Halloween (A Fan Fiction)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A fan fiction set approximately nineteen years after 'Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers'.

Submitted: September 27, 2018

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Submitted: September 27, 2018

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The sun was setting when the car pulled into the driveway.  The sky flared a deep orange on the horizon, the intense yellow sun hovering low.  Clouds covered the sky overhead, autumn’s typical smoky-gray blanket.  The sky was darkening fast.

The neighbourhood was quiet when Karen exited her car.  The town was always quiet around sunset, especially near Halloween.  It’s been the way of things for the past twenty-nine years.  Karen shuffled through her bag and dug out her house keys.  Hiking her bag up her shoulder, she made along the path to the front door.  She huffed with relief as she slipped her key into the lock.  Another day was done.  The door popped open to Karen's shock.  She pushed the door wide-open and peered inside.  It was dark.  Standing on the threshold, she couldn’t see much.  Not one light was on.  Leaning in, she couldn’t hear a sound, only the chink of her keys.

“Rick, honey?” she called into the house.

There was no reply.

Karen pocketed her keys and stepped inside, cautious and quiet.  Taking several steps in, she paused and listened.  Nothing.  “Rick?”

No answer.

Her neck throbbed with an anxious tingle.  This was unusual.  Peering towards the hall, a faint glint caught her eye on the stand beside the hallway.  Karen approached, eyeing the passage.  It was pitch black.  She took the small object in her hand and held it up.  A candle in a glass holder.  Karen stared at it in confusion.  She could see a small rectangular object next to where the candle had been.  She picked it up.  A lighter.  The candle lit, its dim orange glow highlighted a white rectangular shape on the stand, a heart drawn in its centre.  Karen picked up the card and stared at it with an amused grin.  Rolling her eyes, she tossed it back onto the stand.

“Honey, what are you up to?  A little game before dinner?”

She didn’t expect a reply and didn’t receive one.  Her grin widened.

Karen slipped her bag onto the stand.  As she brought the candle around, a badge pinned to the faux leather gleamed in the light.  The words Haddonfield Adoption Agency flared in the dark.  She approached the living room, holding the weak light up.  Nothing looked different or out of place from what she could see.  She returned to the entry and closed the door, swallowing the house in greater darkness.

Karen moved into the pitch dark of the hallway.  She moved slowly, walking on her toes.  As quiet as a ghost.  The candle hovered in front of her, guiding her way.  She sucked on her bottom lip.  She couldn’t help but wonder what surprises awaited her.

Approaching the diverging hall, Karen peered down it.  It was dark, the silhouettes that bled in from the living room windows the only light at the far end.  If Rick were anywhere, he’d be in their bedroom.  The thought excited her.

Karen took a moment to unbutton the first two buttons of her uniform.  Her fingers moved swiftly over the buttons, her chest rising and falling faster with building excitement.  She shook her head to tousle her hair, giggling as it fell over her eyes.  She hoped her hubby wasn’t spying on her.

At the end of the diverging hall, the shadows broke as a shape stalked past.  It moved in silence, sparing a glance at Karen before disappearing up the passage.

Karen brushed back her hair, straightened her skirt, and tiptoed up the hall into the dining area.  Setting the candle on the dining table, she approached the China cabinet and popped open the door.  She rose to her tiptoes and stretched up her hand, reaching for the crystal wine flutes on the top shelf.  Her fingertips grazed the base of a flute and pressed against it.  Slowly and with great effort, Karen dragged the glass to the edge of the shelf.  She huffed, trying to rise higher on her toes.

Behind her, in the kitchen, the shadows shifted and a shape entered the room.  It looked like a man average in height and build, but it moved like a silent lethal force, stalking the dark with its intimidating stature.  It strode across the kitchen in silence, approaching Karen.

Karen dropped to the flats of her feet and puffed from the exertion.  Taking a deep breath, she rose to her tiptoes again and reached up for the wine glasses.  The shape strode closer.  Karen stretched her arm higher, tilting her body to give it more reach.  The shape stalked into the dining room, a silvery glint flashing in its hand.  Karen’s fingers wormed over the base of the flute, sliding it to the edge of the shelf.  The shape came up behind her.

Karen jumped back as the first flute fell off the shelf.  She caught it as it fell, smiling in triumph, and set it on the bottom shelf of the cabinet.  Reaching up, she nudged another glass over the side and caught it.  Snatching up the other glass, she closed the cabinet door and set the glasses on the dining table.  She straightened her uniform and turned around, moving into the kitchen to the wine fridge.  She brought back a half-empty bottle of wine and filled the glasses.

Karen left the bottle on the table.  They would finish it with dinner.  Slipping the flute stems between the fingers of her one hand, she took the candle in her other and exited the dining area, traipsing into an adjoining hall that led to a staircase.  She snuck up the steps, her pulse racing as she neared the top.

She turned into a hallway.  Their room waited at the end.  An orange glow lit the floor beneath the closed door.  Karen’s heart fluttered with excitement.  Her hubby waited on the other side.  She moved with extra care to be as silent as possible.  She didn’t want to tip him off.

The dim glow of her candle highlighted the first door on her left: the guest room.  Closed.  She continued up the dark passage, a door on her right illuminated by the candlelight.  Her office.  Karen’s brow furrowed as she noticed a two-inch gap in the door, revealing the darkness of the room beyond.  Someone had been in her office.  Why?  Was it part of the game?

Karen nudged the door open and held up the candle.  Empty.  As far as she could tell.  She entered the room and approached the desk near the back wall.  She carefully set the glasses of wine down, then looked around.  Nothing was out of place on her desk and the shelf of textbooks and case studies behind it was in good order.  There wasn’t much on the right side of the room, except for a bookshelf and a chair.  Neither were disturbed.

Karen slipped across the room to the filing cabinets standing in the back corner.  Everything seemed fine until she inspected the cabinet nearest the wall.  The candlelight revealed a slight jut in the top drawer.  It was barely noticeable, the drawer all but closed, but Karen noticed.  She set the glass candleholder on top of the cabinet and slid open the drawer.  Nothing appeared disturbed.  Who would go through her files?

Karen fingered through the manila folders.  Her eyes darted between pages as she rapidly flicked through each file.  She gleaned bits of information from each page, affirming each folder’s organization and completeness.  She searched through the A’s and the B’s, her fingers dancing faster through the C’s.  Every patient looked accounted for.  There didn’t seem to be any missing pages from any of the files.

Searching through the D’s, Karen’s fingers flipped through the papers with decreasing patience.  There was nothing missing.  Had it been her?  Had she failed to close the drawer properly?  No.  Her fingers froze as they came across an empty file, all pages removed from the manila folder.  Karen stared, confounded.  What could anyone want with an adoption file?  Karen retrieved the candle and shined it over the label, illuminating the patient’s name: Doyle, Steven.  She bit her bottom lip, trying to recall the case.

The boy had no living relatives from what she could recall.  It was an older case, though, her memory of it hazy.  But she remembered the man who’d adopted the boy.  Tommy.  A sweet young man.  He’d discovered the infant and they had already developed a bond.  Theirs was a special case, she remembered.

Karen leaned against the filing cabinet, the empty file in her hand, while she tried to recall the specifics of the adoption.  Behind her, a shape filled the doorway.  It approached, stalking towards her with slow, even steps.  Karen sighed and placed the empty file on top of the cabinet with the candle.  She paused, trying to recall more of the case, but it had been so long ago.  The shape came up behind her, its body almost brushing against hers as it stopped.

Karen huffed with frustration and closed the cabinet drawer, almost forgetting to close it quietly.  She couldn’t imagine who would want the file or what they would do with it, but it was something that would have to wait until morning.  She took the candle and turned around, making for the desk and the flutes of wine.  She scooped them between her fingers and headed for the door.

Using the pinky of her candle-bearing hand, Karen closed her office door as best she could.  She took a breath, still bothered by the missing file.  Clearing the matter from her head, Karen proceeded towards her bedroom.  The orange glow radiating underneath the closed door returned a grin to Karen’s countenance, her excitement brightening her mood once more.  Her thighs tingled as she stood before her bedroom door.  What was waiting on the other side?

“Rick?” she called.  “Honey, you ready for me?”

No reply came.  The house was silent.

Karen gently knocked with her knuckle, “I’m coming in, honey,” and finagled with the door.

The door crept open.  Through the small gap, Karen could see a display of candles burning on the vanity, and in the mirror’s reflection, she could see more candles burning atop their dresser.  Karen’s grin turned into a naughty smile.  She nudged the door farther open and slunk into the room.It was a dazzling sight to see their bedroom bathed in romantic orange light.  Candles were everywhere.

“Oh, wow,” she gasped.  She took a moment to appreciate the setup.  It looked like it took a lot of time to put together.  It was beautiful.  The only thing missing was her husband.

“Rick, honey?  Where you hiding?”

Karen peeked behind the door and scanned the corners of the room, keeping an eye out for any hiding place he could jump out from, but she couldn’t find him.  The bathroom door stood half closed.  Karen tiptoed towards it.  Her eyes trailed to the bed where she noticed the odd shape hiding beneath the rumpled sheets.  She tried not to laugh at the ridiculous sight.  It was an obvious hiding spot, but maybe that was the point.

Karen set her candle atop the dresser with the other candles and approached the bed.  She suppressed a giddy chuckle, eagerly waiting for Rick to jump up and spring the surprise.

“This is clever, sweetheart.  I have to hand it to you.  I almost thought you’d stood me up.”  Her delight rose as she stood at the head of the concealed shape.  “How long did this take to think up?”  She set the wine glasses on the nightstand and waited for her husband to give up the charade.

“Are you sleeping under there?” she teased.

Still no reply.  No movement.

She leaned forward and reached for the cover.  “I hope you’re dressed up.  I’m in my naughty adoption agent’s uniform,” she spoke in a breathy voice.

Karen pulled back the cover.  A gasp escaped her gaping mouth and her body seized in terror.  She stared in disbelieving shock at the horrifying scene before her.  Lying in bed, his neck and chest smothered in blood, a slit across his throat was her husband Rick.  He did not move and she could not see his chest rise or fall.  Even as Karen began to cry, he remained frozen, his body stiff, his eyes locked in an unblinking stare on the ceiling.

Karen took a step back from the gory scene, her hand covering her mouth as she felt her stomach churn.  “Oh my God,” her panicked breath quivered.

She slowly backed away from the bed, unable to look away from the horrific sight.  She couldn’t believe this was real.  Taking another step back, her heel came down on something hard.  She stumbled to a halt as she backed into what felt like a wall.  Before Karen could turn around, her head snapped back as something snagged her by her hair.  She released a pained gasp and threw her hands up to release herself from whatever had caught her.  Her nails clawed and scratched at the tough skin of a powerful hand, but there was no prying its fingers loose.  Quick breaths huffed in her ear while she struggled to get free.  She twisted her body, trying to pull away, but the hand would not release her.

Karen cried out, the hand jerking her back.  She didn’t feel the steel blade slice into the soft tissue of her throat, but she felt something warm flow down her neck.  She gasped for air, suddenly struggling to take a breath.  Her body felt weak, her legs ready to buckle.  Karen pressed a hand to her throat and felt the wet cascade of blood spewing down it.  A harsh wheeze whistled from the slit, a spurt of blood gushed forth, spraying the floor and the side of the bed.  Her pulse drummed wildly as she tried to take a breath.  She was losing her vigour and with each passing second without oxygen, her pulse was waning.

Karen sank towards the ground, the hand allowing her to drop.  Her eyes felt heavy.  She tried to speak, but her words lodged in her throat with a gurgle.  Her pulse slowed.  Her vision blurred and her thoughts darkened.

With her last bit of strength, Karen arched her head back enough to stare at the white, featureless face of her killer.  A mask that hid all emotion and the human being who had chosen her and her husband as his victims.  As her vision failed, she stared into his eyes.  The blackest eyes.  The devil’s eyes.  With a final wet gasp, her eyes fluttered closed and her body fell limp.

The shape let her body slump to the ground, freeing her from his grasp.  She laid over his feet like a roll of bedsheets.  He stared at her motionless form, tilting his head in quiet observation.  He tilted his head the opposite direction, the calm flow of his breath the only sound in the room.  His attention turned to the man lying in bed, dead by his hand.  He viewed the scene a moment longer.  Satisfied, the shape turned and stalked out of the room, allowing the door to close behind him.

 


© Copyright 2018 Jeff Bezaire. All rights reserved.

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