Author's Note: So here we go, my first fanfiction in a while. I've got a new obsession, The Nightmare Before Christmas, let's see how long it lasts. Anyway, this story does have some semblance of a plot, though due to my rather unpredictable schedule and general flakiness, I might not go through with it, so I'm not making it too epic. This fanfiction is mostly to try out a new character and fool around with the movie, hopefully without mangling it too much. Enjoy! Oh, and by the way, I don't own TNBC because life is evil. About the title…don't ask, because I have no idea where it came from. It just popped into my brain when I was going "Oh crap, I forgot about the title!"
Bloody Petunias
The full moon shone brightly in the dark October sky over Halloween Town. A cool breeze swept through the town square, its serenity contrasting dramatically with the ruckus quickly forming on the ancient cobblestones. A twisted menagerie of ghouls and ghosts, of vampires and werewolves, of all manner of things that go bump in the night undulated in stunned perplexity around a single ragged shape like a coiled snake with indigestion. It was what seemed to be a small white face emerging from a sizable pile of rags. It looked like a boy in his mid to late teens, with a matted mop of filthy golden-brown hair and strange, wide, silver-tinged brown eyes. The rest of him was so buried in rags that it was nearly impossible to tell if he was fat or thin. The citizens of Halloween Town were dumbfounded. Nobody from the outside world had ever walked straight through the wrought-iron gates and into the very heart of the town like this before. A single person stepped forward, an odd, cone-shaped ghoul with two faces, one rosy and cheerful, the other pale and upset looking, though the latter was dormant at the moment.
"What is your business here, boy?" he asked, just as confused as the others, but trying to maintain his air of leadership as the mayor. The boy turned to face him. Those strange-colored eyes showed no fear, but a haunted sadness that made him look far older than sixteen or seventeen.
"I seek citizenship in your town, sir." His voice was quiet, with a slight but not unpleasant rasp. The mayor's face switched to its upset side momentarily, then back again.
"What is your name?" he replied, smiling warmly.
"Jeremiah Sangboire." He responded, unmoved by the mayor's friendliness.
"Sangboire? Doesn't that mean 'blood drinker' in French?" a tall, willowy vampire called out from the throng. Separating himself from the others, the vampire drifted toward the newcomer. He put a pale, chilly hand where he guessed the boy's shoulder might be. Jeremiah stiffened and stepped away, distrust flickering briefly in those bizarre eyes. The taller one smiled faintly and bent down to Jeremiah's level.
"Let me see you open your mouth, boy, I won't hurt you," He said in as soothing a tone as he could manage. Jeremiah frowned for a moment, then obliged sure enough, there were two fangs in the place of human canines. The other vampire smiled, glad that he had guessed correctly. He asked one more question.
"When were you turned, child?" he inquired.
"Nineteen fourty-two," Jeremiah responded coldly. The taller vampire gasped softly.
"Oh! Bud you are little more than a fledgeling! Our coven will accept you with open arms. Come, cast off those ridiculous rags, child!" the elder mate to remove them, but Jeremiah flinched away and took them off himself, rather embarrassed and leaving his entire torso bare. The audience gasped in shock, a few of the motherly monsters let out moans of pity. The young vampire was utterly emaciated, only the reanimated skeletons were marginally thinner. On top of that, his back was unbelievably mangled. Vulgar words were burned into the skin, there were still-open stab wounds between the fragile ribs. Tattered strips of dead flesh dangled from the arrow-sharp shoulder blades, the vertebrae like tiny daggers. Whip marks laced his skin on both his front and back. Jeremiah scowled defiantly, attempting to shrug off all this sudden pity by putting up a fortress of feigned toughness. Realizing that now was the time to disappear into the shadows, the older vampire led him away as discreetly as possible. Out from between the legs of his parents, the six year old Jack Skellington watched curiously. Had he perhaps, for the first time, a chance to make a friend?