At the edge of the Libirs, where endless fields move with the wind, there is a small village. The people never harvest the last pumpkins of autumn. These are called the Pumpkin Köpf. No one knows why, but the elders warn that they must never be touched. A curious boy named Eron does not believe the warning. He takes the last pumpkin from the field and carves it into a lantern for the night. On the first night nothing happens. But on the second night the pumpkin no longer feels normal. It seems to watch him. On the third night the pumpkin is on his table even though he did not move it. Small eyes appear on its surface. On the fourth night all pumpkins are gone from the fields. They are now inside the house, silent and alive.
Each one carries the same message that seems to have grown from within. We were always here.
