Five Years Earlier
Stitches…that's what they called him…Finklestine's Monster…Stitches….The son of Jack and Sally Skellington…too vulnerable to participate in the Halloween festivities…stuck in his tower room in the Skellington mansion…watching everyone else have fun while he sat alone.
Fink was an oddity. Technically he shouldn't even exist…
A few years after the 'incident' (that's what they called it…they wouldn't even tell him what it meant) Jack and Sally had married and later decided they wanted children…which is a hard thing for a rag doll and a living skeleton to accomplish no matter how…enthusiastically…they were willing to try. So Sally's 'father' hit on a brilliant idea: He had created Sally, why not try to create a second one? But this time, not stuffed with leaves and sewn together, real flesh and blood (and a bit more obedient hopefully), seamless, flawless, perfect.
Thus Jack went under Dr. Finklestine's knife (or drill as it were) to extract a small amount of bone marrow. Armed with DNA and half of a genius brain and an assistant, Dr. Finklestine set out to create his masterpiece. Drawing from early conception sketches of Sally, he modeled a humanoid figure and gave it features. Implanting Jack's DNA, it began to take form and become truly Jack and Sally's child.
Ironically, it took nine months exactly to finish the creation. The thunderstorm came and charged life into the small bundle of the makings of a being. The result was a beautiful baby boy…so perfect he looked human. They named him Fink, after his 'grandfather' as Sally wanted. So Fink Skellington came home to stay in the mansion with his family. Everything went fine for a few months. Fink was healthy, his grandfather made sure of that with regular checkups and examinations every few days in the beginning, then every few weeks. Jack and Sally were thrilled to have their son, their little one. When he learned how to walk, Jack began to teach him how to scare…and it was then the trouble started.
It was just a little fall, a little cut; Jack had been too good at scaring his little boy during a lesson and Fink had fallen backwards in the yard. It was just a little cut on his knee…nothing a band-aide and a kiss from his mommy to make it feel better couldn't fix, right? Then something went horribly wrong. The little cut began to grow during the night… not wider, but longer. It wrapped around Fink's small body, criss-crossing its way across his back and stomach and etching a red line diagonally across his perfect little face…
Dr. Finklestine examined him over and over…coming up with nothing. Though the red lines didn't seem to hurt Fink, every move the boy made opened the cuts wider and wider causing him to lose blood at an alarming rate. So his grandfather sewed the cuts up…
Stitches...that's what they called him…Stitches…Finklestine's Monster…
He couldn't play with the other children of Halloweentown, there was too much of a chance he would fall and split open. He was forbidden to attend the Halloween celebrations, he could be jostled apart. Sally took good care of her little boy, her treasure, but Jack…Jack faded into the shadows to watch the boy he hoped could take his place one day as the Pumpkin King being babied by his mother and forbidden to watch his father perform his art. It wasn't that Jack didn't love his son dearly…it was that he didn't know how to cope with his son's condition…and so he avoided it, watching his son grow, being silently proud of him for every small step he took to overcoming the stitches on his life.
As for Fink himself, he got along as well as a young boy should. He was really quite happy up until he was twelve years old.
He never really minded the extra attention the whole town seemed to give him. It was bothersome at times, but not intrusive. He looked up to his father, wanting only to please him and make him proud. The two shared a sort of distant bond, one much stronger than the one he had with his loving mother. Every bit of time that Jack spent with his son was heaven to the little boy. Fink cherished especially those few moments in his young heart when his father would actually touch him…lightly stroke his hair as he put him to sleep, place a hand on his shoulder to commend him for winning an award in school, and once…just once…a hug when Fink had discovered Jack's hidden stash of Christmas books and asked to be read the stories. Everything would have been perfect.
Except for the inevitable occurrence of a meeting with the former 'Boogie's Boys.'
Several years Fink's seniors, the ex-henchmen of the late Oogie Boogie latched onto the poor boy like leeches. At first, most would think they truly had it in for little Fink. But as everyone knows with those three, they really don't mean to hurt. The world is just all one big game. And it just so happened that Fink was great for a game of ' Who Can Pop Him First?' Of course, Jack put a quick end to THAT game, but it made Fink all the more positively irresistible as a plaything. Lock, Shock, and Barrel began sneaking Fink out of his house at night to perform mischievous acts on unsuspecting townspeople and to just generally mess around.
Fink, being new to this 'hanging out' thing, found his new friends positively irresistible as well. He began to plan sneak outs on his own, as well as coming up with fun things to do around town to slake the other three's insatiable thirst for mischief. The others for their part were impressed with their handiwork and began to look on their younger friend as more than a plaything, but as a member of their elite posse.
And so things went until Halloween of Fink's twelfth year.
Lock, Shock, and Barrel had actually managed to secure an integral part in that year's Halloween festivities. They of course, assumed Fink was going to come too. It was then that Fink decided it was time for him to go to the Halloween party. Upon making this announcement to his parents, Jack and Sally both shut it down with such ferocity that Fink was left stunned and speechless for several minutes, pondering what in the world was wrong with him that he couldn't participate in the town's biggest happening of the year. It didn't make matters any better when Fink told his parents that he was sure nothing would happen to him, as he had been climbing out the tower window nearly every night to play with Lock, Shock, and Barrel. With that, Jack exploded into rage, swearing that he would strangle every last one of those little &# (here Jack proceeds to demonstrate his knowledge of 'sentence enhancers') and ordered that Fink was to sit in his room until further notice. Jack and Sally then left for the celebration, promising an edict of punishment the next morning.
Up in his room, Fink cried alone until Lock threw a pebble at his window. Letting his 'sneak ladder' out of his window, he climbed down to his friends.
"Well, come one, get ready! We've got scaring to do!" Lock said excitedly. Shock and Barrel nodded enthusiastically, both pulling a wagon full of various devices to terrify with. Fink looked at them with red eyes.
"I can't go…" He mumbled.
"What!" All three chorused. Fink tried to stifle a sniffle.
"Whadda mean you can't come! It's Halloween!" Shock shouted in disgust, letting go of the wagon to put her hands on her hips indignantly. Barrel, unable to support the weight of the wagon by himself, was suddenly pulled down with a "yaagh!" as the wagon slid into the stone wall surrounding the Skellington's yard. Shock and Lock took no notice.
"What's wrong with you? How can you not come to Halloween?" Lock said, getting into Fink's face.
"Yeah, let off you little baby crying and let's go!" Shock pulled Fink's sleeve towards the wagon where Barrel was just getting up. Lock and Shock began to regale Fink with past Halloween glories in hopes of convincing him to go. Loads of candy, scaring little kids, seeing his dad at the head of the celebration in his element. Fink shook them off and backed towards the ladder.
"Guys, I just can't…Dad would-" Shock finally had it. He had never liked not getting his way, and Fink wasn't giving him his way.
"Dad would what Stitches?" To his credit, Lock didn't mean to hurt Fink as badly as he did. Fink was his friend after all. Still, Fink winced at the cruel insult, the first name the three had ever called him. Lock, knowing he had touched a weak spot, plowed on.
"Stupid Stitches can't even do anything without his Mommy making sure he's all tied up tight! Wouldn't want you to spill guts everywhere!"
"Don't split your stitches, Stitches!" Shock jumped in. "Just come on, you go out with us every night, why is this any different?" Barrel, looking dumbly between the two and then straight at Fink, gave a dumb smile.
"Yeah come on Finklestine's Monster!" Lock and Shock gasped and turned in horror to Barrel. Barrel's eyes widened with the realization of what he had just said. Fink stood stone still, dead still, hands clenched at his sides so tightly that the stitches across his knuckles ripped and his eternal cuts began to bleed. For a short time, none of them moved. Fink's eyes closed tight…
Not everyone in town had been alright with Jack and Sally's 'child'.
He remembered hearing his parents downstairs as he lay awake in bed:
"Jack, do you hear what they are calling him?"
"Sally, rest assured, I will not let this go on!"
"Did you see what they wrote on our fence, Jack?"
"Sally, when I find the little ingrates who did that-"
"'Finklestine's Monster' Jack, that's what they're calling your son, Finklestine's Monster!"
Finklestine's Monster…
Fink's eyes welled up with tears more searing than his father's anger had been. He opened his eyes and glared at the three in from of him, and then he ran. Pushing past Shock and Lock he ran out of the gate.
"Fink!" Shock called after him. Lock turned a burning eye on Barrel.
"You stupid little sonava-" Before pouncing on him and proceeding to beat him to a pulp. Shock just stood staring after Fink.
Fink ran. Avoiding the festivities, he ran into the graveyard, unknowingly following his father's path. He stopped and leaned on a tombstone, out of breath but still furious. Anger and hatred boil up inside of him. He looked at his blood-streamed hands.
Stitches…that's what they called him…Stitches…Finklestine's Monster…
"Stupid cuts, stupid little red lines, stupid STITCHES!" He screamed at the non-responsive red cracks in his skin. He stumbled forward, hot tears still streaming down him face. He lay in the dust of the graveyard, crushing dead leaves in his fists as he cried alone. He lifted his head slowly, still sobbing.
There, a little ways away from where he lay was a cave. A hiding place, a refuge from the names. He got up slowly and walked towards it. He peered into the gloomy darkness, then taking one look back over his shoulder, he plunged inside.