Pumpkin carving at Halloween is a family tradition. When I lived in Las Vegas, we had to make do with baseball-size ones from the grocery store. But since we moved to the north-west 10 years ago, we’ve visited a local farm every October. There we ride tractors to the pumpkin patch and I compete with my three brothers and sister to seek out the biggest specimen. My dad has a rule that we have to carry our pumpkins back to the wheelbarrow, and as the eldest child I have an advantage – in 2015 I staggered back with an 85-pounder.

The following year, when I was 16, it was hard to tell whether my prize or the one chosen by my 14-year-old brother, Jason, was the winner. Unfortunately we neglected to weigh them before scooping out their innards, but I was determined to prove my point. All five of us were hard at work at the kitchen table, with my mom filming the annual ritual. I’m unsure now why I thought forcing my head inside the pumpkin would settle the matter, but it seemed to make perfect sense at the time.

With the pumpkin resting on the table, hole uppermost, I leaned over and pressed my crown against the opening. At first I got jammed just above my eyes and then, as I leant into my task, unwilling to quit, my nose briefly prevented entry. Then in it popped: my whole head, like a cork forced into a bottle. I was able to straighten up, triumphantly, with the gigantic squash resting on my shoulders.

My exultation was short-lived. The pumpkin was heavy. “I’m going to set it down, now,” I said, and with Jason helping to support its weight, I bent back over the table to give it somewhere to rest. It was only when I tried to remove my head that I realised getting out was going to be less straightforward than getting in. The knot of my ponytail caught against the rim when I tried to pull out, as did the underside of my jaw. When I pulled my chin into my neck, my nose got in the way instead. I felt a jab of panic as I braced against the table and moved my head around trying to find the right angle, but it was no use. “I can’t get it out!” I roared, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the enclosed space. The muffled voices from outside were oddly calming, though – Mom unruffled and amused, Jason giving advice, my 10-year-old brother, Austin, singing a song I couldn’t make out. There was enough space around my neck to let a little light in and, fortunately, I’ve always liked the smell of pumpkin. My bellowing provoked little sympathy. “Don’t use up all your oxygen,” Mom suggested.

Dad was summoned – less, it seemed, in expectation of practical help than to make sure he didn’t miss out on the spectacle. I heard him propose calling the fire department. “Stay tuned,” said Mom; she’d mentioned she was going to upload the video to Facebook, but it was only then I realised she’d been filming the whole time. I was stuck for five or six minutes though it felt much, much longer. The video cuts before my rescue – Dad got me to push my head farther into the pumpkin so Mom could reach in and undo the rubber band round my ponytail. I emerged with squash-conditioned hair, a sore chin and my nose plugged with pulp.

That Facebook video went up the Monday before Halloween, and by the end of that day it had over 1,000 views. People asked Mom to put it on YouTube, and by Wednesday morning we were getting 5am calls from TV breakfast shows and then the international media –the video started racking up hundreds of thousands of views. When I went on a youth camp, I was recognised by children I’d never met. The pumpkin also became a minor celebrity. Passersby and trick-or-treaters would knock and ask, “Which is Rachel’s pumpkin?” before taking selfies with it.

Although our pumpkin carving the following year was a more sedate affair, I wouldn’t say I learned my lesson. A few months later I squeezed myself into a laundry basket during a game of hide-and-seek and became hopelessly jammed. It was Dad who responded to my cries for help. Inevitably, I was kept waiting for a while – first he had to look for the video camera.

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Pumpkin(南瓜）carving at Halloween is a family tradition. We visit a local farm every October. In the pumpkin field, I compete with my three brothers and sister to seek out the biggest pumpkin. My dad has a rule that we have to carry our pumpkins back home, and as the eldest child I have an advantage --I carried an 85-pounder back last year.

This year, it was hard to tell whether my prize or the one chosen by my 14-year-old brother, Jason, was the winner. Unfortunately we forgot to weigh them before taking out their insides, but I was determined to prove my point. All of us were hard at work at the kitchen table, with my mom filming the annual event. I'm unsure now why I thought forcing my head inside the pumpkin would settle the matter, but it seemed to make perfect sense at the time.

With the pumpkin resting on the table, hole uppermost, I bent over and pressed my head against the opening. At first I got jammed just above my eyes and then, as I went on with my task, unwilling to quit, my nose briefly prevented entry. Finally I managed to put my whole head into it, like a cork (软木塞） forced into a bottle. I was able to straighten up with the huge pumpkin resting on my shoulders.

My excitement was short-lived. The pumpkin was heavy. “I'm going to set it down, now," I said, and with Jason helping to support its weight, I bent back over the table to give it somewhere to rest. It was only when I tried to remove my head that I realized getting out was going to be less straight forward than getting in. When I pulled hard, my nose got in the way. I got into a panic as I pressed firmly against the table and moved my head around trying to find the right angle, but it was no use. “I can't get it out!” I shouted, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the enclosed space.

注 意：

1.所续写短文的词数应为150左右；

2.至少使用5个短文中标有下划线的关键词语；

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Para：It was stuck for five or six minutes though it felt much longer.

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Para：The video was posted the Monday before Halloween.

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参考范文一：

Para.1

Para.2

参考范文二：

It was five or six minutes though it felt much longer. The air inside the hollow vegetable was full of my anxious breath. I could hear my sister’s laughter and Jason’s muffled voice talking about cutting the giant thing open. “No! Not my precious pumpkin!” I protested. Eventually, Dad helped me adjust my body to a more relaxed position, and pulled the pumpkin gently off my head. Hair in knots, nose and chin covered in pumpkin flesh, I let out a sigh of relief. That’s when I realized the camera had been rolling the whole time!

The video was posted online the Monday before Halloween. I looked just like a pumpkin head in it. Embarrassed and a little annoyed, I fled to my room, but Mom stopped me. “You haven’t read the comments yet.” I scrolled down the screen and marveled at the stories the viewers shared about Halloween. One girl recalled celebrating it with her brothers and sisters, and thanked us for “bringing her home”. The words brought warmth to my heart and tears to my eyes. I felt lucky to be a part of this mischievous yet loving family.