The first two parts of the story (weeks 22 and 23) are in italics followed by this weeks story with the prompt in bold.
“Listen,” I said with gritted teeth. “Just give us one more month! I heard about a job…”
“I’m sorry but there are no more extensions,” interrupted the smug banker in the polyester suit.
I lowered my head and softened my voice to a plea. “Listen, I’m begging you, just let our daughter harvest her 4H pumpkin crop before you evict us. Please. She’s worked so hard on this.”
“No. More. Extensions. You will vacate the premises by Friday morning or we will have you removed from the property.”
I slammed the door, hard, on the way out of his office.
She was waiting in the kitchen when I walked in. Her hopeful face fell when she saw my face. “Did you tell them about that job?” she asked in a tiny voice.
I spoke carefully, “Yea, honey, but he said we're out this weekend.”
Her eyes grew frantic. “What about the pumpkins? What about…”
I interrupted her gently. I tapped on the door frame that contained the careful pencil marks recording our childrens heights.
"If I had a hmmer," I said, pointing to one of our irreplaceable treasures, “…I could just pull this board right off and we could take it.”
She ran to get one.
I waited in the truck watching my daughter and her 4H friends sneak through the yard. Fumbling in the dark, placing their pumpkins, I saw only brief flares of matches in the very dark night.
They rang the doorbell, like pranksters everywhere. "Trick or treat!" they shouted as the door opened, and then they ran like gazelles and leaped into the truck bed.
The banker looked less intimidating with tousled hair in pajamas.
Speeding away, I watched in the mirrors as he read the 14 letters each carved onto a pumpkin spelling out our families message, “You took our home.”
Their golden glow cast little light into the darkness.
And gosh, I hope this is the end of this train of thought. I am definitely read to get onto a new track!