Episode 1: Jack and Sally Edit

Jack the Older: "My story starts many years ago, when Halloween Town was still ripe, yearning for scares, and my father, Reginald Skellington, was the Pumpkin King. Halloween Town was ruled under my family and had been for many generations, from my father to his father, and so on. So it has been and so it will continue. Now, my family, the recent generation of Skellington's went as follows; my father, Reginald Skellington; my mother, Lyla Skellington; my sister, Kora Skellington; and finally, myself, Jack Skellington. My family and I lived together in a castle upon this very foundation of which my house stands, but now that castle is long gone, resting with the remains of my dear mother and father. Now, may my story, begin."

A younger Jack Skellington is bent over his books in his room. He sat with his back to the window where the moonlight fell upon his black tux and skeleton figure. His fingers clutched his ink pen, and his face neither looked up from his writing, nor did his fingers hesitate as they moved over the pages. He was only eleven years old, and his father and mother were both expecting him to learn everything there is to know about ruling a kingdom, and carrying on his duties as prince, and later, king. And, even though he hated to admit it aloud, he hated it. Every day it seemed, except on the days of the Halloween Fest, Jack sat in his room, at his desk, either writing or copying a document of either historical or nonesuch importance. It didn't seem to matter anymore.

"Will I ever have a taste of a normal life?" Jack thought with a sigh. From his window, he could look out upon Halloween Town, which was beyond the gates of his family's home, and watch the children of Halloween Town as they played their little monstrous games. But, as always, whenever Jack looked down on them, a change came over his heart, a pang of hurt, either a mix of anger or grief. But, no, it was neither of these. Rather, it was loneliness. Whenever the children looked up and saw him watching them, they either scattered, or they bowed to him in reverence. Either way, he hated it. He hated being a prince. And he hated being locked up in his family's castle, being restricted from having fun. Shouldn't a prince, no, a king, have some fun once in his life?

The thought terrified Jack, in reasons he didn't understand.

Finally with a large sigh and heave of his shoulders, Jack placed his pen down in its inkwell and rose from his chair. A tall, skinny, healthy young lad, Jack stretched out his long arms and long legs as he strode to the arched window that looked down at Halloween Town below. As he watched the children that ran about below, playing games of hide-and-go-hunt, peek-a-scare, and goo ball, Jack watched them with a look of longing, his head in his hands as he watched them from afar, a wistful look on his face.

He didn't even see, or hear his father, Reginald Skellington, as he snuck up behind his son and gave out a wild, frightening scream, his long, bony fingers latching onto his son's shoulders. Terrified and trembling with fear, Jack turned around to face his father, his hands over his heart, his black eyes huge and his breath coming out rapidly as his heart beat violently in his chest.

"Father! You scared me!" Jack managed between gulps of air as he regained his dignity. His father laughed and smiled.

"I still got it in these old bones." he cackled as he pat his son on the shoulder. Reginald was a gangly skeleton, wearing a black and white vest and tie, black pants, black shoes, a top hat, and a black pocket watch everywhere he went. He also had a short, bristly beard, and his skeleton head was rather egg shaped.

"So then, son," he said as he propelled his son back to his desk, away from the window, and Jack's only view of what "fun" looks like. "Why weren't you working? I thought we agreed you could have a break, after you were finished with your work." Reluctantly, Jack sat back down into his chair and sank lazily down the chair, frowning and folding his arms.

"I'm tired of all this work, father. I want what's out there! Beyond the walls! Beyond the castle!" Reginald sat down in a chair adjacent the desk and listened to his son's complaints with a nod of the head. "Its just, oh its just," Jack muttered, and then he got up from his chair and strode back to the window, saying his words like an orator quoting poetry. "I want to just lie down in the grass! Feel the chilling wind on my bones! Smell the flowers! Play games with the children! I want to experience fun! I want to experience what words such as freedom and fun are, not just for myself, but with others," He paused at the window and turned back around to look at his father. "I want to know what they are."

With a wise and thoughtful nod of his old head, Reginald got up and walked over to his son, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "I understand what you mean, Jack. Years ago, when I was your age, I had the same desire that you have now." Jack looked at his father in amazement.

"Really? Did you experience what these words mean? What did you do? What did you feel? Tell me!" Jack excitedly hopped up and down, a huge smile of hope upon his face.

His father smiled sadly and patted his son on the shoulder. "I couldn't," he paused and so his son's smile disappear as the words slowly sank in. "When I left the castle, everyone bowed to me and treated me same as they would treat their prince. Afterwards, I grew tired of it, and decided to never try to have freedom ever again."

"That, that sounds awful.." Jack gloomily looked at the floor. Did this mean, that he too, would never understand the feeling either?