Disclaimer: I do not own TNBC and there's not a very good chance I ever will. I do, however, own all of my own characters.
A/N: time for a nice, loooooooong chappie to celebrate the end of exams and the beginning of break! Happy Holidays!
Alex pulled the cape tighter around her shoulders as a breeze, carrying two or three shriveled leaves with it, blew past her, making her dark brown hair billow out and goose bumps appear on her skin. It wasn't a terribly cold night; brisk was a better word for it. As she trudged down the hill, kicking a stray pebble in front of her in a kind of one-person soccer, she reflected on the nights events. It had been raining, and she was sad because she couldn't go trick or treating. Then Rags arrived, whisked her away to Halloween, and here she was. Where was Halloween, anyway? Another dimension? A parallel universe? What were the citizens like? Were they something other than human? Were they all like Rags? And when would she be home?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the rude squawk of a crow perched on a nearby tree. It glared at her with beady obsidian eyes, looking at her almost expectantly. "What?" she asked it. It preened it's feathers and then flew off, alighting on the tree next to her. Glaring at it, Alex continued on her way.
Things were following her. She didn't know what sort of things, but it seemed like the underbrush beside the path rustled more often that it should have. She was getting a little agitated; her bedroom slippers did not make good walking shoes, and she was getting hungry. To make matters worse, she had almost walked into a flock low-flying bats, an experience that reminded her just how nice her soft warm bed would be right now. The trees ended suddenly, and she stood before the great curling hill. The sparkling lights she had seen at it's base were actually jack-o-lanterns, still on the vine, grinning and snarling and pulling faces at each other. A small distance from the hill stood a rickety fence with a huge, wrought-iron gate. It didn't take a genius to guess what the fence enclosed.
Deciding not to waste any more time, she trudged up around the base of the hill and entered the cemetery. Huge, crooked tombstones, in the shapes of giant crosses and more traditional rectangles, jutted out of the earth like strange plants made from granite and marble; some so faded with time the names had been erased, others robed in scraggly ivy. Some headstones were actually statues of grotesque, ghost-like creatures. There were even pets buried here; Alex came across a headstone in the shape of a horses head, a cat's tiny mausoleum, and even a tiny marble doghouse with 'ZERO' engraved across it's front. Alex fought her way up another hill and pushed the tall, ornate wrought-iron gate aside, causing the ill-oiled thing to squeak and groan.
Alex took a moment to gaze at the view; she could see the entire town, which seemed to be mostly made up of tall, angular spires and towers. Suddenly very excited and very giddy, Alex ran as fast as she could toward the town, something that was not easily achieved in her slippers.
Several misty shapes darted in and out of her path, howling and moaning. Ghosts, Alex thought, slowing herself down as she reached the town gate. However, she still managed to accidentally run through a ghost; it was like walking through the mist dry ice gives off, only colder and more tingly. As Alex reached the town gate, she was abruptly poked in the side of the head. Whirling around, she saw Rags, grinning down at her with her outrageous assortment of teeth. Rags' hair was down, forming a wild brownish mane around her narrow shoulders, and she was wearing a black silk top hat that had seen better days. A knobby, ropelike scarf the color and texture of a rotten orange hung around her neck.
"Well well well, I'm glad to see ye made it in one piece," she said, winking at Alex before the girl could say anything. "I got in loads of trouble jus'cause I didn't escort you t'town. I figured you were smart enough, but nooooooooooooooo, Ol' Pun'kin Head was afraid ya'd get lost." She had a small coughing fit into a small pink handkerchief she had in her hand, and gave Alex a weak smile once she had composed herself. She cleared her throat and looked Alex up and down with a frown. "We ought to get you some decent clothes, I think," she said, furrowing her brow in thought. "Old Mother Spyndle'll have something you can borrow for the night. Come with me." Grabbing Alex's hand, Rags steered her down the street and into a crowd.
For the first time, Alex saw the citizens of Halloween up close. None of them, as she suspected, were human. There seemed to be a few corpse people, a handful of witches (all of them mean-looking and hard-featured, none of them 'Sabrina' types), a few werewolves, a clique of vampires (dressed in black, bald, and alabaster white), and a few miscellaneous monsters. Alex couldn't help noticing the severe lack of color the town had; black, grey, and orange seemed to be the predominant colors. She didn't get a really good look at anybody; Rags was practically racing through the town square, giving a fast-paced tour as she went.
"That's the town hall, built a really long time ago by an architect who I can't remember...that's Skellington Manor right there...that's the fountain, they built that in 1598, I remember there used to be a big firepit there before it was installed...that's the moon...um...over there's the apothecary...there's the witches house...that's The Observatory, up there, that great ugly thing with the one window...the Doctor lives there...um...there's the town guillotine...here's the alley we want...going right...and here we are!"
They abruptly halted in front of a small, deserted looking cottage wedged between two taller and much newer buildings. The cottage looked ancient, it's windows so coated with grime they were impossible to see into, and runes were carved into the door frame. Rags unceremoniously pounded twice on the scarred wooden door. She waited a minute before opening it, it's hinges groaning for want of oil.
The door to the cottage emerged into a tiny, incredibly cluttered parlor, with junk on just about every surface; stacks of age-yellowed paper; leather-bound books; candle stick holders, their contents burned down to stubs; boxes; and other things one would expect in an overcrowded antique store were piled on tables, chairs, shelves, and much of the floor, precariously stacked almost to the ceiling. The air was stale, stiflingly so, and had the sour smell of age. A crow was perched upon a precariously balanced pile of sallow paper, it's unblinking inky stare fixed on Alex. For a moment she thought it was the same bird she had seen earlier, but then, didn't all crows look the same? It was very claustrophobic; the floor was so covered with junk that it had almost vanished; there were strategically placed cleared spots, where one could hop from room to room. It wasn't very comfortable to be jammed up against Rags' bony figure for fear of knocking something over and drowning in a tsunami of papers; or knocking over one of the numerous lit candles that gave a soft yellow light and setting the place ablaze.
"Mother Spyndle, are you home?" Rags called into the doorway to the next room, carefully balancing in the paper-free spot (with a diameter of about eight inches) that she and Alex were both crammed into. There was a soft sound from the other room, and Rags nimbly leapt to the other clear spot two feet away. They moved across the room like this until entering another room, just as cluttered as the previous one, but instead of paper, the room was packed with scraps and bolts of every kind of fabric imaginable. Heavy silks in vermilion and saffron and sage, crushed velvets in sapphire and onyx and amber, even lace in black and every shade of white and every other color imaginable. A pin-cushion the size of a grapefruit was propped up against a huge bolt of lavender satin. It was if, Alex thought, all the color of this world had been bottled up in one room.
A bonfire was burning merrily in a massive fireplace that was almost five feet tall. An equally huge armchair, upholstered in a dingy green with a lace shawl covering it's top, sat facing it. The waves of heat coming from the fire were almost unbearable, and Alex already felt a thin film of sweat forming on her forehead. A tiny squeak of a voice said, "Is that you, Ragnabella?"
"It is indeed, Mother Spyndle," said Rags, obviously trying to hide her annoyance at being called her formal name. Rags, too, was sweating, and a sort of lilac-colored flush was creeping into her cheeks from the heat. She had already taken off her scarf and put it in one of her pockets. She did not, however, take off her heavy coat or her hat. Visitor and guide moved carefully toward the overstuffed chair. Rags nudged Alex forward. "Mother Spyndle, this is Alex. She's a visitor. She needs something to wear for tonight."
Alex almost didn't see the woman Rags was addressing. Mother Spyndle looked over a thousand years old, tiny, and was literally the color of dust. Her skin-incredibly wrinkled and a slightly translucent; her hair-or what frail, cottony wisps were left of it; and her eyes-barely visible from behind thick, foggy lenses-were all pale and wan. She was dressed in a plain, black calico dress, a black shawl draped over her shoulders and a faded brown blanket on her lap. The size of the armchair made the tiny old woman look even smaller, like doll far too small for it's dollhouse.
The woman squinted (or, at least, that's what Alex assumed she was doing) at the girl's face and nodded. "I can't make the measurements now," the woman squeaked, "but I think she can guess at her own size. How tall are you, child?"
"Four five," said Alex, feeling a blush crawl into her cheeks that wasn't from the heat. She was very small and slight for her age, and was dwarfed by nearly everyone in her class.
"Well then," said Mother Spyndle, "go look in the closet and see if you find something you fancy. And do hurry; you don't want to waste time."
Rags gently shoved Alex toward what the girl had originally thought was a unwound bolt of cloth flowing over the wall. She pushed it aside so reveal the biggest walk-in closet Alex had ever seen. Clothes of every color, shape, size, fabric, and style were lined neatly against the wall, sorted by size, going from smallest to largest. Alex walked along the line of costumes before she found a shimmering green dress in what she assumed was her size. It was a lovely gown; flowing emerald satin, with a heavily embroidered velvet bodice. She Quickly changed and found the matching witches hat (velvet with a satin sash), shoes (satin with a tiny heel) and gloves (satin). After hurrying out of the closet and into the uncomfortably warm room were Rags was waiting, she asked what time it was. Rags yelped when she glanced at the huge grandfather clock in the corner; the next thing Alex knew she was being dragged by her arm out the door at full speed, while Rags rapidly said her goodbyes.
As soon as they were out in the cool outside air, Rags turned to Alex and smiled. "Lovely color," she said, pointing at her hat. "Now", she said suddenly, turning towards the street, "we need to get going before we lose any more time. Follow me; and don't worry, I promise I won't wander off." And so, the two made their way back to the town square, just as the festivities began to really get started.
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A/N: kind of a weak chapter ending, but, c'mon, people, gimme a break. Now, do your part and review!