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The night was quiet this time in Halloweentown, and the residents couldn’t be more pleased. Everyone who bothered to sleep was safely in their homes, tucked into their beds, as peaceful as monsters could be.
And the ones who didn’t mind staying awake were either lounging in their homes or walking aimlessly and quietly through the streets, enjoying the silence.
One resident in particular was sound asleep in his bed, dreaming of nothing in particular, a permanent smile resting on his pinkish face. Most of the time, such a smile portrayed happiness, though in this moment it was more of a neutral feeling.
Another moment passes, and the man stirs in his slumber, his head moving to further smush into the pillow. Unaware in his deep state, the sheet beneath his body moves with it, part of it relaxing into the crook of his neck.
It is then that something in his dream upsets him, and his head rotates 180 degrees, moving a paler, sadder face to the front of his body. Taken with it, the sheet gets jammed into the tight space beneath.
The feeling of this translates into the transforming vision, and whatever lies within his mind has now become a bit more confusing and concerning.
As the head moves more, the sheet digs deeper, until a part of it has reached the rotating bar that acts as the neck. And as soon as the two materials make contact, an earsplitting creak shatters the air, forcing the man out of his sinister dream.
He opens up his eyes, and immediately tries to get up and turn on a light. His head jostles from this and slips upward, exposing the bar and causing him to cry out in pain. Feeling weaker and dizzier with each second that passes, he holds a shaky hand to the essential part, and tries to push it back down. By this point, the bedsheet that caused this has slipped back down. It could almost be laughing at him, were it to be alive.
A hand already moist with frightened sweat slips off the head, forcing it to turn just enough to allow our poor resident a blurry, unfocused look out of his window.
It is then that he passes out.
He falls off the bed, his two-faced head slipping off the rod and rolling off somewhere on the floor. The sneering bedsheet lays still, the moon outside glows bright, and someone who was walking by looks at the house with concern.
...
The Mayor woke up with a horrified shout. He looked around, felt around, and almost started laughing when he saw that he was on his bed, his head safely in place. Inhaling sharply, and blinking rapidly to fight back the nervous tears that threatened to fall, he looked out his window. The moon was bright, and it was setting.
Seems like he’d have to get up soon anyways.
...
After an early morning spent properly stretching, getting dressed, and having a long debate with himself about having a proper breakfast, (eventually he had given up and had a slice of toast and an apple) the Mayor got into his hearse and rode out into town, making sure to cheerfully greet anyone he passed by.
After all, these kinds of nightmares happened almost every night lately, and he had never let anything show before. Why would he cave in today?