Sally charged down the alleyway. Halloween Town was cold, damp, foggy; but quiet. There was only the sounds of his panicked footsteps.
The deadly nightshade would only hinder Dr. R.D. Finklestein for a little while. Sally brushed the auburn bangs from his green eyes, praying his stitching would hold up long enough to get to Jack's home.
Maybe this time he'd actually get up the nerve to talk to the Pumpkin King.
The way Jack Skellington made him feel....it was crazy, he was sure.
He felt ticklish in his stuffing just thinking about the king, his stitches felt like a human's stomach butterflies, and there were pins and needles in his...well, pins and needles.
His yarn hair tumbled over his button eyes, threatening to become unraveled. Gently he patted his own hand, continuing his run.
" I'll fix you up when we get there. I promise."
He had stuck a needle and spool of thread in his left shoe- a quick fix for the all-too-common rip.
Jack hurried down a dark and gloomy alleyway. He didn't know the way, but he let his bones carry him. Carry him to that old mansion where the doctor resided. He must speak to Dr.Finklestein, to enquire why the little ragdoll watched him the way he did.
Always he watched, pausing often in whatever task he carried out, gazing at the Pumpkin King from the shadows as Jack and the doctor spoke by the fire.
Never did Sally come close enough for Jack to admire him, but in the ragdoll he could see obvious craftsmanship and care. He'd once commented to the doctor about his intricate work, and was pleased to see those button eyes momentarily break their stare, the stitched lips breaking into a small smile as Sally hurried from the room to grab Finklestein's journal.
Now he would finally bring up the doll's admiration, tonight.
He hurried along, sticking to shadows, hoping to not be seen. It would be all too difficult to explain.
In his bones he felt shivers, and they ached with anticipation and nerves. He blinked once, twice, hoping to chase away the feeling.
Those eyes, haunting his every moment, tainting his thoughts, his dreams.
So hollow, and still so full of life.
Jack Skellington was abruptly collided with, and he heard a smaller shape yelp. The shadow made multiple squeaks and warbles, becoming entangled with the Pumpkin King as it struggled to escape.
In the darkness, two green buttons became visible in the light of a dull streetlamp.
Sally, the ragdoll.
He was messy, auburn yarn tangled, dress speckled with mud.
As usual, Jack watched as the ragdoll did not avert his eyes, gazing with fascination at him.
For a moment, Jack Skellington thought Sally would run.
He thought the ragdoll would dissapear into the shadows he came from, melting away into the darkness like he always did.
For the first time, he could admire painted freckles, intricate stitchwork, a million words behind an un-blinking gaze.
And then, for one brief moment, the entire world lit up.
The ragdoll smiled, his stitched lips forming gracefully, giving a tiny, embarrassed gasp.
And then he was gone.
He turned back to the shadows, hands clasped together and button eyes cast down at the ground.
For a second, Jack Skellington stood with his mouth agape, his question answered but a million more flitting through his mind. The world faded back to dark and gloom, the ray of beauty exstinguished the moment the ragdoll dissappeared from his sight.
And then Jack turned back to home, and faded away too.