Hi, everyone! Sorry I didn't update last Friday as promised, but I didn't have much time, and there was so much to do that I had to prioritize. Happy Saint Patrick's Day! I know I'm a little late with that too. I had a goal to be far enough along with the story that I could post chapters that had to do with the Holidays I posted them on. Unfortunately, we aren't there yet. There still a long way to go.

Enjoy! And post a review, please? Your opinions give me life!

Post-script, I have a note from Anna that she wanted me to share.

Hello, Humans! Thank you so much for following this rather embarrassing account of my adventures of being dead. It gets less cringey later…I hope. The person who's adapting my diary entries to bring you this story says it's a good story and not cringey at all. I don't completely believe her. I messed up so many times that I couldn't understand why you care. Regardless, I thank you. I'm a very wordy skeleton, so for the sake of time, I won't string you along while the author tells of my afterlife. Hehe…string…Sorry. That's a joke, a pun really, that will make sense later. Or it might knot. Okay, I'm done. Please continue before I ramble anymore.

Skeleton Anna Grisholme, Citizen of Halloween of Twenty-One Years. Fear of ********** and ******

Chapter 14

Rhyme and Reason

It is all a lie. One big fat lie that leaves people who don't know any better grasping at the hope of real peace after death. But no… it is still there.

Lurking behind every step. Burning behind every eyeball. Clawing at your sanity until there is nothing left but the scattered ashes of your intellect, easily blown away by the next gust of breath from someone saying "it's good for you."

But I say nay!

I've thought about death before when I was alive. Granted, I did not expect my time on earth to end so abruptly or suddenly, though for some reason I couldn't quite grasp the concept of dying of old age either. That's irrelevant now anyways. But I'm digressing.

I've thought about death, and I had many vague expectations about what would come after, most of which I haven't seen a hair of since arriving here.

However, of one thing I was entirely sure of it was that there was no school in the afterlife. There shouldn't be!

I figured that there would be learning. All the mysteries of creation laid bare in front of your soul, and all you had to do was decide which one you wanted to explore first.

Don't get me wrong. I loved learning. I enjoyed reading and listening and picking apart the mysteries of existence. I was always so curious. Learning caused me joy.

School, however, didn't. I liked most of my teachers. I loved art and speech class. And History. Still do. I loved science. Math was an interesting subject, and I was enamored by the connections it provided between things in the world. In fact, the only subject I didn't like was Government and Politics. Hated it.

I'm all for connection with people, but the stress that class caused me wasn't worth the four hours a week I had to devote to it in my short life.

To sum it up, I always thought school, at least my school, was an inefficient way to learn things. Everything was too structured. While I believed that some structure was good for learning, the school puts too many constraints on the learning process.

There's little freedom, and I wish people could be encouraged to study what interests them early on rather than be forced to learn at a compartmentalized rate that basically put a false label on you that says whether you're smarter than someone else.

Seems I've turned into a philosopher. I guess death does that to you. But I'm digressing, once again.

What's the point of this rant? Oh right…

IT'S A LIE. You are not released from the suffocating shackles of school work after death. At least, you aren't if your soul ends up in Halloween Town. Lucky me...

I asked the witches what Jack meant about meeting my mentor in the graveyard.

They were a little vague but explained it a little.

I would have to go to school.

They were also quick to explain that I wouldn't be sent to the school with other children until I got some basics under my belt.

I would be meeting with someone on a regular basis until I'm deemed ready.

They didn't tell me what "ready" meant, unfortunately, or what these so-called "basics" could be.

That was a week ago, but I'm going to write about those first few days before skipping ahead to now.

It was a few days since I woke up in this world. It was strange and a little freaky all the time. Most days I just coasted through, ambivalent to the weirdness, but there's only so much I can ignore.

There was still a jar of eyeballs on the kitchen table, for example.

So much has happened since I've been here, so I'll try to summarize. Somewhat.

Sally took me to the witches shop after I got my clothes, but I never went inside.

I tried to use the cauldron to peek at what's going on with my family a mere few hours after Jack warned me not to.

That didn't end well. I got caught. Let's leave it at that.

Actually, let's not.

Trouble the Cat was the tattletale.

I'll never forget that mix of guilt, fear, and the knowledge I did something I wasn't supposed too that came from seeing Helgamine's face as she marched right up to me and pulled me down by the arm to awkwardly drag me back to the shop.

The worst part? They didn't yell at me or anything of the like.

Silence.

They just looked at me, disappointment on their faces. That was worse. But they're not my mother, so why do I still care?

The people here still make me uncomfortable. They look so…scary. But after I talk to anyone for a little, they're nice. And they give me so much stuff!

After Helgamine took me home last week, I mostly stayed in "my" room until Zeldabourne reminded me I had a meeting in the graveyard at one. She wanted me to have dinner with she and her sister before I left.

I didn't realize how late it had gotten. I opened the door and immediately fell over a crate that had been placed in front of my room without my knowing.

It stunned me, but as I took a moment to look at the contents, I found things like socks, combs, several pairs of shoes in varying sizes, plus a whole lot of useful basic-needs knickknacks. Plenty of homemade things too- like a bar of soap labeled "rotten flesh scented."

It was aptly named, so I quickly set it aside.

The witches said everything was mine. Imagine that.

Apparently, everyone in town was pitching in to give me property of my own. Second-hand shoes, for example.

Everyone here is just…too nice…

No one's ever been so nice to me before without expecting something of me. Well, maybe my parents…no…they expected me to behave.

Mark let me be myself, but it was still like he tolerated my pranks and no-fear reactions.

I was the loveable weirdo…

These people? They act so celebratorily about my quirks, even if I'm still trying to figure out how fear works.

Hey, that rhymed…

(Suck it, Mayor. I'll explain later)

It's just so…off…the way they act as if they have always known me…

During that first dinner with the witches that night a few days ago, I mentioned a prank I pulled when alive. (I mostly pretended to eat…I'm pretty sure the stew was still alive). It was one where I tricked the entire wrestling team into thinking the locker room was haunted. I used a rope and string pulley system to move random stuff around and changed my voice while speaking through a vent.

They didn't laugh, which awkwardly surprised me.

Well, they did laugh, but it was a small chuckle, and Helgamine said that it was a clever idea. She asked me for details like where I hid, what kind of ropes I used, how many boys there were, what my motivation for scaring them was.

Then they proceeded to give me a critique. What I should have done. What I shouldn't have done. What I did that was good.

I was trying to make conversation, and I got pulled into a lecture…

It wasn't like I blew them off. Every suggestion they gave was right. I was surprised by how many things I could have done to make the prank better. It was "eye-opening," so to speak, given how I don't…nevermind…

… I think I'm milking the skeleton jokes. At least milk has calcium. No? Okay…

Anyway, they take pranks and scaring people seriously here. No surprise. I just wasn't prepared for how invested they got into the success of my favorite pastime. They didn't just find it a funny story, they cared about how proud I was of the prank.

No one ever cared about how much work I put into pranks. Some of my plans were complicated. The laughs I got from people were nice, but I often got passed off as a goof or attention whore when I could have gone to college early to get an engineering degree had the teachers taken a moment to look at my pranks rather than call it a waste of time. I could've been an engineer.

Could've...

Was this what Jack warned me about? Getting wrapped up in what could have been? Probably.

It just wasn't fair…

I digress.

I have a big wooden box of my own belongings now, the chest courtesy of the witches. Monsters are still probably dropping things off at the Shop.

The children were sweet and wanted to bring me gifts as well. I was stopped on my way to the graveyard by a little mummy kid. They shyly presented me with a picture they drew.

The subject kind of disturbed me…

It was a stick figure of me, understandably recognizable, with long sharp fangs, towering over a bunch of stick figure humans…More than half of them appeared dead, of fright apparently, though there seemed to be a lot of blood for such a case.

Oh, and there was crayon blood running down my face.

I…uh…was not sure how to respond. I must have taken too long staring at it because the poor kid seemed to sadden. I noticed and told the mummy that it looked horrible. Oh, man did I cringe. A part of me was still expecting that to be a soul-crushing insult to such a little kid, but I'm glad I took the risk and tried to mimic the adjectives the creature here seem to use.

The kid's face lit up, the parts I could see through the bandages.

I had to leave quickly. I was late for my first lesson, whatever that entails.

It was dark, as expected for one o'clock in the morning. The moon was big and yellow and it hung in the cloudy sky with a weight to it, as if it was about the pull the heavens down with it.

It was beautiful. I could tell it certainly wasn't the same moon I've grown up with. That was mind boggling. It was like wherever we were was a whole different planet.

Heh. Does that make me an alien?

I snickered at the idea.

"What's so funny?"

I jumped and unintentionally made some ninja moves. I then remembered what I was doing there.

I was standing at the gate wondering how to open it and I completely didn't think to look for the bird that helped me a few days before. I somehow hadn't noticed anyone in the gatekeeper booth either.

I was a little disappointed to not see the little Raven. Instead, a human-sized bird man was peering at me in curiosity. At least, I assumed he was human size. I didn't have a reference for human size.

I must have taken too long to answer, so he asked another question just as I had gathered myself, "I see you got your guise."

Without thinking I blurted, "Why does everyone call them that?"

Ever since I got my clothes that day, passing monsters had been talking about how "delightfully horrid" my "costume" or "guise" is.

Harlequin is soaking in the praise probably.

The Gatekeeper chuckled at the obviousness, "This is Halloween Anna. We wear costumes."

"…I guess. Does 'guise' mean 'disguise'?"

"That's what humans used to call Halloween costumes."

"Oh. I'm sorry," I shuffled a bit before looking him in the eyes, "Um. I don't think we've met. You obviously know my name, but I don't know yours."

A grin spread on his black beak, and he laughed, setting down a book to reach out a feathery hand/wing through his window to shake my hand.

"You can call me The Gatekeeper. My name doesn't matter right now. And we've already met."

I froze in realization, my thin bony hand still clasping his feathery one. I peered at him for a long moment.

He apparently thought the slow twist of my face was hilarious.

"That was you!?"

"Of course."

"Is your neck okay?!"

The Gatekeeper laughed harder. He thought it was sweet of me to be more concerned about his neck than how he and the small bird could be the same monster.

"I'm fine. I would have been fine anyway, but the water did help."

"I'm so sorry I didn't understand what you were trying to…."

"Think nothing of it." The Gatekeeper withdrew his wing and opened the gate, "I take it you're on your way to the graveyard."

My eyes widened, "Oh yes! I completely forgot!"

"Apparently. You're also late. The Mayor is a picky creature. He doesn't like tardiness."

I groaned and ducked under the gate before it was completely up. Then I froze...

"Is the Mayor my mentor?" I hadn't known.

The Gatekeeper looked up from his book, thinking I had already sped off.

"Well…actually…he shouldn't be," the bird admitted hesitantly, "But I suspect Jack has his reasons for assigning the Mayor today." He nodded.

At the time, I wrongfully assumed Jack was the one who always decides who mentors who.

"Oh...alright. Thank you. War of the Worlds is a good book. Bye," I said before turning and jogging off. I didn't intend to be rude, but I was late.

I didn't notice the Gatekeeper glancing back down at his book before back at me with a pleased grin.

Saying the Mayor of Halloween didn't like tardiness was a gross understatement.

He spent nearly ten minutes scolding up at me about the importance of always being on time.

I flinched with every word, but after the first two minutes, the lecture lost its sting.

He kept going, though, fully intending to drive it into me.

"…and do you know what could happen if you were late on Halloween!" he rambled. "It you missed a town? We wouldn't know where you were! Or if you missed the gate! Good Heaven! You could be trapped in the Real world. And what if…."

He kept going, sounding more and more frantic.

I was starting to worry. Not about what he was saying, I could barely catch any of it, but about whether he needed to breathe if he's dead.

I didn't, but the short man was starting to wheeze a little.

"Okay! Okay," I shouted, interrupting him, "I won't be late again."

"You better not!" he snapped. "We have rules here, Miss Anna. Jack let you have a pass with the cauldron but don't let it go to your skull."

"Do the rules require being on time all the time?"

"Sometimes! Weren't you listening? Sometimes it's dangerous to be late."

"Fine," I was a little annoyed now. But I nodded and said with some strained politeness, "I'll take your advice to heart. If I may, are you supposed to be teaching me something?"

The Mayor let out a stiff, frustrated, sigh. "Yes. This will be shorter than planned due to us starting twenty minutes late."

I was tempted to mention how half of that time was him filling the air with noise, but decided better.

"We'll start simple," the Mayor leaned against a tombstone, "I want you to finish my phrase. There once was a dog…"

I stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"That doesn't work. Try again. There once was a dog…"

"What is this?"

"No. There once was a dog…"

I was starting to get cross. "You didn't tell me what to do."

"I told you to finish my sentence. There once was a dog…."

"Stop saying that!"

"There once was a dog…" the Mayor's eye twitched, but his head didn't do that freaky spinning thing that it does with certain emotions.

Why is he annoyed?! He's the one who didn't give me enough information.

"There once was a dog…"

I sputtered, perplexed, "Uh…who chased a cat?"

The Mayor looked about ready to strangle me, "There once was a dog."

"Are you kidding me?" I snapped, "I finished your phrase."

The Mayor's eye twitched again, "There once was a dog," he stressed.

"Who…barked up a tree?"

"…"

"That chased me into the fountain."

"…" He sucked on his teeth and shook his head.

"That took my rib bone?"

What in Halloween did he want?!

What in Halloween…. Did I really just think those words?

The was a faint grinding sound, and the Mayor's head turned a little, but he stopped and forced a calm and patient smile. Sort of.

"There. Once. Was. A. DOG." He stressed the last word harder.

"That I ran over with a lawnmower," I blurted out. By this point, I was done playing that stupid game. What was the point?

We went back and forth for I don't know how long, each of us growing progressively more annoyed with the other.

"There once was a dog!"

"Screw your freaking dog," I finally hissed, my well of patience running dry.

"That is IT!" the Mayor snapped as his head spun so quickly, I was sure he had to be dizzy. It had only been a couple minutes. "We're done for now. Good day, Miss Anna." He started walking away.

Are you kidding?!

I stared agape and threw up my hands, "What did you want me to say?!"

He just kept walking toward town and waved behind him without looking back.

I huffed in frustration and kicked a small rock, swearing when it turned out to be bigger than I thought and stuck in the ground like an iceberg. I was barefoot still…

I shouted and hopped a bit until the pain was manageable. "There once was a dog that said you looked like a frog," I muttered at the Mayors back.

I froze when he stopped. Did he hear me? Uh oh.

"But he just shook his head and muttered something before continuing to walk away," I finished telling the story to Helgamine and Zeldabourne after I went back to the shop after a few hours of walking my stress out. We were in the kitchen.

The witches both seemed to be busy making something, taking out herbs and random ingredients and mixing them in several bowls. I'm not sure whether they were cooking or making a spell. "I'm still not sure what I did wrong."

"You did it right the last time," Helgamine said, "Please get your boney butt off the table for a moment dear. I need the room."

I obliged and move to sit on the steps that went upstairs. "What do you mean I did it right the last time?"

"Well, you finished the phrase with your own words," Zeldabourne chirped like it was obvious.

I glared. "I did that before."

Helgamine looked up and shared a glance with her sister (?). "But those didn't rhyme."

I stared at them blankly.

They went back to work while I turned this new information around in my skull.

"I was supposed to be rhyming?" I snapped.

"Of course. I though the Mayor made that pretty clear," Zeldabourne scoffed.

"What? No, he didn't," I argued, "He didn't mention rhyming at all!"

"….Should he have?" the shorter witch inquired.

"How was I supposed to know that's what he meant?"

"Because…." Zeldabourne trailed off.

Helgamine stopped grinding seeds in her mortar and pestle. She seemed a little confused as well.

I needed to keep talking. Maybe that would clarify some things.

"Why do I even need to learn how to rhyme?" That was the underlying question. For my education in this world to consist of rhyming words seemed strange.

The witches gaped at me.

Helgamine was the softer personality (though not by much), so she spoke before Zelda could blow up. "How else will you be able to sing?"

Now it was my turn, once again, to be dumbstruck. "Sing?"

"Yes, of course, sing."

"What?"

"That seems to be a favorite word of yours," Zelda grumbled at me.

Helga ignored her and set the pestle down before she could hit the other witch with it. "We sing, Anna, to express ourselves. Don't humans?"

"Well…yes…but…" I shifted. "People don't just…sing…for no reason."

"Don't they?"

I opened my mouth before shutting it with a sharp clack. I could recall times when my friends and I broke out into Bohemian Rhapsody in the lunch room because we felt like it. A movie came out last year, The Lion King. There's a song called Hakuna Matata that I had taken to singing when someone around me was stressed.

I guess it's not a silly as I thought…

"When you make up a song, isn't it usually a rhymed poem without music?" Helgamine added.

"But why do you need me to learn how to spontaneously come up with a song?"

"I'm…honestly not sure how to explain it to you…" Helgamine admitted almost sheepishly. "It's…difficult to…You see singing is very important because of…ah…"

"We…" Zeldabourne tried to continue Helgamine's thought but found herself at a loss as well.

They were taken aback at my question. How were they supposed to explain something so traditional to someone who already had a culture set in their mind, such as myself?

No newcomer had asked questions like I had before. They simply went along and slipped into the life of a citizen without too much fuss.

I was a difficult newcomer. Even then I realized this. I felt bad about it, but I couldn't just go along and do as I was told without knowing why.

The witches both sighed, and I looked down embarrassed.

"Don't fret Anna," Helgamine said, "It's our fault for not having an explanation for our own behavior."

"As soon as we find out why we sing, you'll be the next to know," Zeldabourne said almost under her breath with a troubled expression.

I was quiet for a moment. "Do…do you rhyme when you make up spells?"

There was a possible use.

Zeldabourne perked up and snapped her fingers, "Aye! That we do."

Helgamine nodded, "We're so used to coming up with rhymes on the fly that we rarely spend too much time on wording. Don't misunderstand. Syntax and word choice could mean the difference between life in death in a spell, but I suppose we've had a lot of practice."

I nodded, interested. "Could you make up a rhyme right now? A spell. Or a song?"

"Darling," Zelda laughed, "I've thought up at least ten while we've been talking."

Helgamine nodded, and they both started a slow chant, deciding not to add much of a musical tune to it.

"Darkness falls when light first fades. Nevermore guides Death's brought maids. By dawn's first break a creature arose. Stone light bone like whiten rose. When met to face by King's calm hand, twin feet streak across cold land. With Wind at heels and trees a snare, the Rose meets darkness before our care."

My "breath" caught as I listened. It was a haunting rhythm, and the words made we shiver.

They kept going, faces unchanging as they quietly went back to work with their herbs. The rhythm changed.

"With danger past and darkness last. The Rose first thought was safety sought. Gated iron dark. No sound of lark. The King called on Nevermore. And thus, the Raven guided a rose once more."

They trailed off almost in a whisper with an echo of finality that chilled me.

I didn't say anything for a moment. I didn't want to destroy the atmosphere they left me with.

They continued to wait for my response in silence.

I watched as each witch's work split into two projects, and I found that Zeldabourne was making potions to pour into little glass bottles while Helgamine was the one making breakfast.

I didn't speak until the taller(ish) witch pulled a tray of what looked like blackened cinnamon rolls out of the toothy looking oven.

I didn't fully understand some of the lines, but I could tell it was about the Gatekeeper helping me get into town a couple days ago.

"That was beautiful…"

"Hm. Interest choice of words…"

"Um… it was haunting?"

They both chuckled.

"Who made it up?"

"We both did," Helgamine said.

"When?"

"Just now," Zeldabourne said.

I stared for a moment, trying to comprehend. "But you were in sync."

"Yes?"

"How did you know what the other was going to say?"

Helgamine cackled again, "Happens when you know someone for a couple centuries. You know someone well enough to guess."

I tried to wrap my mind around that and shook my head, putting a hand to my forehead in amazement.

"You should go walk around town for a bit," Helgamine suggested while Zeldabourne nodded. "I hear some citizens were considering inviting you to have breakfast with their family."

"Who?"

"Eh. Several. So, I supposed it's whoever can get to you first." Zeldabourne shrugged without looking up from focusing on the blue liquid she was pouring into a vial.

"I…okay…" I nodded, standing. I walked to the curtain that was my exit. I paused then looked back, "That…that was a very lovely poem…"

"Glad you like it. It's for you after all."

I wasn't sure how to take that, so I left.

After I was gone, Zeldabourne looked toward Helgamine. "Why does she seem surprised that we could come up with a poem for her?"

Helgamine shrugged. "She didn't know fear. Perhaps she doesn't know love either?"

"…No…she loved those children. Siblings. And that Mark human. She was willing to risk Jack's anger so quickly just to see them again in the cauldron a few hours ago."

"I wonder if they loved her back…"

"Why wouldn't they? She's a scream."

Helgamine shrugged with a small chuckle, "Of course. If we like her, why wouldn't they? Perhaps I'm assuming too much."

"You always assume too much."

"Shut your pie hole and go open up shop unsavory wench."

"Hello Pot, I'm Kettle."

"That joke needs to die."

"If we're using it, it probably has."

I was already gone by that point, but as I look back a week later, I probably should have just stayed inside and hid under my bed. It's not exactly lonely under there, but it would have been better than the humiliation I accidentally subjected myself to.

A Name and A Rose

Darkness falls when light first fades

Nevermore guides Death's brought maids

By dawn's first break a creature arose,

Stone light bone like whiten rose

When met to face by King's calm hand,

Twin feet streak across cold land

With Wind at heels and trees a snare,

The Rose meets darkness before our care.

With danger past

And darkness last

The Rose first thought

Was safety sought

Gated iron dark

No sound of lark

The King called on Nevermore.

And thus, The Raven guided a rose once more.

Here's my challenge to you: what do you think the poem means?