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Tales of the Dark Children: Beetlejuice	By : Dthomin Category: 1 through F > Beetlejuice Views: 6434 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Beetlejuice, or the characters therein. This is a pure work of fan-fiction and I am not gaining any profit from this story.

Chapter List
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III: What's in a Name

Finally, six months had passed since the Deetzes moved into Winter River, Connecticut. During that time, the quaint, old-fashioned house they bought was transformed into a literal work of art made to look like an incomplete house. A section stuck out from one side that looked like the floor and opposite side wall of another attachment that was actually the porch, complete with a railed stairway leading to the ground. Below that was a "leg" of sorts keeping it off the ground connected to the striped, black and white base of the house. The "bones" of the original house were still visible, between them glass for windows, and so much more…
The inside was mostly a cacophony of odd color combinations, "surreal" sculptures and "artsy" drawings made by Delia Deetz, artesian and sculptor, herself. Every surface of the house was colored in grainy gray finishes and the kitchen was colored in bright sapphire with a kitchen island made of granite. The dining room, however, was worse. It carried a near prehistoric feel with its long faux-marble table shaped like a serrated stone slab and hard, tall-backed chairs with what looked like cured fur in black and white for cushioning…And if that wasn't a color and texture nightmare, the dining room itself had a glass vestibule in the back of the room showcasing Delia's nightmare-inducing artwork that was the whole length of the room itself.
…It was frightening, really.
Yet there they were, alive and still in one piece. At least, that's what Lydia thought.
True to what she said, it had been exactly six months since she last spoke of the geist to her parents. The eternal resident's antics continued to take the role of a poltergeist, and continued to bother her, but she was quick to adapt to it. Now it was familiar, normal to her. She was still bothered by something, however…
It was a surprise in itself that the geist was tolerant of the changes made to its home, but to not even keep to its threats? Though she acted normal, even towards it, Lydia was becoming nervous.

It was September, and Lydia's first day of school in Winter River. Her birthday was approaching, and she glanced at the calendar as she sat at the breakfast table with her parents. She then glanced at them: her father read the newspaper over coffee, her stepmother hummed cheerily over guests to be expected at dinnertime. Not quite hungry, she excused herself early from the table, and then went upstairs to get her backpack. Inside her room, she glanced briefly around, unable to sense the poltergeist, before returning downstairs.
"I'm going now, father, Delia!" she said in passing towards the door. "Bye!"
"Goodbye, pumpkin!" her father called. "Have a good day at school!"
Coming around to the side of the house, she took her bike from out of the garage and hopped on. She pedaled towards the downwards slope of the hill, then kept still, letting the momentum and gravity pull her down. Once down the hill, she pedaled through the town, on her way to the all-female girl's school, aptly named Miss Shannon's School for Girls.
She intended to make true to her father's words: try to have a good day at school. It wasn't going to be easy, as she was singled out as the "weird, new girl" during her walks around town, but, by golly, she was going to give it her all!

And all was not well.
Making friends, for reasons nearly foreign to her, was difficult enough to do when she was in the open-minded, progressive city of New York. But Connecticut? Connecticut was a joke. She was near-immediately ridiculed by her fellow classmates for being so different from them, and amiss her maturity and good behavior, many of her teachers seemed to give her the evil eye of wariness.
She dealt with it the first day, but it wasn't long before the teasing and taunts began to make her loathe her new hometown. She didn't bother talking it over with her parents, too fed up with them to tell them of her problems.
Finally, her birthday came, September 21st. Though it was a weekday, she wasn't bothered by going to school as usual. By this time, she found mutual companionship with those two girls in her school, Bertha and Prudence. They were rather shy, awkward and nerdy, but Lydia could have actual civil conversations with them and was thankful to have people to talk to, even if it was over mundane or school-related topics.
During a conversation at lunch, however, the day took an abrupt turn. All she did was slip that it was her birthday, prompting Bertha, a tall and gangly brunette with very obvious overbite, to inquire if she was going to have a party. Cue Claire Brewster, the most admired girl in school and daughter of the mayor, to give her two cents…
"A party? You?" she retorted loudly, enough that half of the students in the perimeter of the outside porch turned to look at her. "It's not, like, going to be a Halloween party, right? There is a difference."
Lydia pursed her lips, furrowing her brows, but otherwise ignoring the girl. She focused on her lunch before her, taking a bite of her sandwich.
As if it didn't matter the object of her ridicule was no longer paying attention, Claire looked around at the other girls who were sitting with her. "Though if she were to have a party, she'd probably only be able to invite Burp and Prue. They've got no friends, just like her," she continued loudly.
Beside Lydia, Bertha and Prudence, who were doing their best to ignore the girl as well, visibly wilted. The laughter from the other girls on the porch was enough for Lydia to whisper to them, so only they could hear, "Ignore them." But there was no comeback she could make, nor could she vouch for her school companions, because they were just that: school companions. Perhaps it was still too early into their acquaintanceship, but Lydia simply didn't feel as if the two girls were friends.
Needless to say, she returned home that day with her spirits quite low. She had managed a phony smile for her stepmother, but entered her room staring off at nothing in particular. Approaching her bed, she let her backpack drop to the floor, and then sat on her bedsheets.
"'Everything will be worth the move in the end. I promise'," she murmured, mimicking the words her father had spoken months ago. With a scoff, she glared at the mirror on the wall. "Yeah right."
There was a possibly malicious and unfamiliar geist stalking about in the house, likely holding a grudge against her parents for changing his home. Her parents, oblivious and adamant to remain in their individual perfect worlds, didn't trust or believe her. The likelihood of making a friend was slim in such a traditional, narrow-minded town, and the two girls she had acquainted were tedious even as acquaintances; as long as she didn't go off into something too dark or too weird, they didn't mind her at all.
Oh, yes. Everything was worth the move.
She suddenly gasped upon feeling something soft wrap around her neck. She turned back, and shot a reprimanding glare at the possessed Cthulhu doll at her back. "What do you want?" she growled, not at all in a good mood. "Go away." She removed the tentacle from around her neck, then grabbed and threw the doll against the wall.
A chill suddenly passed through the room. Wonderful…it was pissed off, too.
Two could play that game.
On her feet in a second, she glared around the room. "Just leave me alone, okay!" she shouted, not caring if her parents heard her. "I'm not in the mood to deal with your stupid games or whatever!"
The chill passed through again, and this only increased her anger.
She shuddered from the cold, but held her ground, her fists balled. "Oh, shut up! I know you're just using me! I know you're planning something!"
She snapped her head into the direction of the mirror on the wall as it suddenly cracked. 'Sounds like the little one's feelin' kinda bitter,' the words read.
"You are so annoying," she snapped at it. "Why don't you just get it over, already? What are you waiting for? My parents are…are stupid," she said bitterly, "and I'm helpless. Or are you just torturing me?"
As she spoke, the cracks in the mirror had increased. It was a surprise the glass hadn't shattered by now. She couldn't even see the words that were once there, or the mist, or clearly make out the reflection of the room within it.
And then every crack and imperfection sealed up before her eyes, returning the glass to its original flawless state. The mist, however, was gone.
Cool air emanating from her vanity directed her gaze at it. The mist had covered her mirror, now.
Slowly, words appeared on its surface. '…You're a kid.' After a moment, the words were replaced. 'I don't do kids. Ask again in six years.'
She pursed her lips as the harsh words, and glanced at the floor. "…And my parents…?" she asked softly.
'…I'm bored,' the words explained. 'Since I killed the real-estate broad, I guess this place won't have any company for a while if I killed them. I've been stuck in this burg for too long to die from boredom.'
She shifted in her seat, dangling her feet off the chair. "…So…what are you?" she asked softly, her arms crossed, hoping to distract them both.
"What do you think, kid? A ghost?"
Though still miffed, and slightly terrified, she did glance away in thought. "…Well…no. You're very obviously a poltergeist at times," she said studiously, placing a small hand to her chin. "But you're also not like any geist I've ever met."
The sound of a faint chuckle echoed in her room before the words were written on the mirror. "Smart kid. 'Course I'm nothing like ordinarygeists. Those saps only wish they could do what I can."
"So what are you?" she repeated, leaning forward with curious eyes amiss herself.
The mimicking laughter was slightly louder than before. "…You're in my house…I'm your humble host…the host with the most."
Slender brows furrowed at the wordplay. Host. That word was just brimming full with double-meanings. "…The most what?" she asked carefully.
Crude laughter rose in her ears as a gravelly, distinctly male voice whispered, "You'll find out, babes."
Spinning around, her eyes met nothing but the air behind her. Turning back to the mirror, she saw the cold mist still remained on the mirror, though no words had appeared on it. So it was male, was it…? "Can you…do that again?" she asked carefully. "Talk out loud in…in…is that your real voice…?"
'Could,' the words read, 'but it's…hard…to do in this form…But— y'know how to play charades?'
"…Yeah…?"
''Course you do. Well, I'll just tell ya this: two words.'
The words then disappeared, in their place showing a fogged arrow pointing behind a crude drawing of…a girl…sitting at…a mirror…
"Uh…I don't…know that one…" she said warily.
'Look behind you.'
She sat upright, swallowing, and slowly turned around to see— "Ah!" she gasped, but held most of the shout in, upon seeing a human-sized, brown beetle sitting on her writing desk chair, reading newspaper.
"Hi, how ya doin'?" it said in a gravelly voice before suddenly disappearing.
"Beetle!" she said, causing another check to appear in the corner of her mirror. "Don't do that!" she hissed.
The voice chuckled as another drawing appeared on the mirror in place of the poor attempt of semi-still life. It looked like…a glass. But then another drawing appeared, looking like a carton. Then before her eyes, the carton moved, opening its spout and pouring liquid into the glass.
"Milk?" she asked, her voice in awe.
An 'x' appeared again.
"Juice?"
This time, a checkmark.
'Got it, kiddo! Put the two words together…an' ya get…?
She giggled shortly, a brow raised in amusement. "Bug juice?"
She definitely felt the excitement that had started brewing from the geist deflate at her answer. 'Ha ha. Bug juice, huh, whatta name. I think they sell that in stores...Other word.'
"…Beetlejuice?" she said, her eyebrows furrowing at the strange word.
There was a sudden rumble in the heavens after the word left her mouth. With a sudden realization that froze her in place, she stepped back and sat heavily on the bed.
"That's your name…?…Are you going to…possess me?" she asked quietly.
'Even better. You say my name three times, we could meet. Mano-a-womano.'
…Face to face? The words hardly registered to the girl, and it took a few times for her to process it in her shock. Face to face…?
'Hey, ya don't have to if ya don't want t—'
"Beetlejuice."
The rumbles from outside increased; the sound of a great storm approaching. Every object in her room began to tremble, the glass of her mirror, the mirror on the wall and the windows shuddering and cracking. Shadows grew in the corners of the room…
She swallowed, apprehensive, eager and frightened all at once. She was about to summon something. She must be out of her mind. This could be the worst mistake she ever made. This was no time to be taken by inhuman beings, not when it came to summoning. Yet…
Closing her eyes, she said the foreign name one last time: "Beetlejuice!"
Like a great mouth opening, the floor beneath her peeled and gave away; all and everything remotely related to glass shattered. The storm was right over the house, the room plundered into an unnatural darkness as lightning flashed wildly. A roaring wind was sucking her into the abyss beneath her feet, and she found herself briefly suspended over darkness before she fell down…down…
She was scarcely aware of the screams coming from her mouth.

"
Lydia could feel that it was a fall, but all she could see were an amalgam of dark orange and black swirls, fluttering leaves in strange shapes colored with autumn blessings, and the smell of earth surrounding her. She immediately decided she loved this smell. Then the darkness within the orange and black gave way, as if the black was what she had been approaching all along, and they gave away to a sea of wonderful, gleaming stars in an ebony sky.
That was when she really began to fall.
Eyes squeezed shut, she screamed at the top of her lungs, unable to tell if this was a dream or an illusion or, god forbid, really happening. She screamed for it to stop, to go away, anything. Around her, strange whooshing sounds, distant screams, hollow hums, and rustling leaves filled the air, unlike anything she had ever heard. No. This really was happening.
"BEETLEJU—!"
With a jolt of fright, her eyes popped open at the feel of a cold, clammy large hand over her mouth. She stared up into glowing yellow-green eyes, clearly inhuman, and a face too dark for her to discern.
"Easy with the B-word, babes," a familiar, gravelly voice scolded. "People will get ideas…know what I mean?"
Slapping the hand away, she moved aside, only then realizing she was on the ground. She sat upright and moved swiftly away from what was undoubtedly a man, standing up just as she moved. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. "…B…B…?"
"Yeah, it's me." He tilted his hat up and held out his hands. "Feast your eyes," he chuckled.
Slowly, almost apprehensively, she examined him. This…was the geist that haunted the house? He wasn't scary or menacing, at all. As his voice had suggested, he was obviously male, but he was unkempt; his long, pale yellowish hair stuck out wildly from underneath what looked like a newspaper boy hat with the words "GUIDE" on the front. His form was mostly hidden from her as he wore a large overcoat, but she could see his face clearly.
Jagged greenish teeth jutted from under his upper lip, indicating prominent overjet. He was pale, nearly chalky-ash gray, and his skin was inhumanly sunken around his eyes, almost appearing to be bruised. One standout feature was what seemed like mossy green pigment on his face, though Lydia could only see some near his mouth and lots more on his neck. Though it should have been too dark to tell what color his eyes were, eerie, glowing yellow-green orbs stared at her with a slightly insane gleam from under the hat.
On second thought, yes. He had a very obvious aura of menace about him…and looked like a moldering corpse…
As if aware her scrutiny was over, he suddenly broke into a large, crooked grin. "Did anyone ever tell you about that great pair of lungs in there, babes?" he asked leeringly, nudging his head at her chest.
She was only eleven, and had absolutely no reason to whatsoever, but suddenly felt the need to cover her chest and turn away; and that was just what she did, turning a wonderful shade of pink. "Oh, my GOD! I can't believe I summoned a homeless pervert!" she exclaimed. "I'd rather have summoned a goblin than someone like you!"
Loud guffaws warily brought her attention back to him. Her eyes only widened as she watched him clutching his protruding belly as he leaned over in his amusement. "I knew it was a good idea to keep you around, Lyds! You're really something else," he said, wiping away at his eyes. "I'm just tickled by your compliments. Hell, it's like we know each other so well!"
He suddenly appeared beside her, causing her to gasp and gape up at him, but was too late to escape him as he suddenly pulled her into a hug. She inhaled sharply in surprise, taking in his smell as she did. It was…earthy, like dirt after a rainshower, strong with something she couldn't identify, and smoky. Old, but not too unpleasant, and, somehow, crisp. It reminded her of the comforting smell of cemeteries during autumn…
But that didn't stop her from struggling feebly in his iron grip. "Lemme go!" she said, miffed and, strangely, embarrassed
He didn't even seem to notice she was moving. "Welcome to Hallowed Ground, Lyds~!" he announced, giving her one tight squeeze before letting her go. Just as she landed on the ground, teetering from loss of air, he abruptly swept her back into his arms, this time having her rest on his hip; a knee-jerk respond caused her to hold herself to him. Before she could even protest, her breath was again stolen from her in awe as they suddenly appeared in the sky.
The world was dark, a beautiful, glowing full moon in the distance that seemed to occupy most of the sky stretched before them, yet in obvious contrast amiss it, the light from the moon didn't seem to lighten things very much at all. Below them was what appeared to be a town, or maybe a city, or maybe even a village; there were so many miniature dwellings lit by warm yellow-orange lights, she couldn't tell. Lights in cold sapphire blue moving about on their own, resembling will-o'-the-wisps, were darting in various speeds all about, even in the sky. As one passed them, she reached out her hand, gasping in awe at its cool feel as it danced around her hand before going on its way.
There was a dead forest, full of nothing but gnarled, ominous trees with bare limbs to the far right of the collage of lights and dwellings below, and even then, the strange will-o'-the-wisps danced about within. Closer to the moon in the distance, there appeared to be some sort of mountain that was beautifully outlined by its glowing light. It was a gorgeous sight: tall, bent to one side, and resembled a cone with a long, spiraled top….
"Lyds?" Beetlejuice's gravelly voice brought her out of her trance, and she looked back at him. His expression was a mix of amused and curious, and upon seeing her own, he broke into a large grin, showing all of his crooked, discolored and decidedly very sharp teeth. "You like it?" he asked.
She nodded, looking back around this fantastic, dark world. "Is this…your home, BJ?" she asked, a sort of dreamy tone to her voice. All that had happened just moments ago seemed completely forgotten.
He blinked at her, amused by the human nickname, then chuckled, lowering them to the ground. He knew taking the long way was the best way to go for a first-timer. "Yep. Hallowed Ground, home of the creeps from yonder to Deep Ground," he sighed, his eyes half-lidded as he scooped out a place to land. Upon seeing a suitable location, he teleported into the middle of a clearing of blackened and browned grass, causing her to gasp in surprise.
"Deadly-vu!" she cried, squeezing his neck before sliding to the ground and looking up at him. "You can't be a ghost!"
He scoffed, his body jolting back in exaggeration. "Sure ain't a host anymore, either," he said with a toothy smile…or what should have been a smile.
The girl's brows furrowed in thought at this. Names and speculations ran through her mind, but nothing could match how he felt. "...Then…what are you, now?" she asked curiously.
"Lots-o'things, babes." He stuck out his tongue, an inhumanly slender and long appendage that was dark green and lime-striped from tip to the darkness it came from, curling it in a fashion no tongue should be able to.
At this, her eyes nearly popped out of her sockets, but her mouth formed an 'o' in awe. "I wish I could do that," she said softly as he retracted his tongue.
He snorted, putting one hand in his pocket and beckoned her to follow him with a nudge of his head as he began to walk off. "C'mon. I'll show you 'round."
She came to his side, slipping her small, warm hand into his as she walked beside him. He flinched, glancing down at her, but she was oblivious, completely, innocently oblivious as she looked keenly forward. Blinking, his head cocked to the side, and then he broke out into a grin.
He then stopped, letting her hand go, and turned to face her. "Can't have you walkin' around in those duds, babes," he explained, rubbing his fingertips as he eyed her closely. "You'd stick out like an er— sore thumb."
The moment the words left his mouth, her clothes suddenly changed. No longer was she wearing her school uniform. Instead, a black, skintight catsuit with wide, short legs to make the appearance of attached shorts covered her body from neck to knuckles and toes. On her feet were black ballet shoes that blended into her suit. She gasped in awe, looking down at herself, and then turned around as a silky bloodred poncho with black spiderweb pattern adorned her shoulders.
"Beej…!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with bright eyes. "It's beautiful!"
Scratching his neck, he scoffed. "If you say so."
This time her hand slipping into his wasn't such a surprise, but the same large grin took up most of his face once more.
…Exceedingly…promising.
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Tales of the Dark Children: Beetlejuice