Friday Flash: Clockwork Pumpkins

Clockwork Pumpkins
by Kate Frost


          Gears ground and creaked as a platoon of clockwork creatures, their heads and torsos encased in ornately carved pumpkin hulls, followed their creator across a fog shrouded farm. The pumpkin patch they crossed was full of ripe orange globes nested among the thick green vines. Professor Mender pulled the goggles out of his frizzy graying hair, pulled them over his eyes, adjusted their gears and zoomed in to inspect the crop.

            “These will do nicely,” the Professor announced. “Start the harvest!”

            The pitch of the spinning gears rose as his clockwork companions fanned out across the field. Bright white light spilled from the holes in their gourd covered heads, giving the patch an eerie glow as they dutifully marched their loads to a waiting steam wagon at the edge of the farm. The Professor walked to a bright yellow tent that had been pitched nearby.

            Inside the tent the Professor’s granddaughter, Dabble, sat on a bright red silk cushion patiently waiting for a smaller version of the harvester automatons to pour her a cup of tea. The pie pumpkin clothed servant sway back and forth from the weight of the white china teapot that was just as big as the gourds used to conceal most of its clockwork features. It poured two cups of tea for another servant, who then served the cups to Dabble and the Professor.

            The Professor threw back the tails of his long coat as he sat on a golden pillowon the opposite side of the table from her. He cleared his throat to get the girl’s attention and point to the worn brown top hat she still had on, a pair of goggles similar to his were perched on the brim, nearly concealing a pink lace band. She reached up and plucked the hat off, handing it to a waiting attendant.

            “Can you build me a pony?” Dabble asked.

She was looking over the food trays as she asked and settled for some tiny triangular sandwiches and several gooey caramel topped treats. Her grandfather leaned back and took a huge bite from a small fluffy glazed cake. It was pumpkin flavored. The professor turned up his nose, swallowed politely and tossed the remaining cake back over his shoulder. Two large squirrels began fighting over the rejected treat.

“I can make you anything you want,” he told her. “What kind of pony would you like? You know before you were born I made the steeds that General Werwick’s army rode when they overtook the city of Caramoor. The battle lasted for two months and brought an end to the Seventh Great War. They were magnificent steeds, forged of the strongest metal from the depths of the Great Schism. The steam that poured from their nostrils could blister a man five feet away and there were turrets on either side of the mech capable of…”

His granddaughter had gone wide eyed and stopped mid chew. She looked as though she were about to cry.    

“…Um, perhaps something with a nice soft saddle and a pink feathery mane would be more to your liking,” he said. “I still have the gold and white paints I used to make the swans for the People’s Hospital at Glencommon.”

“That would be lovely,” she said. She clapped her hands. “Can it have baskets?”

“It most certainly can,” he said. The Professor slipped a notebook out of his overcoat and began jotting down notes. “And how about a parasol? A retractable one.”

“Oh yes!” Dabble bounced in her seat. “That sounds wonderful!”

A foghorn blew, drawing their attention outside the tent. Both immediately turned their gazes to the gray sky above. A dirigible sailed slowly over them, its search lights waved out into the fog. Someone on board yelled course corrections and the ship began a lazy turn towards a barely visible palace.

“Looks like Prince Matthias has returned,” the Professor said.

“No,” Dabble corrected. “That’s Prince Elias. See, there’s the red gears you put on his ship.” She was pointing at the ship.

“Is it now?” The Professor squint, then pulled the goggles back down over his eyes. “Ah, so it is.”

“Mrs. Potts says he’s not really the Queen’s son,” Dabble whispered.

“Really?” The Professor leaned down, lowering his voice to a whisper as well. “And what else did Mrs. Potts say?”

“She said they just tell everyone he’s her son because they don’t want people to know the King had a baby,” she told him.

“Well, I’m sure that’s not exactly what she said, the King actually had a baby by another…yes, well that’s just a silly rumor. More tea?” The Professor steered Dabble back to the table.

“Someone is coming!” Dabble said.

A small squad of horsemen wearing royal military dress rode towards them. The horses were grey, their manes and tails dyed to match the royal family’s colors. The Professor recognized the leader as he waved off his companions and continued alone. The other horsemen fanned out along the edge of the woods.

General Werwick halted his steed several feet from the tent. The horse whinnied and took several steps back as one of the tiny clockwork approached to take the reins from the General. Mender motioned for Dabble to sit back down and went to the General. They shook hands.

“How goes the army?” the General asked.

“This should be the last harvest I need,” Mender said. “How is the King?”

“The nurse doesn’t see him lasting more than a month. Matthias and his mother have already begun making plans to eliminate Elias. Most of the army will side with them I’m afraid. Matthias is quite popular.”

“We’ll have enough troops to give Elias a fighting chance. If the King believes he’s the better successor, then I will do all in my power to see it happen,” Mender said.

The Professor bowed and returned to his tent to watch the harvest with his granddaughter.     

For this weeks Friday Flash I can thank both author Alethea Kontis and artist Steven C Gilberts for inspiring. Here's a link to the Shroud issue with Steven C Gilberts' clockwork pumpkin art on the cover.