Author: Hi! I am completely hooked to Nightmare Before Christmas! And here is my small attempt of a story. This is a poem, yes, but a mere prologue. It took me four hours to make this bloody thing. o.o

Disclaimer: Seriously, if I owned NBC, would I be writing a story of it?

'Twas a night, stormy and bleak
A woman with a bundle ran on a seek.
In Salem she lived, years ago,
Centuries even, oh how the time flowed!

The bundle, wrapped up tight,
She cried out of fright,
The poor little child.

"Shh, my dear" the woman cooed,
Seeking a way the child to soothe.
"We're not far, I promise you that;
They will not find us, not even their cat!"

But as soon as she said it, a cackle was heard.
"Oh no!" she cried, "That witch's the third!"
She picked her pace and ran to the woods,
But she took a turn and not t'wards good!

Three of them landed, shrieking of joy
"We found you, my pretty!" "And your boy!"
"Wait!" One shrieked, holding her broom;
"That's not a boy, it'll never be a groom!"

She walked closer, the woman rooted to her spot
She said to her friends: "It's a girl she's got!"
They cackled in glee and jumped about;
With thunder afoot, overpowered by their shout.

"A spell we will cast!" "Ah yes we will!"
"A horrible one!" they croaked with voices so shrill.
"Leave her alone!" The woman cried, moving away
"With me, you can do what you may."

"Oh no my dear!" "You will pay!" They mocked.
Drawing their wands, the woman they flocked.
"Your child shall pay for what you have caused!"
"And you will die, knowing it's all your fault!"

With a flick and a point, the baby was floating.
The mother fell down, watching their gloating.
"What shall we do?" "How shall we curse?"
"And how will we the mother disperse?"

"I know I know!" The smallest shrieked
"We'll make the baby small and weak!"
"No we won't!" The middle one barked
"We'll give the baby the evil mark!"

"Hush you both!" The tallest screamed.
"And all of you listen to my scheme."
The mother, she struggled, but in vain;
The magic was strong, giving her pain.

"Here's what we do: The baby will live.
But a terrible curse we will to her give."
"What do you mean?" "Have you gone soft?"
"I have my reasons, and I think not!"

A fourth witch arrived, riding through the night
A frown on her face, knowing this wasn't right.
"Ah, Sabrina, there you are!"
"We were all wondering where you had gone!"

The fair witch, she bowed, holding her tears
She knew what would come, proving her fears.
"This child we shall curse!" "And kill her mother!"
"And you will be a guardian, should you bother."

The witch, she nodded, wiping her eye
'Twas her sister sitting there, sentenced to die.
"I accept this honour, and Tabitha, I apologize.
It should be me in your place who should die."

Tabitha smiled, despite her pain.
"'Tis okay, for I have nothing to gain.
My baby is safe with you, I can safely say;
I know you can raise her, you'll both be okay."

"Oh please, you make me gag!"
The shortest witch hacked.
"Now shush you all, here's the spell;
I am certain it will serve us well.

The child, you see, will stay how we've been:
A teenager she'll stay, never aging after sixteen."
The witches, they smiled, and evilly shrieked;
Doesn't seem such a horrible punishment, don't you think?

Well, witches are different from mortal women and their vanity,
They value sickness, wrinkles and are not picky on any.
For witches around, their age is what's the matter;
The older they look, their value is better.

A witch of sixteen is never seriously taken;
What a horrible fate for a witch to be given!
So the three old witches, a circle they formed.
The baby in her arms, Sabrina stepped forth.

She gently placed her down, on to the grass
Glancing at the mother, who's eyes were like glass.
The old witches drew their wands out,
Glancing each other's with out a doubt.

"This spell we will cast, this child destroy,
Forever youth we shall on her bestow.
No more than sixteen will she ever seem,
A life of unfairness on her shall we deem.

Try as she might, the curse can never be broken:
From this nightmare, she can never be woken.
Long she may live, that we know,
But the curse on her head can never be thrown!"

The wands of the witches, they glowed in many colours
A bright flash of light was all that follows.
The baby was asleep, sound and at peace,
Her mother was worried, ready to weep.

Sabrina stepped forth, lifting the babe
Bringing it to her mother, for a final farewell.
She took the small bundle, shedding a tear.
She felt the separation to be too much to bear.

She caressed her pale skin, the babe waking to her touch.
Her deep brown eyes were simply too much!
With one last kiss, the baby was given,
To Sabrina, her aunt, away to be taken.

With one last hug, the sisters departed
Knowing too well, how the other's life would be discarded.
Onto her broom the blonde witch hopped,
Averting her eyes as her sister was flocked.

With a swift kick and a lean t'wards west,
The broom soared high, away from the rest.
She flew fast, towards her house to go back,
Away from her sister, feeling so bad.

She looked at the babe, feeling her sister fall
Down to the darkness, well beyond any call.
The baby, she smiled, unaware of the hap'nings of the night
Sabrina hoped she could make it better for the babe, to make it all-right.

With a gentle smile, she held the baby, staying airborne
"I shall call you Tabitha", she smiled, "after your mom".

That's all I was told, that's what I know.
My aunt, she had put the story many times on hold.
That was my start, my origin and past.
The time has flown, oh, so fast!

My name is Tabitha, now all of you calm down!
Take a seat and make me proud.
Listen to me, do as you're told!
Listen to me, as my story unfolds.

Phew, there you have it. Later, then!