Marcus had been expecting a handful with the new young skeleton. To his surprise, Jack was well-mannered and calmly obedient. Jack also had a near-perfect memory, something Marcus had learned when Jack had found his own way back to the pumpkin patch after being lost in the woods for nearly six hours.
If Jack had been human, his immaculate behavior and impeccable politeness would have been all a parent could have wanted. But Jack was undead now: after the first few days, Marcus began to get concerned for his newly adopted son: Jack appeared to have no sense of mischief at all, and that was an important characteristic in young monsters. Unfortunately, the old skeleton had no idea how to help Jack develop his prankster side; he'd never been a father before.
One evening, Marcus was taking the ripe pumpkins into town for carving, Jack sitting in the wagon, ready to help. Jack had never been to town before—it was only his first week in the undead world after all—and his eye sockets were wide with awe. Marcus couldn't stop himself from chuckling. When the pair entered the town center, Marcus began unloading the large pumpkins, and Jack spun in circles, trying to take everything in.
"If you keep turning like that, you'll dislocate an ankle," Marcus laughed. Jack stopped, but seemed unable to wipe his skull clean of his amazement. By the time Marcus was done unloading, Jack had set his sights on the clock tower.
"What's that countdown for?" the youngster asked as they prepared to leave.
"The days left until Halloween," Marcus replied, looking up himself to see that there were less than two days now. Jack cocked his head at a dangerous angle, his brow furrowed.
"Halloween..." he repeated slowly, as if trying the word out to see how it sounded. Marcus nodded, watching the child carefully. Most new arrivals only had the faintest memories of their human lives, enough to give them a sense of identity. Few even remembered Halloween, the most important day of the year. Jack continued to ponder the word, repeating it softly to himself.
"It sounds big...important..." the young skeleton muttered, more to himself than his father.
"It is," Marcus assured him. "It's the most important day, because-"
"Because all the monsters come out to scare people," Jack finished. Marcus blinked once before a large smile broke out across his skull.
"That's exactly right," he said, patting Jack on the shoulder. "When we go to the human world, it is our job to frighten the humans, to make them jump. The rest of the year is preparation for Halloween."
Jack nodded, but did not say another word for the whole rest of the trip home, silent as he bumped around in the wagon. As they reached Marcus' slanted shack outside the cemetery, Jack suddenly asked, "What do I do at Halloween?"
"It's your first," Marcus replied, groaning as his old joints ached for a moment. "You won't be going to the world above."
"But what do I do?"
"You watch the adults through the well in town square. Observe."
Jack was visibly disappointed.
"Don't worry about it," Marcus comforted him, patting his son on the back. "In a few years, you'll be a trick-or-treater, and then you get to travel to the human world. Anyway, Halloween isn't for everyone. I'm not going."
"Why not?"
Jack was now more curious than upset, his mood shifting in the briefest of moments, now watching the older skeleton as he opened the ancient, creaky door. Marcus decided to tell him; it wasn't exactly a secret.
"I was never very scary," he admitted. "Didn't get the results from the humans that I was supposed to. So I look after the young ones with Fink—that's Dr. Finkelstein to you."
Jack nodded seriously, looking lost in thought. Marcus grinned at the serious expression on his face; it was so adult-like that Marcus was certain that his soul was much older than his young bones might suggest.
"When is Halloween?" Jack asked as Marcus lit a candelabra. The old skeleton didn't respond right away, taking his time lighting all the candles in the tiny shack. When the warped walls, crooked table, and smoky fireplace were illuminated by flickering flames, Marcus lowered himself into one of the rickety old chairs, looked his son in the eye sockets, and answered softly.
"Two nights from now."
The half-moon was not bright enough to illuminate the already dim trail to Halloween town. It was only Marcus' experience of traversing this tricky trail that led the pair of skeletons through the twisted iron gates that closed the town from the rest of the world. Jack clung to his father's arm as he walked, squinting into the dark as they walked into the town square.
It was unusually busy tonight: the adult monsters, vampires, zombies, witches and other ghouls had gathered by the fountain, preparing to leave. Those with children were giving them last-minute goodbyes and reminders. Jack hesitated uncertainly, his small bony fingers gripping Marcus' radius ever tighter. Marcus smiled a little and rested his free hand on Jack's skull to reassure him.
The clock struck seven. The monsters began to leave the square through the gate, marching their way to the graveyard. When the gate crashed shut behind the hangman's tree, there were only a handful of monsters still in the square: a small group of children, Marcus, Jack, and the crippled Dr. Finkelstein, all clustered around the fountain.
"Well, Marc," the mad scientist hailed the skeleton, "you're late. Those creaking knees slowing you down?"
"My patella are fine, Fink," Marcus replied, his grin stretching even farther across his face. "It was this little bone pile who slowed me down."
Jack looked up at his father, visibly surprised at being called a "bone pile", but when Marcus winked at him, he seemed to understand that it wasn't an insult and smiled too.
"Ah, so you were gifted with a charge of your own this year," the doctor remarked, studying the young skeleton as he wheeled forward. "About time. What's your name, young one?"
"Jack," the young skeleton replied, releasing Marcus' arm and extending his hand in a moment of daring. "Jack Skellington. It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor."
"The pleasure is all mine," Dr. Finkelstein replied confidently, taking the handshake. Marcus shooed Jack away, insisting he meet some of the other creatures his age. When the child hesitantly began introducing himself to his peers, the mad scientist looked up at Marcus expectantly.
"Impeccable manners," he commented, inclining his oversized head towards Jack. "Did you teach him that."
"Not at all," Marcus assured his friend. "He just came that way."
"Lucky."
"Now Fink—"
"Doctor! Mr Skellington! It's starting!"
The excited shout drew the two adults forward, so that they too could peer into the well. They all watched as the water finally cleared of all mist, displaying the watery image of a crypt in the human world. All at once, the crypt burst open and a werewolf bounded out, howling at the partial moon in the sky. More and more creatures came soaring out into the dusk of the human realm—witches on brooms, vampires fluttering alongside clouds of bats, zombies shuffling forward, ghosts moaning—and soon the image in the water shifted to the front of the graveyard, where the monsters all exited the graveyard and into the lamplit streets, where the first of the human trick-or-treaters were emerging from their homes.
Marcus glanced down at Jack occasionally as the night went on: his eye sockets were constantly wide as he took it all in, sometimes jumping when a monster made a particularly good scare. Even as the moon climbed higher and higher, Jack's gave was riveted on the scenes the water revealed. When the moon reached its lowest point, the water suddenly went blank and Jack blinked a few times in surprise.
"What happened?" he asked Marcus, bewildered. Before the old skeleton could explain, another young monster spoke for him—a two-faced boy by the name of Ben.
"Halloween's over," Ben said. "All the grown-ups are coming back to town. Then we sing the town song."
"What's the town song?" Jack asked eagerly. Ben pointed out of the town square, towards the twisted gate.
"Just listen, and you'll hear it."
All the children fell silent, clearly straining their ears. Marcus smiled to himself. It was always the same with the young ones. Then, the faintest sound of music floated over the hill, carried from the graveyard.
Boys and girls of every age,
wouldn't you like to see something strange?
Come with us and you will see,
this, our town of Halloween.
Jack's eye sockets couldn't have gotten any larger. As the next verse was sung, several of the other children joined in, their voices mixing with the rest of the town's.
This is Halloween! This is Halloween!
Pumpkins scream in the dead of night!
This is Halloween! Everybody make a scene!
Trick or Treat, till the neighbors gonna die of fright!
It's our town,
everybody scream!
In our town of Halloween!
Marcus stepped forward and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. Jack started a little at the contact before he realized who it was.
"So?" Marcus asked. "What do you think?"
It took Jack a minute to respond, so enthralled was he by the music.
"I think it's amazing," he said, his voice awed.