Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to anything even remotely related to the Nightmare Before Christmas, or its characters that may or may not show up.
It Came From Locker 2569
I'm sure at one point in your school life, be it middle or high school, you were not on the best of terms with your locker. Even all of you clean freaks out there, who scrub the old things from top to bottom, and keep them as neat as a prick, they still find the best possible times to jam themselves. Whether it be before a test or you're about to go home, I don't know, but there is no such things as the perfect locker.
And mine is far from it.
Well, it hasn't been horrible. I mean, it opens when I need it too, or I've gotten smart enough to figure out when it's going to stick and prepare myself three periods ahead.
All in all, it's been a faithful locker. Jammed only twice a year, and if it tries to stick, one simple swear word and kick will send it flying open into your face and then after you go the nurse for a concussion, you're good to go. Today, unfortunately was one of those days. And no amount of swearing or kicking I sent flying at it would get it to yield so I could go to fifth set class.
I only two minutes left. I was going to be late.
"Dammit!" Clang!! Still wouldn't open.
Man, today was sucking horribly. I was in pain enough as it was, and my locker was just adding insult to injury with this bloody contraption! "It's the frickin Halloween locker from hell!" I glared angrily at the little black bats that someone had drawn on it long before it had come to hold my belonging for eight hours. The bats, for some reason, would not come off, no matter what.
And inside, if you looked straight up into the one cubby and craned you head to the left, you could scribbling behind my math book, saying
The broomsticks are mounted.
The ghosts are a-fright.
Enchanting takes wing,
On All Hallows' Night.
Okay, so the last person who had this locker was major Halloween fanatic. I could go with that, the holiday was pretty fun. At least, back in the sixth grade it was. Now I didn't bother go trick-or-treating anymore, it was a waste of time for a sophomore. Really, it was.
The bell rang, and the buzz of students ringing through the hall dimmed softly, till there wasn't anymore noise on the basement where my locker and about one hundred others resided. I was alone, and while that wasn't unusual it was annoying, and pathetic.
I didn't want to take that test for math. My teacher hated my guts (at least, gave off a vibe that said that) I was dog tired from last nights soccer game, and I wanted to go home to grandma and have her make me hot coco and I could sit and watch a movie in bed for the rest of the day. That would be soooo nice.
"But this is the real world, and you don't have any friends who could drive you home." My voice echoed almost eerily in the hall, reverberating of every red locker all the way down to the mass of black that was the end of the hall, just a wall.
What I also really wanted was my big brother. He could be a jerk sometimes, but as far as big brothers went, he was okay. He and me and dad went trick or treating all the time before Dad…well, whatever. The point is, you need to get over it, you cry baby. And stop crying!
My knees buckled slowly under me, and as I dropped in front of my locker and pressed my face into my book bag to shield myself from the world, I let tears flow as quickly as I could.
"If you ever need to cry, do it and do it fast. Don't let anyone see you cry, because then you're setting yourself up for heartbreak, kiddo." Dad. Dear god why did you ever tell me that. Cause it worked god-dammit, it worked.
"Why are you crying…did I scare you that good? I wasn't even trying, maybe Sally was right."
The contemplating voice somewhere above me cause me to freeze for two seconds, then sent up on my feet, and my raw eyes went wide. There, standing over me, (because he was just plain tall, even if I was standing up) was a skeleton, in a pinstriped suit with a coat tails and an imaginative looking bat that might just be a tie. He grinned softly at me, if you could call it lip-less grinning. Talk about having no upper lip.
And behind him my locker sat innocently open, a folder slipping out in a habitual manner that was anything but habitual. Holy hell. There was a freaking skeleton in my, my locker!
Without a second thought, I glanced up at the ceiling and questioned, "Do you hate me, up there?" The skeleton looked up there too, as though thinking I was looking for something.
"Where did you, who, what-" one question at a time.
I started with a simple, "Who are you?" The tall thing grinned merrily. And with a wide sweep of his long arms and creepy maneuver of bony fingers, he exclaimed, "Jack Skellington at your service, The Pumpkin King of Halloween Town!" He bowed just then, bending at the waist inhumanly low.
Why couldn't he just give me a straight answer? "And who are you?" He suddenly asked kindly, pulling his long bent body back into its twig-like figure. His head coked in a curious, alive manner.
"I'm…Adel. Or just Addy." I hated my name and though the tone in my voice gave off that certain vibe, (I had practice with the pronunciation of my name venomously) Jack said he liked and thought it was pretty. Okay. Well…so there's skeleton that just came out of my locker, and is a gentleman. I can do this, I can do this…
"Addy, could you possibly tell me where I am?"
…I went with the short story. "You came from my locker, you're in, uh, Newbrook High...does that help?" Jack turned around to gaze curiously at the aforementioned walls, then turned back to me and shook his head.
"Do I scare you that good?" I almost laughed, almost. Jack stepped forward and I froze once again, but he moved past me and reached in one fluid motion to pick up my scattered belongings. I looked down the where he had just been standing and saw yellow and red crinkled leaves sitting against the linoleum floor of the school.
"Here you go." A cheery voice broke me out of my trance, and I turned to see Jack holding out my book bag with an extended skinny arm, and slender whit chalked bones faintly touched my own flesh as I took it from him. The impact sent a chill up my spine, though I had no idea why, to tell you the truth.
"Do you think you could possibly direct me to the nearest cemetery?" he asked kindly.
Do you think you're even real? The urge to say this almost won over what I did say, and it was nothing as intended as so rudely, "uh…there isn't one. This place is too, I mean this town is too small." For a moment, he seemed to sag, visibly deflating like a balloon before collecting himself and shrugging, as though the fact there was no cemetery at all was just a minor annoyance. And not his ticket back here ever he said he'd come from.
"Very well, mind if I stay with you for a while?"
How do I say no?
Lease comment, or I will not intend to continue this story, because stopping it will concern you people more than it will me, I assure you.