W00t. I love TIM BURTON. [Bows down to his greatness]
I actually have a list of people that I admire, but I won't get into that..just because you'll get so bored, you'll forget to read my story. :]
Review.
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It's not like I wanted to meet him. No, I didn't want to meet him at all, that dreadful Pumpkin King. He's a damn horrible liar, and he has a face so pale that I can practically feel that freezing coldness coming from that skull. That pasty white skull with the gaping, dark eyes and the spreading, stitched smile…like a snowman jack-o-lantern.
People in Christmas town aren't always happy, you know. Whoever made up that stack of crap was brainwashed by dear Santa himself. No, Christmas time wasn't always a time of festivity and fun. Only when the last week of December rolls around, is it when spoiled brats run in circles, tugging on pant legs and pointing towards gifts that they just have to have. I've never wanted anything from Christmas town. I wish there wasn't so little it could offer.
I know where it is. That ring of hollowed out trees amid the forests and with the strange doors on them. The
Pumpkin door is bolted shut, Santa's elves had done it, with a board of wood and two long, silver nails. As if the picture itself were a demon. I think that only Santa, his trusted elves and I know where that secret circle of treasure is, and I'm pretty sure that no one else has heard it before. I mean, they all tried to forget. But why forget when it will only repeat? And by God, would it repeat.
I heard Santa talking about it before. His exaggerated tale to the horrible, Halloween world, where he single handedly beat a horrid looking bag man made of colorful worms, by tugging at his white beard and shouting Ho ho ho. He's only talked about it once, I think, and I just happened to be lucky enough to 'accidentally' lean against the keyhole and stand there stiff for ten minutes. Man, was that old crab nervous. He kept stuttering and acting as if a monster were right behind him, snatching away at his pride and fortune. Yes, his hat. Man, he loved that thing.
It's easy to find the Circle o' Holidays, just as easy as it is to get lost. I was running in the peppermint forest behind my house, trying to look for that damned ball I received for last Christmas. I was only eight back then, and didn't know the way home.
I swear, some screwball put a curse on the ball so that it kept on rolling and dropping from my hands. And so I kept chasing it, I knew mum would give me a great beating if I lost any of my toys. And soon, I lost my way and had no idea where I was going. The ball was gone, but I did find that little ring of colored doors, and I managed to scrape up a few hours before Pumpernickle, my incredibly short, fat, neighbor came to find me. I tried to tell him, but that damned circle of colored doors was gone, making me feel like a fool.
But I always managed to find it at any other time, anyhow.
The trick is: To have no idea where you're going. Just get lost, and wander around for a bit, and you'll find it for sure.
I've entered into Easter's world before, you know. Easter is quite like Christmas though, only with more eggs, less eggnog and more grass and less wreaths. And there was that obese rabbit, afraid of his own whiskers…Sounded a lot like Santa to me.
And I've been to St. Patrick's day, where short men with red hair tried to mob me and smother me with clovers. Perhaps it was marijuana. Most holiday worlds were not pretty, I noted. But I decided that Halloween would be the worst. Why else would the door be bolted?
And just like every other weekend, I found myself lost and wandering in those peppermint woods again, and it only took a couple of minutes before I found the ring of holiday trees. This time, the trees were coated with glistening, white snow…I wish I'd brought my coat. I sat in the middle, choosing which horrid day I could enter into this time, when I heard the small clang of a pin dropping. Or a nail..
I turned around and saw the nails falling from the boards, and onto the ground, each with the familiar clang. And then the boards all fell, landing in a heap of wood at the base of the tree. I got up quickly, hiding behind St. Patrick's Day, peering from underneath a branch. The Pumpkin door swung open slowly, the hinges squeaking as if it had not been opened in the longest time.
And out came a spidery, long legged, clad in black creature. With a round, skull face and a long, stitched smile. I swear, icicles dropped from the tree as he shut it, and I don't think it was from the ever so gentle way that he shut the door behind him.
"Damn," I muttered.
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Thanks for reading and have a nice day.
