Chapter Text
Beginnings
She twisted on the steel table, rolling from her back onto her stomach. The doctor gritted his teeth. I should have left her in the restraints until she quieted, he thought, but it was too late now.
“Sally?” he said. “Hello there, Sally.”
Her eyes were enormous and bright, and she turned her head from side to side as the sight of the laboratory walls poured into her. She scrambled against the table-top, breaking two of her fingernails. The doctor pulled a sharp breath into his mouth, and that short hiss of air drew her attention. She turned to him, struggling to her knees. Initially, the doctor had been pleased with her height, however she now struck him as enormous and unwieldy. She would be difficult to control, at least physically. I should have made certain her brain was functional before pulling the switch. A weak old man like myself can hardly be expected to manage an infant in a grown woman's body.
“Sally.” he said again. She smiled, and reached toward him with a delicate hand, before falling from the table. She landed with a thud on the laboratory floor, eyes twitching with fear and surprise. The doctor flinched, his creaking wheelchair rolling backwards. She was no better than a small child. Quiet fell over the room. Sally twisted the hem of her makeshift dress. Her knees pressed to one another, while her lower legs swung out to either side. She looked up with uncertainty at the scowling figure beside her.
oOo
Middles
“What's inside the middles, mama?” asked the child. He looked like his father, standing past his mother's waist at only four years old. He hung on the orange band of her apron with skeletal fingers.
“There's nothing inside them just yet.” said Sally. She moved small cakes, steaming from the oven, onto a wire rack, then brushed her forehead with the back of a stitched wrist.
“What will you put in the middles?” the child persisted. His mother smiled down at him.
“What would you like?”
His brow furrowed, considering. It was a serious decision. When he'd pondered in silence for several seconds, his mother offered suggestions:
“Pumpkin pudding with cinnamon?”
“Nooo... We always have pumpkin.”
“Worms, then?”
“Nooo... They're not sweet.”
He pointed to the kitchen windowsill, upon which sat his mother's hand-basket. An assortment of apples nestled inside. His father had brought them home from Independencetown as a surprise. There were apples in Halloweentown, but these were much sweeter, and gleamed bright red like jewels.
“Apples!” he chirped. Sally clicked her tongue, smiling. Naturally, he'd want the apples. Out of just about any possibility, apples were the most work. She stroked his skull.
“Alright, but apples will take a while. Why don't you go play in town? Go find your father and your brother.”
He tore off, leaving the Pumpkin Queen alone in the kitchen. She moved to the basket, cupping one of the apples in her palm. She paused to look out the window at the barren hillsides surrounding the town. She could see the edge of the pumpkin patch. The Behemoth was there, striking a rusted hoe into the ground, digging new rows. The sky above was mottled gray, like sodden quilt batting. It was the end of April, half-way through the year for Halloweentown. Six more months to get ready. Six more months until Halloween night.
oOo
Ends
No one would ever suggest that Death’s job was an easy one. Some days were better than others, that much was true, but very few were glad to see him when he arrived. It was enough to give anyone a complex. Death took it all in stride, maintaining a pleasant outlook for the most part. Today however, he found it exceedingly difficult to fulfill his obligation. Sally Skellington sat by a casement window in her bedroom, gazing down at her family in the town square below. Being a mother had been the nicest thing she could ever have imagined - until she became a grandmother. Being a grandmother was all too soon exceeded by becoming a great-grandmother. Life, such as it was in Halloweentown, was exquisite. Death shifted his weight uneasily, and cast a furtive glance at his pocket-watch. The last thing he wanted to do was rush this, but there were other jobs waiting.
“Sally.” he said quietly. She smiled out the window. He tried again: “If you don’t want to be alone, we can tell them. I don’t that for most you know, but since Jack and I are friends...” She looked up.
“Don’t do that. They’re happy. I don’t think I could bear them being here.”
Death nodded.
“...and Jack? You haven’t even said anything to him?”
Sally sighed heavily, twisting a length of braided curtain cord around her fingers.
“No. I haven’t. I know I should have. I suppose I just needed more time.” Her face brightened. “If I had just a little more time, this would be easier. Another week? I think that’s all I’d need to settle things here, and to talk to Jack.”
Death swallowed an exasperated breath.
“Sally, you know I have already given you extra time. I’ve done it more than once. There is no more time. I’m sorry.” His voice was firm. She chewed on her lower lip, a nervous mannerism held onto since she was a girl. He was correct of course. He had been more than accommodating to her, for longer than he needed to be.
Death’s first visit was only a week before the holiday. He came to Sally in the kitchen as she worked folding tea towels. She remained calm, but her eyes betrayed cold shock at seeing him. She hadn’t ever met death, although Jack mentioned him a time or two. Sally reasoned with the intruder, less a plea than a negotiation. Halloween was very close. Every year she watched over the little ones while everyone else was out scaring. If she were to pass so suddenly, how would they manage? This was not to mention how Jack would handle leading the holiday so soon after his wife’s passing. Her arguments were sound. Although Death was seldom swayed, he agreed to postpone their business. He next returned on a still afternoon in mid-November. Sally sat under a tree on a gray hilltop, reading a picture book to two skeletal children on her lap. A third child, a small girl with eyes of solid black, worked intently braiding a lock of her great-grandmother’s hair. Sally looked up for an instant between sentences. She met Death’s gaze. You can’t possibly do it now. Not in front of them. Please wait. There were no words. His face tightened, and Sally could not have been sure, but he seemed to give his head a slight impatient shake. Impatient or not, he faded as silently as he’d appeared, leaving her with the children.
Contrary to common assumption, Halloweentown was no more the afterlife than any of the other holiday towns. It existed in a curious tangential place. Some in Halloweentown were indeed dead, having stumbled into the Holiday world by pure chance, or happy accident. Others would die and go elsewhere. It was all as much of a mystery to Halloween folk as it was anywhere else in the universe. Jack was the high king of Halloween. The Pumpkin King. Timeless, he would never age. He couldn’t, because he was needed. Santa Claus was the same. Sally it turned out, was not. She and Jack held one another on a snowy hilltop decades before, and declared that they were simply meant to be. As luck would have it, things are rarely that simple. Happily ever after doesn’t necessarily mean forever. Sally had not been created for permanence, as there would have been no reason for it. Her creator had been an old man. She was made for his alone. He would have seen little logic in insuring her survival beyond his own years, even if had he held the capability. The old man was now long past. His spherical tower remained across the square from the Skellington home, casting a broad shadow over the cobblestones. Sally did not look much different than she did all those years ago. More matronly in form, but that had been the case since her children were born. Her gentle face was much the same, save a tiredness around her eyes. Silver strands ran here and there in her red hair, but the change was subtle. Her stitched body ached more than she admitted to anyone, including Jack. That was to her a minor inconvenience, all things considered.
She returned her attention out the window, wearing an expression that was difficult to read. Death found that disconcerting. He rarely felt special obligation in these dealings, other than to finish the task at hand in as efficient a manner as possible, but Sally’s position, the position of her husband, the friendships and courtesies affected by this job, were very unusual. Death was uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and stepped toward her, reaching out his hand in a gesture of support.
“I am sorry, Sally. I know that you didn’t realize this was coming. I wasn’t certain myself to be honest, but here we are.”
She practically leapt from her seat, skittering away from his touch.
“I wasn’t going to do it right then!” he said, more than a hint of defensive irritation in his voice. “I just wanted to touch your shoulder. That was all.”
Sally wrung her hands.
“Sorry! I-I’m afraid. I’m not ready.” She trembled. “What happens after? Will there be something next?”
“I can’t say anything about that.” Death answered. “Would you like to lie down?” He approached her again, but she slipped by him once more, shaking her head.
“It doesn’t much matter either way does it?” she said, her voice breaking. “Even if there is something, or someplace, if my husband won’t ever die, I won’t ever see him again. What about my children? Will they die?” Her tone had become almost accusing, and Death held up his hands as he answered her to the best of his limited ability.
“I don’t know the answer to that, Sally. I only know what I have to do when the time comes.”
She looked at him with pained eyes, then glanced quickly around the bedroom. She wasn’t certain what she was looking for, or if she was just trying to remember everything exactly as it was - the thick purple carpet, the velvet draperies, the canopy bed, the photographs on the wall...
“I can play Chess.” she said, quite suddenly. Death tilted his head.
“Come again?” he asked.
“I can play Chess. I’m very good. I’ll play you for this. I know it can be done. Jack read me a story about someone who played Chess with you for a life. That was years ago, even before my children were born, but I remember it well.”
Death scratched his head.
“Perhaps there was a story, but that was all it was. I don’t work that way, Sally. Even if we were to play, you could never win.”
Looking at her hands, she sat down again.
“Tonight? Please? I'll go tonight. I give you my word. Just let me have until tonight.”
Death stood still for a long, silent, minute. At last, he nodded. Then - he was gone.