Introductions to Caylee Skellington

The author's comments: I love Tim Burton and came up with the idea of what Jack and Sally's daughter might be like. I believe her to be like her dad, more the silent rebel type. Please post comments, I love feedback. It was the fall of my nineteenth birthday when I felt something had changed. I was writing in my journal in the pumpkin patch when I looked up and saw the leaves on the tree. The colours were changing on the leaves. They slowly began to turn inside out. They suddenly weren't the same. I wasn't the same. All my life I had played it safe, being the pumpkin princess is all I knew. My father, Jack Skellington is the big boss. My mom, Sally. Growing up in there shadows has always made me hide who I am as I tried fitting into the shape they have molded for me. The perfect daughter, the next in line to take his place. Me...the pumpkin princess. I remember being a little puppet and hanging around with my dad as he 'worked'. He use to have me in his tower and show me the maps of the lands and tell me amazing stories of all the places he has been too and the people he has had the privileged in meeting. He also told me of a place called Christmas Town, I told him he was silly and he just gave me a smile and ruffled my hair. Some days I would be with my mom at the coffee shop she had bought a few years back. The smell of witches brew in the air and arsenic cupcakes. Now, being a teenager in this town life was completely different. It wasn't cute to be the pumpkin princess or just a rank, it was my job. The obligation to be the perfect child had grown to such a weight it began crushing me. This is when my mother and father brought me back a journal from one of their travels and told me to write whatever I couldn't say. Knowing they didn't understand the emotions battling themselves inside of me I smiled and nodded. Now the tower was my hideout. My father had found another place for all his working and stuff. I think deep down he kinda understands that this isn't an easy life to be living at my age. It's nothing fancy, a old tower with a huge room at the top. It use to belong to the professor before he left town out of the blue. I have the stuff up there that my parents wouldn't understand. Like my mannequins that have my outfits on them and the designes on the walls. Also the recipes for some new baked goods for the cafe. And of course, it is where I keep my journal. I have been coming to the pumpkin patch ever since I first came upon it when I tried to run away from home. I had a play at school and my parents missed it to the work of the pumpkin king. I grabbed my teddy bear and ran as fast as my legs would carry me into the fog that surrounds our piece of the universe. It was my sanctuary. I heard the gates creek and I turn to see my friend Jeremy wave at me. I close my journal and place it in my bag and stand up and and walk over to him. "Hey Jeremy." I smiled. "Hey Caylee. I saw you weren't at school. Another trip coming?" He asks. I released a heavy sigh, "Yes. We are going on another blasted trip and they are dragging my along for the ride. They say it will help develop relationships for when I take the 'throne'." I quoted with my hands. He hugged me, "Come on. My mom is making some fresh witches brew with a splash of crow screech. Your favorite." He smiled. I took out my pocket watch and shake my head, "I wish I could but I have to get back and finish packing. Just wanted to get some venting done before I am tossed into the carriage." He nods and takes off his bag carefully, "I have something for you. He followed me to school today." He said and pulled out a black kitten. "He is positively charming Jeremy." He laughed, "You don't have to talk proper around me Caylee." Again, another sigh, "What can I say. It is becoming a nasty habit." He passed me the kitten and he curled into me instantly and became comfortable, soon enough he was passed out in my arms. Jeremy had to go home to help his mom out with the party that was going on in a few days...in honor of my father. I carried the sleepy kitty back to my tower and hide my diary behind a lose brick and walk back home. I've never had a live cat so it was gonna be interesting. I named him Jasper. I open the door and close it behind me as usual and walk up the stone steps to my room. I finish tossing a dress into my bag and toss it down the opening of the stairs. "Caylee we have to go." My father called for me. "Coming dad!" I shout and grab my bag and the kitty and run down the steps. "What's this?" He asked and pointed at the cat. "I found him in the cemetery." He sighed, "Fine. Just keep it out of trouble." I nod and go outside and hop into the carriage holding the small kitty. Burtonville isn't a big place but as he is the pumpkin king we had to be formal. I mostly looked out the window and wished to be anywhere else but there. I just wanted to be somewhere that I could be my own person and not the child on the pedestal anymore. I saw Jeremy waiting for me at the gates as he always had. It seemed to have developed into a tradition. He waved at me as I passed and I did the same. I sighed when he was out of view and closed my eyes. Might as well catch up on sleep. I closed my eyes while petting Jasper and found it to be soothing, and relaxing. I have never felt so at ease. I hear my mother and father talking about the meeting and how I should be awake so I look alive but really, I'm a puppet for boogie's sake. How much more alive could I look?



SG: Mild

She’d always been the good girl, the dutiful daughter, even-tempered wife and loving, supportive mother. A woman with endless reservoirs of patience and good intentions, which made her popular with those far from home. She’d folded her passion away in a place no one would ever look. Until that day. SG has a vivid imagination … Continue reading SG: Mild →

NICOLAS RIDLEY: Uhuru

“He died in Tanganyika,” she said, pouring herself another chotapeg. “Mauled to death by a lioness. That’s what he called it. Never Tanzania. Native nonsense, he used to say. He’d insulted his bearer, you see. He frequently insulted people. The shotgun the bearer handed him hadn’t been loaded.” Nicolas Ridley lives in London and Bath … Continue reading NICOLAS RIDLEY: Uhuru →

ANNE M LOGAN: Tranquility

She prepared her coffee, added her favorite creamer, carried it to her sitting place, placed her coffee, picked up her chosen pen and journal. Nesting into her tranquil spot, she turned to the blank page. Suddenly, the phone rang. “Hello.” “Is this Kate Morgan?” “Yes.” “We hate to inform you…” Anne Logan is a consultant, … Continue reading ANNE M LOGAN: Tranquility →

STORY OF THE WEEK: March 17

The story of the week for March 11 to 15 is… Anniversary by Susan Gale Wickes

SAMANTHA BALTZ: Passion

When I first laid my eyes on her, I could not look away. Months later, I feel the same. Charming and delicate, she is absolutely perfect. The only thing I would change about her is the way she shuts her blinds before she sleeps. One day we will be together. Samantha Baltz is employed in … Continue reading SAMANTHA BALTZ: Passion →