Tales of the Dark Children: Beetlejuice

 

IV: A Foul Mind, Perverse

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If someone had told Beetlejuice he would be acting friendly towards a child, and a girl at that, just months ago, he would have laughed hysterically before killing the poor bastard. He could only go through the motions, himself, meanwhile analyzing his actions within his mind. He still planned to go through with his decision, set in stone the day he first laid eyes on the girl. Specific elements were just slightly...altered; nothing more. Though he was no saint and wasn't at all known, and rather not be known, for his rare bouts of patience, he felt the sudden need to be. If he were patient, something...phenomenal...could happen...

The first months were relatively easy, the girl's "immunity" providing a challenge he hadn't experienced in many long years, but was nothing he hadn't dealt with in the past. He showed irritation, displeasure, yes; but in actuality, he was impressed. Her immunity aside, it was how she dealt with everything thrown her way that he didn't anticipate.

This girl, this one Lydia Deetz, was truly something else. She would speak to him the way one would scold a child, or maybe a younger, mischievous friend at his antics, confront him with only a few measures of caution, and even wanted him to regain what was rightfully his. The child would become angry, or better yet, comment on the chaos he caused, albeit exasperatedly, and then thank him when he returned the house to normal. That, or not have much of a reaction at all.

She was infuriating, stubborn, intelligent, cunning, and worst of all, extremely difficult to scare.

The dilemma he faced was in her age. Just shy of eleven years old, and she was the best candidate? What was it with these black-clad kids and their sensitivities to paranormal activity? Already putting a dent in his plans was the simple fact that this clueless couple had a child, but her impressively annoying hyperawareness set him even further behind schedule against his will.

But damn her age, and damn the consequences. He was tired of waiting.

Another dilemma was that he spoke to her. Not just once, but multiple times, and not just through his shammed voice, but through the mirror as well. It complicated things. From then on she became aware of his, much as he was hesitant to admit it, willingness to speak to her. But the fact that both he and the girl slipped into such casual conversation so effortlessly was what perturbed him most.

It was not supposed to be this way…or was it?

As much as it annoyed him, the threat he made to harm her parents was more for his own reassurance than an actual warning. He had to assure control of the situation, assure that things would still go his way.

…And that Jane woman. Her words disturbed him. Had she figured on her own he didn't directly harm children from previous events? It was such a relief to get her out of the way.

It then became difficult not to even attempt scaring the girl. He took to playing with her, finding her reactions amusing.

Having watched the girl interact with her parents, he felt oddly intrigued when the girl lamented they would only believe there was "something wrong with her". Something must have happened in the past for them to even have the idea…

It wasn't much of a surprise she also figured he had killed the Butter-broad. In fact, it pleased him.

And then things turned a complete 360 degrees after he stopped the attic from spinning. She sprawled onto the floor, thrown from the abrupt lack of force, and thus ended up covered from head to toe in dust probably half his age. After the laughs and hoots and giggles died down, she acknowledged there was nothing she could do to stop him from entertaining himself, even if it came at a price to her, and left the attic.

He followed her into her room, his presence invisible even to her perceptive senses, and watched as she prepared for a…bath…to wash herself of the dust…

…Bath…?

His mind did something strange, then. Like a fail-safe, he suddenly focused on and took great interest in her room. He had to admit, he liked the girl's style. She seemed to like dark, macabre, and grotesque things as well. Many of the pictures on her walls, in portfolios and scattered around her room were of worms, gruesome things found in nature like decaying animal bodies, cemeteries, and even spiders and other bugs. Fantastic. He had no idea what she thought of the things she took pictures of, but found it that much harder not to just…

…Just…

…Just what…?

He then watched as the girl took up a new change of clothes and peeked out of her door. At the all clear, she hurried to the bathroom just a door away. Quick in his movement, he slipped in before the door closed, amiss the fact he would have phased through anyway.

Only then did he realize his mistake. What the fucking hell was he doing? But the forbidden display before him kept him still, eyes roaming as the girl turned the water onto the red dial.

...He had to be up and out of his fucking mind.

Carelessly, unaware of her peeping tom, she removed her pants, shirt, and black panties, leaving them strewn on the tilted floor. Her body was on display for his perceptive, leering eyes. Slight and frail, she was, adolescent and lacking even the beginnings of mature curves. The pigment on her body was even, not a single spot showing blemishes. His eyes lingered at certain parts of her anatomy more than they should have, taking notice of the birthmark on her back, and the moisture produced in the air from the hot water caused her young, feminine scent to quickly reach his nostrils.

Even he couldn't ignore the words at the front of his mind at the sight of her: she was perfection...and he wanted her. Badly.

After she bathed, hidden glowing orbs watching the entire time, she returned to her room. He stayed there, hidden above and dumbstruck from his actions, or lack thereof, even when she left to say goodnight to her parents. It was some time later when she finally returned, and his eyes locked onto her the moment she entered the room.

She slipped under her sheets, turning in for the night. He still hadn't moved, watching her still body as she stared up at the ceiling in thought. Most likely, her thoughts were of him. The idea was…enticing.

Unable to keep silent, he allowed her to sense him as he misted her vanity mirror. He wrote a simple greeting, slightly humored when she jumped out of the bed and approached. Her tentative response was expected; he wrote something random, catching her off guard. He really did like what she did with the room. Of all of the changes the rooms went through, he didn't mind hers in the slightest.

All was silent after her soft, smiling thanks. He watched the girl closely, inspecting her nervous expression as she sat awkwardly on the vanity stool. She didn't know what to say…

'You ain't half bad, for a human,' he wrote suddenly. He left before he could see her response, returning to the attic.

Retreating to the old and dusty model of the town, he took a physical form small enough to interact with it, and the only physical form he could take in his condition. Stalking to the graveyard, he sniffed around for any sign of crawlers, and then approached the single gravestone. Dragging dirty red claws over it, he scratched at the weathered name, and then lay on the faux grass before it. Closing his eyes, his mind wondered.

Yes. She was promising. He would stick to his gut, and Mr. Belly was telling him YES. He just found his ticket out of purgatory, literally and mentally, the rules be damned. Not just human, not just female, but underage! It wasn't intentional, but from all that had happened with her so far, how could he not be drawn to her? He wasn't going to not take advantage of this forbidden opportunity and let it slip by. Oh, but the trouble he was going to be in…

He would make it worth the risk. Patience was the key…

Yes…

…This was going to look fan-fucking-tabulous on his eulogy one day…

"

Since that day, he couldn't look at the little girl the same way again. The image of her naked body was burned, seared into his mind, and it was torturous. The pledge he had made to himself that day haunted him, taunting him, and he loathed it. As the months went by, however, found himself unable to remain angry at her parents for ruining his house, something that bothered him relentlessly. The girl, however, he continued to bother and play with in his way, and to his delight she became used to his antics. She was such an amusing thing, something new...

Every now and then he became her personal voyeur, having taken such a forbidden attraction to her mind and now her body as well. Unlike in the past, when he stayed away during the times she would change her clothes, he remained where he was. From above, hovering in the corners of her room, he would scan her adolescent body, taking pleasure in its raw state as well as pondering over what made it so pleasurable to his mind. He had seen countless naked female bodies, but never those of young girls. He never took interest in such a thing...

Was it his own lecherous, perverse mind...or was it her own mouth-watering, unique scent?

She had a defining, childish female face, and interestingly didn't have much for cheeks. Her chest was flat, naught but boyish nipples protruding softly and a small stomach of baby fat, skin, and bones. And from her hips to her toes, she really was just skin and bones. Her rump was a nice size, even for a child; most likely inherited. The concave flesh between her legs, however...

...He wondered endlessly about that...

This. This is what subconsciously, almost as a passing thought, pissed him off most. Why did he have to think so irrationally (rationally?) over such a little human? The normal routine was as such: scare, screams, paranoia, possession, and then attempts to leave the damn house and/or a gruesome, painful and merciless murder, leaving the child in a psychosis, surrounded by a pool of blood and/or body parts. But this…

…What was this?

As the months went by, it wasn't too soon before he learned what made her tick: her parents believed she was acting out, as apparently something had happened just a few months before they moved to Winter River. They didn't at all believe she could sense and see the unseen, and as he had witnessed, were trying to get her into counseling...

He was curious, then. What had happened all those months ago…? Something he could use to his advantage…?

When her birthday came around, and it was a miracle in itself and proof of his wavering mindset that he even knew it was, he decided to possess her Cthulhu doll and rest on the bed until she returned home.

When said child returned, however, it surprised him to see she was in a foul mood, muttering about things being fine and promises…and then glared at the mirror on the wall. In the body of the doll, he wrapped a tentacle around her neck as she sat on the bed.

She shot him a glare, and threw the doll against the wall, rendering him speechless. In a moment, he left the doll and seethed, causing a chill to pass through the room. When she began to yell at him, his mood worsened, as did her own.

But she was on to him…

…Fantastic girl…Clever…infuriating…plucky…

In his irritation, he cracked the glass of the wall mirror as he wrote mocking words. And then the girl truly rendered him speechless. She wondered why he didn't just kill her? As his rage grew at her words, the mirror began to crackle and crumble. He then caught himself, and left the mirror, letting it heal from his unintentional aggression. If that had continued, the glass would have busted into a million shatters, scattering all about, and would have hurt her terribly…

Damn this child.

He moved to her other mirror. And then the mood shifted. They exchanged bitter and soft words, tit for tat, and she asked abruptly what he was in a poor attempt to distract herself from what had transpired. He played along…and spoke to her aloud, once more. He couldn't help himself. She had such a enticing scent…

Something came over him, then: he had to tell her his name. It wasn't his fault, she practically invited him. Oh, if only she knew why he was in such a state to begin with…

A short sham of a game of charades later…and she finally said his name. The familiar tingle down his spine was a welcoming sensation for once, and he grinned to himself at the rumble in the heavens. Her abruptly stiff and defeated expression as she moved to and sat heavily on her bed killed the mood, though.

Possess her? If only. But being able to meet her, touch her for real, was even better. As her shocked expression deepened, however, he began to think otherwise. It was, after all, a bit of a sour time to talk of such things…Maybe when she was in a better mood...

A second, stronger sensation passing through him, the feel of his power just bubbling within him, took him by sudden surprise. He stared at her with wide, blazing eyes as she swallowed her nervousness away—

And said his name for the final time!

His booming, frighteningly warbled cackles filled the air in delight.

Promising…So wonderfully promising…

"

He appeared in the world he called home, watching the sky near the edge of a dark forest as a violet-silver light appeared amongst the stars. He raised an eyebrow at this, mentally noting to fix that next time. Her sweet, high-pitched scream rang through the world as she fell, and he had to chide himself for not remembering that as well. Ah, well. First time for everything.

His eyes flashed a dirty green-gold, and suddenly she began to slow in her fall. She didn't seem to notice in the slightest, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers as his name began to spill from her mouth.

Before the last three letters to finish his name could enunciate from her lips, he clamped his hand over her mouth, having appeared beside her as she landed gently on the ground.

He was barely aware of the words he spoke, his mind on autopilot, as he took in the feel of her smooth skin beneath his hand. Her body seemed to radiate heat, and he was drawn to that warmth. When she slapped his hand and began to move away, he refocused his attention on her briefly before standing up.

The feel of her eyes scanning his form was…well, he had to repress the desire to shiver. Good…good…she wasn't disgusted by his appearance, but that wasn't really a surprise. Once he noticed her scrutiny was over, he broke into a large grin.

Homeless! Pervert! He couldn't help but belt out into guffaws, and noted to himself of her healthy pink flush…She was something else, this girl…and he wanted to touch her. He appeared beside her and pulled her into a hug, taking in her scent and warmth and small of her back and all else until he thought he'd go mad from the overload.

He gave her a tight squeeze before letting go, for both their sakes, then thought better of it and scooped her back into his arms, resting her groin on his hip, and inwardly cheered as the motion caused her to hold onto him. Effortlessly, he jumped and then flashed into the air, though she didn't seem to notice just how they appeared above the world, and let her take in the sight.

As she was distracted with the beautiful dark world he called home, he watched the many expressions on her face. Her initial expression of embarrassment and irritation melted to surprise in seconds, and when the trancelike wonder overcame her, he had to grin to himself. That, and the fact that she was now holding herself to him by wrapping her legs around his waist…

He was almost hesitant to break her out of her stupor, having enjoyed watching her expression and the light dance in her eyes just as much as she seemed to enjoy looking upon his homeworld.

…She gave him a nickname. A rather human one, two letters, but…humorous. He almost felt touched. When he returned them to the ground in the blink of an eye, her childlike surprise humored him once more. At last, she acknowledged he wasn't a ghost, or couldn't be, which was even better, and gave him another nickname as she asked again what he was.

Since he wasn't a host, for the time being…she had to be dying to know what he was. He could have told her the truth. But he didn't, telling her a sort of fact in the form of a white lie: he was many things. That much was somewhat true…

The feeling of her small…warm…hand in his came as a shock. He had to glance down at her, make sure she knew what she was doing, and brandished a large grin at her nonchalance.

But she couldn't go around Hallowed Ground looking like that. He changed her clothes with a mere thought, making it up as he went along. Skintight. Black. Cute little short-like things; he didn't want anyone else looking at her lower body like that. Flat shoes that molded to the shape of her feet; made it easier for her to run. And lastly…a poncho; spiderweb design…ah…and bloodred.

…Even he had to pat himself on the back. It was pretty damn good-looking…on her…

And when her eyes lit up, and she focused her bright, delighted gaze onto him, he felt the desire to sweep her into his arms again. But he didn't.

When her hand slipped back into his, however, he slightly grasped it back. He couldn't stop the shit-eating grin from forming on his face even if he wanted to.

With the way this was going, if she wasn't careful…he was going to have trouble trying not to eat her.