Rachel leapt through the pumpkin patch, gourds under each arm, nervously looking over her shoulder. The freezing air hit the back of her throat with every gasp. She had almost made it to County Road A when she tripped on a vine.
Rachel lined up all her ingredients, as she did before cooking anything, and got to work. The most unusual thing she put in that pie was her great grandmother’s fall spice medley. It contained fire embers, lizard skin, and crushed foliage.
Why make this pie for what was sure to be an ungrateful crowd? She eyed the container of hand picked Tahitian vanilla pods in the back of the cabinet. She knew what to do. She made the pie, put it in her best pie dish and like many generations before, ate the whole dang thing.