerful witch with a sinister obsession. Eliza lived for the sound of laughter. Not just any laughter, though. No, she craved the perfect laugh—the kind of laughter that could only be drawn out through relentless, unbearable tickling.
It all started centuries ago, when Eliza, an outcast from the nearby town, had been scorned for her peculiar ways. The townspeople shunned her for her strange love of tickling, seeing it as twisted and unnatural. Furious at being cast out, Eliza retreated deep into the woods and used her powers to curse the land. The pumpkin patch, once a thriving farm, became her domain—a place where she could exact her revenge on those who dared to enter.
But Eliza’s curse wasn’t one of mere physical torment. It was psychological. She lured her victims in, drawing them with promises of the best pumpkins, and then, one by one, she would ensnare them. Her magic gave her control over the vines that grew in the patch—vines that moved like serpents, winding their way around her prey, immobilizing them, stripping them of their shoes and socks, and exposing their most vulnerable spots: the soles of their feet.
For Eliza, it wasn’t enough to hear her victims laugh—she needed to own their laughter. She would tickle them endlessly, forcing out giggles, cackles, shrieks, and sobs, but she was never satisfied. She was always searching for the perfect laugh, a sound so pure and melodic that it would quench her insatiable need.
And so, every year, she waited, hoping that the next group of unfortunate souls who wandered into her cursed patch would hold the key to the laughter she so desperately craved.
Chapter 3: Dana’s Fate
Dana had arrived at the pumpkin patch at dusk, the sky a deepening orange as the sun sank below the horizon. She was filled with excitement, imagining the massive pumpkin she would bring back to the hospital, winning the carving contest by a landslide. She parked her car just outside the patch and eagerly hopped out, her boots crunching on the dry leaves that lined the path.
As Dana wandered deeper into the field, her eyes scanned the rows of enormous pumpkins, her grin widening with each step. Some of them were so large they looked as though they could swallow her whole. But it wasn’t just the size of the pumpkins that caught her attention—it was the strange, almost inviting way the vines curled around the ground, as if beckoning her closer.
She bent down to examine one particularly enormous pumpkin, reaching out to touch its smooth, cool surface. Suddenly, something tightened around her ankle. She looked down to see a vine—thick, green, and pulsing—slowly winding its way up her leg.
“What the—?” Dana’s voice trailed off as more vines shot out from the earth, wrapping around her other leg, then her arms, pulling her down to the ground.
She struggled, trying to free herself, but the vines were impossibly strong. They coiled tighter, immobilizing her as she felt the cool evening air brush against her skin. Then, to her horror, the vines began to pull at her boots, unlacing them with precision.
“No! No, no, no! Let me go!” Dana shrieked, thrashing her legs in vain, but the vines were relentless. Her boots were yanked off, one after the other, leaving her in just her thick wool socks.
But it didn’t stop there. The vines crept up her legs and tugged at her socks, slowly peeling them off, inch by inch, until her bare feet were exposed to the chilly air.
Dana’s breath hitched as she felt the vines slither over the delicate skin of her soles, their touch light at first, almost teasing. But then the tickling began in earnest.
“Hahaha! No! Please, stop!” Dana’s laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as the vines slid between her toes, brushing against the sensitive arch of her foot. Her body convulsed with hysterics as the relentless vines explored every inch of her feet, their touch maddening.
The tickling was unbearable, the sensations overwhelming. Dana thrashed and screamed, her laughter echoing through the empty patch. The more she struggled, the tighter the vines gripped her, holding her in place as they focused on her most sensitive spots—her soles and the tender spaces between her toes.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Please, I can’t—I can’t take it! HAHAHAHA!” Dana’s voice cracked as tears streamed down her face, but the vines didn’t relent. They moved with purpose, tickling her into a state of helplessness.
Suddenly, Dana heard a voice—a soft, cold voice that sent shivers down her spine.
“Such lovely laughter,” the voice cooed. “But it’s not quite right.”
Through her tear-blurred vision, Dana saw her. Eliza.
The witch stepped out from the shadows, her dark cloak billowing around her as she approached. She knelt beside Dana, her eyes gleaming with cruel delight.
“You’re almost perfect, my dear,” Eliza said, her fingers grazing Dana’s flushed cheek. “But your laughter…it’s not the one I’m looking for.”
With a wave of her hand, the vines intensified their attack, focusing on the undersides of Dana’s toes, making her scream with fresh peals of hysterical laughter.
“You’ll laugh forever in my patch,” Eliza whispered. “Until I find the one who is just right.”
Chapter 4: Sam H’s Torture
Sam H had always been cautious, but something about the pumpkin patch called to her that night. She couldn’t explain it, but as she drove down the narrow dirt road, her mind was consumed with thoughts of Dana, Sara, and the others. She hadn’t heard from them in days, and the nagging feeling in her chest told her the pumpkin patch had something to do with it.
When she arrived, the air was thick with mist, and the pumpkins loomed like silent sentinels in the moonlight. She parked her car and stepped out, her heart pounding in her chest as she ventured into the eerie quiet of the field.
It didn’t take long for the vines to find her.
Before she could react, they shot out from the ground, wrapping around her ankles and pulling her to the ground. Sam screamed, thrashing wildly, but the vines were relentless. They twisted around her wrists and legs, pinning her down as they slowly worked their way toward her feet.
Her shoes were the first to go. The vines tugged at the laces, pulling them loose and sliding her sneakers off with ease. Sam’s breath hitched as her socks followed, peeled away by the persistent vines until her bare feet were exposed.
“No…no! Not my feet!” she cried, her voice trembling.
But the vines didn’t listen. They began to tickle her soles with a feathery touch, sending jolts of unbearable sensation shooting up her legs. Sam’s body convulsed with laughter, her hands clawing at the ground as she tried to escape the relentless assault on her feet.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Stop! Please, I can’t—HAHAHAHAHA!”
The witch appeared, watching with gleaming eyes as Sam H’s laughter filled the air. But, just like with Dana, Eliza’s face twisted with disappointment.
“Your laughter…it’s lovely,” Eliza mused, her voice low. “But it’s still not quite right.”
Chapter 5: Sam B’s Trial
Sam B was always the skeptic, the one who laughed off urban legends and eerie coincidences. But by the time her friends had disappeared one by one, her skepticism began to waver. She had heard the rumors—the strange stories about the pumpkin patch on the outskirts of town—but she never believed them, at least not until Dana, Sam H, and Sara vanished.
It wasn’t like them to just disappear without a word. When she had last spoken to Dana, her friend had been full of excitement about finding the perfect pumpkin for the hospital’s Halloween contest. That was the last time anyone had heard from her. Now, as Sam B stood in the hospital parking lot, staring at her phone, she could feel the weight of fear settling in her chest.
“I have to know,” she muttered to herself, pocketing her phone and getting into her car. She couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling any longer. She had to go to the pumpkin patch herself. Maybe she’d find nothing, or maybe she’d find answers.
The drive was tense. The further she got from town, the darker and more isolated the road became. By the time she reached the entrance to the patch, the sky had darkened completely, and the only light came from the moon, casting long shadows over the field of towering pumpkins.
As soon as Sam stepped out of her car, an eerie feeling washed over her. The air was thick, almost suffocating, and the silence was unsettling. She could see the massive pumpkins in the distance, their orange forms glowing faintly in the moonlight.
She took a deep breath and made her way into the patch, her footsteps crunching on the dry leaves beneath her feet. The further she went, the more uneasy she became. The pumpkins seemed too perfect, too large, as though they had been carefully cultivated for something more than just Halloween decoration.
Suddenly, Sam felt something brush against her ankle. She looked down, her breath catching in her throat as she saw a vine slowly curling around her leg. She tried to step back, but another vine shot out from the ground, wrapping around her other leg.
Panic surged through her as she yanked at the vines, trying to free herself, but they were strong—unnaturally strong. The more she struggled, the tighter they wrapped around her legs, pulling her down to the ground.
“Let me go!” Sam shouted, her voice echoing through the empty field. But there was no one to hear her. The vines continued to wind around her body, immobilizing her as she felt something tug at her shoes.
She watched in horror as the vines began to pull at the laces of her sneakers, slowly unlacing them with a precision that made her skin crawl. Her shoes slipped off one by one, exposing her feet to the cool night air. But the vines weren’t finished. They coiled around her ankles and started to peel off her socks, inch by inch, until her bare feet were completely exposed.
“No…no, please,” Sam whispered, her voice trembling with fear.
The vines didn’t listen. They slithered over her soles, the touch light at first, but enough to make her flinch. Then the tickling began in earnest.
“Hahaha! No! Stop!” Sam’s laughter burst from her lips as the vines brushed against the sensitive skin of her feet, teasing the arches and slipping between her toes. The tickling was maddening, relentless, as the vines seemed to know exactly where she was most sensitive.
The more she laughed, the tighter the vines held her, their touch growing more insistent as they explored every inch of her feet. Sam’s body convulsed with laughter, her mind spinning as the sensation became too much to bear.
“HAHAHAHA! Stop! I can’t—HAHAHAHAHA!” Sam’s voice cracked as tears of laughter streamed down her face. The vines danced across her soles, their touch impossibly light and torturous. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—only laugh.
Then she heard it. A voice. Soft, almost a whisper, but filled with a cold, malicious delight.
“Ahhh…another lovely laugh,” the voice cooed. “But is it the one I seek?”
Sam’s laughter was cut off as she looked up and saw her. Eliza, the witch who controlled the cursed pumpkin patch, stood before her, her eyes gleaming with dark amusement. She was tall, her figure shrouded in a long, tattered cloak, her hands outstretched as though she were savoring every moment of Sam’s torment.
Eliza knelt beside Sam’s bound form, her fingers grazing Sam’s bare feet, sending another wave of ticklish sensation up her legs.
“You’re so close, my dear,” Eliza murmured, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “But your laughter…it’s not quite perfect.”
With a flick of her wrist, Eliza commanded the vines to intensify their assault, focusing on the tender spaces between Sam’s toes and the soft undersides of her feet. Sam screamed with laughter, her body shaking as the tickling became unbearable.
“I—HAHAHAHA—please—stop!” Sam begged between fits of hysterical laughter, but Eliza’s smile only widened.
“I will find it,” the witch whispered, her voice soft and menacing. “I will find the perfect laugh.”
Chapter 6: Emily’s Arrival
Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. It had been days since she’d last seen or heard from her coworkers, and every attempt she made to contact them had gone unanswered. It wasn’t just the disappearances that bothered her—it was the eerie rumors surrounding the pumpkin patch.
Dana, Sam H, and Sam B had all mentioned it in passing before they vanished. It was a small, obscure patch on the outskirts of town, but according to the stories, it was said to be cursed. People who went there never returned. The pumpkins were supposed to be the best for carving—large, vibrant, and perfect. But there was something more sinister lurking beneath the surface, something that no one could explain.
Emily had always been rational, the kind of person who didn’t believe in ghosts or curses. But as the days passed and her friends remained missing, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing dread that filled her every time she thought about that pumpkin patch.
It was late one evening when Emily made up her mind. She couldn’t sit back and wait any longer. She needed to find out what had happened, even if that meant going to the patch herself. She grabbed her coat, her phone, and a flashlight before heading out to her car.
The drive felt longer than it should have. The road was narrow and winding, the trees closing in on either side as Emily made her way toward the outskirts of town. The closer she got, the heavier the air seemed to become, pressing down on her chest like a weight.
When she finally arrived, the patch was eerily quiet. The massive pumpkins loomed like shadows in the moonlight, their round forms glowing faintly against the darkness. Emily parked her car and stepped out, her heart pounding in her chest.
As she made her way into the patch, the air grew colder, and the ground beneath her feet felt unnaturally soft. There was something about the place that felt wrong, like the very earth was alive, waiting.
“Dana? Sam?” Emily called out, her voice barely a whisper in the stillness.
There was no response. Only silence.
She ventured further into the patch, her breath coming in short, quick bursts as her nerves tightened with each step. She could see the rows of massive pumpkins stretching out in front of her, but something caught her eye. Movement.
Emily turned, her flashlight beam cutting through the darkness, and froze. In the distance, she saw them. Pumpkins. But they weren’t just pumpkins. They had faces. The faces of her friends—Dana, Sam H, and Sam B—carved into the glowing orange flesh, their expressions twisted in a grotesque mix of laughter and terror.
“No…no, this can’t be real,” Emily whispered, her stomach churning with fear.
Before she could react, she felt something wrap around her ankle. She looked down, her heart leaping into her throat as she saw the vines—thick, writhing tendrils snaking up her leg. She tried to pull away, but the vines tightened their grip, yanking her down to the ground.
Emily screamed, thrashing as the vines coiled around her legs, her arms, pulling her down until she was immobilized. Her shoes were the first to go, the vines deftly unlacing them and slipping them off her feet. Her socks followed, peeled away with slow, deliberate precision.
Her bare feet were exposed to the cool night air, and before she could comprehend what was happening, the tickling began.
Chapter 7: The Witch’s Favorite
Emily’s heart pounded in her chest as the vines wrapped tighter around her limbs, rendering her completely helpless. She was pinned on the cold, damp ground of the pumpkin patch, her arms stretched out above her head and her legs held apart by the thick, writhing tendrils. The night air was heavy with the scent of earth and decay, and her breath came in shallow gasps as fear gripped her.
Her bare feet, now exposed to the cool night air after the vines had carefully stripped away her shoes and socks, tingled with the sensation of the cool breeze. But that tingle was nothing compared to what was coming.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw her. The witch.
Eliza emerged from the shadows like a phantom, her dark cloak billowing around her as if it were alive. Her eyes glowed with a predatory gleam, and a twisted smile curled at her lips as she approached, her footsteps eerily silent on the soft earth.
“Well, well, well,” Eliza purred, her voice soft and mocking. “It looks like I’ve found my last little guest. And you, my dear, I have been saving for something special.”
Emily tried to speak, to plead, but her throat felt dry, her voice stolen by the overwhelming fear that gripped her. All she could do was stare up at the witch as she knelt beside her, her hands reaching out to graze Emily’s exposed, vulnerable feet.
“I’ve had so much fun with your friends,” Eliza continued, her tone playful, almost giddy. “They laughed and laughed for hours, but none of them gave me what I needed. Their laughter, while delightful, just wasn’t… perfect.”
Her fingers lightly brushed against Emily’s soles, sending an electric jolt up her legs. It wasn’t a tickle yet, just a faint touch, but it was enough to make Emily flinch, her toes curling involuntarily.
Eliza’s smile widened at the reaction, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh, you’re sensitive, aren’t you? That’s good. That’s very good. But we’re only just beginning.”
The witch sat down beside Emily’s feet, her fingers hovering just above her soles as if savoring the moment before she began. Emily’s entire body tensed, her breath hitching as she prepared for what she knew was coming.
And then it began.
Eliza’s fingers made contact with Emily’s soles, starting with a light, feathery touch. The witch’s fingertips glided over the soft arches of Emily’s feet, barely grazing the skin, but the sensation was enough to make Emily’s body jerk as a helpless giggle escaped her lips.
“Hehehehe! No… please…!”
The words were barely audible, muffled by the bubbling laughter that spilled out of Emily’s mouth. The touch was maddening—so light, so delicate, but impossibly effective. The witch’s fingers danced over her feet with an eerie precision, as if she knew exactly where Emily was most sensitive.
“Oh, you have such a lovely laugh already,” Eliza teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “But we’re only just getting started. Let’s see how much more you have to give.”
With that, the witch changed tactics. Her fingers moved with more purpose now, scratching lightly along the ball of Emily’s foot, just beneath her toes. Emily’s reaction was immediate. Her laughter exploded, her body thrashing against the vines that held her in place.
“HAHAHAHA! NOOOO! PLEASE! HAHAHAHA!”
The witch giggled with delight as she watched Emily squirm, her fingers now focusing on the spaces between her toes. Eliza used her sharp nails to gently scratch the delicate skin between each of Emily’s toes, one by one, as if she were playing a delicate instrument. Emily’s laughter turned desperate, her voice cracking as she struggled to breathe between the hysterical giggles.
“Ticklish here, aren’t we?” Eliza taunted, her fingers moving to Emily’s other foot, repeating the same excruciating process. She teased and tormented each individual toe, her fingers slipping between them, sending waves of ticklish agony through Emily’s body. “Oh, I think we’ve found your weak spot.”
Emily was beside herself with laughter. Her entire body ached from the relentless tickling, her feet tingling with the sensation of Eliza’s fingers dancing over her skin. She tried to pull away, to somehow escape the torment, but the vines held her fast, leaving her at the mercy of the witch.
“HAHAHAHA! NOOOO! I CAN’T—HAHAHAHAHA!” Emily’s laughter was raw, uncontrollable, and it only seemed to encourage the witch further.
But Eliza wasn’t done. She had more tricks up her sleeve.
“Let’s try something new,” the witch said, her tone filled with dark excitement. She waved her hand, and the vines responded. Several smaller, thinner tendrils slithered toward Emily’s feet, their tips brushing against her toes with feather-light touches. These new vines were even more sensitive than the witch’s fingers, and they explored every inch of Emily’s soles with excruciating precision.
Emily screamed with laughter as the vines wrapped themselves around her toes, pulling them apart gently, exposing the soft skin between them. The tiny tendrils tickled the delicate spaces, flicking and teasing in ways that made Emily’s mind spin with the intensity.
“HAHAHAHA! NOOO! NOT THERE! PLEASE! HAHAHAHA!” Emily’s voice was hoarse from laughing, but the witch only smiled wider.
“Oh, yes… there,” Eliza cooed. “Right there. That’s where it tickles the most, isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your laugh. This is the spot that drives you wild.”
The vines twisted and wriggled, their tips brushing over every sensitive part of Emily’s feet, especially the arches, the balls of her feet, and those torturous spaces between her toes. Emily’s body convulsed with laughter, her mind overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensations.
Eliza leaned closer, her voice soft but menacing. “You’ll laugh for me forever, my dear. I’ll have your laughter—every last bit of it. And you know what? I think you might be the one I’ve been waiting for.”
With a wave of her hand, Eliza intensified the tickling. Her fingers returned to Emily’s soles, joining the vines in their torment. She scribbled her nails along the arches of Emily’s feet, while the vines continued their merciless attack on her toes. The combined sensation was too much for Emily to bear. She thrashed wildly, her laughter turning into silent gasps as her body convulsed with ticklish agony.
“HAHAHAHA! STOP! PLEASE! I CAN’T—HAHAHAHAHA!” Emily’s voice was barely a whisper now, her body trembling as the witch pushed her to the edge of her endurance.
But Eliza showed no mercy. She tickled and tickled, her fingers and vines working together to torment every inch of Emily’s feet. The witch’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched Emily break, her laughter becoming weaker, more desperate.
“There it is,” Eliza whispered, her fingers still moving with terrifying precision. “That laugh… that’s the one I’ve been waiting for.”
Emily could barely think, barely breathe. The tickling had consumed her completely, her body and mind lost to the overwhelming sensation. She was no longer in control of her own laughter—it belonged to the witch now. Eliza had taken it, and she wasn’t going to let go.
For what felt like an eternity, the witch continued her torment, drawing out every last giggle, every last shriek of laughter from Emily’s broken body. And when Emily thought it was finally over, when she thought she couldn’t laugh any more, Eliza leaned down and whispered in her ear:
“You’re mine now, Emily. You’ll laugh for me forever.”
Chapter 8: Eternal Laughter
Emily’s laughter had reached a point of madness. She had laughed until her voice was raw, her throat burning from the intensity of her hysterical screams. The tickling never stopped, not for a moment. Her body was drenched in sweat, her muscles aching from the relentless convulsions, her mind teetering on the edge of breaking. And yet, the witch’s fingers and the writhing vines didn’t let up. Every inch of her soles, her arches, the balls of her feet, and between her toes was mercilessly tormented, as if Eliza’s hands and the vines were designed to exploit every single nerve ending.
Emily’s face was a mask of uncontrollable laughter, her cheeks wet with tears as she gasped for air between bouts of hysterical, agonized giggling.
But Eliza’s patience was nearing its end, her dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, Emily,” the witch whispered softly, as her fingers slowed, though the vines still gently teased the sensitive skin of Emily’s feet. “You have truly been a delight.”
With a snap of her fingers, the tickling stopped. Emily’s body slumped against the earth, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her feet, still tingling from the torment, twitched involuntarily as if they were preparing for the sensation to return at any moment. But for now, the vines loosened their grip, giving her a brief reprieve.
Emily wanted to speak, to beg, to plead, but her voice was gone. Her mind was still spinning from the torture. She felt broken, emptied of any strength, her spirit hanging by a thread.
The witch rose to her feet, her shadow looming over Emily. “Your laughter was… exquisite,” Eliza said, her voice tinged with dark satisfaction. “But now, it’s time for you to take your rightful place among your friends.”
Emily’s eyes widened in terror as she saw Eliza wave her hand in the air. The ground beneath her trembled, and out of the earth, a large, glowing pumpkin began to rise. It was massive, much like the ones that surrounded her, but this one was different. This one was meant for her.
The vines slithered around her once more, this time lifting her limp body toward the pumpkin. The hollow face carved into the front grinned with a sinister, almost welcoming expression. Emily tried to struggle, tried to resist, but the tickling had taken every ounce of energy from her.
As she was drawn closer to the pumpkin, she heard it. The laughter. It wasn’t just any laughter—it was the voices of her coworkers, trapped in the pumpkins around her. Their voices were muffled but clear, each of them giggling, begging for mercy.
“Please! Someone help us! Hahahaha! Let us out!” Dana’s voice echoed from the pumpkin next to Emily’s, her laughter filled with a frantic desperation.
Sam B’s voice joined in, her words barely discernible between fits of giggling. “It tickles! Oh god, it never stops! Hahahaha! Please, stop it! Hahahaha!”
And Sam H, whose laughter had a broken, weary tone, whispered through the night. “Make it stop… please… I can’t take it anymore… Hahahaha!”
Emily’s heart raced as the realization hit her. This was her fate. She was going to join them, trapped in a pumpkin for eternity, her laughter never-ending, her body at the mercy of the witch’s curse.
“No… no… please…” Emily croaked, her voice barely a whisper as the vines pulled her toward the opening of the pumpkin.
Eliza’s face appeared before her, her smile wide and cruel. “Oh, Emily, it’s too late for that. You belong to me now.”
With that, Emily was lowered into the pumpkin, her body disappearing into its glowing interior. The moment her feet touched the inside of the pumpkin, the tickling returned. But this time, it was even worse. She felt the sensation as if hundreds of tiny hands were dancing across the soles of her feet, teasing her arches, flicking the sensitive spaces between her toes.
Her laughter erupted again, uncontrollable and maddening. “HAHAHAHAHA! NOOO! NOT AGAIN! HAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE STOP!”
Inside the pumpkin, the tickling was relentless. She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape. Her bare feet were suspended in the air, fully exposed to the torment, while her hands and body were immobilized by unseen forces. The sensation was everywhere—light, feathery touches mixed with sharp, teasing strokes that kept her on the edge of insanity.
The witch’s voice echoed inside the pumpkin. “This is your home now, Emily. You’ll laugh for me forever, just like your friends.”
Through her blurred vision, Emily could see the glowing faces of her coworkers in the nearby pumpkins, their mouths twisted in endless laughter, their eyes filled with despair. They were all trapped, just like her, their voices merging in a chorus of helpless giggles and pleas for mercy.
Dana’s voice rang out. “It never stops! Hahahaha! My feet! Hahahaha! It tickles so much! Oh god, it tickles!”
Sam B screamed, her voice breaking with every breath. “No more! Hahahaha! Please, no more!”
And Sam H, her voice barely audible, whispered through her giggles. “We’re stuck… forever…”
Emily’s own laughter joined the chorus, her body twitching uncontrollably as the tickling consumed her. The sensation was unbearable, yet there was no escape. It was as if the pumpkin itself was alive, using its magic to tickle her endlessly, her feet the primary focus of its torment.
“HAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! NO MORE! HAHAHAHAHA!”
But there was no mercy. The vines within the pumpkin continued their relentless assault, teasing every inch of her feet, never letting her have a moment of relief. She could feel every flick, every stroke, every tiny caress that sent her into fits of hysterical laughter.
And through it all, the witch watched from outside, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“I’ll leave you here for now, my dear,” Eliza said, her voice soft but filled with malice. “But don’t worry… I’ll be back. Every year, I return to my patch to enjoy the laughter of my pumpkins. And yours, Emily… yours is my favorite.”
With a final wave of her hand, Eliza vanished into the night, leaving Emily and her friends trapped in the cursed pumpkins, their laughter echoing through the empty field.
The tickling never stopped. Not for a moment. Emily could feel it on every nerve, every inch of her soles, her toes. She screamed and giggled, her mind slowly slipping into madness as the tickling continued endlessly, a torment she would never escape.
And every year, the witch would return to listen to her favorite laugh—the laugh of Emily, the one she had been searching for all along.
Forever tickled. Forever laughing. Forever trapped.
Epilogue: A New Victim
It had been almost a year since Emily and her coworkers had vanished. The hospital still buzzed with rumors, but most of the staff had long since moved on, explaining the disappearances as unsolved mysteries or tragic accidents. Except for Meghan.
Meghan had heard the whispers about the pumpkin patch on the outskirts of town, the one everyone said was cursed. She wasn’t the superstitious type, but something about the stories gnawed at her curiosity. The tales of laughter—endless, frantic, helpless laughter—sounded too bizarre to believe. And yet, something compelled her to visit the patch herself, as if the pull of the place had taken hold of her, just like it had her predecessors.
The road leading to the pumpkin patch was overgrown and deserted, barely visible under a thick layer of fallen leaves. The trees towered on either side, casting long shadows in the fading light. Meghan drove in silence, the air in her car heavy with a sense of foreboding. She parked just outside the patch, her heart beating faster as she approached the entrance.
The field stretched out before her, rows upon rows of massive pumpkins glowing faintly in the twilight. They were enormous, almost unnaturally so, and as Meghan stepped further into the patch, she felt an eerie stillness settle over the land. There was no wind, no sound, nothing but the soft crunch of leaves under her feet.
She wandered through the rows, her eyes scanning the pumpkins, and then… she heard it.
Laughter. Faint at first, like a distant echo, but as she ventured deeper, it grew louder, more frantic. Meghan’s breath caught in her throat as she neared a particularly large group of pumpkins, their faces carved into grotesque grins, twisted with an unnatural expression of joy.
And then she saw them.
Each pumpkin contained a face—faces she had seen in photographs at the hospital. The first was Dana, her features contorted in a wild, hysterical grin, her laughter spilling out uncontrollably from the glowing orange shell that encased her.
“Hahahahaha! It tickles! Hahahaha! Please stop! Hahahaha!” Dana’s voice rang out, desperate, as her eyes darted frantically inside the pumpkin, trapped and helpless.
Next to her was Sam B, her face locked in a perpetual laugh, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gasped for air between fits of giggles.
“HAHAHAHA! No more! I can’t take it! HAHAHAHAHA!”
Sam H was next, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror, yet her mouth stretched into an unending grin as laughter poured from her lips.
“It won’t stop! Hahahaha! Make it stop! Hahahaha!”
And finally, there was Emily. Her face was the most haunting of them all, her laughter raw and broken, her expression a mixture of pain and delirium. She was the witch’s favorite, her laughter louder than the others, more piercing, more desperate.
“HAHAHAHA! Please! No more! Hahahahaha! Please, someone help me! HAHAHAHAHA!”
Meghan’s heart raced as she stepped back, her eyes wide with disbelief. She turned, intending to run, but something stopped her. A pressure on her ankle. She looked down and saw it—a vine, thick and pulsating, slowly curling around her leg, tightening its grip.
Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to pull away, but the vine held firm, its grip slowly growing stronger. The laughter of the trapped nurses grew louder, echoing all around her, blending into a cacophony of hysterical giggles and pleas for mercy.
Meghan’s body tensed, fear gripping her as the vine slithered higher, its touch cold against her skin. She knew what was coming. She had heard the stories. And now, she was living them.
The laughter filled her ears, the sound of it so overwhelming that it seemed to seep into her very soul. As she struggled to free herself, the laughter of the pumpkins echoed through the night, and in the distance, she could almost hear a faint, cold voice—Eliza’s voice.
Another laugh to collect. Another victim for the patch.
As the vine tightened its grip, Meghan’s heart raced, her mind spinning as she realized her fate was sealed. The witch was coming for her too.
And then… the vine pulled.
The End… for now.
