Another year, another Halloween, another round of applause.

The echoed screaming of trick-or-treaters and other hapless mortals were still fresh in the minds of every ghoul, ghost and monster of Halloween Town. Fresh and memorable as an enjoyably catchy song.

So why did the Pumpkin Princess feel so empty?

One Jack Skellington stood tall and proud at the town plaza fountain, with his wife Sally and his daughter May at his side, all the frightful residents applauding yet another successful Halloween.

"Thank you, everyone!" Jack proudly declared. "Of course I want to thank you all for your fantastic effort out there! I know I say this every year, but I swear it just gets more horrifying and disgusting! Congratulations!"

The frightful denizens roared with elation, the witches letting out jovial cackles and the werewolves unleashing celebratory howls.

"But this year I'd like to give a special thanks to our very own Pumpkin Princess, May Skellington!" Jack added as he held his daughter's shoulders, as if to bring her into the spotlight a little more.

There was another cheer, but May reluctantly glanced to the side as Sally Skellington's clapping was the most eager of all. Her little girl was all grown up.

May looked back out to the crowd. All eyes were on her. She found herself having a hard time breathing. She wanted to get out, but she didn't know how without drawing further attention to herself or disappointing her parents.

"Now, everyone!" the Mayor announced on his vehicle-mounted megaphone. "Time to give out the prizes!"

Everyone's head turned in the direction of his automobile, and May saw an opportunity as she quietly slinked away.

It wasn't until the Mayor announced the nominations for "Most Elusive Specter" that Jack and Sally realized their daughter had seemingly vanished.

May had slipped away to the graveyard and sat down on the ground with her back against the stone wall.

For reasons she herself couldn't understand she felt more lonely in a crowd than she did in solitude. She only had everything that a young ghoul in her position could possibly need. A chance to perform every year, applause, and adoration. So why did it ache inside so much?

Jack and Sally's little Pumpkin Princess was a rag doll much like her mother, made from scraps of cloth and bits of flesh. Although May was stuffed primarily with cotton and she had long black hair instead of red. Now she was a young woman of about nineteen years by ghoul standards. Most of her seams were well-hidden underneath her ghostly white peasant dress, save for a line of stitches that went vertically down the right side of her face through her eye.

She found it hard to relate to others. It wasn't just her position as the Pumpkin Princess, but also the citizens of Halloween Town could only ever take about all things spooky, what they would do for next Halloween, and always inserting how wonderful they thought she was. She didn't want to be so ungrateful. She was flattered that her skills often inspired them to want to do better.

It was true, May was a talented dancer and put that skill to work every year, playing the role of an alluring specter who reveals an angry, vengeful face once a foolish mortal gets close enough.

The problem was she wasn't satisfied with what she did. Every year it amounted to what felt like cheap scares and it would just be the same thing next year. Worse still was that her parents did not share in her discontent. They were always so happy and cheerful in keeping to their traditions.

In the distance she spotted the lovely Spiral Hill. She had always been told that it could potentially lead to an area where one could come into contact with the other holidays. Hence traveling beyond was prohibited.

May heard an echoed barking and saw a glow approaching her as her father's ghostly canine Zero had emerged from his grave to greet her. Sensing that she was feeling down, he nuzzled her arm and May smiled as she returned the sentiment with a hug and a quick scratch behind the ears.

She decided it was time to head back home.