Prologue
The Doomed Holiday
Nearly ten years ago, I captured the hearts of millions
(not really; it was more like four) with a heartwarming tale about an semi-pubescent
boy by the name of Jonathan. In this
tale, readers fell in love with Jonathan, his family, his love interest (an ecstatic
girl named Awana Humphfree, with hair unnervingly similar to that of a boy’s and a nasally voice),
and his toy unicorn (to whom he confided many of his dark secrets). While the story was mostly fun and games,
however, there was a twist to it. It described the life of an ordinary boy on Halloween, but it was far from your
average holiday story. It was much
darker. Jonathan did not do that which
is expected of children his age; he did not grab a colorful pillowcase from his
overly decorated room and beseech grumbling adults for a morsel of candy. In fact, he did not trick-or-treat at all.
After visiting Awana, he made his way back
home when an unusually agile old lady blocked his path. He tried and tried again to get past her, but
she was like a swift cougar (note that I do not use the word “cougar” here as
it is typically used to describe certain women in today’s society), unwilling
to let him pass. There was no avoiding
her. Finally, he asked what she wanted,
and after quite a bit of pointless banter, she pointed him toward an eerie
mansion on the side of a hill overlooking Jonathan’s small town. She also briefly mentioned that Halloween
would not be as it should that night—that was, unless he entered the mansion
and discovered for himself what was going wrong. He summoned his courage and followed her
instructions, but what he found was not as scary as he had anticipated.
There was only one man there, sitting in a chair on the
top floor, looking out at the city. He
was somewhat dark of skin and rather short.
He was old but not elderly, and yet it appeared as if much care weighed
on his brow. Although seemingly frail,
Jonathan noticed that a hidden strength somehow emanated from him. It might also be fair to say that man was
rather handsome. He introduced himself
as Kory Labarga, but whether or not that was his real name is up to you to
determine. After his introduction, he
proceeded to explain to Jonathan the nature of the dark forces threatening
Halloween. He had written so many books
throughout his life, and they had always remained just that—books. But now he had gone too far. He had finally written a story so tangible
and convincing to readers that its chief antagonist, Professor Aponowatsomidichloron,
actually leapt from the pages and materialized in time and space!
By using wicked methods yet to be revealed, the professor
stole the Halloween spirit from everyone in the town, and the holiday as they
had known it no longer existed. Soon he
would lead an assault on the entire world, pilfering that same spirit from all
people in every land. Indeed, he would
then move onto the Thanksgiving spirit, and the Christmas spirit, and alas!
even the birthday spirit! Fortunately, however, Kory told Jonathan that
Professor Aponowatsomidichloron had set up a bivouac at the foot of a nearby
mountain range. Knowing him better than
anyone, Kory surmised that the professor had also constructed a lab deep within
the heart of the mountain by now. What
foul potions he now concocted, and what grotesque experiments he now performed,
the old author did not dare to guess.
He encouraged Jonathan to defeat the evil professor, and
the young man agreed with some very understandable fear in his heart. Before he set off, however, he was given a
pleasant surprise. It was true that the
most wicked character of Kory’s book had come to life, but the good characters
also appeared in the real world.
Pumpkin, Witch, Ghost, Frankenstein’s monster, Bat, and Cat, characters
from one of Kory’s earliest stories (called “Happy Halloween!” which he had
written at the age of six), walked into the room and came to Jonathan’s
side. They vowed to fight to the last
breath, following him and defending him on every stage of the quest. And so Kory Labarga sent them off, and they
began their intrepid trek toward the western mountains.
Chapter 1
A New Companion
“My legs
hurt!” Ghost shouted as the companions clambered down a grassy slope leading
toward the street.
“Ghost,” Pumpkin said with a groan,
“we’ve only gone thirty yards from the front door. And what the freak? You don’t even have
legs.”
“Well that’s just racist,” Ghost
replied, crossing his ethereal arms.
Pumpkin continued to hobble a few
feet behind Jonathan, but he managed to turn to the side somewhat. He glared at Ghost. “Racist? That’s not even—you know, whatever.”
“Ghost, my sweet,” Witch croaked, trailing Pumpkin by a
yard, “you’re already bothering our fearless leader. And as we know, after that, you start to
bother the rest of us.”
“I’m not the fearless leader,” Pumpkin responded, “at
least, not on this escapade. It’s
Jonathan this time. But thank you for
the sentiment, Witch.”
“Anyway, Ghost,” chimed in Frankenstein’s monster, “do
you not find it the epitome of irony that you, the disembodied one, should be
the sole member of our original comradeship who is adequately clothed? Pumpkin
is bereft of all clothing; Witch is draped in loose, dark cloth; I am still
garbed in naught but the rags with which my creator dressed me (the disgusting
oaf, how I love him); and Bat and Cat I have never seen don garments of any
fashion. Yet here you hover along, clad
in a plain light-blue shirt of fine material.
And as you are a spiritual being, and carry not the thorns of the flesh,
you no longer feel the pangs of mortality.
But you complain beyond any of us.
Have I not aptly described the situation at hand, Bat?”
“That you have, you lumbering nerd,” Bat answered in a
screechy tone, his wings flapping frantically.
“That just shows how little you know, Frankie!” Ghost
exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at Frankenstein’s monster. “The other night, when I was sleeping, some
fool put my hand in warm water. I still
don’t know who it was. Anyway, you know
how that turns out.”
Witch looked at him, her face contorted in deep
thought. “No….The tooth fairy comes?”
Ghost shook his head, and the expression on his face made
everyone in the group think he had lost hope in humanity. “No, Witch.
You pee in the bed, ok?”
“Ghost, my friend, please don’t take this the wrong way,”
Pumpkin implored him, grabbing Jonathan’s leg as they came to a particularly
steep part of the hill. “Why in the
world do you sleep? You don’t need rest; you’re already resting.”
“Pumpkin, have you tried
sleeping on memory foam? No? Then keep your mouth shut. Cat knows what I’m talking about, right Cat?”
“Meow,” said Cat.
Ghost nodded smugly.
“See, there you go. Cat always has
my back.”
They came to the street, and Jonathan immediately made a
left turn, toward the south. He walked
along the sidewalk on the left of the road, and the others followed closely
behind. Pumpkin’s tiny legs churned as
he hurried to keep up with Jonathan, and once he did, he poked the young man in
the leg multiple times.
“What is it, Pumpkin?” he asked the living squash.
“You should know that I completely trust your leadership
abilities,” Pumpkin said to him, struggling to sound sincere. “But I have to wonder…why are we heading
south? Shouldn’t we edge the town’s northern borders until we reach the
mountains?”
“Yes, if we’re planning to take the fight to Professor
Apo. That’s what I decided to call
him. Why Kory would give him such a
freakishly long name in the first place is beyond me. Crazy old man.”
“So…wait a minute.
We’re not taking the fight to
the professor?” Pumpkin was obviously feeling uneasy.
“Oh no, of course we are,” Jonathan told him, “but
there’s no way I’m going into battle without a weapon.”
“You just made me a little weak in the knees there.”
Pumpkin grinned. “If I were not a
squash, and if I were a woman….So anyway, what kind of weapon are we talking
about?”
“Oh, you’ll see.” A confident smirk stretched across the
young man’s face.
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