Dying isn't actually frightening. Sometimes it is painful, but then other times it's like falling asleep into a pleasant dream. Sometimes you fall into a nightmare.
The cobblestone streets looked the same as anywhere else in the world. The only difference was everything else. The buildings around the street were twisted and terrifying, and the beings which walked this world were grotesque. It was a far cry from their personalities but in this world, beauty involved facial disfigurements and throaty voices. Beauty involved innocent bloodshed to feed those who lusted for injustice. Beauty involved torture of those unworthy of 'honour' and 'freedom'. But, such was life in Halloween Town. I knew about all of this; lived with it for decades. I was constantly on the run from those who hated me; from those that remained furious with me after my attempts to stand up to the man we called The Pumpkin King.
Jack died in 1847. I remember that much. I remember when I was walking through the forest that Halloween night, when I heard a moaning. The poor young fellow was wet, and dressed in a black suit. What amazed me most was what he had become after his death. In Halloween Town, I catalogued every species of ghoul and demon that ever was. Jack was something I'd never seen before- a boy of about 18, maybe 19 years old; with no flesh whatsoever. The first being he saw after his arrival was me.
"Greetings, young traveller." I said. His bleary eye sockets squinted at me, as if he was disturbed by the image of me. Later on he told me that he was, and I didn't blame him. My blue skin was torn in many places from torture, folding sickly down to my hands and right foot. The exposed muscle and bone were rotted. My brown eyes had lost their sparkle long ago. I was a wrecked entity in a shapeless outfit; a dirty grey dress and white apron. The boy looked much better dressed than I.
"Thankyou, but I am no traveller. I am afraid that I have lost my way in this forest with no recollection of how I found my way here in the first place." he had said tiredly. I nodded, holding my hand out to help him up.
"Do you remember who you are?" I asked him. Sometimes that happened to the damned. He pulled himself up, not noticing that he had changed physically, and nodded a little, rubbing his head as if he had a headache.
"I do. The question is which identity do I use? I have too many, you see."
"Well, perhaps the one you used before you got here will suffice."
The boy thought for a minute, trying to remember what name he had used. I thought about things too- I could not imagine what someone with more than one identity was like to those closest to him. He smiled knowingly.
"I remember now. Jacques Kellington." At the time, he had spoken far too quickly, and I had mistaken it for something else.
"Jack Skellington? How fitting... and how unfortunate." I told him, referring to his new body, which he still hadn't quite become aware of.
"No, I said Jacques Kellington. We are in France, are we not?" he asked me. I had looked away awkwardly before telling him the truth.
"I'm afraid you're not in France. This forest is known as The Hinterlands, and, unless you stay here forever, you will soon be in Halloween Town."
"Halloween Town? What on Earth...?" he trailed off as he looked around him, at me, and at his hands. He began to panic as he felt at his face- I recall those moments all too well as he lost his desire to keep his dignity.
He had stumbled around, clearly frightened as he yelled profanities into the night. I guessed that he searched for something reflective, so I pulled my cracked hand mirror out of my apron pocket, handing it to him as soon as he passed. His eyes were wide in horror as he took in his new appearance; the black eye sockets and lips which appeared to be stitched on. I sighed, and took the mirror back. He was tall, very tall. I calmed him down.
"You do not need to shake like the leaves that blow in the breeze. We are all dead, and we are all under a curse which strikes us at random. Sir, you have not yet asked me my name." I told him. He looked startled at my confidence.
"Your name? Oh, your name! Please, pray tell, kind lady. What is your name?" he asked me. I smiled and curtsied before him.
"Like you, I have many names. You may call me Elspeth Doll."
We stared at each other in silence. He took in my auburn hair and dirty bare feet. I stared at his feet; tiny and sheathed in black moccasins, and his fingers; spidery and frail-looking. He broke the silence with a question.
"What is your other name?" he asked. I looked down, ashamed.
"You will hear it soon enough." I told him. He frowned.
"My first identity was Jack Barker. I ran away from England when I was 17, and changed it to Jacques Kellington." He told me. I never asked him why he trusted me so much to tell me such things when I remain sullen and silent.
"Well then, sir, I see no problem to call you Jack."
"Jack Barker?"
"No, Jack Skellington." I began to walk off into the darkness.
I needed to rekindle my TNBC spirit (I've become obsessed with Coraline and Jojo from HHAW)- and what better way to do it than to start a new story? I know the beginning is a little choppy but everything will be explained in time. What do you guys think of Elspeth? Also, the only character I own so far is Elspeth Doll, seeing as only her and Jack are mentioned by name. Please review and tell me what you think, and if you have suggestions that you want to give feel free to do so. -HamPickleSandwich