Which Character Were You In The Nightmare Before Christmas, And How Did YOU DIE?!

You were Jack Skellington, and you died by FIRE! Before you were The Pumpkin King in Halloween Town, you were a successful defense attorney, who's name was known throughout the country. The money was good, no, the money was great. And you had more clients than you could handle. Life was perfect.... One morning you walked into your office, and your secretary Alice looked up at you with her big blue eyes, and whispered, "You have a client in your office" You follow her gaze to your closed office door. You know Alice well enough to know that whomever is in your office must be someone with money, power, or both, as she would never allow anyone to enter your office without consent. You go inside to see Vitali Ivankov sitting at your desk, in your leather chair. Vitali Ivankov is the son of Vladimir Ivankov, leader of a very powerful Russian mob. You both exchange pleasantries, and finally Vitali stands from your chair and sits in the one across from your own. "I am being rude." he says showing off his perfect teeth. You take your seat, assuring him he was not rude. "Do you know why I am here" he asks, his face turning more serious. "I do recall seeing your name in the papers" you say. He studies you carefully. "Yes, it is a shame how easily these lies can be put to print" he says, spitting the words out with force. "I too have read the papers. And besides my name, I see a lot of yours." he says. You smile, waiting for the reason behind his presence in your office to come out, though you already can guess why. "I am dealing with a problem now, as I am sure you are aware. I need legal representation. I need the best." he says, grinning. You listen as he tells you about what he calls his "problems". He tells you he is charged with molestation, and murder charges. The daughter of one of the waitresses who worked in one of Vladimir Ivankov's many clubs, was raped and murdered. "You can see how serious this matter is. And why I am here." he tells you. You nod. He claps his hands, and jumps to his feet. "I am glad this will work out. I knew when I saw your face in the paper that this was to be. I will make you a very wealthy man" he says, laughing. You stand too, feeling weak. You know this man in front of you is known for his vile temper, and murderous appetite. But something else. "I thought I read something in the paper about DNA evidence linking you to the crime?" you say, trying to look neutral. Vitali studies you, his eyes burning into your own. "Yes. Unfortunately the little brat got a few scratches in. I assume the fingernails is where this DNA was collected" he says angrily. You can feel your stomach turn. You want to send this animal out of your office, but you know better. You try and calm yourself down, hoping he doesn't see your hatred of him. "Don't worry!" he says, slapping you on the back good naturedly. "This shouldn't be a problem for someone like you!" You pull away from him slowly, "I am sorry. I cannot take this case. " you say. You can actually feel the lightheartedness leaving the room, replaced with something heavier, darker. You swallow, standing your ground as he moves closer to you. "I don't understand. Is there a problem?" he asks. You can see his jaw clenching. "Yes, I am afraid I cannot take a case of someone I feel is guilty" you say. You can tell he has never been talked to this way. "Guilty?" he says, almost hurt. You nod. "I see." he says, turning and walking slowly around your office, looking at the pictures of family on your walls. "You know. I truly believed that this was meant to be. But sadly I see that I was wrong. I know I am not an easy man to work with. But I promise you, I am an even worse man to provoke" he says, turning to face you. "Do you get my meaning?" he asks. "Yes, I get you." you say. He smiles broadly once more, and walks to the door. "Good" he says. Just as he reaches for the handle you stop him. "But, like I said. I cannot take your case. Risk of provoking you or not." You tell him. You can see the anger in his eyes as he glares at you. "Very well." he says, and closes the door behind him.
You wake up to what sounds like glass shattering. You bolt up in bed, and immediately reach for the pistol under your mattress. You get out of bed, and slowly move toward the bedroom door. You hear nothing now, except for the rhythmic sounds of your dog snoring at the foot of your bed. You walk down the hall, and then the stairs, heart pounding. You check every room, but see nothing. Finally you come to the kitchen, where you find the broken glass from the back door laying shattered on the cold tile floor. Before you can even feel afraid, a terrible pain shoots through your head, and then nothing.
When you open your eyes again the pain in your head is magnified. Your wrists and arms are burning. You look around and see that you are outside, a large cornfield stretched out in front of you. There are people here too. Four very big men standing in front of you, talking to one another. Vladimir and Vitali are there too, standing to the side. You open your mouth to talk, but a groan comes instead. The men all turn to face you now. "Ah, father, he has awaken!" Vitali says, happily. Vladimir doesn't seem as excited as his son, and instead looks bored. He says something in Russian to Vitali and Vitali nods in agreement. "My father thinks you are likely to change your mind. But, I tell him that this isn't so. You see, my father didn't see your eyes in your office when you told me NO. I did. I saw the eyes of a man who truly hated the person he was forced to be in contact with. Believe me, I know that look." He says laughing. The other men, besides Vladimir, laugh too. You try to move, and realize that your hands are tied together, and you are hanging from a large wooden beam above you. "Many people believe I have a temper." he says, pulling a bottle of lighter fluid from the back of a truck that is parked a few feet away. You begin to wriggle, ignoring the pain in your wrists, and arms. Vitali steps in front of you, and begins splashing the strong liquid all over your body, making sure to get your face as well. You gag on the chemical as it enters your mouth. You know begging for your life will do no good, so instead you scream at him. Cursing him. He laughs this off, as does his friends. You only stop when he pulls a cigar from the front of his jacket. He strikes a match, and slowly lights his cigar, blowing out thick plumes of smoke. "I am not a monster. I am just a man. A man who gets whatever he wants. And sometimes this comes with a price. That waitress brought her daughter to our club often. And-" he is cut off by his father shouting something in Russian. You almost want to thank the old man. After a few moments of them speaking in Russian to one another, Vitali turns to you, a small smile on his face. "I guess I will not get to finish my story" he says. "You are not a monster." you say, just as he holds the cigar out toward you. "You are nothing but a pampered little boy, who couldn't get a woman so you went after an innocent little girl!" you scream. You can see the hatred in his eyes, as he curses in Russian, and throws the cigar at you. You cant help but laugh at his rage contorted face, even as the flames rise all around you.

You are Sally Skellington, and you died by Dismemberment! Before you were the quiet prisoner of Dr. Finkelstein in Halloween Town, you were the quiet girl who worked in her fathers New Age store, reading tarot cards in the back. You were 4 when you realized you had this gift. It wasn't just reading tarot cards that you did so well, you could read people too. Sometimes all you had to do was look at someone to know absolutely that they would die within a few hours. You could even tell how they would meet their demise. Sometimes a woman would walk into back room of the store where you give your readings, and before she could even remove her coat and sit down, you knew she was going to lose her husband to a blond 12 years younger than he. The tarot cards were just a formality really. Life passed easily, though lonely as it was. You longed for the day to end so you could sleep, and dream of HIM. He was a stranger to you, though at the same time, your best friend. There was something about him that made you feel as though you were deeply in love with him, despite never having spoken a word. In all of your dreams of him, you seemed to be just watching him. Following wherever he went, in a dark scary place, where monsters exist, but still felt like home. At times he could be terrifying, but others he was friendly, and curious, more like you than anyone you had ever met.
One night you woke from your usual dreams, and crept silently to the bathroom for a glass of water. You were about to go back to bed when you heard voices coming from the store below your apartment you shared with your father. You moved quietly down the stairs, and listened. You recognized your fathers voice right away. He sounded afraid. He was talking fast, in a pleading voice. "I will give you anything, everything." he said. Another voice simply snorted. "I have heard that before haven't I?" the mans voice said. Your father began promising the man the deed to his store, everything he had in his bank account (which you knew wasn't much) anything the man wanted. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. Who was this man who terrified your father so? And what could your father owe him? Finally the man spoke. "I am not a charitable man. I loaned you the money to fund this little....hovel. And I was to be repaid in FULL by end of the 6 years. I am still 11,000 dollars short" the man said calmly. You suppressed your shock. "But that is only because you charged triple for interest!" your father says. You can hear your father gasp, then swiftly apologize for his statement. You can see their shadows as you peer around the corner. You father is hunched forward, almost as if he is on his knees. Two large men stand beside him, while another man stands beside your tarot card table, running his fingers over your cards. You want to run in and tear out his eyes, but you are frozen to your spot. "I hear your daughter is rather good at this...what do you call it? Tarot reading?" the man muses. He picks up a few cards and after a quick glance, tosses them back onto the table. "Yes, she is very good" your father says, almost breathlessly. "I wonder why she didn't see this coming" the man says, and laughter breaks out among the three men. Your father just lowers his head. You cannot take another moment of this, and rush into the back room, all eyes on you. Your father shakes his head, eyes pleading for you to go back to bed. But you both know this would be too late to do. "Why, speak of the devil" the man says. He is dressed in a black shirt, and pants, with black sunglasses in his shirt pocket. His face is covered in pocked marks. The other two men stand beside your father, both looking stupid and empty, like their brain. You hurry to your fathers side, and wrap your arms around him. You can feel him shaking. "So my dear girl. How about a reading?" the man asks. He sits down in one of the chairs at your tarot card table, without waiting for an answer. Your father grabs your wrist, shaking his head. "Its ok" you whisper. You take your seat at the table, and slowly gather the cards in your hands, putting them into a deck. Then you hand them over. "Here, shuffle these. Then cut the deck twice." you say. He does this, a smile on his lips. You take the cards back, and begin placing them in their allotted places. You instantly regret your decision to read this monster. The cards show a story. A story of an evil man, who kills for more than just what he determines is necessity, but for the sheer pleasure in it. You look into his cold dark eyes, and know what he plans to do. "You are here to kill my father. And me as well" you say. The man stares stone faced. "You have it all planned out. How to do it, where to dump the bodies. But one thing you didn't see, couldn't see. Is your own death." you say. You see the fear in his eyes finally. You got to him. You know there is no way out of this room alive. Not for you, and not for your father. You begin telling the man a story you thought up just then, and hoped he would believe it. You tell him that his two buddies who are helping him to kill you and your father, are also planning a little fun of their own. You tell him that those men are planning to kill him and rob him. The men shout at you, swearing to God that they have never thought of such a thing. But you can see the gears working in the mans head. He waves at them to shut up, and they do. He stands from his chair and pulls out the gun from his waist. You are able to get one last look at your father before you hear the shot. You gladly embrace the darkness that swallows you up. You saw what they had planned for you, and you are just glad you don't have to face it alive like he was originally going to do. Chop you up in pieces, making your father watch. Now you are floating in the dark, floating toward something up ahead. You smile.

You are Oogie Boogie and you died of being Skinned! Before you were the leader of the underbelly of Halloween Town, you were a quite rotund man, capable of hideous things. Gambling was a weakness of yours, one you never seemed to rid yourself of, not even in death. You would spend your days at the casinos, losing more money than you intended, going home broke. You lived alone in a cheap and dirty apartment in the seedy part of town. When you were not in the casinos, or stealing purses from little old ladies, you were spending time with whichever one of the "girls" you could afford that night. You would do pretty much anything to make a buck to spend at the casinos. Anything and everything, including murder. You found a buyer on the black market for internal organs, and soon after you were on a roll. You actually enjoyed climbing through the windows of the pretty suburban homes, and kidnapping entire families to use in your underground meat markets. Life seemed to be going perfectly, until you began to get careless, and started pissing people off. One of the leaders of the underground market, decided you were becoming a bit too much of a nuisance, even with all the money you made them. He ordered for you to be brought in one night, and before you could even say "snake eyes" you were carted off into one of the rooms where the "Harvesting" took place. They strapped you to the cold metal table, and didn't even give you the luxury of a sedative. They began skinning you at the ankles, being sure to go extra slow. Your screams for help went unanswered, and soon you began to black out, but unfortunately not long enough. When you opened your eyes you saw what was once your body, now covered in blood, and your skin now sitting in large metal bowls beside you. You begged them to stop when they began cutting open your chest. It wasn't until you watched them dig their hands into your open torso, that you finally succumbed to the darkness, this time not returning. You were not there to see it, but whatever soul you did have, stayed around long enough to hear them tossing your skin in a burlap bag, and sewing it closed, and throwing it into a 8inch dirt hole.

You Are The Mayor, and died of a Broken Neck! Before you were Mayor Of Halloween Town, you were a short little man who worked as intake director of Warbshawl Insane Asylum. You spent 8 years behind the desk, deciding who was and wasn't going to spend their days in a rubber room. You were lied to, spit on, smacked, kicked. You were even almost stabbed with your own fountain pen you kept on your desk. You were not a very well liked man among the patients its safe to say. But after work, after leaving the screams, and banging behind the walls of the asylum, you hurried home to find solace. You walk through the door and say "Honey I'm home!" Your wife sits at the kitchen table, her back to you. You can see trickles of smoke floating above her head each time she takes a puff at her cigarette. You bend down to kiss her forehead, but she jerks away from you. "What's the matter with you?!" she demands, looking at you accusingly. "You know better than to touch me still smelling of those freaks!" she says under her breath. She goes back to reading her magazine, folding the pages when she spots something she likes. "I.. You're right. I forgot." you stammer. She rolls her eyes. You look around the kitchen, nothing for dinner again, you think. It looks like sandwiches again.
The next afternoon you are sent home a few hours early, with a broken finger. One of the new patients didn't seem to like hearing they were being admitted to the asylum, and for only trying to cook their mother while she slept. Luckily security was able to get her off of you before she got a hold of more than just your finger! Though in pain, you secretly like going home with the sun still shining. You pull up to your house, and are confused at the unfamiliar car in your driveway. You go inside, and are about to say your usual, "Honey I'm home" when you hear muffled voices from upstairs. You walk up the steps as quietly as you can, listening. At the top those muffled voices no longer sound muffled. You can hear your wife's voice, and she sounds so unlike herself. She sounds happy. You throw open the bedroom door, and can hardly believe what you see. You wife is laying in bed with the mailman, who is still wearing his hat. "What are you doing here?!" She demands, as if you were the one who was just caught cheating. You open your mouth, but only a few stutters come out. "I better get on with my route." the mailman says, hoping out of bed. He hurriedly pulls on his pants, while you stare unbelieving at him. Your wife is screaming at you, cursing you, Calling you pathetic. You don't know if it is this that causes you to snap, but in a moment you are flying to the small nightstand beside your bed, and scoop up the stainless steel scissors. You ram them deep inside the mailman's chest, and watch the blood flow out onto your fingers. You back away, as he falls to the floor, blood soaking into the carpet. You back up out of the room, and feel your fingers grip onto the banister. Your wife jumps from her bed, and runs at you, her arms outstretched. For a moment you almost believe she is going to hug you. The banister breaks against the force of you and your wife's weight. You both go down with the splintered wood, hitting the bottom tiled floor with a sickening smack. You lay there, neck spun around in a horrid angle, your arms still wrapped around your lifeless wife.

You Are The Clown With The Tear Away Face, and you died by...a torn off face! Before you were the Clown with a special face in Halloween Town, You were making a living doing parties as a clown, though not making much of a living. You hardly made enough to support yourself, so you took to living with your mother. You ignored her comments as best you could, especially the one about you being lazy. She wasn't right, you knew. You worked hard, and deserved to lay around and watch tv all day! One afternoon, after putting on your makeup and costume, you drove to your next job. A 6 year old boys birthday party. You arrived a little late, and had to listen to the mother of the birthday boy complain about antsy children. You came into the backyard, and readied for your act. A group of kids sat on the grass, some smiling, some looking half dazed, pulling handfuls of grass out of the ground. You began your act, throwing in some of your best moves to make up for being late. Your favorite, was when you pretend to remove your eye with a spoon, squeezing strawberry jelly down your cheek. When you were finished, the little faces just stared back at you unsmiling. One child even began to cry. You couldn't believe it! What was wrong with these kids? You ran to your car, avoiding screaming parents, and bratty children. You threw your things into the backseat and just as you were about to climb into the drivers seat, you hear a low growling. A rather large dog stands beside your car, teeth baring. You barley had a chance to scream before its on you. You guessed it was the strawberry jelly that made him so intent on chewing your face off.

You Are Dr. Finkelstein, and you died by Poison! Before you were the brilliant doctor/mad scientist of Halloween Town, you were the brilliant doctor of Hollywood. You spent many years perfecting the perfect faces that graced the silver screens, but one day you were in a terrible car crash, that left you paralyzed from the waist down. You retired from the medical field, but the drive to make things never left you. Your young wife began to grow tired of taking care of you, which meant watching the nurses care for you while she sat complaining of the smell of the medicines. You could tell she was growing impatient. You wondered why she insisted your room remain on the top floor of the mansion, when the nurses explained you needed a ground floor. And you wondered why your beautiful young wife moved her room to the downstairs guest room. When asked, she simply said she couldn't handle the smell of the cleaning chemicals the nurses used. But despite her sudden lack at showing affection, she would still insist on making your evening meal. Soup. You were so taken with her effort, that you didn't have the heart to tell her it tasted bitter. You pretended not to notice, and slurped the entire bowl up. The horrible headaches you got in the morning after didn't matter either. All that mattered was how lucky you were to have such a loving wife. She must be planning something for your anniversary, you think, watching her whispering on her phone. She had been doing that a lot lately you realize. Maybe she is getting better at this, you hope. You pick up the newspaper, and begin reading the front head line. "Company will pay big money for piece of brain" it says. You continue reading, shaking your head. "Now who on earth would donate a piece of their spouse's brain after they died?" you say aloud. You are still looking at the article, missing your wife's worried eyes. You finish your paper, and smile, as your wife comes in with a big bowl of soup. "Hungry, dear?"

You Are Lock, and you died by choking! Before you were the devilish prankster of Halloween Town, you were pretty much the same in life. You lived for Halloween, and wished everyday could be October 31st! Your last Halloween went as planned, for the most part. You started out early, getting as much candy as you could. You carried two bags. One for candy, and the other for pranks! You loved egging houses, stealing smaller children's candy, and your favorite - Pretending to choke on candy when a group of trick or treaters went by. Everything started out fine, your candy bag was almost overflowing, and your pranks were going off without a hitch! You settled on a neighborhood bench, and took out a piece of candy, waiting for a large group of people to come by to start your favorite prank. You reached in your candy bag and chose a jawbreaker, your favorite. You sucked on the sugary ball, watching little witches, and ghosts run by shouting excitedly. Then you saw it. A group of more than 12 people were coming down the street. You readied yourself for your prank, and when they walked by you jumped from the bench, grabbing your throat. You held back the laughter when you saw the fear on some of the parents, and childrens faces. You even heard a few scream. You fell to the ground, making it look perfect. You closed your eyes. Any minute you would jump up and scream "HAHA" But before you could, you feel someones arms around your waist. Some idiot is squeezing your chest over and over. You open your mouth to tell this nut to stop, when you feel the jawbreaker slide down your throat. You want to scream, but your voice, and breath is trapped below the sugary ball. Your lungs are screaming inside you, shouting for air that isn't coming. You fall to the ground, and the last thing you see between all the faces that crowd around you, is a tiny little masked kid, grabbing your bag of candy and running off down the street!

You Are Barrel, and died of Drowning! Before you were one member of Oogie Boogie's trio of minions, you were a little boy who loved to swim. You were a happy child, and some might say a bit stupid, but you were not bright enough to realize it. You were not a well liked boy in school, and were picked on quite severely at times. You would escape to the local quarry behind your house while your mother worked the night shift at the local café. You hated being home alone with no one to talk to except your cat spike. You would run down to the quarry and dive into the cool water, pretending you were a shark. One afternoon, just after arriving and diving in, you pop your head out of the green water to see a group of boys from your school sneaking drinks from a case of one of their fathers beer cans. You knew these boys well. They picked on you mercilessly. You slowly swam backwards, keeping your eyes focused on the laughing boys. You climbed out onto the sand, almost to the trees when one of the heavyset boy called, "Look who it is!" You stopped dead in your tracks. All five boys stopped drinking, and looked at you accusingly. The leader of the group, Tom Massy, set the case of beer down behind the tree, and started off toward you. The other boys followed, anger in their eyes. You were about to run, when Tom shouted, "Hey, kid. It's OK. We are glad we saw you. We have been wanting to apologize to you for picking on you lately." You stand still, watching their faces cautiously. All of you praying it was true. "You wanna hang out with us?" Tom asks. You can't help but smile. You nod, a little too excitedly. "Sure I do" you say, running over to them. The boys give one another a grin, one that should have sent you running for your mother, but you pushed the thought back, ignoring it. You follow the boys back to the tree, where you politely turn down the stolen beer. After the boys drink their fill, Tom describes a "fun" game to you. "We all take turns swimming out to the deep end, and swimming to the bottom. Whoever can wins!" he says patting you on the back. You smile, "okay!" you say. Tom holds you as you are about to move to the water. "But you have to be able to prove it. You have to bring back this" he says, pulling out a black flip lighter, with a white skull on the front. You look at the skull face, and want to touch it. "Can we keep it too, the lighter?" you ask. Tom and the boys laugh. "Sure kid" he says. "But you first".
You swim out into the water, moving past the broken down pier, where your mother always told you never to go past. You can feel the butterflies dancing in your belly, but you kick your feet anyway, pushing farther and farther out until you hear Toms voice tell you to stop. Tom reaches his arm behind his back, and swings it forward as if he were throwing a ball. You hear a plunk, directly in front of you, and wait as Tom counts to 20. "Go!" he shouts. You suck in a mouthful of air, and dive down into the murky greenness. You can hardly see a thing, just flashes of dull colors weaving in and out of your field of vision. You hold your arms out in front of you, and wait to feel solid ground. It takes what feels like forever, but your fingers sink into soft silky mud. Your lungs are burning, but you stretch you eyes wide, looking for your treasure. After picking up a few shells, and bottle caps, your fingers finally close around something. You hold it to your face, and your heart jumps when you see the faded white skull. You start for the surface, kicking your little legs as fast as you can, but your lungs feel heavy, and no matter how much you kick, you only seem to sink. You can see bubbles floating from your nose and mouth, and the urge to suck in air is too great. You reach your hands up as high as you can, hoping the boys will see, but you are still so deep. You close your eyes, and start to thrash around, but for all your effort, you feel your feet hit the bottom of the quarry. You give one last effort, kicking off the sandy floor, but its too late. Your mouth opens almost on its own, and you are sucking in water. You begin to choke on the liquid, retching it out of your lungs. The more you cough out, the more you suck in. Soon the coughing stops, and all you feel is a cold weight swallowing you up. The last thing you see before you are no more, is the white skull shinning brightly in the darkness.