The next morning, Briar woke up to the soft, steady glow of her floating pumpkin outside her window, casting a warm orange light across her room. She groaned and pulled her blanket over her head, silently begging the universe for just one normal day.

But the glow only seemed to intensify, as if the pumpkin knew she was trying to ignore it. With a resigned sigh, Briar threw off the blanket and dragged herself out of bed, crossing the room to peer out the window.

Sure enough, the pumpkin was still there, floating a few feet off the ground and glowing like a magical jack-o’-lantern. The rest of her garden, thankfully, was quiet. No singing flowers, no rebellious vegetables. But the pumpkin? It was pulsing, its orange light growing brighter with each passing second.

"Of course," Briar muttered. "Why wouldn’t today start with a glowing pumpkin?"

She quickly got dressed and rushed outside, hoping to stop whatever magical nonsense was happening before her mother noticed. But as she stepped into the garden, she realized the situation was worse than she thought.

The pumpkin wasn’t just glowing. It was vibrating.

"Oh no," Briar said, her eyes widening. "This is bad. This is really, really bad."

Just as she reached for the pumpkin, Myrtle came bounding into the garden with her usual enthusiasm. "Morning, Briar! I brought—what in the name of magical mushrooms is that?"

"It’s a pumpkin," Briar said, her voice tight with frustration. "A floating, glowing, vibrating pumpkin."

Myrtle’s eyes lit up. "Amazing! What’s it doing?"

"I have no idea!" Briar threw her hands up. "I woke up, and it was like this!"

Myrtle, always one to enjoy magical chaos, circled the pumpkin with a look of utter fascination. "This is incredible. Do you think it’s going to explode?"

"Please don’t say that," Briar muttered, her stomach churning at the thought.

"Well, it’s either going to explode, or it’s about to do something really cool," Myrtle said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Either way, we should probably stand back. You know, for safety reasons."

Before Briar could respond, Reginald piped up from his basket, which was still resting on the garden bench from the day before. "Oh great, now the vegetables are getting ideas. What’s next? A potato with a personality?"

Briar glared at the carrot. "Don’t give them any ideas."

Just then, the pumpkin gave a low, ominous hum, vibrating more intensely than ever. Myrtle and Briar exchanged worried glances and quickly backed away, taking cover behind the fence.

"Should we do something?" Myrtle whispered, peeking over the top of the fence.

"Like what?" Briar hissed. "It’s a magical pumpkin! I have no idea how to handle this!"

"Maybe you should talk to it?" Myrtle suggested.

"Talk to it? It’s a pumpkin, not a zucchini!"

Myrtle shrugged. "Hey, you never know. Maybe it has something important to say."

Before Briar could offer a retort, the pumpkin gave one final, intense vibration—and then, with a blinding flash of light, it stopped.

For a moment, everything was still. The garden, the air, even the pumpkin itself seemed frozen in time. Briar slowly emerged from behind the fence, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Did it… did it stop?" she asked, cautiously approaching the now-stationary pumpkin.

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Myrtle followed close behind, her eyes wide with excitement. "I think it’s done!"

But as soon as the words left her mouth, the pumpkin began to wobble again—except this time, instead of glowing, it started to grow. Slowly but surely, the pumpkin expanded, its round orange surface swelling like a balloon.

Briar blinked in disbelief. "No. No, no, no. It’s getting bigger!"

And bigger it got. The pumpkin swelled to the size of a watermelon, then a beach ball, then a boulder. Within moments, it was towering over them, casting a massive shadow across the entire garden.

Myrtle, who was trying very hard not to laugh, looked up at the giant pumpkin and said, "Well, on the bright side, at least it didn’t explode."

"Yet," Reginald muttered from his basket. "I’m still betting on ‘explode.’"

Briar stared up at the pumpkin, completely at a loss for what to do. "This is insane. How do I stop a giant pumpkin?"

Myrtle, who was now grinning from ear to ear, crossed her arms. "Maybe you don’t. Maybe you just… embrace the pumpkin."

Briar shot her a look. "Embrace the pumpkin?"

"Why not?" Myrtle said with a shrug. "It’s clearly magical. Maybe it’s trying to tell you something."

Briar groaned, running a hand through her hair. "I swear, if this thing starts talking, I’m moving to another village."

But before Briar could formulate a plan, the pumpkin gave one final shudder—and with a loud pop, it stopped growing. The garden fell silent once more, and for the first time in what felt like hours, the pumpkin remained still. It was now roughly the size of a small carriage, but at least it wasn’t glowing or vibrating anymore.

"Well," Myrtle said, placing her hands on her hips, "that’s one big pumpkin."

Briar sighed, rubbing her temples. "This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to explain this to my mother? ‘Oh, hi Mom! Don’t mind the giant pumpkin in the backyard. It’s just a little magical mishap.’"

Myrtle giggled. "She’s going to love it. Think of all the pumpkin pies you could make with this thing!"

"I don’t even like pumpkin pie!" Briar grumbled.

"Well, the rest of the village is going to be thrilled," Myrtle said, patting the enormous pumpkin affectionately. "You’ll be the talk of the town."

Briar was about to protest when she heard the familiar creak of the front gate. Her heart sank as she turned to see her mother walking up the path, her arms full of freshly picked flowers. Briar’s stomach dropped.

Her mother stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the pumpkin. The flowers slipped from her hands, forgotten, as she stared at the massive orange behemoth that now dominated their garden.

"Briar…" her mother began slowly, her voice dangerously calm. "What. Is. That?"

Briar swallowed hard. "It’s, um… a pumpkin."

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. "A pumpkin."

"Yeah. Just a regular old, uh, pumpkin," Briar said, her voice wavering slightly.

"Regular old pumpkins don’t grow to the size of a house," her mother said, her voice rising. "What in the name of all that’s magical happened here?"

Before Briar could stammer out a response, Myrtle, ever the helpful friend, stepped in with a grin. "It’s a magical pumpkin, Mrs. Thorncroft. Isn’t it amazing? Briar’s garden is really thriving!"

Her mother’s expression softened slightly, though she still looked skeptical. "Thriving? It looks like it’s preparing for a siege."

Briar winced. "I’m… working on it."

Her mother sighed, shaking her head. "I don’t even want to know how this happened. Just… make sure it doesn’t grow any bigger, alright?"

"Got it," Briar said, nodding furiously. "No more growing pumpkins."

With one last glance at the enormous vegetable, her mother turned and headed back inside, muttering something under her breath about "witches and their oversized produce."

Myrtle let out a snort of laughter once her mother was out of earshot. "Well, that went better than expected."

Briar groaned, collapsing onto the garden bench. "This is a disaster."

"It’s not that bad," Myrtle said, sitting down next to her. "Think of all the things you could do with a giant pumpkin! You could turn it into a house! Or a carriage! Or—"

"Don’t say pie."

"I was going to say a pumpkin festival," Myrtle said with a grin.

Briar shook her head, burying her face in her hands. "I can’t believe my garden is out of control again. It’s like every time I think I’m getting a handle on things, something else happens."

Myrtle patted her on the back. "Hey, it’s all part of the magical journey, right? At least you’re learning."

"Learning what? How to deal with oversized vegetables?"

"Exactly!" Myrtle said brightly. "You’re learning how to handle whatever your magic throws at you. And trust me, Briar, that’s more than most witches can say."

Briar sighed, peeking through her fingers at the giant pumpkin. "I guess."

"Plus," Myrtle added, "if all else fails, you’ll have enough pumpkin to feed the entire village for a year."

Briar laughed despite herself. "I guess that’s one way to look at it."

As the sun began to set behind the trees, casting long shadows across the garden, Briar felt a strange sense of calm settle over her. Sure, her magic was unpredictable. And yes, her garden was more chaotic than she could have ever imagined. But maybe that was okay.

Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to have everything under control all the time. After all, magic was supposed to be wild, wasn’t it? And as far as magical mishaps went, a giant pumpkin wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

For now, she’d take it one day at a time. One giant, glowing pumpkin at a time.