Winning deviation of the:
10 YEAR CLUB ANNIVERSARY CONTEST
TNBC: Two Dearest Friends (Chapter 11)Lock, Shock, and Barrel.
Jack Skellington was very well acquainted with them. While most of the Halloween Town citizens would label the three as "spawns of the Devil himself", Jack best described them as troubled kids and nothing more. He didn't endorse their actions, of course. The skeleton was actually short-tempered when it came to their shenanigans. They never learned from their mistakes, no matter how much he warned them and tried to lecture them on better morals. They knew what was right and what was wrong, but they insisted on causing a lot of the wrong.
In this case, trying to blow up a store in the middle of the Town Square was "right" to them. Wrong to many others.
Jack Skellington finally reached the building and widened his eye sockets once he stepped in. Helgamine and Zeldaborne were currently trying to pry something off from their faces. Whatever it was that was on them, it was an ugly bright shade of pink. It seemed sticky and wouldn't budge off from their
TNBC: Two Dearest Friends (Chapter 10)At 7 A.M., when the pumpkin sun began to rise over the horizon of Halloween Town, The Pumpkin King was already wide awake. His tall frame could be seen in his Den, where a singular table was placed just after his bedroom. A thick book was placed in the middle of it, followed by several scratch papers with various doodles on them that were tucked underneath. There was also a pile of pencils, protractors, and compasses that were placed to the side.
Jack Skellington leaned down and momentarily observed what was on the open page. He had a lollipop tucked into the corner of his mouth. His fingers tread lightly on the end of the stick in thought. He suddenly pulled the sucker out from his mouth, which was then followed by a loud POP!
"Factoring," He started to scribble on a scratch paper. "Thank Halloween! On such a busy day, I really don't want to spend too much time thinking this morning."
Every morning he indulged himself in a random question from one of the many math books in his
TNBC: Two Dearest Friends (Chapter 9)From what Sally has heard, it goes without saying that being "independent" meant that you made your own decisions. Finklestein was always the one telling her what to do and how to do it. So making a choice on her own part rather than drugging him and sneaking out was rather difficult. She had many ideas, yes, but she wouldn't imagine quite going this far.
The ragdoll adjusted her choker as she nervously looked back in the mirror. She had her dress on now, which proved to be a rather snug and comfortable fit. She wasn't used to wearing anything that wasn't baggy. Her hands were constantly flattening down the part around her waist and she was always moving around sheepishly. But the sight of her in it gave Sally a sense of pride. One that made her hold her chin up high and smile at her reflection in the mirror.
She leaned down to grab the contest paper from her desk. She read back through the text and felt the tingling feeling crawl up to her shoulders. According to what was on he
Corpse Bride: Another YearIn the Land of the Dead, the sky was always dark. There really was no bright, white moon or the vast expansion of the hot, incandescent bodies above the Earth like in the Land of the Living. It was just an endless sky of deep blue, with the occasional sight of stars every now and then. The deceased corpses and skeletons grew accustomed to the darkness over time. You really didn't need much to look up to if you were dead, anyway. That lesson was just one of the many first taught to whomever passed away.
On one of the most cold and distinctive nights in February, Emily, popularly known around as the "Corpse Bride", stopped by the Ball and Socket Pub. It was the absolute "go-to" place for the Dead, as it provided the finest drinks available to whomever came. The Corpse Bride was a rather quiet gal with quite the reputation. Her best friend was the owner of the Pub, and he had a tendency to write songs about the tragic tales of those whom had passed.
Emily's, of course, was rather melancho
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