Strawberries Lead Me Home
Skellington Chronicle: Ripley
Nearly twenty years after the great Christmas Disaster, good old Sandy Claws came to visit me. The twins were torturing one another and Luke was making everything difficult for his mother; Emily was, like a good little girl, pulling heads off dolls and spearing them with needles. Ripley was nowhere in sight. However, my old friend was not alarmed by this behavior and instead asked me a riddle.
"Do you remember that time so long ago?" he asked in his deep, booming voice. As loud as it was jolly and warm. "If you knew what you know now, and what you knew then, would you do it again?"
Of course I would, I told myself, looking fondly at my wife as she ignored baby Luke's tantrum and went on with her business. Sally might have been quiet but one couldn't help but be impressed with her managerial skills. I just looked at that large, red-suited man and smiled. I wasn't too close to thinking that something like it would never happen again.
Growing up in a place like Halloween Town, one would think sudden surprises and horrifying scares wouldn't cause a jump; but as my sister Emily happily waved a somewhat gook-covered, bleeding head in front of me, I shouted and nearly popped right out of my skin. I had to grab my skull and hold it on as I stumbled backwards.
She laughed mockingly at me. "Ripley, you are so pathetic! How can you be scared?" She rolled her eyes and sauntered away to bother the twins, who were for once not strangling one another. Once she came close, of course, they turned, glowered at her and ordered that she leave them in peace. I shrugged; teenagers were so odd.
There was not a single thing in Halloween Town that could ever keep me there. The three trick-or-treaters were far too rude and brutish; the vampires were always out at night when oddly, I liked to sleep; and all the other children were too morbid and frightening---I was always getting scared out of my wits and half the things they said and did made my stomach turn. I'd lived in Halloween Town for eleven years and severed limbs still made me faint.
I spent most of my time in the graveyard, for it was the one place no one ever really came. It was quiet and lonely and I never had to fear that someone would jump out from behind me. Of course, every once in a while my father would come and sit next to me on the top of the Curling Hill and try to comfort me without words--but it just made me feel more out of place than I already did. He would always fidget as if he had something he really wanted to say, but he never did. He always stood and said, "Don't worry, son," and then would leave.
Even in my own family I was bizarre; the twins were so close that despite being so different--Lise was beautiful and she knew it, while Mortimer was quiet but as commanding as my father--they were best friends. Emily hated me as much as I hated her. Luke was young but had already learned to laugh at me, and even though my mother tried to comfort me and help me to blend in, I still never felt that I really belonged. Only my father knew me even a little well, but he always had these silent, sad smiles about him when he spoke to me, as if he knew something I didn't.
When I saw Emily coming back towards me, face determined and carrying a sack of who knows what, I stood up and quickly left the house, nearly bowling over the cellist as I pushed open the iron gate by the front steps. I apologized and walked past the band, then felt a strange attraction to the melancholy music they played--it was a mirror of the melancholy in my small skeleton heart. I sighed at them as I walked into the graveyard.
The moon was particularly bright that night. I kicked some dust as I passed each grave and heard a few ghosts playing games in the distance. The band's music followed me up onto the Curling Hill where I sat, dangling my feet and leaning my head against my thin, bony hands. A few pumpkin heads flickered and grinned but there was no other movement besides the swaying of my thin white feet.
I thought about how humiliating it must be for my father, the great Pumpkin King, to have a boy as disgraceful as I. I would never become great like he was--every Halloween I was found sitting in a house, hiding in a corner with an odd thing I had found once in my father's old memory box. He called it a "teddy bear" once. I slept with it until I was eight years old.
A Skellington boy who sleeps with a stuffed bear and is afraid of the dark. I sniffled in disgust.
I stood up so quickly I almost fell right off the hill; I turned and crawled down it, holding onto the loop and dropping down onto the ground below. I paced quickly by the graves and the pumpkins and the ghosts who giggled and fled as I passed, until I reached the hill at the end of Halloween Town. Slowly, with the moon rising beside me, I walked up and into the forest of tall, skinny trees, where there was not a leaf in sight.
It was eerie and dark as I walked, even with the light of the moon filtering in through the trees in long bands across the forest floor.
I had to cover my mouth to stop from shouting in surprise when I felt a tickle against my chest. Realizing the culprit I reached into my mangy shirt pocket and drew out Pickles, my somewhat inebriated-looking rat, and held him up and out by his tail. He fidgeted and the stub of his bitten-off ear twitched. The creature twittered at me and I sighed at my friend, unwilling to give up his company in my long-due exploration away from my home. I set him on my shoulder and he passed out there, tail dangling behind me.
It was nearly morning when I realized I was completely and utterly exhausted. However, I had no urge to sit down or rest, so I just continued on. I considered walking until midday and then I would turn back--I would be home by the next morning. I really doubted that anyone would miss me.
Among the tall, anorexic trees I saw a small group of large, thick trunks. They were all neatly arranged in a circle--about five of them. Thinking this quite odd I approached and walked into the middle only to discover that upon each of the large trees were engraved colored drawings, all very different and of things I had never seen before. Of course, we all knew that other holidays existed (even though it appeared to me that many were afraid of the idea and it seemed to be a relatively new concept) but no one ever talked about them. I didn't know anything about them other than that Halloween was one of them and that seemed to be the end of it.
Upon one tree was an odd, large brown chicken; another had a green tree with colored markings on it; one was a giant heart; upon the smallest was a clover and the last, a large, colorful egg. I blinked. What were they? Was each one of these funny little trees its own holiday? I puzzled over it and approached the tree emblazoned with the egg. Maybe one of these holidays would welcome me instead, I thought, as I lightly touched the doorknob.
Before I could blink there was a great wind and a small door flew open, pulling me inside. It closed behind me and I felt myself fly about, turning and swirling until I landed with a loud impact. When I opened my eyes I found myself sitting in a wide field of grass, a blue sky above dotted with small, white clouds and a pale sun casting a warm glow on me. My surprised expression quickly morphed into a wide, toothy grin, and suddenly, I wondered if this was really where I was meant to be.
Jack was completely beside himself with worry. After Ripley had left the night before he had thought nothing of it; the boy was always leaving to the graveyard to be alone and get away from Halloween Town. Jack always pitied his son and saw so much of himself in him--feeling out of place, not belonging, though he had to admit that Ripley's case was much more ingrained and severe than Jack's had ever been. He always wanted to tell his son, "There are other holidays out there, ones to accept you, ones where you would feel so at home." But he never could, not after the great Christmas Disaster. He could only hope that maybe Ripley would find his way to wherever he was supposed to be.
But when he hadn't come home that night and he and Sally had stayed up all night looking and waiting for him, he could only imagine that something horrible had happened to his admittedly favorite son. Of course, everyone knew that Mortimer would take over his position as Pumpkin King one day, and Luke was spoiled and selfish enough to become a monster as scary as the trick-or-treaters or even Oogie Boogie himself; but Ripley was special. He had more heart than any skeleton boy Jack had ever known and too much respect for his family to ever leave.
And so it was with panic that Jack left for the graveyard a third time that day, his long legs moving faster than they ever had before as he ran up the hill and onto a familiar path. He hadn't checked the forest yet--no one ever left the graveyard, it just wasn't done. But as soon as he saw the small footprints of his middle child Jack wished he had come here earlier, though he could only follow them at a run, watching as they steadily became more erratic and stumbled. The trees became sparser and sparser as the dread grew in his heart; Jack came to a sudden halt as the small grove of thick, wide trunks loomed just ahead and the small footprints went right up to them.
Walking carefully the Pumpkin King walked into the center of the circle, following the prints with his eyes up to the same door his son had been through earlier that day. Though he knew the sun was falling behind him Jack carefully pulled open the handle and disappeared inside.
It was mid-afternoon in Easter Land when Jack Skellington landed on both feet in the wide field of tall, green grass. He could no longer see Ripley's footprints but as soon as he raised his eyes he knew where the boy had gone: off in the distance sat a small village of little, round houses built into numerous hills all in a circle. Smoke came out of some of the chimneys and he heard the sound of laughing and playing--Jack knew he had to be there.
As he approached the town he saw funny-looking little, plump children playing with a ball. Of course, the moment they laid eyes on him they all cried out and instantly fled into their houses, the doors slamming as the ball bounced sadly away. Still not seeing his son Jack looked around for any sort of clue--until, up on a hill, he noticed two figures sitting in the shade of a giant oak tree. Deciding that he would keep himself out of sight this time he walked past the odd, round homes and went up the hill just behind the tree, the figures of a skinny boy and a large rabbit becoming more clear as he approached them.
Sure enough he saw Ripley sitting in the grass, little clawed hands red with juice, conversing merrily with a very large, pink rabbit. The rabbit had a basket of strawberries in front of him and had one in his mouth as Jack peeked too far around the large tree and both of them saw him.
"Dad!" Ripley cried just as the rabbit jumped, surprised, and fled so fast he fell right off the hill and rolled down it into one of the small houses below. It flipped itself over so it landed upright and dashed away, making a dramatic slide into a very wide hole in the ground where it disappeared.
The small skeleton boy stood up, his whole face crestfallen as he regarded his father. Jack, too relieved to see him to notice, picked him up and hugged him tightly. "Ripley! I was so worried about you!" When he received no reaction he released the boy and set him down on the ground, face confused as Ripley just turned his head away and frowned. "What's wrong? Why did you run away?"
He looked up at his father and, with a sad sigh, replied, "I didn't run away." Jack opened his mouth to say something, but looking at his son's face, closed it. "But now I don't want to go back. They like me here. I don't have to worry that someone's going to jump out and throw some dead animal at me." He paused and leaned down, picking up a sleeping rat that Jack hadn't noticed earlier. He recognized it as Ripley's pet Pickles. The animal dangled by its tail, still snoozing fitfully. "Even Pickles likes it here. The moment I came here Bentley invited me to eat strawberries with him in the shade. Why would you want to be in Halloween Town when you could live here?" By that time, Ripley was staring at his father with such a look that Jack thought he looked as if someone had just robbed him of his most precious possession. "Why do I have to go back there? No one even wants me there!"
When his father merely sat down on the grass in front of him, Ripley gave him a curious look. "Sit down, son," Jack ordered kindly. Cautiously, Ripley did as he was told. His father looked contemplative for a moment before saying, "I wanted to tell you. I did, but a long time ago, I made a mistake--and I didn't want it to be repeated. I found the holidays many years ago long before you were born, even before I married your mother. She was the smart one who told me something bad would happen if I tried to interfere in the other holidays, but I didn't listen to her. In the end she was right and I had nearly ruined a holiday for everyone." He gave Ripley a meaningful look. "I know how you feel. I was the greatest man in Halloween Town, the best at scaring, the best at it all. But I felt that something was missing, that it was all hollow--and I found so much happiness in Christmas Town." Jack let out a sigh and lightly patted his son's head with a bony hand. "I can't help but think you are so much different than I. Though I wavered I knew in the end that Halloween Town was where I belonged; but I don't think the same is true for you. I wanted to tell you sooner, to tell you that maybe someplace like this was where you were meant to be, but I didn't want to risk it. And still, I don't know if I can. I want to let you stay here, I do, Ripley, but I just don't think it's right."
After Jack had finished, there was a long silence between father and son. Just as Jack was beginning to wonder if Ripley would flat-out refuse to come home, the boy reached over and fell into his lap, hugging him. Tentatively he returned the gesture.
"Dad," he said, his face still buried in his father's chest, "I'll come home if you want me to."
"What I want from you is for you to think about it. Come home and take some time to think if this is what you really want--because I want you to have whatever makes you happy."
Ripley raised his head and nodded. Jack smiled at him and lifted him up, spinning him around once before setting him back down on the ground. "Good, then," he said, "Let's go." Ripley nodded and, basket of strawberries in one hand and a snoozing rat in the other, followed his father out of Easter Land.
Jack rolled over again in annoyance and fluffed his pillow. He just couldn't get comfortable.
"Jack, dear, I think it's important to realize how different Ripley is--just as different from everyone else in Halloween Town as he is from me or you," Sally said quietly to him, reaching over and lightly patting his chest with one hand so he would stop shifting. He let out a sigh.
"I know, I know," he murmured as he flicked a spider who had crawled off a tassel on the blanket and onto him instead. It landed on the ground, sputtered, then crawled back to its original spot as decoration. The clock screamed as it struck the hour. "I just wonder if that's the answer. Can someone from one holiday really live in another?"
Sally smiled and turned on her side so she faced her husband. She lightly traced his large eye socket with her finger. "Dear, maybe you should ask Mr. Claws what he thinks. I'm sure he'll know what to do." Jack's eyes grew wide and he turned to face her.
"That's just what I'll do!" he announced with a grin. Sally smiled back. "You always know just what to say," he told her, his voice changing from normal to one only his wife knew. His smile turned sly and he sneaked his long, thin arms around her. "Tomorrow, I'll go and see him. You're right--Sandy Claws will know what to do."
Every child in Christmas Town stopped to stare as the skeleton man passed through, right to Santa Claus's front door. He knocked twice, hardly having to wait for the door to open. The short, large man was dressed in his red suit and reading from a list in his hand as Jack stared down at him. It was this tall shadow that caused him to glance up at last and nearly jump from surprise.
"Oh, hello Jack, it's you!" Jack nodded seriously, causing Santa Claus to tilt his head. "What is it?"
"I have something I need to ask you for advice about," Jack replied bluntly.
"Well, I do have a lot of work..." Santa looked at his old friend's stern expression and sighed, rolled up his list and let Jack inside. "Take a seat and we'll talk."
By the time the two were seated at the table with Mrs. Claus's hot chocolate and small honey cakes, nearly ten minutes had passed. Finally Jack addressed why he had come.
"I have a son, you didn't meet him. His name is Ripley," Jack began. "He is more different than any citizen of Halloween Town in all of my recent memory." The skeleton man's face turned melancholy as he leaned on one bony hand and continued, "He has such a warm heart. He doesn't want to scare people--I mean, he even scares himself by accident sometimes. I've wanted to tell him for such a long time about the other holidays, that there might be something else out there for him, but I knew it wouldn't be right. So, he found them himself."
At this last, Santa looked surprised, then somewhat skeptical. "What do you mean, Jack?" he asked in a lower tone. Jack shook his head.
"No, nothing like that. I merely found him sitting in a field eating strawberries with the Easter bunny." There was a short pause between them, with Jack staring at his long, bony fingers and Santa Claus with his eyes fixed in confusion on his visitor.
"Pardon me?" Jack raised his eyes.
"That's all there is. He's my son, and I want what's best for him; and I don't believe that's Halloween Town. So I'm asking you what you think I should do," the skeleton man replied.
Santa Claus hummed in thought, then sighed. "The relocation of any one person to another holiday has never happened before, at least in my knowledge. I'm really not sure what to say..." he trailed off, looking considerate. "I think we should call a meeting. An 'annual' meeting."
"Annual meeting?" Jack asked curiously. Santa nodded.
"A meeting of all the leaders of all the holidays to decide what must be done," the large, jolly man replied with a definitive nod of his head. "It is the only thing I believe that can solve your son's dilemma."
Jack pondered this, then gave a wide, toothy grin. "Good. I probably shouldn't be responsible, considering the poor Easter rabbit's last response to me," he said, "but I surely will attend."
"Good," Santa replied, "make sure to bring your son. I think he'll be required for an interview."
For a week I sat in my room, sad and tired, not wanting to see outside into the dismal courtyard of Halloween Town. My father came and talked to me, telling me that he knew everything would be all right; but I knew better. Emily laughed at me and shook her headless doll, saying, "Poor little Ripley, nowhere to go and nowhere to run to." Mortimer, as usual, had nothing to say, and only Lise had a positive word. She smiled at me and patted me on the head, then sat down with me. "You're my favorite little brother," she told me, "and wherever you think you belong, I want to help you get there. You are a sweet boy and you deserve to be happy."
However, as uplifting as her words were to me, I knew still that I would probably never be able to leave Halloween Town again. I considered running away to some other holiday, but who knew what awaited me there? And despite it all, somehow I knew that if I made it into a mess my father would be the one to blame--and that, I just couldn't do.
One day I was sitting at the table giving Luke his afternoon dinner while my mother folded bats in the laundry, and the door burst open with a noise. In came my father, as tall and majestic as ever. Both my mother and I watched him curiously as he came towards me and kneeled down in front of me, smiling a smile I thought looked rather sad.
"What is it, Dad?" I asked.
"A meeting has been arranged among the leaders of all the holidays to decide if you can be allowed to leave Halloween Town--possibly forever."
I gaped at him. Leave Halloween Town? "What do you mean?" I asked, voice somewhat choked. My father smiled at me, his dark, empty eye-sockets warm.
"I think that maybe, you can be happier somewhere else. You weren't meant for a place like this, were you, Ripley..." he less answered my question than he did drift off into thought. I frowned.
"You don't want me here any more?" I asked, feeling that somehow I knew this was coming. I was as jumpy as a deer and despite the ghostly appearance I had inherited from my father, I could hardly scare any more than a fly.
My father's eye sockets grew large, and before I could say anything he hugged me. "No, no!" he replied vehemently, "Not that. I just believe that, well, maybe you could be happier living in a different holiday, like, for instance, Easter Land." He winked at me.
"With Bentley?!" I asked excitedly. My voice must have woken Pickles, for he peeked out of my front pocket and squeaked.
My father nodded. "But you have to go to this meeting with me," he told me, pressing one thin finger against my nose. "A committee has been assembled of all the leaders of all the holidays to decide if such a thing can be allowed. It has never been done before," he admitted. There was a brief pause as the great Pumpkin King smiled a wide, skeleton grin, warm and soft, and told me, "You are my son, and I will always love you. I will do whatever I can to make sure you will be happy."
Santa Claus sat on a stool just behind the bench, shifting and feeling slightly unnerved at how short he was compared to the overlarge man sitting beside him. The man wore a funny brown hat with a black band and gold clasp, and all dull, brown clothes complete with black belt and boots. He hadn't said a word yet, so Santa felt some relief when a very small, energetic man with pointy ears, red hair and a tall green hat jumped up onto the stool to his right. The meeting was being held at the main banquet table in Thanksgiving Town, with all the interviewers sitting at a bench resembling that of a judge in a court.
Santa Claus leaned forward, noting the Easter rabbit also on one of the stools, barely containing his somewhat epileptic fear at being around so many people. A few other leprechauns sat below the podium at the banquet table, along with some small, pudgy creatures from Easter Land and a giggling elf or two from Santa's own Christmas Town. Just as Santa was mentally inquiring over the absence of Valentines Day's requested presence, the door to the large banquet hall opened and in came a beautiful woman, mostly naked, and carrying a little, chubby baby complete with cherubic wings and miniature bow-and-arrow. Once she had silently and seriously taken her seat, Santa Claus gladly picked up a mallet and tapped the podium. The small amount of chattering instantly ceased, and the door creaked open once more.
Jack Skellington of Halloween Town opened the door and stepped inside. He appeared briefly to be alone, his skull with a stone expression, until a small head glanced through the door and followed his father through. Jack walked up to the podium, Ripley following close behind as if using his stick-thin father as a shield from every strange eye that looked upon him.
Jack bowed in front of the bench. "Pumpkin King of Halloween Town," he unnecessarily introduced himself. "My son, Ripley Skellington." The skeleton boy, shaken, waved slightly at them. Bentley was barely held in his seat by Rasmus, the mayor of Thanksgiving Town--at first, the rabbit was scared silly by the skeleton man, but had become so happy to see his young friend that it was difficult to restrain him.
"You may have a seat," Santa Claus ordered, winking at both Jack and Ripley as they sat at the front of the banquet table.
Rasmus spoke up, adjusting his hat and speaking in a toneless, drawling voice. "We have come to understand that both Easter Land and Halloween Town would like the young master Ripley Skellington to be allowed to go freely between them and retain residence with Bentley Easter?" Jack nodded.
"I'm sure most everyone here is now aware of the implications created by meetings even such as these," said a mature voice coming from the small, naked baby now sitting on the table. Cupid fluffed his wings. "Since we were all informed of the nature of this visit, there has been much talk among us of the possible implications of such a transfer. Such a thing has never been done before." He paused and stared meaningfully at the two skeletons. "What completely baffles me is, why? What possible reason could there be for a born member of Halloween Town to want to live anywhere else?"
Jack stood up and Santa Claus said, "Permission to speak."
The Pumpkin King began in his usual loud, commanding voice. "Our towns are all self-subsisting. We never change in population, we spend all our time maintaining our holidays and strongly looking forward to them. But sometimes, I think, we begin to know that other holidays are out there, and those of us--those who are different--begin to look for them. Of course, when I found them, it was the answer I was looking for." Here, he paused and fixed a socket look on Santa, who nodded back. "But truly I believe that my son's place is not in Halloween Town with the other ghouls. I never would have thought this had it not been for a recent and purely accidental meeting between he and my dear Easter rabbit here," he indicated towards Bentley, who jumped, "which led to instant friendship. I believe that, in all sincerity, my son has plenty to offer to Easter Land and in his quiet nature will cause very little disturbance." Jack stopped there at Santa Claus's indication.
Rasmus leaned forward. "What does the boy have to say in all of this?" Ripley stared up at the man, sockets widening--if possible.
"Sir," he mumbled, and Jack whispered, "Speak up!" Ripley coughed. "In truth, I don't even know where I belong. I am a scaredy-cat, sir, I haven't lasted one Halloween without scaring myself in a mirror. What can I gain by leaving Halloween Town? Nothing. What can I offer by living in Easter Land? Very little. But all I've ever wanted is a quiet life where no one will jump out from behind me with a severed limb--and one true, real friend." The boy sat down, silent.
There was a small bit of conversation before Santa Claus hit his mallet against the bench, nearly sending Bentley into a seizure and causing everyone to go quiet. Santa turned beside him to the leprechaun leaning against the podium, his small feet dangling. "What is your opinion on the matter, Merrick?"
The little man shrugged. "I don't even know why I'm here. If he wants to go he should just go." The leprechaun picked something out of his teeth with a toothpick and his long ears twitched. "There's too much red tape at this convention. Silly people, when you all could be sitting under rainbows." At his last comment, the other committee members exchanged confused looks.
Santa Claus cleared his throat and asked, "Has everyone said what they want to say?" He sighed and looked over at the Easter rabbit, who was waving one paw frantically. "Yes, Bentley, what is it?"
"Rip-uh-ley!" the rabbit exclaimed, waving at the boy. Ripley waved back. Satisfied, the large pink animal sat back down and Rasmus let out a sigh.
Tapping the bench once more Santa announced, "We will have a brief recess."
I wasn't quite sure what to think about the whole thing. They had to hold a meeting to decide if I should be allowed to leave Halloween Town? I looked over at my father, who was staring off into space. Did I really want to leave my family behind? Did I really want to go?
I nodded to myself. Like the large red man had said, I could go freely between holidays if they allowed me to. And with tutelage, as my father had said, I could become a very productive member of Easter Land--though, "That's not saying much, I don't suppose they do a whole lot there as it is besides eating strawberries and painting eggs." He made it sound all so very idle--and I loved how it sounded. But why everyone was so suspicious of one person visiting another holiday, I couldn't possibly fathom.
I looked up as the odd procession returned into the banquet hall and took their seats at the bench once more. I noted that it seemed to be a rather short time in which to make a decision.
"Well, it was somewhat unanimous," Santa Claus said once he had taken his seat, and gave a pointed look at Cupid, who wiggled his rear end. "Ripley Skellington receives permission from the Holiday Committee to obtain residence in Easter Land and move freely between it and his home town of Halloween. That is the extent of his boundaries and we wish him luck."
I sat on the front steps, my things wrapped by the carcass of an obscenely large cat. I held it by the legs with a shirt sleeve hanging out the side. Pickles sat in my front pocket, snoozing as usual, and my only traveling companion. Every so often his tail twitched and tickled my chin. A few citizens of Halloween Town stood at the bottom of the long stairway just behind the gate, with the band playing a usual and unfittingly melancholy tune. When my mother finally came outside, she carried the somewhat chubby Luke with the twins following not too far behind. They walked past me down to the gate which they opened and stood beside, waiting for my father who came out not long after and joined them. I stood up to come down as well when I felt someone grab the sleeve of my jacket and I turned to see my sister, Emily, standing just behind me with the front door still open. She held a toy in her hand, one which I couldn't identify until she held it out to me: the teddy bear. The one thing left in our house that wasn't twisted and frightening, the only one that I ever felt save sleeping with, I had nearly forgotten it. She shoved it into my hands without a word and ran down the stairs, past the rest of the family and out into the graveyard where she disappeared from sight. I blinked.
I supposed I was going to miss her too.
I walked down to where my mother stood--she had just handed off my brother to my father--and came up to her, only to be enveloped in a giant hug. She sniffled and in her comfortingly sweet, high-toned voice said, "Come visit us really soon," and kissed me on the cheek. The twins smiled at me, Mortimer's large eye sockets unreadable and Lise's lashes pooling with tears. Neither of them said anything and both gave me a hug at the same time, nearly squishing me.
Luke, still a bit too young to do much on his own, mumbled, "Brother grrooaaawr!" and waved his arms at me. I laughed as he struggled once he was returned to my mother.
My father stood, tall as a tree and thin as a pole, with a wide grin and open arms. He wrapped me up and lifted me, hugging me very tightly to his chest. "Take good care of yourself, Ripley. Remember to not grow up on me," he said with a joking tone--though I could hear the unshed tears in his voice. His bony fingers briefly touched my face and then I was ready to be on my way.
The big wolf man stood with his wolf son, howling, along with the three witches who crowed, and the vampires standing under umbrellas, with the mayor--whose face was turned to his sad face of a white pallor--and the large couple with their large child. They all waved, saying my name, wishing me luck, as I left my home. I returned the wave; especially, I waved back to the great Pumpkin King, who made no movement but smiled a broad skeleton grin at me and I knew everything would be all right. I walked out into the graveyard beyond just as the sun began to wane in the sky.
It saddened me slightly as I held my teddy bear that my sister hadn't bothered to say good-bye, though I knew there was little more to expect from her. She had never really liked me, I supposed, for we were just too different despite our closeness in age. We were too far from Luke to care for him and too young for the twins to talk to us as much as they did to one another, so I had always thought of us as reluctant companions--so I was somewhat sad to not see her once more before I was gone.
But Emily never was very predictable. Though quiet, she was by far the most frightening ghoul of the house besides my own father and had the most talent for Halloween: so when I heard her footfalls just behind me, I nearly jumped. She came up beside me, silently, and we walked next to each other until she said, "I'll go with you to the place." I only nodded my head.
She walked with me for hours. I followed the path out of the graveyard and into the forest, through the great expanse of tall, thin trees until the night was ripe and at last we reached the small grove of holiday trunks. I paused before entering and turned to her.
"See you," I said. She nodded, took my bony hand in both of hers and squeezed. Then she turned around and walked away.
I watched her figure disappear into the dark before I went into the small grove of giant trees and approached the entrance to Easter Land, hiking my cat bag over my shoulder. Pickles was awake now, watching, claws holding the fabric of my pocket. I put my hand on the knob, looked around briefly, and disappeared inside.