When -40° storms and monsters strike, Ria grows a magical pumpkin to shelter her and Grandma. But Ria's story isn’t just about survival—it’s about building something positive with your community.

Winter Frost

Fleeing monsters, Ria and her grandma end up at the edge of a wheat field. Dark, -40 F and storming, Ria grew a giant pumpkin to shelter them. Inside was squishy and full of seeds, and grandma doesn’t appreciate the rescue…

Creativity and magic help them survive the storm, but it’s the good will of their community that turns the pumpkin into a home.

With a killer thief on the prowl and deadly winter to survive, Ria will need her friends and neighbors to get through this time of winter frost.

Short Story. Heat level: sweet. Contains no graphic love scenes.

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Chapter 1: Escape

“Run, Grandma!” Ria grabbed her grandma’s hand and dragged her out into the storm. They didn’t have a choice; the apartment was falling apart, battered by monsters.

Storm hags shrieked and flew by, their long white hair whipping in the wind. They looked like old women with huge black eyes and fanged, black lipped mouths, their gray skin the color of death.

Ever since Earth and the old Elven world had merged, releasing magic and monsters, life had become unpredictable. There were no guarantees your safe, cozy home would still be there when you woke up. If you woke up.

Thanks to the government’s relentless propaganda, everyone knew to have an emergency bag ready to go. Ria had grabbed her emergency backpack as they’d evacuated the besieged apartment.

Grandma had grabbed her purse and her container of cat ashes. It was a small plastic pail with flowers and kittens, utterly useless against the North Dakota winter or monsters.

It was chaotic outside. People fled in all directions, shooting at the monsters as they ran, screaming, some dying. Ria had grabbed the apartment ward stone, the magic force field was supposed to repulse monsters, but this one must have been cheap. Clearly, it wasn’t rated for a residence this large. Their skinflint landlord was going to regret that when the lawsuits rolled in.

However, it was perfect for protecting a teenage girl and her grandma as they fled through the storm. Her coat was open and flapping, stocking hat and gloves still in her pockets, but she’d gotten grandma zipped and protected. They weren’t really running, but for grandma their fast walk was difficult. It was distracting.

In her panic, Ria ran away from the crumbling apartment, the shrieking hags and the gunshots from concerned residents. Unfortunately, that led away from the buildings and into an open field on the edge of the light. The snow was driven hard into her face, blinding her, and as they stood at the edge of the road, Ria didn't dare run back toward town.

She was scared and panicked. When she was asked later why she didn't find a closer house, that would be her answer.

Cold, exposed to stray gunshots, she frantically dug through her pockets for the plastic bag of seeds.

It wasn't that odd. Grandma had her purse and her cat's ashes. Grandma's idea of emergency items these days was sketchy.

Besides, Ria was a plant mage. Not as powerful as some, she was only good with pumpkins and the cucurbitaceae family. She had an impressive green thumb, but cucurbits like squash, melons, cucumbers and gourds were magic in her hands.

So when Rhea tossed the pumpkin seed on the ground it didn't matter that it was covered in snow, frozen, storming and dark. The pumpkin grew like it had been struck by magic lightning. In a matter of minutes it was as big as a bedroom. She made a door and let her grandma out of the storm.

Grandma was suspicious about magic but Ria was born with it, as were many of the human children after the convergence. When Earth and the elven world collided, chaos ensued. She was part of the new generation, one of many human mages.

It had nothing to do with witchcraft. Either you were born with special talents or not. No amount of hocus pocus could gain abilities, but a mage could be hired for the right price. Everyone needed a job, after all.

“This is a terrible idea,” Grandma fretted. “We should go back to town.”

“Back to town? We're lucky you made it this far without falling! Come on grandma.” She dragged her grandma inside and shut the door. Before something ate them.

There was hardly any room in the pumpkin, as it was naturally filled with flesh and seeds. Ria tunneled into three feet of flesh, batting dangling pumpkin seeds and threads from her face. Her boots sunk unpleasantly into damp pumpkin flesh, and her hands were covered with pumpkin slime.

“It's dark in here and it smells like pumpkin,” her grandma complained.

Ria firmed her jaw. “Use your flashlight, grandma. I’m going to fix this.” Ria tuned grandma out. She concentrated on the pumpkin, drying it, turning the fibrous flesh into insulation and hardening the outer shell. She also formed a smooth inner shell.

The interior grew as the pumpkin flesh receded. She left a foot of pumpkin wall between them and the deadly Dakota winter. She could barely hear the wind with such a thick sound barrier. It was comforting.

A bright light suddenly blinded her. She yelped and threw her hand in front of her eyes. Grandma had her flashlight pointed at Ria's face.

“Can you see the dark?” Grandma asked suspiciously. “Your eyes are glowing green.”

“No!” Ria gently pointed the flashlight at the ground. Her eyes were naturally green and her hair orange, like grandma’s used to be. But those and the aggressive freckles were natural coloring. Ria’s eyes glowed green because she was a plant mage.

“Please grandma, I'm trying to save us.” Would it kill grandma to wait quietly?

“Don't know if a pumpkin is the way to do it,” grandma grumbled. “I want my rocking chair.” Grandma was short but very fat, and hadn’t gotten much exercise before their shuffling escape. She was clearly winded.

“I want you to have your rocking chair,” Ria muttered. This gave her an idea to keep grandma occupied. She took a seed from her pocket and planted it on the floor of the pumpkin. It sprouted into a smaller pumpkin that formed a flat, cushy seat. Vines curled, forming the frame and legs. The seat back was woven with vines and leaves.

Rhea admired it briefly. That was some nice work!

Grandma muttered about magic but quickly claimed it. She cradled her purse and her cat bucket as if someone would snatch them. She sneezed and dug out a handkerchief. “I'm cold,'' she announced accusingly.

Ria sent her a disbelieving look. “Ok. I'm getting to that.” She stressed the word, biting back the things she wanted to say. Like maybe a little less criticism would be nice. While she saved their lives.

She cleared a circle in the bottom of the pumpkin, all the way down to frozen dirt. Sweating even though it was damp and cold, she took a break from magic while she gathered the pumpkin seeds (which were now nicely dry) into a pile. The pumpkin stem became a chimney with vent holes on the side. She didn't want to die of smoke inhalation after surviving monsters.

The lighter from her bug out bag and a little bit of pumpkin fiber started a nice bonfire. She tended it until it was going well, then stood and stretched. She was exhausted! She’d never done so much magic in one day.

She wasn't done either. They were going to need somewhere to sleep. The floor would work in a pinch, but grandma was old. At her age being chilled was a terrible thing.

Ria chose a loofah seed this time. It grew into a long green oval the size of a queen bed. Ria turned the sponge inside into a cushy mattress with a floppy, spongy quilt.

She shifted the seeds next to the dry pile of pumpkin seeds, making sure not to mix the two. Pumpkin seeds were edible.

Ria was shaking from so much spent energy, so she sat on the cold floor and wheezed. She dug through her bag and ate half a protein bar and drank some water.

She’d been too busy to answer her grandma's constant questions, but now she folded back the quilt and showed her grandma the bed.

“What is that? You don't expect me to sleep there, do you?” Grandma asked suspiciously.

Ria ignored her and spread the emergency foil blankets. “Come on, Grandma. It's time to sleep.”

“I'll just sleep in the rocking chair,” Grandma said stubbornly. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Ria tried logic. “The rocking chair is made out of a magic pumpkin.”

“I don't care.”

Ria took a breath for strength. “I love you and I don't want you to die of cold, grandma.”

“I'll be fine right here.”

Neither love nor logic then. There was no way she was going to let grandma sleep in the chair. Ria made the rocking chair sag a little. With great difficulty, grandma got up.

Ria was instantly there, supporting her elbow. “Oh no, it looks as if the rocking chair needs work! I'll try to fix it tomorrow, ok? I'm too tired now.”

“Should have known a magic pumpkin couldn’t be trusted,” grandma fretted.

Ria steered her to the loofah. “The floor is too cold to sit on. Why don't you sit on the bed? Ria helped grandma to the bed and tucked her in, on the side closest to the fire, and then went around the bed and climbed in.

And then Ria slept like the dead.

2. A blinding light woke her.

Grandma shined the flashlight in Ria’s face. “Where are we? I need to go home and feed the cat.” Grandma said. The dementia was bad this morning.

Right. Ria forced herself out of bed and fed the fire, shivering in her chilly coat and boots.

Trying to save them, one pumpkin seed at a time.

She crawled back into bed to warm up. The pumpkin room wasn't bad for a rush job. The inner shell was hard and smooth, a nice burnt orange. With a little work, it could be comfy.

But it needed a toilet, right now. Ria got up and grew a pumpkin into a stool shape, forming a hollow inside and a lid hinged with vines. The root was a long deep shaft.

For privacy, she made a vine screen hung with strong, velvety leaves for wiping. She used it, and then helped grandma before leading her back to the fire. “I fixed your rocking chair, grandma.” She demonstrated its sturdiness by bouncing on it. “If you want to sit there, I’ll bring the blanket for you.”

“I want to go home.”

“Soon,” Ria lied. Home was gone. Saying it wouldn’t help, though.

She peeked outside the door. It was still dark and the storm howled, shoving the door shut. They weren't going anywhere. She made sure her grandma was watching as she slammed the door shut. “Yikes! It’s nasty out there.”

They had three protein bars and two water bottles. Ria let grandma have a bar and water, then pulled a cooked pumpkin seed out of the fire and broke off the burned half. She nibbled on the rest, considering options.

They could live here, but would need food and water. A proper wood stove or fireplace, because the open fire was a little smoky. They didn't have Wi-Fi or a way to power lights or charge phones.

They had no car. Haven't had a car in a long time, took the bus shopping. They cleaned the old apartments in exchange for a free room, and lived on grandma's social security, which was never much. Grandma had some government assistance for free grocery vouchers, so that was something.

Ria didn't have time for odd jobs. She tried to keep her grades up while doing most of the apartment cleaning. Grandma's health made it hard for her to keep up. At seventeen, Ria was much more fit.

At least they had the ward stone to keep monsters away. She took the small yellow stone from her pocket, studied it soberly. It was warm, and she could feel the faded magic in it. Maybe it was once powerful, but even rocks got old.

She glanced at grandma. At eighty-seven, grandma was declining. The dementia had been creeping in for years, and the physical decline was happening faster than expected. It was just a matter of time…

Ria shook her head. One problem at a time. She could handle the food and water for now. Maybe they could arrange grocery delivery later? Power was a problem, but maybe a generator would work? How did you use a generator? How much did they cost? They ran on gas, which meant she’d have to find a gas station.

They had no Wi-Fi, but did have data through the cell phones. There was no way to charge them, though. Grandma would need medicine. So many things.

First things first. They needed more water. The storm was still raging. Grandma couldn't go outside and it was a miracle she'd made it to the pumpkin without falling. She was exhausted. Ria didn't wanna leave her. A glance at her phone showed it was still a little early for phone calls.

She thought for a bit, and then planted another seed. A pumpkin vine grew through the wall and wound around the house, forming a gutter to collect water. She made a water barrel indoors out of a hardened, hollow cucumber (because cucumber water tasted better than gourd water and she was tired of pumpkin) and routed the water to drain into it, making sure she added an overflow valve. She’d learned that tip from cleaning the apartment rain barrels.

She grew a dipper gourd and made some bowls and cups out of gourds. If it weren’t for the grim circumstances, she’d have enjoyed the situation. Her magic was fun, and she enjoyed making things.

Ria heard a noise outside. Voices.

“Of course it's a mage,” a man was saying. “You see that perfectly square door? You think a monster made that?”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Who’s there?” grandma called. “Ria, go see who it is.”

Ria took a seed in hand, just in case. Then she cautiously opened the door. It was two guys she recognized from school. One looked very surprised to see her. The other one looked pleased.

“I didn't know you were a mage,” Viggo said. Viggo Aze was seventeen, a year ahead of her in school. The frost giant was seven foot tall, but so personable he wasn’t the least intimidating. “We were just on our way to school and…” He frowned with concern. “Are you ok?”

Are you ok? Ria stared at him, unsure what to say. She had been holding it together until he asked. Until someone cared.

She swallowed. “Not really,'' she said, and the story poured out.

It was amazing how easy it was to be strong until someone asked how you were doing and genuinely cared. Ria was a little surprised to find that she wasn't doing very well. Sure, she was holding it together, but just barely. She hadn't had time to process the situation and the loss of their home.

Viggo and his friend had been on the way to school. They saw the pumpkin and investigated. Viggo was sure it was mage built, had convinced his friend to check it out, expecting to see a gruff older man, maybe. No one was more surprised to find a teen girl and her grandma in need of help.

Viggo was a natural leader. He started making phone calls. By the end of the day not only did they have groceries, a table and clothes, they also had a generator in an attached pumpkin shed and windows.

It turned out his friend’s dad used to be a mobile welder. He owned a bar now, and didn’t need the generator at the moment. He brought it over and installed it with his son’s help, stringing LED lights and a charging outlet for the phones.

Someone else found her an old pellet stove, easily installing it with the help of a little pumpkin magic.

It helped that everyone wanted to see the pumpkin house.

There was some talk of finding another place for them, but apartments were in short supply, thanks to an oil fracking boom, and rent was going up. It was generally agreed that the pumpkin made a good house for now.

“Also, it’s pretty darn cool,” the man installing the pellet stove said. “I might have to buy a shed from you for my mother-in-law. We’ve been talking about moving her closer.” He glanced at her grandma speculatively, probably thinking of his own elderly relative, and possibly the logistics of moving her.

He was wearing a mask out of deference to her grandma. There was a virulent flu strain going around, with deadly consequences for the elderly and immunocompromised. Hospitals were full and understaffed, and funeral homes were busy.

Ria’s grandma had scoffed, but Ria had taken extra care to avoid bringing home even a cold virus, afraid it could turn out to be more. She knew people who had died, had friends with dead grandparents and family.

Grandma might be selfish and narcissistic, but she was all Ria had.

At the end of the day, Ria was exhausted but relieved. They wouldn't starve. They had help, shelter. They could do this.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she told Viggo. “You were so much help.”

He grinned. His friend had gone home to help with chores, but Viggo had brought her and grandma a pizza for lunch. “It was nothing. Anyone would have done it.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. Really, is there anything I can do?”

He shrugged. “Pay it forward. Someone else will need your help some day.”

***

School was possible thanks to the gift of an old laptop and a spare modem. She was able to attend virtual classes daily while keeping an eye on grandma. It was nice to avoid the cold bus ride, but being trapped with grandma all day was rough. She had a small TV now, and knitting, so she made mountains of hats while Ria did school with headphones to block the noise.

But when school was over, there were cat stories. Incessant, wild, plentiful cat stories. They never ended.

“Puss was such a good cat. She loved your daddy. She killed a raccoon one time when he was little. Clean tore it’s head off.”

Ria clenched her jaw. Her father had died in a car accident three years ago. Hearing about him still hurt. Her mom had been gone for a long time, but that was an old pain. These false stories about him and the cat raked her heart.

“She sat by the window every day waiting for him.”

The cat had died last winter. It preferred to hide on its tall cat stand in a dark corner. It was an odd cat.

It was useless to correct grandma, either. She refused to stop lying. It wasn’t the dementia, either. She’d done it all of Ria’s life.

“She used to open doors whenever she wanted out.”

Ria paused in rummaging through the snow filled cooler, startled by the truth. The cat had been able to open doors. They’d had to make sure their door was always locked or the cat would get out.

“She stared at his picture all the time…”

Ria sighed. Cat stories were exhausting.

***

Ria did end up making pumpkin sheds, and earned good money doing it, too.

The former welder with the local bar was her first customer. He cussed like a sailor but was a wonderful guy. He kept the generator gassed, although he showed Ria how to operate it.

He insisted on paying her for the pumpkin shed, too. Said business was brisk, so there was no reason he couldn’t pay her. He lectured her on offering it too cheaply, too. “Know what sheds are going for and don’t undercut the other guys too badly. It’s bad for everyone.”

She made a fancy, three tier pumpkin shed for his bar of different colored, stacked pumpkins. It was good for business, especially when he added local pumpkin beer, pumpkin bread and locally made pumpkin ravioli on the menu.

She sold several sheds that way, hiring a man with a flatbed trailer. She grew the pumpkins on the trailer, then he strapped them down and delivered them to their destination.

It was a drought year and hay was scarce. A farmer contacted her about pumpkins for his cows, and paid her by the truck load. A couple of other farmers contacted her also. It made her feel good, doing her part to help her community.

Soon she had earned enough for a used car. She was saving for an apartment, and had vague plans about moving in the spring. After all, they didn’t own the land they were on, and would have to move eventually. Her best bet was to sell the pumpkin, let someone haul it away while they moved into a new place.

The bar owner hooked her up with a good used car and Viggo gave her driving lessons. He was patient while they navigated the slick roads at a crawl, although he insisted on listening to country music on the radio.

“That’s really distracting,” Ria said mildly, hands clutched on the wheel. She had to adjust the seat before driving, because Viggo had it cranked back as far as he could, and still didn’t have enough leg room. Compact cars weren’t made for frost giants.

“Good. It will make you a better driver. Slow down now, that’s a stop sign,” Viggo said as they lurched to a stop, narrowly missing a lump of ice left by the plow.

And then he took her to an empty parking lot and showed her how to deal with spin outs by doing brodies on the slick pavement. It was terrifying and fun.

“Turn into the spin,” he advised calmly. Nothing seemed to ruffle him. “Work with it, not against it, or you can flip.” He pulled to a stop. “Now you try.”

***

Soon grandma needed a walker. She was vain about it, but she didn’t have the strength to get up out of her rocking chair on her own.

The squeak across the floor was maddening.

“Tennis balls,” the bar owner, Bob, advised sagely when he stopped by with gas to check on them. “My friend’s dad’s walker was like that. Tennis balls muffles it.”

“I’ll order some,” Ria said promptly. Anything to stop the noise.

“No need. I just bought a pack for my dog. You can have some. I’ll send the kid with them,” he said, referring to his son. Ignoring her protests, he waved goodbye and took his gas jug with him.