and it was then that I decided that it was time for me to build the structure I still live in today. I took in many different factors when I built it – for example, the height above the rest of the town was important to me simply because I am tall of stature – used to being able to see above those around me. It wasn’t a question of vanity, I assure you, but one of comfort.

In addition, it was important for me to have a Pit below, in the center of the spiral staircase leading up and being quite bottomless. Since inspiring my dear Bostonian friend with the idea, I decided to draw inspiration from it myself. The pendulum was added in several years later, as I decided that the pit itself lacked the necessary terror.

The art on the walls were obtained from a vast multitude of sources. Some I’m glad to say I painted myself. Those closest to my heart are the ones my dear Sally has painted for me these past few decades. Others include Munch’s Skrik, some stained glass of Stoss that I recovered with extraordinary effort (see Chapter 17), and even some pieces by the infamous Richard Upton Pickman – kept covered at all times, of course.

But the real masterpiece of the entire house, the one that drove me to completely destroy my existing dwelling and start fresh, needs no introduction. Even the smallest in Halloweentown can tell of the brilliant, the grotesque, the enthralling


Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 251

My first memory? Dear me, that is a tricky question.

Because it’s so complicated, you see. I could say that my first memory is of the first Halloween. That would make sense, as Halloweentown would exist without the holiday itself.

But when was the first Halloween? When could you say for sure that last year may have been Samhain, or All-Hallow-Even, but this year we’re going to call it Halloween? I understand that names evolve with time, but the names themselves represent how the holiday has changed over the ages.

So, in that case, we could ask when the first time anything that seemed like a descendant of the holiday we celebrate today was performed during that time of year. You see, that becomes a tricky question in itself. Did those who celebrated our holiday give rise to us, or did we provide them with something to celebrate? I regret to say that I have any answers.

But to provide the reader with some sort of response, I can relate some of my more cohesive recollections. I can remember the Hill of Tlachtga, or Ward as it is called now, in the place now called Ireland. I remember the bonfire that was lit there, and of the traditional occurrences that the first of the followers started to repeat – I suppose you could call them rituals, or some such, but I feel the term too broad – or perhaps too restrictive.

At any rate, I remember the hill, in the dark of night, the flickering red of the bonfire and the blazing full moon white creating a never-ending pattern of light and dark on the faces gathered there. It was a solemn event, what was started there, created by hard times when life was about nothing but survival. I was a different Skellington then, not one to scare or frighten, but one to welcome a new year, to slaughter the cattle, bring in the harvest, tell tales about the ancestors, and the dead.

Times have changed, but we are still here, and will be forever more. My first memories lie in a vast black unknown, and to truly understand my own origins would be a great prize indeed.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 366

Now there’s a fantastic idea. But I’ve learned from past experiences. We can’t just invade the Olympics, or take them over, dear me no. Even if we had the best of intentions, I’ve learned that it isn’t enough. Which leads me to my only conclusion.

Halloweentown has to host their own Olympics.

Or maybe all the holidays could participate. We know Christmastown the best, but there are others we could get to know better, and this could be the vehicle, that means by which all the holidays get to know their neighbors a little better. If it could help to avoid any further mishaps like the Thanksgiving debacle a while back, I would fully support it.

In fact, I’d do more than that. I would of course help with the organization, planning, and all other facets. Every holiday is used to putting on the greatest production of all once a year; to do something, even something much greater, every two would not be much more of a difficulty, especially when the effort was shared.

And if I were to actually compete? I’m not sure what event I would enjoy the most. Hurdles may be the predictable answer, what with my enormous gait, but I feel I’d have the unfair advantage there. My fascination with the winter has never waned since that one Christmas; maybe some sort of skiing event would be most suitable. Perhaps the ski jump; there is a scary element that would be a great attraction to me.

But, for now no more; I must begin preparations immediately!

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 260

Now there’s an interesting question. Who do I find scary? Who scares the scarer? Quis parciet ipsos parces, as it were. Ah, Juvenal- but I digress.

I must admit that that is a difficult answer. One might think that my inspiration for my best scares have perhaps come from my own experiences, but I can say honestly that I have never been scared before in my life. I can therefore honestly say that I have not met any scary people.

Though, if I do look at the term “scary” in a different light, can I not define it as one who scares, not necessarily myself, but others? Then the question is quite easy actually – I know a great deal of scary people. This delightful town is filled with the scariest people of every description imaginable.

But an individual who has scared me. That has never happened. I suppose many have tried; certainly Oogie Boogie’s children have made the most attempts in the past, even going so far as to put a rather large shark in my bathtub on one occasion. But these were at most amusing pranks, and nothing in the realm of what could scare me.

I suppose that begs the inevitable question – what do I find scary? What could scare me? I confess, I do find it hard to think of anything. Perhaps if there were no more Halloweens, but I think I would find that more distressing and worrisome than simply scary.

I believe that I am at a loss. But I assure you, I find this a most interesting topic, and will ponder it a great while. You, my dear readers, shall be the first to know if I do think of anything.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 287

I once had the great pleasure in haunting Dr. Freud, late one Halloween night. He had been so engrossed in one of his books that I was able to come right up behind him and scare him quite completely.

He took it reasonably well, his initial shock turning into laughter at his own reaction. We spent the next night talking – I couldn’t have spared another second that night, it was a busy year – and we talked about many things. He was most interested in me, and almost dismayed that I didn’t fit into a lot of his theories, no matter how much he tested me. I comforted him somewhat by telling him that I was from Halloweentown, and demonstrating some of my more fascinating abilities, and he was satisfied from then on that I was simply some sort of unclassifiable waking dream, or suppressed emotions.

That was fine by me; over the centuries, I’ve been neatly pigeonholed into “Other” by many I’ve come across, and I find that I don’t mind if they pretend I don’t exist, as long as they’re polite to me while they do it.


Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 188

What a splendid idea. Come in, come in! Feel free to take as many pictures as you’d like. I haven’t fed the blood leeches yet, and there are a few too many cobwebs around, but it still looks photographable. I wished you’d given me a bit of advanced notice.

But no matter, no matter. Let me give you the grand tour. Here we are in the main entranceway. I’ll let you catch your breath from those stairs and just point out a few items of interest. Like my hat stand, made from the vertebrae of a type of snake that disappeared long ago. Or my coffee table – careful, it bites! Found it wandering around the woods a long while back and took it in. It’s calmed down a bit since then; you wouldn’t believe how many coffee table books it’s devoured.

Over here is the kitchen. It is a bit small, but no problem for a skeleton like me. Oh, yes, those are all of my own cook books. I do love a bit of cooking. It’s so relaxing after a day of scaring, or planning to scare.

And speaking of cooking, over here is my workbench. Chemistry, I feel, is very similar to cooking in many respects, and it’s probably why I enjoy both so thoroughly.

No no, down Zero! Bad Zero! Down! I’m so sorry, he’s usually so well behaved even to guests. It could be the ooze dripping from your face, sir, that he finds interesting. Or that your photographer is a skeleton. Zero does like his bones!

Here is my common room, or study, or family room, however you prefer to call it. I have my harpsichord there in the corner, my library over there, and a comfortable electric chair.

Ah yes, fantastic view, isn’t it? I’ve seen many sights from this window; being a hundred feet up really has its advantages. I’ve seen the great poltergeist migration of ’77, the Great Starfall, and the rising of the Wolf Moon that brings the first howls of the year.

Well, I guess that wraps the tour up, thank you very much for visiting, gentlemen. What’s that? My bedroom? I can kindly assure you that there is nothing of any interest in there. I didn’t hear any noise. No, it most assuredly didn’t sound like Sally. Good bye gentlemen, let me show you to the door. Here you are, don’t let the gate hit you on the way out. God day, gentlemen.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 414

I suppose it all depends on your point of view, really. I mean, if you really wanted to, you could stretch your imagination to say that even the best things in life, like – I don’t know, like the pranks we play on Halloween – are unkind.

But what would kindness be without a lack of kindness? How can we have one without the other, for comparison if not for a refreshing change. Being unkind has its place in the world; maybe not as much as kindness, but some just the same.

How can we learn without being unkind? I have learned that the world, whichever one you’re in, can be full of unkind truths, and how can we be ready for them and understand them if we have never known what unkindness feels like. Some of the most important lessons that can be learned in life are from unkind truths, and sometimes these are delivered by our friends, our loves, our family.

Now for a particular example, or situation? I’d like to take all of Halloween as an example. I mentioned it before as an offhand comment, but it’s very true how our good deeds can be interpreted as unkindness by those who receive them.

And who can really blame them? To be scared, frightened, startled, can be an undesirable experience. So then, why do we do what we do? Why do we scare? An easy explanation is that we simply do because that’s what we’re good at, and that’s why it’s here, but it goes deeper than that. We scare because the world needs a good scare; an adrenaline rush by something that is in essence completely harmless. Once a year, everyone needs to be reminded that there are scary things in the world, and they need to be reminded that they’re alive, and they can enjoy themselves despite the scary things, despite the moments of fear.

They feel better because of our scares, and therefore, some might say, because of our unkindness.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 333

My favorite time is 3 AM. It’s the time of night were even the nocturnal animals, the bats and opossums and cats, are thinking about turning in for the night, but before the day truly starts and people and other animals start to stir. It’s a time that I can prowl the woods alone, stalking through the trees, stepping quietly enough to hear the trees breathe. There’s some contention around Halloweentown as to the exact time of the witching hour – for me, it starts at three.

Therefore, it follows that my favorite time the whole year round is 3 AM on Halloween morning. There’s a certain wonderfully foul smell in the air, a sense of promise with just a tinge of fear. It’s quite exhilarating, yet in a clear calming way. All of my senses tingle, and I feel as if the rest of the year I’m swimming through swamp muck and only now am I free and clear. Some of my best scares have been in the early morning, right around three – for some reason, people don’t expect to be scared that early on Halloween. Or maybe that early in the morning at all.

My dear friend Hamlet once said the following, and I hold it true for any witching hour, and most especially on Halloween:

Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 256

I’m glad that you asked what my plans are for the next few weeks, because I have quite the busy schedule. First off is my annual visit to Patriot’s Day; I hear the reenactment of the Battles of Lexington and Concord this year will be different that usual; my friend John Parker says that it’s something in the powder. At any rate, it’s our tradition to go to the Buckman Tavern, and I’m looking forward to the brewer’s bitter – in my opinion, it’s the pint heard ‘round the world.

Another tradition that rolls around this year is the annual “Halfway to Halloween” speech. As usual, the Mayor’s a bit nervous about the speech, but I’ve assured him that he’ll do just fine. Despite the loss of four tons of fake blood (the vampires claim innocence), preparations are going along just fine, and I think that Halloweentown is very optimistic.

It’s not all business, though. I’m taking Sally to La Petite Mort this weekend; it’s an old haunt of ours, and the chef and I go back a long ways. He’s assured me that he’s come up with something new that he’s dying to have me taste, and I’m sure he’d appreciate your patronage as well!

All in all, I am a busy skeleton, but in a good way. I look forward to Patriot’s Day every year, and now that Halloween is a mere six months away, I’m really getting excited. See you around town!

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 244

I swear I didn’t put those heads in the fountain. I have much more taste, and frankly I’m surprised and not a little hurt that you thought it may have been me.

Now, those singing corpses that wailed through town at three in the morning; that was me. But heads? In the fountain? There’s no art, no thought, not even any real effort involved in that. I mean, I can find heads in several minutes, especially the shriveled ones used. If there had been fresh heads, or talking heads, that would have been something.

I was probably one of the kids. The shriveled heads probably came from their parents’ cupboard, and the little ones were just playing around. I mean, they’ve probably been in there for weeks, and either no one noticed or didn’t think anything of it. It is a slow news week?

If you had wanted a real news story, you could have simply come to me. I could have regaled you with the most hair-raisingly entertaining stories. I could have told you of the night I flew with the headless horseman on the Wild Hunt, or the time I met the three witches at their cauldron. We talked for hours, and had the most entertaining time, but it was broken up by some Scotsman. Or even the time I dressed up as a skinny big-headed alien and went prowling through the desert sands.

I mean it, honestly. Any time, that’s why I’m here – I’ll fill your paper with my most wonderful tales.

But, as for the heads in the fountain, again; that most definitely wasn’t me.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 269

Halloweentown Viciously Attacked by Fangsgiving!
Citizens Joyfully Fight Back

- Halloweentown, Halloween
Yesterday morning, Halloweentown was barraged by a brutal blitzkrieg of bombastic besiegers. Some were dressed in war paint and wore fearful feathers on their hair, and others dressed all in black, with shiny belt buckles on their hats. Calling themselves people of “Fangsgiving”, they made threatening motions with dead birds, rifles, and steaming hot containers, holding what Halloweentown Citizens who first arrived on the scene described as “portable kettles of boiling oil”.

Word was quickly spread across town, and citizens quickly flocked to the site of the invasion, either to join gleefully in the fracas that soon started, or to watch the gory spectacle for the sheer joy of it.

“I first heard about it from Zeldaborn,” Helgamine, a local witch, said. “I got here as quick as I could, and she wasn’t lying! It didn’t take me long to hop on my broom and dive bomb the nearest Fangsgiving-er!”

“Ugh?” the Behemoth reported, scratching his head from where his axe must have been itching. “Ugh.”

“I had a blast!” said little Corpse Kid. “Me and the Mummy Boy and the Winged Demon had the bestest time ever! We can’t wait until they visit again!”

Not everyone had as good a time. Notably, esteemed citizen Jack the Pumpkin King was particularly distressed over the invasion. “Haven’t you learned anything from when Sandy Claws visited?” he asked us during our interview. “These people from Fangsgiving; they weren’t here to hurt us! They weren’t trying to hurt us with food, they wanted to give it to us!” When we commented that they would have been better off trying to hurt us with their rifles instead, he become very agitated and slammed the door into our face. Sandy Claws was unavailable for comment.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 302

Ahh, my parents. Thank you for reminding me about them; it has been a long while since I even remembered my parents. This may seem strange to some, to those who have close connections to theirs. But you must remember that I have been alive for thousands of years, and my parents have been around for even longer. Though they fade into the darkness of the past, we still keep in touch from time to time.

A lie that my parents told me? To think that question odd, you’d have to know my parents a bit more. My mother is Samh, and she is tall and fair, her hair filled with golden flowers and her dress made from the finest linen. She always has a smile on her face, even when she calls down summer rains and thunderbolts.

And then there is my father, Gamh. He is tall also, but thin and warped, dressed always in shades of grey. He is cold and bitter, a grim person every day, including the days when it snows, dropping snowflakes from the sky, each as distinctive as you or I.

And they never agreed on anything. When my mother said one thing, my father said the other. When my father agreed on something, my mother disagreed. It was confusing for my brother and I, growing up with them, always getting two stories, two opinions, and always wondering which was lying and which telling the truth. And then one day, I realized that it wasn’t that one was lying and the other wasn’t. It was that each was telling the truth, and that to them, the way they were so different, that was how they saw the truth.

But if you roll your eyes and scoff at what you may call my naiveté, then maybe this will make you feel better; if you prefer to look at my parents another way, they were always lying to me.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 323

I don’t know how you got this picture, but I did say that I’d write about myself in this newspaper, and I suppose that it’s not fair to tell only certain things about me.

That ring has sat there for months now. It’s for Sally, of course; there is no other in my life like her. She knows it’s there as well – otherwise I’d have never written about it! Yes, she knows its there, but hasn’t said anything about it yet. It’s my way of telling her that I want her to be mine, but I don’t know how to ask.

I know the next question will be “Why haven’t you asked her yet?” so I’ll answer it here. It wasn’t long ago that I… appropriated Christmas, and Sally went a long way towards helping it from being an unrecoverable disaster. It was crystal clear to me then how much she cared for me, and how much she was willing to do for me. It was also quickly clear how much I loved her, and how I had never realized it until then.

Our relationship, I don’t mind saying, is none of your business, but I will divulge that we have been happy since, and never happier. But why the rush? We’ve been together in the same town for thousands of years, so if we’ve suddenly discovered our love for each other, what’s the rush? No no, I’d rather our relationship grew slowly, like a rose slowly decaying under a full moon, petals dropping off the bud one by one.

And does Sally feel the same way? Well, I believe she does; after all, like I said, she’s seen the ring – and has said nothing about it.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 287

Misunderstood? I think there's been enough in this paper about misunderstandings for me to really return to that topic. Yes, I greatly misunderstood Christmas and its purpose in the world. Let's stand this issue on its head then, shall we?

Perhaps it was the misunderstanding of everyone else that caused the bad reaction. Now, don't get me wrong, I do know that I belong to Halloween and not to Christmas. That was a one-time event caused by an emotional upset, and will never happen again. Believe me, Sally has made me a different skeleton.

But perhaps it was the world who misunderstood our intentions. That Christmas had the opportunity to be the most different, unique, and exciting year of them all! Who could argue that a Christmas filled with screams and terror would be forgotten quickly? It was a chance to shake things up, to look at the holidays from a different perspective, to realize what Christmas really meant to each and every one of you.

To those of you who are shaking your heads right now, maybe you're right. Maybe I was wrong, and just can't see it.

But on the other hand, maybe I'm just misunderstood.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 198

Who is my oldest acquaintance? Many readers of my column may be surprised to learn that it’s my faithful dog, Zero.

It was a long, long time ago, when our day was known as Samhain. It was on one of those nights that I roamed the world where seasons change, and I was dancing merrily with other revelers around bonfires on the fantastic island of Eire, partying with the dead and living alike. It was after one particularly enjoyable revel that I found myself in a deserted forest. I was wondering through when, much to my surprise, I came across the ghost of a small dog, huddling at the base of a tree.

“Here now,” I said, “that’s no way to be, lonely and sad on Samhain!” And I petted him kindly on the head, and offered him one of my ribs. I made sure he had sniffed it thoroughly, then turned and flung the bone into the night. The dog yapped merrily, zooming off into the gloom, and soon returning. Upon his return, I was astonished to notice that his nose started to glow, and I saw that it had the shape of one of the carved vegetables that little Gael children made to delight spirits on these nights.

Our meeting was so fortuitous and the dog so happy that I knew at once we would become the best of friends. I knew that the night would be the beginning of many things; a “Zero Night”, if you will. I decided then to call the little ghost dog Zero.

“Come on, Zero,” I called to him. He looked up at me hopefully, expectantly, and then followed me back to the blazing bonfires, and to the happy revelers there.

Muse: Jack Skellington
Fandom: Nightmare Before Christmas
Word Count: 289