NANOWRIMO time kiddies!
Title: Halloween, part 1
By: drkhearted
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,065.
Notes: Suggested by Teresa. Inspired by my very own adventures on Halloween night.
Halloween was always a favorite holiday of Frank’s, even when he was alive. The sole fact that he could take candy from strangers by the hundreds and have an excuse to eat it all was simply amazing in the eyes of child-Frank. Not to mention it pissed of his mother, which was always a plus.
Halloween in Hell is a bit different. It lasts an entire week due to the fact that is the only holiday officially celebrated in Hell (other holidays are celebrated in secret between friends, as it is illegal) and the fact that the time difference is kind of weird between planes of existence. For the most part, the traditions are the same. Those willing to participate hand out candy to the little ones (usually demon children, but the occasion human child is seen in Hell). The little ones dress up and run around Dis for a week long sweet-a-thon. As fun as that sounds, for the adults in Hell, by the third or fourth day it gets pretty annoying.
---
It was the end of the month and Frank stayed late to take inventory. He rummaged through the cellar and the bar, taking notice of what was needed and what wasn’t; a rather mundane task that Maize wouldn’t do even if her un-life depended on it. Frank didn’t mind all too much, however, as he never really had too much to do with his time.
Frank finally finished and began putting the chairs up on the tables. He then gathered his things and made his way to lock the door and head home… Well, to Teresa’s home anyways. Not before helping himself to a bottle of fine wine for him and Teresa to enjoy later, of course. That is when he finally realized exactly what time of the year it was.
Upon opening the door, a pack of children, much akin to zombie movies he had seen in theaters (ironically, there were probably a few real zombies among the crowd to begin with) swarmed around Frank, chanting “CANDY! CANDY! CANDY!” It was once again Halloween.
Frank was mortified. They looked rabid, holding up bags and staring up at him with beady little eyes, bent on finding sweets to quench their need for a chocolate holocaust. Frank felt around his pockets, finding nothing to give to them. He panicked.
“Erm… Hello there… Children,” Franks said, sound rather like a child molester, as he could not find the proper emotion to place into the saying.
They could smell fear. He had to remain calm. Goblins, ghouls, ghosts, Elvis Presley impersonators, and a fair share of Bill Clinton’s glared his way. He did the only thing he could think of to distract them.
“Here,” he lifted his hand, “take... the wine?”
That’s when the sirens sounded.
---
Frank sat opposite a minotaur, cuffed to a chair with the bottle of wine placed in front of him. He had never seen the police station, nor did he even know Hell had one. It certainly wasn’t the most beautiful place either. Rather dusty and old looking, to say the least. The minotaur fit in perfectly.
“Well, Dr. Frank, what do ya have to save for yer’self?” the bull snorted.
“Please, it wasn’t how it looked. They were going to eat me!”
“I heard the way you said ‘Hello children.’ And then you tried to get them drunk so you could have your perverted way with them. I see your kind all the time.”
“Those kids were ravenous, they would have torn me limb from limb if I didn’t offer them something. Please, officer, let my record speak for itself. I am a model citizen of Dis. Please -“
“Oh, afraid of being torn limb from limb, eh?” The minotaur was obviously Canadian. “Well, hows ‘bout I send you down a level, eh? You can be torn limb from limb all ya like!”
“PLEASE!” Frank threw himself down, sacrificing what little dignity he had left in him, “I PROMISE I WILL BE GOOD!”
---
Frank sat in his cell, doomed. His head hung in shame, he kept to the shadows. His cellmate, a drunken incubus, kept trying to make passes at him.
“Com’on baby, you know you want me.”
Frank ignored him the best he could. The fact that he was being sent down a level was by far the most important thing on his mind. He knew what went on in the lower levels. It wasn’t pleasant. He never realized how much he actually liked the city of Dis, in comparison to the lower levels anyways. Frank knew he would never survive down there. He was far too soft-spoken and dainty to be torn apart limb from limb, over and over for all eternity.
“Well, well, well. Playing with children again, Frank?”
A glimmer of hope! A saving grace! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No! It was Teresa, smirking at him from the other side of cold, iron bars. Frank had never been so happy to see anyone before in his entire un-life. He hopped up and sprinted to the bars, reaching out a hand toward her.
“Please! Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.
Teresa rummaged through a bag she had, finally pulling out a muffin. Frank was confused.
“I baked a nail-file into it. You can use it to escape!” She shot him a deranged look.
“… Thanks,” Frank sighed, disheartened. He was going down a level, after all.
“Oh, I am just kidding. I paid bail. You can go,” Teresa smiled. Frank wasn’t amused, but still extremely pleased to be free.
The minotaur followed close behind, unlocking the cell, giving Frank a crude glare, and let him go. Frank nearly skipped out of the police station. He immediately ran out, fell to his knees, and tried to hug the ground.
“Thank you! Teresa, I owe you big time. I am your slave. Do to me as you wish!”
Teresa pondered the offer for a moment, and then replied: “Whatever. Just give me a bonus on my next paycheck, hm?”
Frank went to hug her, but he noticed the impending doom in the distance. An entire army of children, marching in unison down the street. A regime of snot-nosed, malicious little kids bent on domination of all that was sugary. Frank stood paralyzed.
“Move it!” Teresa grabbed him be the collar and dragged him, running off to safety.
By: drkhearted
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,065.
Notes: Suggested by Teresa. Inspired by my very own adventures on Halloween night.
Halloween was always a favorite holiday of Frank’s, even when he was alive. The sole fact that he could take candy from strangers by the hundreds and have an excuse to eat it all was simply amazing in the eyes of child-Frank. Not to mention it pissed of his mother, which was always a plus.
Halloween in Hell is a bit different. It lasts an entire week due to the fact that is the only holiday officially celebrated in Hell (other holidays are celebrated in secret between friends, as it is illegal) and the fact that the time difference is kind of weird between planes of existence. For the most part, the traditions are the same. Those willing to participate hand out candy to the little ones (usually demon children, but the occasion human child is seen in Hell). The little ones dress up and run around Dis for a week long sweet-a-thon. As fun as that sounds, for the adults in Hell, by the third or fourth day it gets pretty annoying.
---
It was the end of the month and Frank stayed late to take inventory. He rummaged through the cellar and the bar, taking notice of what was needed and what wasn’t; a rather mundane task that Maize wouldn’t do even if her un-life depended on it. Frank didn’t mind all too much, however, as he never really had too much to do with his time.
Frank finally finished and began putting the chairs up on the tables. He then gathered his things and made his way to lock the door and head home… Well, to Teresa’s home anyways. Not before helping himself to a bottle of fine wine for him and Teresa to enjoy later, of course. That is when he finally realized exactly what time of the year it was.
Upon opening the door, a pack of children, much akin to zombie movies he had seen in theaters (ironically, there were probably a few real zombies among the crowd to begin with) swarmed around Frank, chanting “CANDY! CANDY! CANDY!” It was once again Halloween.
Frank was mortified. They looked rabid, holding up bags and staring up at him with beady little eyes, bent on finding sweets to quench their need for a chocolate holocaust. Frank felt around his pockets, finding nothing to give to them. He panicked.
“Erm… Hello there… Children,” Franks said, sound rather like a child molester, as he could not find the proper emotion to place into the saying.
They could smell fear. He had to remain calm. Goblins, ghouls, ghosts, Elvis Presley impersonators, and a fair share of Bill Clinton’s glared his way. He did the only thing he could think of to distract them.
“Here,” he lifted his hand, “take... the wine?”
That’s when the sirens sounded.
---
Frank sat opposite a minotaur, cuffed to a chair with the bottle of wine placed in front of him. He had never seen the police station, nor did he even know Hell had one. It certainly wasn’t the most beautiful place either. Rather dusty and old looking, to say the least. The minotaur fit in perfectly.
“Well, Dr. Frank, what do ya have to save for yer’self?” the bull snorted.
“Please, it wasn’t how it looked. They were going to eat me!”
“I heard the way you said ‘Hello children.’ And then you tried to get them drunk so you could have your perverted way with them. I see your kind all the time.”
“Those kids were ravenous, they would have torn me limb from limb if I didn’t offer them something. Please, officer, let my record speak for itself. I am a model citizen of Dis. Please -“
“Oh, afraid of being torn limb from limb, eh?” The minotaur was obviously Canadian. “Well, hows ‘bout I send you down a level, eh? You can be torn limb from limb all ya like!”
“PLEASE!” Frank threw himself down, sacrificing what little dignity he had left in him, “I PROMISE I WILL BE GOOD!”
---
Frank sat in his cell, doomed. His head hung in shame, he kept to the shadows. His cellmate, a drunken incubus, kept trying to make passes at him.
“Com’on baby, you know you want me.”
Frank ignored him the best he could. The fact that he was being sent down a level was by far the most important thing on his mind. He knew what went on in the lower levels. It wasn’t pleasant. He never realized how much he actually liked the city of Dis, in comparison to the lower levels anyways. Frank knew he would never survive down there. He was far too soft-spoken and dainty to be torn apart limb from limb, over and over for all eternity.
“Well, well, well. Playing with children again, Frank?”
A glimmer of hope! A saving grace! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No! It was Teresa, smirking at him from the other side of cold, iron bars. Frank had never been so happy to see anyone before in his entire un-life. He hopped up and sprinted to the bars, reaching out a hand toward her.
“Please! Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.
Teresa rummaged through a bag she had, finally pulling out a muffin. Frank was confused.
“I baked a nail-file into it. You can use it to escape!” She shot him a deranged look.
“… Thanks,” Frank sighed, disheartened. He was going down a level, after all.
“Oh, I am just kidding. I paid bail. You can go,” Teresa smiled. Frank wasn’t amused, but still extremely pleased to be free.
The minotaur followed close behind, unlocking the cell, giving Frank a crude glare, and let him go. Frank nearly skipped out of the police station. He immediately ran out, fell to his knees, and tried to hug the ground.
“Thank you! Teresa, I owe you big time. I am your slave. Do to me as you wish!”
Teresa pondered the offer for a moment, and then replied: “Whatever. Just give me a bonus on my next paycheck, hm?”
Frank went to hug her, but he noticed the impending doom in the distance. An entire army of children, marching in unison down the street. A regime of snot-nosed, malicious little kids bent on domination of all that was sugary. Frank stood paralyzed.
“Move it!” Teresa grabbed him be the collar and dragged him, running off to safety.