THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS II:

SAMHAIN; THE DOOR OF TIME

"Boys and Girls of every age,

Would you like to see something strange?

Come with us and you will see,

This our town of Halloweeeen."

The well known refrain sang across the grave yard, seeming to cling to the dense fog. The song, which lifted the dank atmosphere of the dark night, gave the evening a jovial tinge, despite the gloomy settings that Patrick found sprawled out before him.

It was a grave yard, not atypical from any other graveyards that Patrick had seen. Unless you included the jack-o-lanterns that sat row upon row along the hills, all of which Patrick swore were following him as he walked. In the distant trees, a dead man swung from a rope, while mist swirled around his ankles. To his surprise, the mist seemed to take on the shapes of clawed hands, which ran long nails against his shins, then disappeared as quickly as they had been conjured.

As Patrick the III beheld the scene before him, it was all that he could do to stifle a scream when a hand with long green fingernails placed itself upon his shoulder. As he spun on his heel, he tried to think of a banishing spell that is father taught him or a protection charm that his mother had given him. However, he needn't have bothered. To his undying relief, the hand belonged to Lucky, his twin sister, who had painted her nails emerald green to match her felt dress and eyes.

She laughed when she saw her brothers face. His usually pale completion had turned a positively sick gray that made his freckles stand out like pepperoni on a pizza. "Was' wrong brother? You're as jumpy as a wee cat!"

"Ay, sis. It this place. Don' ya feel it? It gives me the creeps."

"Ay, ay, I hear you. I do feel something'. Remind me why we agreed to come here?"

"You know why! Da' said it were right for us to go to the Holiday Festival, 'cause we hav'ta…"

"Begin to assume responsibilities for when we take over Saint Patrick's day, 'cause he an Ma' aren't getting any younger an wanna retire to the clover fields. I know I know."

"That an Ma' did want us to go."

"Ya reckon? I think they were just sick a you moping around after Mabel!"

"Aw, get on wi' ya! There's no way I was moping over some lass. So, which way is this Halloween town?"

"Don' changes the subject, Pat. Anyway, I don know where Halloween town is."

The twins surveyed the graveyard, and they didn't like what they saw. The gravestones were arranged in such a way and in such magnitude that the meager cobblestone path took on the form of a dark maze, because such was the amount of graves that the path had to split, fork and crossroad in various places to lead to each plot. If they tried to traverse it, they would surely become lost for hours. The only speck of hope they could see was a strange spiraled hill, which, considering that it resided in the area the music was wafting, it seemed like the most logical place to head for. The twins decided that they would make out for the hill so that if nothing else they could see above the thick fog, and pick out a course of action from there.

"Well" said Patrick. Offering his sister his arm, so he wouldn't lose his only ally in this shadowy realm. "Once more unto the bridge…"

"An all that rot." Lucky finished, slipping her arm through her brothers, locking their elbows together to form a protective wall made of sibling comradely.

So they began their hike along the long and twisted path, in more ways then one…

And so ends the first chapter of my second story. Reviews are greatly appreciated! No, scratch that, Reviews are HUGLEY Appreciated. Also a disclaimer and possible apology…

By now you may have noticed some strange spellings and grammar mistakes in Patrick and Lucky's speech. As these characters (owned by me) are born in Ireland, I am attempting to give them an Irish sounding dialogue and voice. But since I have never been to Ireland, and do not know anyone who speaks with an Irish Accent, my dialoging is mainly built on guesswork and what I have heard on television. If any of my readers happen to speak with an Irish accent, and are in anyway offended or alienated by this story, I am sincerely sorry. It was not my intention to offend you. And I would very much appreciate it if you could tell me (via the Review section, see the green button) where I am going wrong. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

Urban Story Queen.