Halloween was in full swing, and everyone in the town gathered and romped and sang and shrieked and screamed…this had to be their best year yet. And it wasn’t even close to over. Scarborough cackled ecstatically along with the witches who flew across the moon, dancing through the coloured smoke and fog her mother’s potions had created. Her gown–an outfit she saved for Halloween every year–flowed dangerously around her, the skirt woven through with dead, black roses and thorns, but the tall, slim rag doll never tripped or tangled in the hems. She had all the dark grace of a ballerina dancing the Black Swan’s solo.
In all the craziness, it wasn’t until Branwenn flew down and alighted on her shoulder that Scarborough noticed the one skeleton who seemed out of place. The one skeleton who didn’t look quite like the others. For one thing, this one had an awed, confused look on their face, and their bones were far too white to be real. Not to mention she couldn’t see the street and trees through the gaps in the skeleton’s bones. They looked like they were wearing one of the humans’ costumes. Scarborough slowly tilted her head until it turned completely upside down on her neck, her curiosity piqued. She let her head return to its natural position and glided toward the stranger.
Looking around in wonder, Bluebell was glad she never went anywhere without her de-gun on her. Just in case. Still… nothing her looked terrifying, more just… unsettling. Like watching that girl’s head spin around. That was… yeah that was fucked up.
Placing a hand on her hip, Bell looked up at the taller girl, “Digging the gothic princess look. Just don’t tell me you’re the witch of Halloweens past. Because I am not interested in changing my evil ways.”
She was still somewhat worried one of the candies she’d eaten earlier was laced with something. Maybe Psycho Delic had gassed her as a holiday prank?