Chapter 5
Your Infestation Does Not Scare Me
Jack stared at his bandaged hand as he headed back downstairs. His mind was still plagued by the echoes of his nightmare, and the youth could almost swear he could feel the evil little creatures scrambling over his skin. It was such a strange dream; very unlike anything he'd ever imagined before. He honestly didn't mind insects, and had never pictured them being so frightening. Nor had he ever thought the woods could take on such terrifying qualities. The only time he'd ever felt unsafe in any forest was in the dead of night. In the woods, night didn't settle in from the sky, or sort of roll in and embrace you like it did in a field or on the beach. Instead, it seemed to creep in on you from amongst the trees, reaching out to get you when you weren't looking.
The dream had also brought up a fear that hadn't touched the boy in an extremely long time. He'd spent the last half hour or so trying to place it. Jack knew he'd felt it somewhere before...somewhere in his chidhood. It summoned up memories of nights where his nervousness clasped his mind with cruel claws, robbing him of sleep. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, staring at his hand, the name of his childhood tormentor suddenly dawned on him.
"The bogey man...?"
It almost made him laugh aloud. He was scared of the bogey man? Now? At his age? Ridiculous. But he couldn't shake that feeling inside. That laugh again...that horrible, chilling laugh.
"Jack!"
The youth started slightly and blinked down owlishly into the big, blue eyes gazing up at him with concern. Amelia was biting her lip slightly and her sweet face was screwed up into an expression of worry that was heartbreaking to look at; her lips trembled and she looked on the verge of tears. "Are you going to be all right?" she managed in a quavering whisper.
"Oh, Amelia," sighed the girl's older sibling, dropping to one knee and wrapping his long arms around her. "Of course. It was just a little insect bite."
"B-But you fainted!" she cried, choking back a sob and blinking back tears. "You were thrashing and making faces, and you called out in your sleep! You called for Mommy and Daddy and me." She sniffled and buried her face in his shoulder, trying very hard not to cry.
"Don't worry, darling, I was just having a nightmare," he told her, stroking her tangled curls. "Just a bad dream, but it's over now, all right?"
Amelia nodded, stepping back and rubbing her eyes. She offered him a smile which he returned, and the little girl felt a bit of the weight resting on her heart lift. Jack was all right after all. Nothing wrong with him. She'd just been nervous. Her brother was big and strong, and it was dumb to think that something as trivial as an insect bite could really hurt him. It was Amelia's firm belief, as it is every child's, that next to her father, her brother was the strongest person in the world.
"We're going to get the Christmas tree today!" she said cheerfully, completely forgetting her tears. "Daddy says he knows where there's a nice little patch of evergreens that are just the right size!"
"Really!" Amelia's older sibling exclaimed with a grin. "Well, I just can't wait! I think it's your turn to pick the tree out this year!"
The young girl bounced on the balls of her feet looking even more excited, if it was possible. Her joyful attitude never failed to heal Jack, and this time was no exception. Any echoes of the laughter in the woods escaped the boy's mind and he followed his sister toward the kitchen. Both were immediately engulfed in the thick, spicy scent of baking gingerbread. A tradition at this time of year in the Skellington house was the baking of gingerbread men; something that never failed to delight the younger members of the residence.
Amelia peeked her face up over the edge of the table, watching as her mother rolled out the thick, brown dough into an even, fragrant sheet and proceeded to push the shaped cutter into it. She could only remember a few Christmases, but those she did always included this ritual. Normally, their maid, Elly, did the cooking and baking. At the moment, however, she was on her Christmas vacation, visiting her family. Their mother didn't seem to mind too much, though. At this time of year, she felt it more appropriate to put her own loving work into what her family ate. Amelia looked up to her brother and found him discreetly sneaking a taste of mollasses. He caught her gaze and gave her a wink, which made his sister giggle. Mrs. Skellington looked up at Jack and cast him an admonishing gaze. "That's for the cookies, you thief!" she chuckled, giving his noes a playful poke.
"Thief!" gasped her son theatrically. "I didn't do a thing!"
"Well, I think it's only fair that your sister gets a bit of a treat, too." Mrs. Skellington took a few raisins into her delicate hand and offered them to her daughter. Amelia took them eagerly, looking at the little men formed as her mother pulled the excess dough away. She grinned and popped a few of the raisins into her mouth. Their mother was a pleasant woman of delicate build. She had feathery brown hair touched ever so lightly with gray that she wore back in a loose bun, twinkling brown eyes which Jack had inherited, and a loving smile that matched her disposition.
"So, we're going to get the tree today?" Jack asked, picking up one of the finished gingerbread men and looking it over. Mrs. Skellington nodded with a smile.
"Ah! That reminds me! I need to get the decorations out!" declared their mother.
Mrs. Skellington's daughter's face positively lit up. Everyone in the house had a special Christmas ornament. Her father had a rocking horse that was carved out of wood and painted in red and black while her mother had a dove made of blown glass. Jack's ornament was a many pointed star made of silver, and as for Amelia, the little girl had a ballerina made of china with a tutu of pink lace.
Jack smiled at his sister, noting her dreamy look and guessing what she must have been thinking of. His eyes fell back onto the gingerbread man he was holding and he startled slightly. The young man's heart leapt to his throat and suddenly the laughter from his nightmare returned to him. What had been a happy little cookie a moment ago, had twisted into a miniature monster. It's delicate orange-peel smile had transformed into a mouth of jagged yellow teeth, it's little peppermint drop eyes, made lovingly by Mrs. Skellington, were now dangerous little slivers glaring up at Jack menacingly. Fascinated and horrified by the metamorphosis, the boy found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the monstrous confection. To his further shock, the gingerbread man's eyes narrowed and it's mouth pulled intself into a smirk. Thin as the hum of a bee's wings, he heard a tiny voice in the back of his mind, the gingerbread man's cruel mouth moving along with the words.
"He's going to get you..."
"W-what..?" the youth tried to answer, his voice coming in a choked whisper.
"He's going to get you!" hissed the gingerbread man again, his smirk growing wider. This time it didn't stop, though. It continued to say it, chanting it over and over again, the voice becoming louder and clearer each time until it died off into that revolting laughter from before. Jack's hands shivered and the gingerbread man's head snapped off suddenly, falling to the floor in an explosion of crumbs.
"Jack?"
The boy startled slightly and looked up from the broken cookie. His mother had her hands on her hips and Amelia was blinking up at him, chewing on her raisins. "Well, I suppose now that the head's gone you and your sister can split it. After you're done, why don't you get bundled up and head out with your father for the tree?"
Her son nodded a bit numbly, still holding the cookie in a shaking hand. Amelia started to reach for the confection but Jack quickly snatched it away from her. "No," he said quietly. "Not this one." He then crushed it in his hand, much to the surprise of the room's other two occupants. Without another word, the young man turned and left the kitchen.
"What is happening to me?" he murmured, rubbing the side of his head and leaning against the hallway wall. "Am I going mad..?" Jack frowned and shook his head, looking at his bandaged hand. No. Whatever this was, he resolved, he wasn't going to let it defeat him.
* * *
"What do you think of this one?"
"It's bare on one side!"
"You know, if you don't choose ONE of these, we're going to have to go without a tree this year."
Amelia smiled up at her brother and father, her little mitten-covered hands buried in the branches of a snow-patched evergreen. "I know," she said, "but I want it to be perfect."
Jack chuckled and shook his head, but couldn't blame her. After all, he'd acted the same way when he was a child. Finding the perfect tree for the parlor was always a joy and a vice at the same time. It was getting rather cold, though, and snow was begining to drift from the sky again in light flurries. Amelia, however, was taking her time despite the weather. This was her first time being in charge of the tree selection, after all, and she was taking it quite seriously. Rubbing her chin in a contemplative way, she scrutinized another evergreen before shaking her head and moving on to find another possible candidate.
Mr. Skellington watched with as much amusement as Jack did. The siblings' father was a very tall man, sturdily built and topped with a slightly messy head of black hair that was, at the moment, gathering snow. His blue eyes seemed always to be laughing, and he wore a small beard from which a smile could very often be seen. He was currently holding a small saw and following his daughter as she darted to and fro in the evergreen patch.
Quite abruptly the little girl stopped and stood in awe of a tree before her. "That one," she whispered, pointing at it and staring with saucer- sized eyes. The girl's companions flanked her and looked the tree over.
"Well, I do declare! Amelia, my darling, I think you found the most beautiful tree in the patch!" exclaimed Mr. Skellington with a smile.
"Indeed you did," agreed Jack, walking around the tree and grinning to his sister. "Excellent job!" Amelia blushed modestly and dug one toe into the snow.
"Well, let's get this down then, shall we?" said their father, laying beside the tree's base. "Jack, you hold on to the trunk and I'll get to work."
Nodding, the young man took hold of the tree's trunk and waited patiently as it shook under his father's saw. He gazed quietly into the fir tree's boughs, ready to catch it's weight when the base gave. His vision relaxed, blurring ever so slightly.
Eyes.
The boy quickly refocused his vision and gaped at what he saw peering out at him. Under bushy eyebrows of evergreen branches leered a pair of eyes. Under the eyes appearing just as suddenly and unexpectedly was a mouth set with teeth of jagged twigs and sticks that grinned up at him. Crawling among the teeth were centipedes and strangely colored insects that peeked up at Jack with bulging eyes or clicked their mandibles loudly. Rasping and husky, the tree's voice came. "It's only a matter of time, you know. It's inevitable!"
For a moment, Jack felt frightened. But only for a moment. After that, rage quickly took him.
"No."
"What?"
"I said 'No'," Jack growled to the tree.
The pine monster actually looked surprised. "What do you mean, 'No'?"
"You're not going to scare me anymore. I'm quite tired of your tricks, whoever you are. I'm not afraid of you, so I suggest you leave me alone."
If a fir could look flabbergasted, this one did. It's look of shock, however, was quickly replaced by one of anger. "You have no idea who you're dealing with," it hissed dangerously.
This just made the youth smile. "Of course I do."
The tree went back to looking surprised. "Oh?"
"My Christmas tree."
And with that, Mr. Skellington finished his sawing, and the tree fell into Jack's waiting hands.
Meanwhile, Oogie Boogie looked fit to pop his stitches. The bogey man glared hard at a pair of dice he was holding and heaved them angrily at a skeleton strung up on the wall. After striking its skull, the dice hit a table below it, showing up snake-eyes. No one...especially a pathetic mortal...was unafraid of the bogey man.
"So," rumbled the monster, "Mr. High Roller wants to play hardball, eh?"
Oogie turned his attention to the myriad of torture devices lining his walls and smiled a horrible, insect-filled smile. "Well, if he wants to play for keeps, that's just fine with me."
Your Infestation Does Not Scare Me
Jack stared at his bandaged hand as he headed back downstairs. His mind was still plagued by the echoes of his nightmare, and the youth could almost swear he could feel the evil little creatures scrambling over his skin. It was such a strange dream; very unlike anything he'd ever imagined before. He honestly didn't mind insects, and had never pictured them being so frightening. Nor had he ever thought the woods could take on such terrifying qualities. The only time he'd ever felt unsafe in any forest was in the dead of night. In the woods, night didn't settle in from the sky, or sort of roll in and embrace you like it did in a field or on the beach. Instead, it seemed to creep in on you from amongst the trees, reaching out to get you when you weren't looking.
The dream had also brought up a fear that hadn't touched the boy in an extremely long time. He'd spent the last half hour or so trying to place it. Jack knew he'd felt it somewhere before...somewhere in his chidhood. It summoned up memories of nights where his nervousness clasped his mind with cruel claws, robbing him of sleep. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, staring at his hand, the name of his childhood tormentor suddenly dawned on him.
"The bogey man...?"
It almost made him laugh aloud. He was scared of the bogey man? Now? At his age? Ridiculous. But he couldn't shake that feeling inside. That laugh again...that horrible, chilling laugh.
"Jack!"
The youth started slightly and blinked down owlishly into the big, blue eyes gazing up at him with concern. Amelia was biting her lip slightly and her sweet face was screwed up into an expression of worry that was heartbreaking to look at; her lips trembled and she looked on the verge of tears. "Are you going to be all right?" she managed in a quavering whisper.
"Oh, Amelia," sighed the girl's older sibling, dropping to one knee and wrapping his long arms around her. "Of course. It was just a little insect bite."
"B-But you fainted!" she cried, choking back a sob and blinking back tears. "You were thrashing and making faces, and you called out in your sleep! You called for Mommy and Daddy and me." She sniffled and buried her face in his shoulder, trying very hard not to cry.
"Don't worry, darling, I was just having a nightmare," he told her, stroking her tangled curls. "Just a bad dream, but it's over now, all right?"
Amelia nodded, stepping back and rubbing her eyes. She offered him a smile which he returned, and the little girl felt a bit of the weight resting on her heart lift. Jack was all right after all. Nothing wrong with him. She'd just been nervous. Her brother was big and strong, and it was dumb to think that something as trivial as an insect bite could really hurt him. It was Amelia's firm belief, as it is every child's, that next to her father, her brother was the strongest person in the world.
"We're going to get the Christmas tree today!" she said cheerfully, completely forgetting her tears. "Daddy says he knows where there's a nice little patch of evergreens that are just the right size!"
"Really!" Amelia's older sibling exclaimed with a grin. "Well, I just can't wait! I think it's your turn to pick the tree out this year!"
The young girl bounced on the balls of her feet looking even more excited, if it was possible. Her joyful attitude never failed to heal Jack, and this time was no exception. Any echoes of the laughter in the woods escaped the boy's mind and he followed his sister toward the kitchen. Both were immediately engulfed in the thick, spicy scent of baking gingerbread. A tradition at this time of year in the Skellington house was the baking of gingerbread men; something that never failed to delight the younger members of the residence.
Amelia peeked her face up over the edge of the table, watching as her mother rolled out the thick, brown dough into an even, fragrant sheet and proceeded to push the shaped cutter into it. She could only remember a few Christmases, but those she did always included this ritual. Normally, their maid, Elly, did the cooking and baking. At the moment, however, she was on her Christmas vacation, visiting her family. Their mother didn't seem to mind too much, though. At this time of year, she felt it more appropriate to put her own loving work into what her family ate. Amelia looked up to her brother and found him discreetly sneaking a taste of mollasses. He caught her gaze and gave her a wink, which made his sister giggle. Mrs. Skellington looked up at Jack and cast him an admonishing gaze. "That's for the cookies, you thief!" she chuckled, giving his noes a playful poke.
"Thief!" gasped her son theatrically. "I didn't do a thing!"
"Well, I think it's only fair that your sister gets a bit of a treat, too." Mrs. Skellington took a few raisins into her delicate hand and offered them to her daughter. Amelia took them eagerly, looking at the little men formed as her mother pulled the excess dough away. She grinned and popped a few of the raisins into her mouth. Their mother was a pleasant woman of delicate build. She had feathery brown hair touched ever so lightly with gray that she wore back in a loose bun, twinkling brown eyes which Jack had inherited, and a loving smile that matched her disposition.
"So, we're going to get the tree today?" Jack asked, picking up one of the finished gingerbread men and looking it over. Mrs. Skellington nodded with a smile.
"Ah! That reminds me! I need to get the decorations out!" declared their mother.
Mrs. Skellington's daughter's face positively lit up. Everyone in the house had a special Christmas ornament. Her father had a rocking horse that was carved out of wood and painted in red and black while her mother had a dove made of blown glass. Jack's ornament was a many pointed star made of silver, and as for Amelia, the little girl had a ballerina made of china with a tutu of pink lace.
Jack smiled at his sister, noting her dreamy look and guessing what she must have been thinking of. His eyes fell back onto the gingerbread man he was holding and he startled slightly. The young man's heart leapt to his throat and suddenly the laughter from his nightmare returned to him. What had been a happy little cookie a moment ago, had twisted into a miniature monster. It's delicate orange-peel smile had transformed into a mouth of jagged yellow teeth, it's little peppermint drop eyes, made lovingly by Mrs. Skellington, were now dangerous little slivers glaring up at Jack menacingly. Fascinated and horrified by the metamorphosis, the boy found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the monstrous confection. To his further shock, the gingerbread man's eyes narrowed and it's mouth pulled intself into a smirk. Thin as the hum of a bee's wings, he heard a tiny voice in the back of his mind, the gingerbread man's cruel mouth moving along with the words.
"He's going to get you..."
"W-what..?" the youth tried to answer, his voice coming in a choked whisper.
"He's going to get you!" hissed the gingerbread man again, his smirk growing wider. This time it didn't stop, though. It continued to say it, chanting it over and over again, the voice becoming louder and clearer each time until it died off into that revolting laughter from before. Jack's hands shivered and the gingerbread man's head snapped off suddenly, falling to the floor in an explosion of crumbs.
"Jack?"
The boy startled slightly and looked up from the broken cookie. His mother had her hands on her hips and Amelia was blinking up at him, chewing on her raisins. "Well, I suppose now that the head's gone you and your sister can split it. After you're done, why don't you get bundled up and head out with your father for the tree?"
Her son nodded a bit numbly, still holding the cookie in a shaking hand. Amelia started to reach for the confection but Jack quickly snatched it away from her. "No," he said quietly. "Not this one." He then crushed it in his hand, much to the surprise of the room's other two occupants. Without another word, the young man turned and left the kitchen.
"What is happening to me?" he murmured, rubbing the side of his head and leaning against the hallway wall. "Am I going mad..?" Jack frowned and shook his head, looking at his bandaged hand. No. Whatever this was, he resolved, he wasn't going to let it defeat him.
* * *
"What do you think of this one?"
"It's bare on one side!"
"You know, if you don't choose ONE of these, we're going to have to go without a tree this year."
Amelia smiled up at her brother and father, her little mitten-covered hands buried in the branches of a snow-patched evergreen. "I know," she said, "but I want it to be perfect."
Jack chuckled and shook his head, but couldn't blame her. After all, he'd acted the same way when he was a child. Finding the perfect tree for the parlor was always a joy and a vice at the same time. It was getting rather cold, though, and snow was begining to drift from the sky again in light flurries. Amelia, however, was taking her time despite the weather. This was her first time being in charge of the tree selection, after all, and she was taking it quite seriously. Rubbing her chin in a contemplative way, she scrutinized another evergreen before shaking her head and moving on to find another possible candidate.
Mr. Skellington watched with as much amusement as Jack did. The siblings' father was a very tall man, sturdily built and topped with a slightly messy head of black hair that was, at the moment, gathering snow. His blue eyes seemed always to be laughing, and he wore a small beard from which a smile could very often be seen. He was currently holding a small saw and following his daughter as she darted to and fro in the evergreen patch.
Quite abruptly the little girl stopped and stood in awe of a tree before her. "That one," she whispered, pointing at it and staring with saucer- sized eyes. The girl's companions flanked her and looked the tree over.
"Well, I do declare! Amelia, my darling, I think you found the most beautiful tree in the patch!" exclaimed Mr. Skellington with a smile.
"Indeed you did," agreed Jack, walking around the tree and grinning to his sister. "Excellent job!" Amelia blushed modestly and dug one toe into the snow.
"Well, let's get this down then, shall we?" said their father, laying beside the tree's base. "Jack, you hold on to the trunk and I'll get to work."
Nodding, the young man took hold of the tree's trunk and waited patiently as it shook under his father's saw. He gazed quietly into the fir tree's boughs, ready to catch it's weight when the base gave. His vision relaxed, blurring ever so slightly.
Eyes.
The boy quickly refocused his vision and gaped at what he saw peering out at him. Under bushy eyebrows of evergreen branches leered a pair of eyes. Under the eyes appearing just as suddenly and unexpectedly was a mouth set with teeth of jagged twigs and sticks that grinned up at him. Crawling among the teeth were centipedes and strangely colored insects that peeked up at Jack with bulging eyes or clicked their mandibles loudly. Rasping and husky, the tree's voice came. "It's only a matter of time, you know. It's inevitable!"
For a moment, Jack felt frightened. But only for a moment. After that, rage quickly took him.
"No."
"What?"
"I said 'No'," Jack growled to the tree.
The pine monster actually looked surprised. "What do you mean, 'No'?"
"You're not going to scare me anymore. I'm quite tired of your tricks, whoever you are. I'm not afraid of you, so I suggest you leave me alone."
If a fir could look flabbergasted, this one did. It's look of shock, however, was quickly replaced by one of anger. "You have no idea who you're dealing with," it hissed dangerously.
This just made the youth smile. "Of course I do."
The tree went back to looking surprised. "Oh?"
"My Christmas tree."
And with that, Mr. Skellington finished his sawing, and the tree fell into Jack's waiting hands.
Meanwhile, Oogie Boogie looked fit to pop his stitches. The bogey man glared hard at a pair of dice he was holding and heaved them angrily at a skeleton strung up on the wall. After striking its skull, the dice hit a table below it, showing up snake-eyes. No one...especially a pathetic mortal...was unafraid of the bogey man.
"So," rumbled the monster, "Mr. High Roller wants to play hardball, eh?"
Oogie turned his attention to the myriad of torture devices lining his walls and smiled a horrible, insect-filled smile. "Well, if he wants to play for keeps, that's just fine with me."