After many years, I reread this story and found it lacking detail. It was simple and clear, but it could be told so much better. So I decided to rewrite this. Enjoy this rewrite of Black and Red, and let me know your thoughts. Thanks for reading.
The chill of the night was at its deepest as the final chime sounded, signaling that Halloween was over. Jack smiled broadly, pronouncing the holiday a raging success. He waved after announcing the Mayor, then he stepped off the stage and backed into the shadows before he could be swarmed. He strode through the empty streets, listening to the awards ceremony ringing out from the square, but he didn't hear the words. He was too busy thinking of other things, of other Holidays and their leaders.
For the third year in a row, the Pumpkin King had invited the leaders of the other Holidays, and for the third year in a row, they had given vague answers and not shown up. His feet carried him to the cemetery as he brooded. Why hadn't they come? He had shown up to each of their Holidays, had, in fact, helped to prepare various articles and foods for their celebrations.
Painting eggs, wrapping presents, making fireworks, hiding lucky clovers, crafting love arrows, roasting turkeys, he had done it all. And he didn't resent the work. He enjoyed it. He hungered for knowledge about each Holiday, for he knew knowledge was power. And he had done the work beside the other leaders. There had been talk and laughter and fun while they brought the Holidays up to the exacting specifications of whichever leader they were helping. The celebrations were enormous, and the little helpers from the various Holidays came and relaxed after a job well done. But when the time to prepare for Halloween had come, not one leader had come to help.
Jack found himself on Spiral Hill as he came out of his musings, and he sat down on the pinnacle of the spiral, allowing his long limbs to dangle into the cool air. A breeze tickled through the dark, creepy graveyard, causing a deliciously sinister, lonely moan to fill the air. Jack lifted his head and inhaled the scent of decaying leaves and moist earth. He loved the constant fall weather, the nip in the air that would typically signal the oncoming winter in the mortal realm.
Was it him, he wondered. What else could it be? Each year he had been more energetic in his assistance, thinking that perhaps he didn't seem keen enough to learn about their ways and traditions. If he was eager about learning about their Holidays, they would be more likely to be eager about his. But once again, this logic had been disproved when the doors remained closed and his Holiday was left on its own again.
"Jack?" a soft, sweet voice asked.
Jack turned to see Sally standing there, wearing a gorgeous new patchwork dress. It suited her beautifully. He gazed at her appreciatively for a moment, watching her head dip to hide her embarrassed face with her long, red hair. He still couldn't believe that she was courting him. The moonlight played across her blue skin, highlighting the stitches that held her leaves inside. Jack finally smiled and cleared his throat.
"Hello, Sally," he sighed.
"May I join you, Jack?"
"Of course."
She walked over and Jack shifted to sit sideways on the hill. She sat beside him and curled her legs beneath her, leaning into his bony shoulder with a sigh.
"The night is so horrid," she murmured.
"Ghastly," he whispered, looking up at the Jack-o'-lantern moon.
He breathed in her scent of decay and formaldehyde, which soaked into her cloth because of Dr. Finkelstein's experiments. She looked up at him with her big, soft eyes.
"What's the matter, Jack?"
Jack smiled. "I can't hide anything from you."
Sally shrugged one shoulder. "You seem sad. You did last year, too."
The Pumpkin King turned to look at the forest, a frown creasing his skull. Sally followed his gaze.
"They didn't come again," she surmised.
"No," Jack said darkly. "They didn't."
"You invited them?"
"Individually. I made special trips." His eyeholes pinched in sadness. "Is it me?"
"I don't know, Jack," Sally answered. "But I think you're terrifying."
"Maybe I'm not," Jack said. "Maybe Halloween isn't scary enough. Maybe they expect more from us."
"We give it everything every single year," Sally argued. "What more could they want?"
"I don't know, Sally," Jack said. He clenched his fist and stared at the rigid bones.
"What are you thinking, Jack?"
"Do you ever just want to get away from it all, Sally?" he asked quietly. "Just walk away and let others handle everything?"
Sally frowned, staring at the smooth skull-face of her beloved Jack. He suddenly seemed so tired, so exhausted. Sleep would not help. She knew that. A holiday would be good, but the Mayor would never hear of it. Everything that lay on his shoulders weighed him down, and it hurt her soul to see Jack so tired.
"No, Jack," she answered honestly. "But I don't have to deal with the entire town."
Jack breathed out and nodded. Sally looked up at the sky, knowing that Jack was hurting and unable to do anything about it. They sat there in the crisp night air, the sky sprinkled with jewel-bright stars, until the clock chimed one. Sally was to be home by then, but she didn't want to leave Jack in this state.
"Go home, Sally," Jack murmured. "The doctor will be angry."
"What about you?"
Jack shrugged. "What about me?" he asked dejectedly.
Tears stung Sally's eyes, but she didn't know how to help. When Jack said nothing more, she kissed his cheek and stood. As she went down the hill, she looked back to see Jack swathed in moonlight, his form hunched and his expression vacant. For a moment, she considered staying with him all night to make sure he didn't do anything dangerous, but she didn't want the doctor to punish her. So she turned and left through the gate, letting it creak shut behind her.
The clock struck one-thirty. Two. Two-thirty. Jack finally stirred himself as the clock struck three. He should go to bed. Maybe that would ease the pain in his soul. He knew it wouldn't, though. He stood on weary feet and trudged morosely back through town to his tall, rickety home atop the hill in town. The town was silent, the celebrations having ended hours ago. Everybody was asleep, tucked into bed and dreaming spooky dreams. Another year, another success, they thought. They were all unaware of their leader stalking the streets, feeling lower than the dirt beneath his feet.
Jack closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment before heading upstairs. He removed his suit and donned his nightgown. Then he sat on the bed and stared at himself in his wardrobe mirror. A thought made him grimace. It was November first now. Thanksgiving was right around the corner. He would head for Squanto's the next day to begin the preparation. There would be plans to fulfill, food to make, a party to throw. And in the midst of that would be Jack, smiling and polite, helping out with all of the other leaders, pretending that he wasn't shattered by their continued refusal to help him with his own Holiday…
Jack bared his teeth and groaned low in his throat. The noise turned ghastly, mutating into a tortured shriek that echoed through the streets of Halloween Town. Most of them did not hear it consciously, but every citizen shuddered in their beds, afraid of that terrible noise. Only Sally sat up in her bed, crying out in fear. She wondered if the noise had been in a dream or real. But now that she was awake, all she heard was the wind blowing through her open window.
Perhaps if one of the citizens had come, Jack would have reconsidered. But as he sat there, sobbing into his bone hands, not one person ran to check on him, and even Sally descended back into an uneasy sleep. And he couldn't take the pressure any longer. Holding the entire Holiday of Halloween on his shoulders had been difficult but doable. But now that he knew there were others that could help, could share his load, but that they refused to, despite his hard work for them, despite his effort and curiosity in learning entirely new traditions and worlds, something cracked inside of him. And he squeezed two words out of his constricted throat.
"I'm done."
He had said it. The thing he'd been wanting to say for three weeks, since the leaders hadn't come to help. It was a comfort to know that he'd admitted it to somebody, even if it was just himself. He sat up, tears glittering on his bone cheeks. And he said it again.
"I'm done."
The words came out calmly, and he took a deep breath and let it out. He took the hem of his nightgown and wiped his cheeks then he pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the bed. He stood naked in his room and stared at his skeletal body, and he decided at once what he would do. He would get away. Let somebody else handle his Holiday. He didn't care anymore. Why?
"I'm done," he repeated. He smiled. "I'm done." It sounded like the sweetest promise in the world.
He strode over to a chest and pulled a key out of a hidden crack. Kneeling down, he placed the iron key into the lock and twisted it. A pleasing clunk let him know the old lock was still working. It wouldn't matter for much longer. He just needed a few things, old things that he hadn't used in nine hundred years.
First he pulled a bundle out and set it on the bed before going back in. He tapped a secret panel, which opened to reveal several rows of potions. He perused his options then selected one that was blood red with black liquid in the depths. He shook it, needing to know if it was still good after almost a thousand years. The potion flashed brightly and the black swirled in the red liquid, forming a skull. Jack grinned. It was fine. He should have known it would be. Dr. Finkelstein was a brilliant alchemist.
Jack stood up and looked around his room. He wouldn't need anything. He knew where he would go, how he would live. Nothing in this room besides the bundle would come with him. He was going away, and he wasn't sure if he would come back. That thought freed him, and he laughed. He strode over to the window and shuttered it then waved his hand at the fireplace. Flames leaped to life and crackled merrily, lighting up his dark room. He wanted to see what happened when he took the potion. It had been so long!
Jack studied his form beforehand, noting everything, including the only organ he'd retained from his other life.
'Ha,' he thought. 'I'm no skeleton, Sandy. I'm a bone-man.'
Jack scanned his form one more time then uncorked the potion and held it to his lips. The scent of blood and bone met his nose, and he held up the vial in a mock toast.
"To being done with them all," he purred. Then he tossed back the potion.
As soon as the potion entered his mouth, he could feel the effects. A ripple of electricity zapped down his spine, and he arched forward, grinding his teeth together. He swallowed, staring eagerly into the mirror. In one blink, he saw eyes, his own, old eyes, slime green and wild as the Scottish highlands. He grinned, spreading his forming lips away from his perfect, white teeth.
His bones seemed to swell in size, then the tissue turned red, streaking blue with blood vessels as his muscles regrew before his hungry gaze. Organs ballooned into their proper places, and he stared at one red mass in particular, waiting eagerly for the first thump. His heart suddenly came to life, and he gasped in an oxygen-laden breath with his newly-formed lungs. The air tasted sharp on his tongue, and he licked his lips as the skin grew over the sinew and muscles. The pale mass, the biggest organ of the human body, wrapped snugly around the rest of his body, and he stared at the finished product.
He was so tall, so thin, but he had muscles and fat and tissues now. He looked healthy and whole, a human form, a disguise that nobody would think to look for. The only two who knew about it were Dr. Finkelstein and Oogie Boogie. They were there only ones who had been there almost since the beginning.
He grinned, flashing his teeth again then slowly spun around. He hadn't been in human form for nine hundred years. He admired the flesh that masked his skeleton. When he was done with his observation, he strode over to the bundle and unrolled two simple garments. A pair of trousers, plain brown, were slipped over his bare skin, followed by a long-sleeved, open-necked shirt. He adjusted his clothes and smiled at himself. His thick black hair was scruffy, and he drew his fingers through the locks, enjoying that he had hair again.
The clock struck three-thirty, and Jack jumped. He needed to leave at once. There was still the mausoleum he needed to get through, and he didn't want even the hint of being seen to be possible. So he quickly shut the trunk and put the key in his pocket. As he hurried toward the door, his foot caught something, and it skidded across the room. He didn't have time to look for it, whatever it was, so he put out the fire with a wave of his hand and scurried out into the streets.
When he got to the mausoleum, he turned around to take one final look at Halloween Town. His eyes took in the stonework, the metalwork. It was a nice place, but he needed to get away. Jack's eyes stopped on Dr. Finkelstein's tower, and he gazed at the window that opened into Sally's room. For one moment, he considered stopping this foolish notion, going to the doctor, and being returned to his true form. Then he thought of Thanksgiving, and he grimaced. He stared at the window for over a minute, then he turned and opened the stone door.
"I'm sorry, Sally," he murmured, wiping hot tears from his chilled cheeks.
Jack dove into the dark and shut the door behind him, leaving behind those who depended on him for everything yet who gave him so little in return.