As the decades turned to centuries the stories of what happened on that unspeakable night faded, and the warnings of the curse set forth by King Sirus became nothing more than Urban Legend. It was the dark lords who established the conditions for the resurrection of the thirteen disciples, and they were patient in their execution of judgement on mankind. Once again, floods and droughts were meted out on man. Famine and wars consuming the world, turning lush landscape into scorched wasteland. These tribulations allowed the seeds of evil to fester and germinate beneath the soil, building to the moment when the first of the Killer Pumpkins would arise. It was said that those who witnessed the orange terror would be reduced to hollow spirits wailing loudly, and gnashing their teeth in fear. The orange devils would consume the earth in a final shower of destruction and mayhem, collecting souls for the ultimate harvest. With their reign of terror complete, King Sirus himself would return in a blaze of wrath and desecration. This is what the dark lords had decreed, and so it would be.

So you can see why I could not sleep on this dark night in late October. For it had been ushered in on a cold, howling wind of prophetic damnation, sent to foreshadow the emergence of an intolerable evil. I realized this as the orange messenger began to glow in eerie brilliance, corrupting my mind with fantasies of murder and destruction. My fate was revealed in a frenzy of telekinetic anxiety. My journey had not been a haphazard one. I had been chosen to become the first soul collector! A knife appeared in front of me, and as I grasped it, rage flooded my very being, turning my heart cold and black. I turned toward the door of the cabin, determined to wreak havoc on my fellow man, and to do my master's bidding.

"No!" I cried inwardly. I will not be responsible. My only hope, the world's only hope was for me to stop this fury before it could begin. With all my strength I plunged the dagger deep into my chest. Falling to my knees, I rejoiced at the sight of my own blood, secure in the knowledge that I had deprived destiny of its heinous heritage. Then joy turned to terror. The evil orange entity was transforming, taking on an almost human countenance. Blood pooled in its eyes as my own life drained out of me. The room grew brighter and hotter, and the beast laughed as it rose above me. It was too late. And as he peered through the cabin door with a sinister glee, it had dawned on me. I had witnessed the rising of the first disciple. I realized my folly. I had foolishly given this killer its first soul, My Own!