A/N: my first TNBC fic. And don't worry, my other stories will be updated soon; damned writers block!
Disclaimer: "Hello, I'm Tim Burton, and I own Lock, Shock, and Barrel, along with the rest of TNBC."
Me: sigh
Lock, tail thrashing to and fro in agitation, continued to dig frantically through the piles of rubbish. Mismatched socks, game pieces, and candy wrappers rained through the air as he continued the search for his mask. Where could it have gone? The last time he had lost it, Barrel had hidden it, and when Lock had found it again, his brother had gotten a black eye for his 'little joke'.
As he dug through a pile of junk, something caught his eye. He brushed away some playing cards and picked it up. It was a book. Books were rare in the tree house; Shock thought reading was a waste of her time and Lock had better things to do (he didn't know if Barrel could even read).
He grasped the slender, battered volume, its black leather binding now gray with dust. He dusted it off, sending a cloud of the stuff into the air. The title, embossed in silver ink, shimmered faintly in the dim light; Pincoffin's Rhymes and Nonsenses. He remembered this book, and knew many of the rhymes and lullabies by heart. Forgetting his mask for the moment, he flipped to a random page. His yellow eyes set on a poem he had long forgotten. But now, as he read it, he was enchanted anew.
Scarebaby, scarebaby,
Where do you run?
Out in the graveyard,
To have you some fun?
Dancing with skeletons
Up from the ground?
Doing a jig
On a burial mound?
His pale blue lips subconsciously mimed the words as he read. He heard Shock and Barrel screaming at each other from the bottom basement. He momentarily wondered if he should join in, but thought better of it and read on.
Scarebaby, scarebaby,
Horrid you are!
With the wings of a bat
And a face with a scar,
The fangs of a vampire,
The tail of a snake;
You open your mouth
And the noise that you make
Is a song that the Devil sings,
Bitter and loud.
Tell me, my baby,
Was your mother proud?
"A song the Devil sings." Lock wondered if he would ever be able to make such a sound. He grinned to himself, showing pointed teeth. That would certainly scare the little mortal children on a dark Halloween night.
He returned to the final verse of the poem.
Scarebaby, scarebaby,
Where do you run?
Not out in the morning,
Not out in the sun.
You live in my nightmares,
You hide from the day;
And there, little-
"LOCK!"
Lock jumped as Shock shouted his name.
"LOCK!"
"WHAT?"
"BARREL FOUND YOUR MASK—ARE YOU COMING OR NOT!"
Cursing under his breath, he slammed the book shut, tossed it aside, and sprinted down the stairs.
Disclaimer numero deaux: Scarebaby/Pincoffin's Rhymes and Nonsenses copyright Clive Barker. Lock, Shock, and Barrel copyright Tim Burton. Nothing copyright me.
A/N: Do you think I should continue it? Drop me a review!