TRICK and TREAT-

-Threaded Needles

If there was one thing Ciel Phantomhive hated, it was being bored. Years and years of having fun, laughing and playing with his friends and family, the chattering and giggles he shared with his classmates.

Even so, as the years went by, the fun escaped. His once fun toys were put on a shelf, some even too broken or dead or unfun to even bear to look at that they found there way into the trash, broken and torn apart.

Today, was a Saturday. A day before Church, a day after the schoolweek ended, and a day before the day he had to forcibly go back to that horrid school. And what did he do? Go to the mall with his friends? Spend the night with his best friend? Skype with his cousin who had left for across the world?

No, he sat on his bed, something of great size that stuck out oddly in his rectangular shaped room, that was soft and plush to the touch with silk sheets and a thick, warm, fleecy blanket that draped across it for his comfort during the cold night, and stared up at his shelf. His shelf had held all of his very important toys that he played with as a child. Sebastian, Alois, Claude, Grell, Finnian, Mei-Rin, Bard, Tanaka, Will... he sighed, looking up at the dolls that carefully lined the shelf. Each one still in the condition that he left them from when he put them up there four years ago.

"Ciel? Ciel?!" A voice chimed through out the house. Ciel held his breath and slowly fell across his bed in a desperate attempt to look asleep or sick or something... he didn't wish to spend the day with his friends, and he fully knew his mother wanted guests over and he couldn't be in the house.

She bustled into his room, and he could barely hear the creak of the door as she opened it with her soft hands. He barely cracked open an eye to see her standing in the door way, frowning at him, her red hair in a ponytail as her eyebrowns bent in deep concentration. "Ciel, you know today is spring cleaning, I need to clean out the junk in your room, and I'm starting to think you need some sun." she said sternly. When she said 'I think you need some sun' it translated to: 'Your lazy, go get some excerise.'

He grumbled. "Mother-" he tried to keep his voice level, attempting not to scream at her, pitch a hissy-fit and then proceed to crawl under his covers, much like a teenage girl would do when her mother threatened to cancel her cell plan. "-my room is perfectly fine. It is clean. I do not wish to go outside, there is nothing to do."

"Out. Now." She snarled, her voice raising an octave higher as she pointed towards the white framed door, it's original crimson red peeling away from it's board. He got up slowly, making sure to take his time, looking for his shoes in stupid places, lacing them up slowly and clumsily, and looking for his sweatshirt.

Finally, when he had zero excuses left for why he was not out on the front lawn yet, sitting in the grass and pulling out blade after blade of the bright green weed, he opened the front door and stepped out onto the poor excuse of a porch, and zipped up his sweatshirt. "This is dumb." he whispered, and started out for a walk along the back path that swung away from the house.

"Then come play~" A voice giggled. Ciel turned abruptly, expecting to see one of his friends stalking at him, laughing because of the dolls that he had lined in his bedroom and his mother's antics. Finding nobody, he continued his walk, the black of the trees swinging in front of him, bending down to hide the sun. He stopped mid-step when he heard a crack. He whipped around and bolted into the trees after it. I swear to go Ren, if that's you-

He barely got to finish his thought, his mind now clouded with the sudden burst of smell. It smelled deeply of... what? Chocolate? Strawberry? Cinnamon? Definitely cinnamon. He turned in the direction of that, wondering why in the world he skipped breakfast and why he was following such a sweet scent, after all, he had read Hansel and Gretal- and several times at that.

Footsteps could be heard behind him, yet he unconciously followed the fantastic smell of sweet and tea. He was so lost in the thought of what great food that it would be that he didn't even register when his mouth was suddenly wrapped in a tight black cloth, his hands bound together with something along the same lines of material. "You came to play!" The voice behind him said happily. "I'm so glad!"

Being as he was gagged, he couldn't reply, force out any swear words or even remotely comment on how messed up his captor was. He only managed to get spit all over himself and fall on the ground. Whoever was capturing him grabbed a hold of his leg and dragged him to a small corner, where it looked almost like a room, just oddly in the middle of the woods. "Mmff? MFFPH!" He whimpered as his kidnapper lifted his small body onto the bed as if he was weightless. He took the moment to look around. The bed was exactly like his, the same silk sheets and thick blanket that was midnight blue. Above in the trees there was the same exact row of his dolls/stuffed animals/plushies. Each one had some sort of deranged weapon through it.

"Playtime?" The captor asked, taking off his mouth gag. He coughed a second and then rubbed his throat, wondering how he managed to get so much spit stuck in his throat in such a small amount of time. "Here."

A hot cup of tea was suddenly thrust into this hands, and his hands barely were able to wrap around it and steady it before it dropped to the ground. Before taking a drink he examined his captor. She had blonde hair that was curled into tight pigtails and draped down to her shoulders, and bright green eyes that almost seemed to pierce through him. She was wearing a completely black dress with a red and black striped long sleeve shirt underneath and the same exact leggings underneath, large boots sprouting at about calf-length. "Drink," she insisted, tipping the cup up towards his mouth. "It tastes like cinnamon."

Cinnamon it did taste like, warm and cheery. It tasted like when his mother used to make hot cocoa on cold nights and add the perfect amount of cinnamon, sugar and all of his other favorites. He stared at her while he finished up the cup, followed quickly by a second one she thrusted into his hands. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice slurring as if he couldn't think of the words straight.

A smile came over the girl. She gently pushed him by the shoulders so that he laid on the bed, his legs spread awkwardly around her hips, his arms held up by hers. "Why don't you sleep first, then we can talk in a while?" she whispered, her voice as sweet as the cinnamon tea, and her breath smelling as good as candies he ate at halloween.

He nodded forcefully, shutting his eyes and almost immediately falling asleep against the large bed. He dreamt of when he was smaller, the outlines of the world white. All that exsisted was his room; him, his room, and his dolls. It was so very peaceful, there he was in the middle of his room, holding playing with his dolls, his favorite one. One with blonde hair and green eyes. He was hugging it tightly when suddenly his mother burst into the subtle dream. "Ciel darling-"

"Oh, give me that." he said, his voice almost playfully and giggly. He yanked the toy from his mother's hand, a doll with long black bangs hanging in front of his red eyes and long hair in the back. The outfit on it was something of a butler. He smiled as his mother collected the toy on the floor and carried it away. He barely noticed.

Suddenly remembering, Ciel burst up from where he slept, wondering vaguely why everything was pitch black and why he hand't hit his head on the shelf that was usually above his bed. He looked around blindly, being as he couldn't see anything, until something fell down limply from where it covered his eyes. He blinked and looked around wildly, finding himself in some forest. He swung around his legs to look closer at the vivid light that was radiating from a couple of candles. Looking closer he saw his captor- a girl with blonde hair and green eyes, smiling to herself as she made more of her tea. He looked to where her shadow ended, and oddly enough, instead of getting larger, it got smaller, and was only the size of doll. Doll... he though, his eye narrowing in frustration. Of course! He was so stupid...

"Oh my, how dare you wake up-" The captor said, coming in between his legs again, so that her face was very close to his. "-if you can't keep a blindfold on, then I'll just have to blind you~"

He sat, terrified as she slowly raised her hand, pushing it against his eye. He screamed in the sudden pain as she moved her finger around, scrapping and scratching and tearing. He writhed back and forth in pain as the blood soaked in between her fingers and down his cheek. "Stop! Stop! It hurts! Please, Elizabeth, stop it!" he whimpered as her finger slowly exited his eye socket, her hand fresh with blood.

She thrust her fingers into his mouth, and his taste buds were immediately flooded with the overwhelming taste of his blood. "Taste it! Drink yourself! Your pain, your failure!" she said violently, thrusting her fingers far back into his mouth. He choked out, but did as she told him, licking and sucking her fingers clean.

Elizabeth... what has happened to you? He thought desperately, wiping off his cheek and looking down at his sleeve. She pulled out her fingers and examined them. "Good, now we can play!"

He looked at her. How did she become something of a horror object? A violent human being after being such a cute friendly doll? He needed to get out of here, before she actually did hurt him. He scrambled frantically.

"Oh, leaving so soon?" She asked quietly. "I don't think so, I think your going to stay here with me." her voice dropped and got ontop of him. "See if I can't have you, then nobody can."

The sudden realization washed over him. She never was real, she really was a horror object put together by somebody's sick demise. Her face was still cute, her cheeks still shiny and blushing, but her smile was twisted and wicked, her eyes with a glimmer of disgust. And this time, he was her plaything. And she got to have him for as long as she wanted. Even if it meant...

Her hand gropped blindly for something under the bed as she kept him pinned down. When her arm returned, she held a knife. His breath sucked in, and he screwed his eyes shut. Her fingers snapped them back open though, pushing them upwards. "I want to you to see you die." she whispered. "Like I had to."

So, he was stuck there, watching as she slowly sunk the knife into his stomach, blood gushing out of where it was as he moaned painfully, his back arching up which helped her bring it completely down to the hilt. He thrashed around as she brought it out, and she thrusted his head up, making him watch as the blood slowly flowed out of his stomach and stained his clothes and the bed. "Ah, Lizzi..." he whispered, the forest suddenly taking a dip and turning fuzzy. "I didn't mean to get rid of you..."

She laughed at him, but slowly sat on his lap, her head tilting down onto his shoulder, his only support being the pillows that lined the back of the bed. "Yes you did."

The ringing realization. Yes. Yes he did. He was sick of Lizzi, wanted a change of pace, and completely forgot about her.

His head fell onto his shoulder as he finally passed out and died. Lizzi smiled once more and clung to him desperately, closing her own eyes.

Years went by, and still his parents never found their missing son. The closest they ever got were two dolls- one with blonde hair in cute pigtails and bright green eyes and another with dark blue hair, a bright blue eye, and an eyepatch. The dolls were holding hands. The placed the dolls on the same shelf that their son had kept the rest of his dolls.

A.N.

For Threads birthday, because if I put it off too long, I never get it finished.

So, Happy [Early] birthday, Threads~

Luv ya,

Josh