1514: The Before time of Lock, Shock and Barrel – Chapter 1

Title: The Before time of Lock, Shock and Barrel
Author: Miyuki Kawaiinoda
Media: Film
Topic: Nightmare Before Christmas
Genre: Romance/Drama
URL: Chapter 1
Critiqued by Ghostcat


Hello, loverly Patrons!

I’m here with a new fic! “New” being a relative term, as it was published way back in the mists of 2003. It comes to us from the Nightmare Before Christmas section, an area we’ve had experience with before so I don’t need to do a SC-style infodump. Let’s take a look at the summary, shall we?

BARREL’S IS UP!.oOFinally Anyway remeber this is Lock, Shock and Barrel’s past live. RR :D Rateing went up cause of Cursing….ON WITH THE SHOW!


You can probably guess why this fic attracted my attention, it’s just waving all kinds of red flags. And I checked the fic’s rating; it’s listed as T, so I don’t expect too many naughty words in this fic. That’ll be a nice change.

To the fic!

Miyuki: YAY!!!!! MY FIRST NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS FANFIC!!!!!! ::throws confetti::


There’s a chatty Author’s Note at the beginning. Yay.

ahem, anyway, I have decided to……write….THE ORIGINS OF LOCK, SHOCK, AND BARREL!!!!!

Huh. In theory, this would be an excellent idea. The three trick-o-treaters are secondary characters who aren’t explored in any great detail, so they are ripe for the picking.

This is NOT, I repeat NOT historically accurate,


it was just a background for the fic so, do not complain!!!

:eye-twitching intensifies:

Here’s the thing, cupcake; you claim to be writing a fic about the origins of Lock, Shock, and Barrel. Their background IS the fic.

They didn’t start off as brothers and sister, in fact they never knew each other till Jack found them.

Wait, what?

The three aren’t affiliated with Jack even though he does assign them the task of “collecting” Sandy Claws, in fact they are specifically referred to as Boogie’s Boys.

This is Lock’s story before he died and was reborn in Halloween Town.

Well, this story just took on unsettling religious undertones.

The origins of the different holiday lands aren’t explored at all so this is another rich area for original works, but the idea of characters being “reborn” into the different worlds kind of makes me think of the Sorting Hat and now I’m picturing dead people getting “sorted” into the holidays based on some unknown karmic criteria.

I am hoping to have this be a four maybe five chap. Story but it may take me some time,

Don’t worry, she stops at three chapters.

Shocks origin is giving me trouble…. -___-;; anyway, ON WITH THE SHOW…..


If the author is planning on connecting the back stories of these three characters in any way, it would be a really good idea to at least have a rough outline in place before starting the fic.

Lock Danforth was a very handsome seventeen year old.

He’s how old? I don’t think their exact ages are given, but Lock doesn’t look like a teenager; he’s maybe ten, tops.

Many girls in Boston were head over heels for the young man, but he had eyes for only one, Savanna Williams.

Already it’s getting very treacle-ish. Am I’m going to have to send Ishi-sensei around with insulin injections for everyone?

Savanna was a very shy girl. She kept to herself leaving her home only when necessary. She had often seen Lock walking by her house and dreamed of at least talking to him. But he had so many girls after him, why would he bother to notice her?

This is shaping up like one of those Reader fics where I turn out to be a fangirl obsessively stalking my crush.

Lock had very admirable looks, although he was very individual about them.

That is exactly zero help, author. I think I’ll go ask Uncle Google what Lock looks like.

I’m kind of jealous; this cat’s makeup looks better than mine usually does.

I love wacky Uncle Google so very, very much right now.

While most of the young men in Boston had their hair grown long,

Filthy hippies.  I hope they don’t all put their hair up in those man-buns.  Not everyone can pull off that look.

Lock had his rather short, but his bangs were long.

… Is Lock an emo?

It was the year 1692 and everyone was getting ready for All Hallows Eve.

:violently nose-coffees:


:ninja appears and wipes down the desk:

Ah, thank you. :hands ninja the partially empty cup and a voucher: Could you have Lina make me a new one, with an extra pump of caramel this time?

:ninja vanishes:

Where was I? Oh, yes; Lock is living in 1692 Boston and is getting ready for All Hallows Eve. For those of you unfamiliar with American geography, Boston is in Massachusetts. What else was happening in Massachusetts in 1692? Oh, just something called the Salem Witch Trials, which ran from February of 1692 to May of the following year.

I’d also like to point out that none of the men in this engraving have long hair or a short hair/long bangs combo.

While All Hallow’s Eve was celebrated as a sort of harvest festival in colonial times, this is Puritan Massachusetts gripped hard by witch hysteria; most of the trials occurred in the more rural areas near Boston and not in Boston itself, but given the circumstances I think they’d be inclined to skip the heavily pagan-influenced holiday that year.

It was the night before All Hallows eve or as people called it for short Halloween.

It’s called that now, but the word “Halloween” (or “Hallowe’en”) didn’t come into usage until 1745, fifty-three years after this takes place. Also, the night before Halloween, October 30th, is currently referred to as Mischief Night today, where kids raise hell and indulge in pranks and petty vandalism – but the earliest known reference to this practice was in 1790, close to a century after this fic is set.

The town had decided to hold a bon fire in the square.

Woo-hoo! Finally, a historically accurate event! Bonfires have been a Halloween tradition all the way back to its Celtic roots in the rituals of Samhain.

:hands author a redemption cookie:

It does seem a bit insensitive to have a bonfire in the middle of a literal witch hunt, since witches were traditionally burned at the stake during the periodic witch-hunts that swept through Europe from the 15th century to the 18th century (so much so that Neo-Pagans use the blanket term “The Burning Times” to refer to these events, including the Salem trials), but we never really did that in the US. We usually hanged our witches – with the noticeable exception of Giles Corey, who was pressed to death with heavy stones. (He also has the most badass final words ever; “More weight”.)

And he was 81 years old at the time.

Locks friends were going to take their girlfriends but everyone was interested in who he was taking. “You’ll just have to wait…and see.” Was all Lock said.

He’s probably going to ask his mother to go with him, or maybe find an attractive cousin who feels sorry  for him.

He walked along a familiar route down Main St.

So which one of those would be the main street?

He let his mind wander and when he snapped back to reality he was in front of Savanna’s house. ‘How’d I get here?’


I’m guessing you’re looking for something a little more detailed than “You walked there” but I can’t really help you with that.

Just then Savanna came out, she was going into town.

By herself?!? :gasp!: What a shameless hussy! (By 1692 standards.)

 She was surprised to see Lock standing outside her door.

So she immediately summoned a footman and had him flogged with a dog-whip.

“Lock! Oh my, you startled me.”

“H-hi Savanna,” ‘god she is beautiful’, “Um… I was wondering if y- you’d like to go with me to the Bon fire t-tomorrow?”

“Of course I would love to go.”

Lock looked up, “Really? Well, ahem, I’ll pick you up at Seven, no later then the last toll of the bell. See You”

Anyone else getting an “invitation to a school dance” vibe from this interaction?

Of course, if this was historically accurate, Savanna would be shocked at such an improper invitation – young ladies do not spend time alone with young men, not if they want to remain ladies. Even with a proper chaperone, it could be considered serious courting behaviour.

“Goodbye.” She waved to him till he was out of site, she sighed. Her wish had come true. Now she had only one little problem, what to wear.

Something dark, sensible, and consisting of multiple layers of wool and cotton with a sizable amount of whalebone around the torso.

Lock walked very happily back home.

Where ever that might be.

The girl of his dreams was going to spend all of Halloween with him.

Dude, she just agreed to go to the bonfire with you. Halloween lasts all day long.

He got home and began working no his costume.

Ah, there’s no panic quite like a last-minute cosplayer’s panic.

The big finally arrived and, as he had promised, Lock was at savanna’s house by the seventh toll.

Lock has a really weird way of keeping time.

“Ready to go?” He asked pulling off his wooden Devil mask. His bangs were being held up by axle grease in the shape of horns. He was wearing a red shirt and pants with a red pointed tail attached. Savanna came out dressed as a gypsy. Her face was partially hidden by a veil.


So much wrongness. Let’s make a list! Those are always fun.

:rolls in Lyle’s chalkboard:

  • He managed to carve a Devil mask out of wood using hand tools in less than twenty-four hours. That’s not happening.
  • He’s using axle grease in his hair, which would work if he was slicking back his hair but not so much for forming complex erect shapes. Period available alternatives would be either starch, obtainable from potatoes or corn, or a well-beaten egg white.
  • He’s dressed as the Devil at the height of a widespread witch hysteria during a time when many people were extremely superstitious and believed that the Devil walked around in physical form. He’s just asking for a lynching.
  • This is not a good time to be dressed as a gypsy, or Romani if you want to be correct, because the Romani were believed to be thieves, reprobates, child-snatchers, and Devil worshippers.

A woman dressed as a gypsy walking around with a man dressed as the Devil is going to lead to all kinds of Bad Things happening, even in the slightly less volatile climate of Boston.

“Of course.” She answered.

No, you’re missing a chaperone! Society in 1692 had very different rules than we have today and young men and women were very rarely left alone together. The mere idea that the girl was in a situation where she could have been “compromised”, even if there was no actual physical contact between the two, could be as socially damaging as if they had been caught fucking on the parlor sofa.

Seriously, does no one understand that you can’t write using a historical setting as if it’s modern times?!?

They headed towards the large bonfire.

I assume that they are heading towards the Common, since that’s the largest open area and the closest thing I can find to a “town square” in Boston, but I really don’t know where they are right now. It’s like the author just picked a city name at random to paste onto her “Anytown, USA” setting.

Lock couldn’t keep his eyes off Savanna . She was simply gorgeous. They arrived at the bonfire just as first dance began. Lock held his hand out to Savanna.

“May I have this dance?”

She smiled and placed her hand in his. “Of course, dear little devil.”

Yeah, this “bonfire” is pretty much just a surrogate for a high school dance.

They danced together near the fire all night long, till the moon was almost out of the sky. Lock looked at Savanna. “Come on.” He pulled her to a secluded grove, he took off his mask. He grinned at her.

See, this is exactly why teenagers weren’t left alone together – because teenagers are vaguely humanoid-shaped lumps of raging hormones.

“Your so beautiful, my love, you captured my heart since I first laid eyes on you. No one has ever made me feel this way. The empty place inside my heart, it seems to have filled up when I saw you.”

And since you’re a teenaged boy, I assume that’s not the only “empty place” you think about filling when you see her.

“That means that we’re meant to be.” She said.

“I hope so.”

:gags violently:

:dials cell phone: Hey, Lina? I’ve changed my mind about that extra pump of caramel.

He leaned towards her, she closed her eyes as his lips met her. Lock pulled her closer as the kiss grew deeper and more passionate. He released her for a moment only to breathe. He ran his hand over her cheek. “You are more beautiful then anyone, no anything in the whole world. I love..”

I hope you love her, because now you have to get married. Not that love was a requirement for marriage, that’s more of a modern concept.

His words were interrupted by a shriek. “WHY YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE TRAMP!!” a shrill voice cried out.

And that right there is why you shouldn’t go off into the dark woods with a boy.

“HOW DARE YOU TRY AND STEAL THIS BOY FROM!” cried another more high pitched voice.

Wait, what?

Lock turned to see two girls standing beside one of the trees. “Vanessa Franklin and Abigail Parson. What in the name of god are you doing here?”

I think a bigger question would be, “Why is there a girl named Vanessa in 1692?” The name was invented by Jonathan Swift for his poem ‘Cadenus and Vanessa‘, which was published in 1726.  He created it by rearranging the first  syllables of his close friend’s (Esther Vanhomrigh, try saying that three times fast) name.

I got curious and took a look at Savanna’s name as well; according to this site, only %0.021 of the US female population had that name in 1692. It was very rare, but it did exist at the time.

They flocked to him, pushing Savanna to the ground.

I don’t think two girls constitutes a flock.

Abigail placed her arms around Lock’s neck. She was very pretty but very vain.

I guess we’re just going to have to take your word for it, fic, since you haven’t shown us anything like that yet.

“Why to stop this hussy from stealing you my dearest one.”

Dude, you’re behaving more like a hussy than Savanna was.

Vanessa hugged Lock from behind. She was as pretty as the Abigail, but twice as vain and obsessed with him. “We don’t want you getting hurt by some two pence harlot.”

Pot, this is kettle. Have you met?

They began leading Lock away, but he broke free from their grasp and towards Savanna. “Here let me help you up, dearest.”

Author, I think you word there. You’ve a lot of words in this fic.

He lifted her off the ground to the horrified gasps of the other two girls. They turned and marched off in a huff whispering along the way.

That is pretty brazen behaviour, but they can’t really cast any stones given how they were acting.

“I apologize for those two, they’re always following me around. Shall I take you home now?:

“Yes love. The night was wonderful but I need my rest.”

He’s going to carry her home in his arms? I wonder what they called a shotgun wedding in 1692? Because I think we’re about to see one.

The next morning Lock awoke to the sounds of the Town crier. “Hear ye! Hear ye! The woman known as Savanna Williams has been accused of witchcraft! Trial begins this afternoon! Hear ye! Hear ye!…”

That makes it sound like she is the only one on trial. After the first trial in Salem, the magistrates opted for a more “efficient” approach and started indicting, convicting, and executing people in bunches.

I can’t find anything to substantiate the existence of town criers in Boston at this time, but there were criers in contemporary Europe and there are references to criers in Boston in the early 1700s, so it would be fair to assume that there were some running about.  Criers tended to make announcements for the public benefit – for example, a town in Germany employed a crier to remind the local populace not to urinate or defecate in the river the day before water was drawn for brewing beer – and I’m not sure if this qualifies, but it does serve as a plot device to get the fic moving so I’ll take it.

Lock jumped out of bed and ran to his door. He tried to open but it was locked from the outside. He began to bang furiously on the door. “LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!! UNLOCK THIS DOOR!!! MOTHER!!! FATHER!!!”

He has a functional lock on his bedroom door? This is the time before mass production made a lot of things available cheaply, so a keyed lock would be fairly expensive and difficult to install without him waking up. I guess they could have installed a slide-bolt on the outside, but that still makes me wonder where they would have gotten one in the middle of the night or found someone to install it.

His screams could be heard downstairs where his mother and father were sitting with Vanessa, Abigail and the priest father Samson.

Boy has some healthy lungs.

“Father Samson, is it right to do this to the boy?” Mrs. Danforth asked.

Father? The witch trials were primarily held by Puritans, who had ministers referred to as Reverend, not Father.

“Yes Goody Danforth. We need to keep him from the witch so she can not weave her evil spells upon him and infect his innocent mind.”


Vanessa looked at the Father. “Father Samson, may we go an speak with lock?”

“Of course, but no matter what he says do not open the door. The spell may still be strong on him.”

Wait a second – Lock is supposed to be the victim?!?


The witch trials were total bullshit and just a way for the community to persecute those who didn’t fit into their narrow world view, but there was an established pattern. It was typically the “victim” who accused someone of witchcraft; the “victim” would have fits, or claim to feel phantom pains, or say that the “spectre” of the witch was forcing them to do something. If it could be proven by the bullshit standards of the day that a loss, illness, or even death had been caused by witchcraft, the “victim” entered a complaint against the alleged witch with the local magistrates.  If the “victim”‘s complaint was deemed credible, the magistrates had the person arrested and they were then subjected a public examination that was essentially an interrogation where the magistrates pressured the accused witch to confess. There was typically a series of tests carried out, including bringing them into the presence of the “victim” to see if it triggered a fit or examining the alleged witch’s body for a “witch’s teat” – marks, moles, and blemishes that did not bleed when pricked with a pin, said to be where the witch would suckle the devil in exchange for power – before the person was declared a witch.

“MOTHER!!! PLEASE LET ME SEE SAVANNA!!! SHE IS INNOCENT!!! FATHER!!! MOTHER… please…let me out.” Lock banged the door once more then slid down to the floor. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

Yeah, that’s still not very scary.


“Lock,” Vanessa cooed, “Don’t worry Lock. Abigail, Mary, Rebecca and I will make sure that evil witch is hung so your pure heart can go to someone else.

It’s “hanged”, not “hung”; “hanged” is when you string someone up with a rope and “hung” is when a man is born with a special gift.

At this moment that harlot is being tortured to get the truth out of her. You’ll be free soon darling.”

I don’t think they would flat-out say Savanna was being tortured, they would probably say she was being “questioned” or some other euphemistic term.

“You’re insane! You’ve been driven mad by jealousy! I will never find another. Leave now both of you!” he growled.

Vanessa smiled at Abby, “I see the evil ones spell is still strong. Just wait a while my love and you shall be freed!”

They turned and headed down the stairs.

You know what Lock should do in this situation? Turn the tables on them and accuse Abigail and Vanessa of witchcraft. I don’t normally endorse accusing someone of witchcraft, but hey – they made him the victim, and in these cases it was typically the victim that called the shots.

Many days passed and the only time the doors was opened was for breakfast and dinner and if he had any dirty cloths. Also to empty the chamber pot.

I know they didn’t bathe often in colonial times, but ewww. And what about the axel grease horns in his hair? That’s going to cause a stir when he goes to court.

The only way Lock got any news of the trial was the daily report of the town crier.

Okay, that is definitely not how a town crier works. That also makes it sound like the trial lasted several days, which isn’t accurate. The examination of a witch could take place over an extended period of time, but the trial itself would be incredibly brief.

And of course when Vanessa, Abby or their friend Rebecca came to tell then what lovely horrors had befallen Savanna.


Why isn’t Lock going to the trial? He’s the supposed victim!

A bout a month later Vanessa came running up the stairs.

A month?!? Bridget Bishop, the first to be sentenced and executed in Salem, was tried and sentenced on the same day and executed a mere eight days later.

She pressed her self against Locks door. “Your finally going to be free my love! Abby testified today and they are finally going to hang her!!!”

Why are they going to hang Abby? And why is Crazy-Face so excited about it? I thought they were friends?

She giggled madly and hurried down the stairs.

Proof positive that teenagers across the ages are physically incapable of just quietly walking up or down a set of stairs.

Lock sat on his bed, silent tears streaming down his paled cheeks.

Why is he crying about Abby? I thought he was in love with Savanna?

Over the past weeks he had grown pale and sick looking from sorrow. His once vibrant blues eyes were a sickly yellow and his lips a dull violet.

That doesn’t sound like sorrow. I think Lock has a bad case of jaundice and some sort of oxygen deficiency. Or he’s a corpse and doesn’t know it.

All afternoon he heard the people gathering around in the square outside his window. Then he heard cheering and Father Samson speaking. Lock slowly got up and walked to the window.


Let me guess; Lock just happens to live by Nameless Square where the gallows are set up for Savanna?

Savanna was exhausted, she was actually welcoming death.


Happy that her sufferings were finally over she looked towards heaven and saw her beloved Lock staring mournfully down at her.

Dude, I was just joking about Lock being dead!

She smiled up at him as the executioner released the trap door.

I assume “release the trap door” is code for “kicked away the stool” since I doubt they would go to the trouble of building a scaffold with a trap door for just one person. I’m surprised they built a scaffold for her at all.

Who says history is dull?

She mouthed “God will save the innocent” and her world went black.

Either she can mouth words very fast, or she got some serious hang-time before she dropped.

Lock fell to the floor sobbing on the floor. He had killed an innocent girl by simply loving her.

It’s not your fault, it was those two psychos.

At least she had died instantly with no pain.

Death by asphyxiation isn’t instantaneous; typically the person becomes unconscious within thirty seconds to two minutes, but death can take up to forty minutes depending on various factors. The average elapsed time until death is about thirteen minutes, though. That’s assuming the abrupt drop didn’t pop her head off like a cork.

She had left this plane with a smile no less.

I seriously doubt that given her manner of death. Her tongue probably started to protrude and her face may have turned blackish-purple, though.

He stood up and watched the crowd slowly depart, some throwing stoned or rotten fruit at the corpse.

They were throwing stoned fruit at her body? There must be a lot of potheads in 1692 Boston.

By dusk the square was empty. Lock looked at himself in the mirror, once again in his devil costume.


Someone who is supposedly a victim of witchcraft was allowed to keep a Devil costume complete with a carved mask yet couldn’t leave their room for fear that the witch’s spells would exert influence over him? That makes no sense at all.

Only now with his paled features he seemed more demonic. He grabbed his black cloak and opened his window.

Because of course he would have a black cloak in his room.

He took a deep breath and jumped on the rafters.

He jumped on the internal framework supporting the roof?

He slid down a bit but caught himself on the ledge.

There’s a ledge on the rafters? I’m so confused right now.

He gently lowed himself to the ground and put on the grinning devil mask.

So he jumped onto the rafters, caught himself on a ledge of some kind, and then gently lowered himself onto the ground?

That does not compute.

Savanna saw him looking out his window when she looked up to the heavens, and presumably his room is located near the roof if he can reach the rafters, and there have been numerous references to stairs being used to reach his room. His house has to be at least two stories, possibly more. Unless your house is built into the side of a very steep hill, you can’t just ease out of a second story (or higher) window and touch the ground.

He headed towards the gallows, hoping not to see anyone around.

Didn’t he watch the crowd leave from an elevated vantage point? He should know if there’s anyone lingering in Nameless Square.

He stepped up to retrieve Savanna’s body, he was going to bury her so that the rest of the town wouldn’t tear the body up, like they did with the other ‘witches’.

Ewww. They didn’t tear up the bodies; the bodies were typically tossed into a ditch or mass grave, because witches couldn’t be buried in consecrated ground, although most would be retrieved under cover of night and were quietly buried on family property in unmarked graves.

He cut the rope with his knife and carried Savanna into the woods with a shovel he grabbed from a near by wood shack.

I see the PCC was active in colonial times.

Time for an experiment!

:passes around a box of shovels and a box of interns:

Everyone have an intern and a shovel? Good! Now, these interns have been injected with muscle relaxants so they will accurately simulate a dead body. Just pick up your intern and your shovel and carry them over into those trees the PCC brought in a few minutes ago. But wait! :clicks remote: You have to do it in the dark!

And … GO!


Well, that went about as well as I expected.

He picked a peaceful place that he thought she’d like and began digging. He dug until his hands blistered and his back ached.

That’s probably because you’re digging a hole in the woods. You know what trees have a lot of? Roots! Those things are frickin’ EVERYWHERE. Also, it’s Boston in October so the ground’s probably frozen.

When he had finished bury her he sat.

You word again.

He slowly carved her name into a stone and set it up as a make shift tombstone.


There are certain types of stone that are relatively easy to carve, I’ve worked with pieces of soapstone that were absolute dreams to carve, but it can still be quite time-consuming. And this is a dark forest in the middle of the night, with no light source; even if he just scratches her name on the stone there’s a good chance it’ll come out as an unreadable scrawl.

He sat back down to sharpen his knife.

And that right there is why carving stone can be so time-consuming. Stone, even soft stone, is abrasive and can really chew through your tools. It also would not be a good idea to try to sharpen a blade in the dark, since that could end badly, but I’m wondering why he brought a whetstone with him to bury his girlfriend.

Near midnight he heard an odd sound.

Let’s see; according to charts I found online, the average sunset in Boston would be at around 4:15 or so.  That gives Lock eight hours to climb out of his house, cut down Savanna, carry her into the forest, pick out a gravesite, dig the hole, chuck her in, cover her up, find a stone, carve her name into it, and set up the impromptu tombstone before sharpening his knife.

Lock’s been a busy bee.

It was a mixture of singing, laughing and cackling.

Those last two things are really just different versions of the same thing.

He ignored it and went back to his knife, now very sharp and let his mind wander.

That sounds like a good thing to do while waving around a sharp piece of metal.

Soon the sound grew louder and closer until Lock couldn’t ignore it. He stood up, hiding his knife beneath the folds of his cloak.

Beneath? He’s standing up; any folds are going to be running vertically, not horizontally.


He lied.

Did he? All the description I’ve seen of the knife is “knife” and “sharp”. It could just be a dinky little pen knife.

A few bushes shook and two figures walked out. Vanessa and Abby, they were dressed completely in black and their hair was loose and filled with small twigs as if they had been running through the woods.

Were they hiding in the bushes watching him bury Savanna? That’s super creepy.

They walked up to Lock and dragged him to the floor.

Outside, it’s called “the ground.”

Abby held him gently yet firmly as Vanessa leaned over him

“You are finally mine love.” She whispered before she kissed him passionately.

There’s a very good chance that they are making out on top of Savanna’s freshly interred body.

:downs a shot of Brain Bleach:

What is keeping that ninja with my coffee?

Abby growled at her partner and pulled her off of Lock.

“You stupid oaf! You weren’t supposed to kiss him!! He belongs to me.”

You’re both deeply obsessed with the same boy; did it never occur to you that she wants the exact same thing you do? There’s no way this ends well for both of you.

Vanessa smirked, “No my dear friend he belongs to me, and me alone. I enjoyed your friend ship but now my love is within reach.”


I think this might be an acceptable use of the smirk, but I really don’t like Vanessa so … Sure, go for it.


:waves at Cerbersheep as he thunders past:


She yelled and ran towards Abby.

Abby just pulled Vanessa off of Lock so they should already be in very close proximity to each other.

A glint of silver before the knife plunged deep into the girls bosom.

I thought the knife was playing peek-a-boo in Lock’s cloak? Why is it plunging into the two girls’ collective bosom?

Abby grabbed her friends shoulder as she toppled over. She looked up towards Lock still on the floor, she smiled weakly,

“I loved you too, yet I never got a kiss.” Her eyes closed and she fell to the ground.


Look like I get to play “Pin the Pronoun on the Character.” That’s always fun.

Lock looked at Vanessa an evil glint in her eye.

I know a ninja who can have that glint, and the eye, out in less than ten seconds.

Anger, pure uncontrollable anger raced through Lock as he slowly got up.

Why is he getting so angry over Vanessa killing Abigail? Shouldn’t he be mad at both of the psychos for getting his girlfriend hanged?

Vanessa ran towards him the knife still in her hand. “My love, my love!”

Why the flippin’ heck is everyone running everywhere? They should be at most a few feet apart!

Also – if you’re holding a bloody knife and start running towards someone, possibly after stepping over the blood-soaked body of your former friend, that person probably isn’t going to be very receptive to your declarations of love. Just FIY.

He looked at her, pulling his knife out of the folds. He grabbed her by the hair holding the knife to her neck.

“Why are you doing this my love?”

How is he doing it? She was running towards him, which means she was facing him. If he grabs her hair and puts his knife at her throat, she should be able to fend him off with either her hands or her own knife. Even if he was standing behind her and using her hair to pull her head back, which is what I think the author was going for, she still has a knife and could fight back.

“Because you stole the lives of two innocents.” He smiled and slit her throat.

Well, one innocent and one psycho who helped steal the life of the innocent.

He carefully laid the body down and cleaned off the knife. He looked up to heaven,

“Dammit, now I have to dig another hole!”

“Savanna said ‘God will save the innocent’ heh, since you can’t save me just tell Savanna that I truly did love her. And I WILL see her again.”

If you really want to see her again, that shovel should still be around you somewhere.

He cleaned the knife out and looked at the grave and the two bodies. He sighed and drove the knife through his chest.

I guess he really didn’t want to dig any more holes.

And speaking of stabbing yourself in the chest, here’s a fun little bonus for the Patrons who made it this far;

AS his spirit lay in his body waiting for something to happen he saw a strange creature and then his sight went black.

Even his death is unfulfilling.


GAH!!!! What creature did Lock see? Was it Jack or the Oogie Boogie man?? Hmmmm, I wonder.

Since you mentioned way up there :points: in the first Author’s Note that this was going to be the story of what happened before Jack found them, I’m going to assume the creature is Jack.

Anyway the next part should be up er…. Soon?

Unless you’re under contract to produce a book in a specific time period, you don’t have to publish on a set schedule. Hell, even published writers go over their deadlines – in some cases :cough:thatbastardMartin:cough: way over.

As you have probably guessed the next part is Shock’s and well I don’t want to give anything away. Soooo plz R/R thx!!!! ;D

I kind of assumed her part would be next – the three are typically refereed to in the same order – Lock, Shock, and Barrel – so it would make sense for her story to come after after Lock’s. However, since Shock’s costume is that of a witch I am a bit curious as to why Lock was the one given a back story set during the infamous witch trials. I’m really hoping Shock doesn’t turn out to be one of those psycho fangirls.


46 Comments on “1514: The Before time of Lock, Shock and Barrel – Chapter 1”

  1. SC says:

    an area we’ve had experience with before so I don’t need to do a SC-style infodump.

    That is a blatant lie.

  2. SC says:

    The Before time of Lock, Shock and Barrel

    What does that even mean?

    • GhostCat says:

      I’m hoping the author was trying to tie the title into The Nightmare Before Christmas, but it’s equally possible that it is just yet another instance of bad grammar.

  3. SC says:

    anyway, I have decided to……write….THE ORIGINS OF LOCK, SHOCK, AND BARREL!!!!!

    *SC falls out of his seat*

    Jesus fucking Christ! Don’t scream at me like that!

  4. AdmiralSakai says:


  5. SC says:

    Already it’s getting very treacle-ish. Am I’m going to have to send Ishi-sensei around with insulin injections for everyone?

    Doc: Nope.

    *Doc stabs himself in the arm with an insulin needle*

    …You know, you’re a professionally trained medic. Should you really be so violent with needles? Against yourself, no less?

    Doc: It’s only pain, I measured the doses, death has no meaning here, and I’m only hurting myself. Literally nothing of value is lost.

  6. SC says:

    Just FIY

    Exactly what does the Federation of Indomitable Yogurt have to do with this?

  7. AdmiralSakai says:

    The empty place inside my heart, it seems to have filled up when I saw you.”



  8. AdmiralSakai says:

    What a shameless hussy!

  9. AdmiralSakai says:

    Savanna saw him looking out his window when she looked up to the heavens, and presumably his room is located near the roof if he can reach the rafters, and there have been numerous references to stairs being used to reach his room. His house has to be at least two stories, possibly more. Unless your house is built into the side of a very steep hill, you can’t just ease out of a second story (or higher) window and touch the ground.

    Wait, he was able to escape the whole time? Why didn’t he try to do something before Savanna got offed?

  10. BatJamags says:

    The Before time of Lock, Shock and Barrel


    Before time.

    Background. History. Past. Origin. Upbringing. Life and times.

    And you chose BEFORE TIME?!

    Also, this is missing an Oxford/Harvard/whatever-university-has-it-this-week comma.

  11. BatJamags says:

    Savanna was a very shy girl. She kept to herself leaving her home only when necessary. She had often seen Lock walking by her house and dreamed of at least talking to him. But he had so many girls after him, why would he bother to notice her?

    *Rubs neck*

    Watch that perspective whiplash, author. If you have to be inconsistent about this stuff, at least give us a line break to separate it.

  12. BatJamags says:

    Lock had very admirable looks, although he was very individual about them.

    Oh, I get what this means! It’s obvious. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you guys. GoodJamags, explain to them what this means.

    GoodJamags: Nothing.

    Good Jamags.

  13. BatJamags says:

    I hope they don’t all put their hair up in those man-buns. Not everyone can pull off that look.

    I’ve yet to encounter anyone who can pull off that look.

  14. BatJamags says:

    He let his mind wander and when he snapped back to reality he was in front of Savanna’s house. ‘How’d I get here?’

    Well, i’m assuming it went something like this…

  15. BatJamags says:

    “Lock,” Vanessa cooed, “Don’t worry Lock. Abigail, Mary, Rebecca and I will make sure that evil witch is hung so your pure heart can go to someone else.

    It’s “hanged”, not “hung”; “hanged” is when you string someone up with a rope and “hung” is when a man is born with a special gift.

    Is there something Savanna isn’t telling us?

  16. BatJamags says:

    Death by asphyxiation isn’t instantaneous; typically the person becomes unconscious within thirty seconds to two minutes, but death can take up to forty minutes depending on various factors. The average elapsed time until death is about thirteen minutes, though. That’s assuming the abrupt drop didn’t pop her head off like a cork.

    Actually, I’m pretty sure that hanging is meant to snap the person’s neck most of the time.

    • AdmiralSakai says:

      I don’t know about in the organized witch trials specifically, but I know that in at least some of the more chaotic witch-lynchings, they botched the process and basically dangled people to death.

    • GhostCat says:

      The neck snap is what causes unconsciousness, but death usually occurs from asphyxiation and lack of blood flow to the brain.

      Early hangings were pretty gruesome affairs, since it was all pretty much guesswork on the executioners’ parts. If the rope was too short or too long the prisoner could either slowly strangle (if this happened friends of the prisoner would often rush forward and pull down on the poor guy’s legs to help out) or drop too fast and completely decapitate the prisoner when they hit the end of their rope. (Like a morbid version of “crack the whip”) This is assuming that they used a scaffold of some kind that would let the prisoner “drop” properly; often hangings were nothing more than tossing the rope over a tree branch or street lamp, pulling really hard, and then tying it off and waiting for the kicking to stop.

      Botched hangings were such a chronic problem that in the late 1880s someone actually calculated an “Official Table of Drops” as sort of a cheat-sheet to give the correct length of rope to use for prisoners of a given weight.

  17. BatJamags says:

    He grabbed his black cloak and opened his window.

    He could’ve left at any time? Then why didn’t he?

  18. BatJamags says:

    When he had finished bury her he sat.

    But he not finish use Tarzan grammar.

  19. […] (Chapter Bundle 4 is out!) help me Betrayal pepper the match maker Happy Birthday TadashixReader The Before time of Lock, Shock and Barrel Five Nights at Freddy’s x reader character x character oc x oc Dora of the Rings Star Wars: The […]

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