T'was a long time ago, longer now than it seems
In a place that perhaps you've seen in your dreams.
"This is Halloween, this is Halloween. Pumpkins scream in the dead of night!?"
So this is what Halloween has come to? Oh my beloved holiday. A time when scaring is in its prime; when children run round in costumes asking for tricks or treats. Some getting treats others…mmmmm getting tricked. Such a glorious time, when screams fill the night and terror seems to thrill.
All of it has been boiled down to a ridiculous, nonsense filled song about how Halloween night should go along.
I sneer at the scarecrow being lead into town. In the shadows I watch…always from the shadows…HIS shadow. He plays the game along with the others, but I know the truth. He grows weary ever day planning for this night. Never resting, never given one moments peace and he has gone from terrifying to a show.
It sickens me.
He rises from the fountain with the others singing "lalalala." Oh how…infuriating. To think the great Dracule Skellington's successor Jack has turned this town into a sing-songy place. If I had eyes I would roll them. The audience claps and I join in with a fake smile across my bony lips. My cape blows in the wind, being snatched at by icy fingers and it makes me feel warm inside.
At least the wind remembers.
"Great Halloween everybody," the mayor says with pride.
"I believe it was our most horrible yet," Jack interjects, "Thank you everyone."
"No thanks to you Jack, without your brilliant leadership!"
Anger swells in me. Leadership? He has not led this town in ages. Every year the night grows more and more less terrifying and more…sickening. The crowd swarms around him and I turn to walk along the walls, hidden from sight and heavily ignored.
Idiots and fools are what they are. I remember the days when children feared Halloween even as they treated. They never left their little houses without their parents or a faithful dog. I remember when every ghost had a house to haunt, when every vampire flew off to find some foolish girl, and when every ghoul had a bed to slide under. My fingernails scrape eerily along the brick walls as I walk slowly from the town square. I remember all too well.
I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see the "Pumpkin King" himself fly beside me to hide. My teeth curl in a twisted smile, "Hiding from your adoring fans brother?"
He faces me with a grin of mischief. I wish I could wipe that grin off his face permanently. "The crowds are a bit overwhelming this time of night. It can be difficult to get away."
"Why would you want that," I mock, "Everyone just adores you Jack. They swoon over you as a witch concocting a potion to turn children into toads."
He grimaces and begins walking. "That, Gretyl, is exactly what I don't want."
I step into place beside him, enjoying the saddened look on his face. To think, he actually believes I care. Fool, just like the rest. "Jack, dear little brother, tell me what is wrong."
He hangs his head with a sigh, "I do not want to trouble you."
"Please trouble me," I encourage, biting back my laughter.
He pauses at the fencing leading up to where I live. He leans on the gate and sighs, "Do you ever feel like it was all for nothing?"
"What ever do you mean?"
He picks at the wrought iron with bony fingers. "That maybe father put me in his place to do something great, but I have done nothing."
Yes, dear brother, I think that all the time. You, the whining little skeleton you always were took over my place. I smile and touch his hand with mine, ivory bone seeming to glow in the sharp moonlight. "Dear brother," I say at last, "Give yourself some credit. After all, the citizens of Halloween town are happy. Isn't that enough?"
He takes my hand and gives it a small squeeze. "It is enough for them. That is what matters."
He leans down and kisses my forehead. Disgusting! I smile it off and pat his cheek. "Rest Jack, you have had a long night."
He begins to walk off with sadness about him. I love it. I go up my stairs to my house and enter. The doors slams shut with a boom and green lights flicker on. I hear scuttling and something crashing. I sigh heavily and remove my cape. A few seconds later I am marching down the stair to my lab, where my schemes always seem to.
My assistant, Headless (if you can call him that), is stumbling around the tables of liquids and contraptions. He must have fallen asleep again. "Mistress Gretyl," he squeaks out, "Headless not know when you return. He lay down head for small sleep and…"
"Enough," I say and sit in my chair, looking over the screens to my surveillance cameras, "I do not want excuses as to why the suit has not been repaired again."
Headless curls into a dark corner and silences. At least someone pays heed to me in this town. As the first born of Dracule, I should have been the Halloween Queen. But no, Jack received that privilege and is now sulking in the graveyard.
And I can't wait to hear what he has to say.