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The Love Of Michael Myers

Chapter 1

Everybody knew about Michael Myers the mass murderer who was most famous for his killings on halloween.
He was a true example of a pure psychopath with no rhyme or reason, no fear or compassion and no boundaries to the lengths of which he would go.

Tracey Sampson wasn't your typical teenage girl. She was nineteen years old with ebony skin and hair that ran down her back to her hips. She was a timid and shy girl with no friends but thankfully no bullies either. She loved nothing more then to read and watch horror films. The thing that was different about her was that she was a mute. That's right, she didn't talk, hadn't spoken for eight years. Her life had been a tough one, her mother had left when she was two leaving her behind with her neglectful father, sometimes he would go three days before remembering he had to feed her. 

Her school clothes had always been two sizes too small and she was always asked by the teachers as to why she was so skinny and malnourished. Once she'd finally decided to be brave and ask her father for a new school uniform when she was eleven, he'd exploded in a fit of rage and yelled, “do you think I'm made of money? You ungrateful bitch!” He beat her for the first time that night and that's when she'd suddenly stopped talking, what was the point when nobody listened and it just resulted in pain?

She had moved out as soon as she had turned eighteen and gotten herself a little one bed house in a neighbourhood of quiet and friendly families, it was perfect, she'd made it warm and cosy in creams and milky coffee colours or reds and golds. Her arm chair was a warm brown by the window where she could look out while she was reading, she'd bought the place with money she'd saved up over the years, only able to afford it due to its cheap price because no body wanted the home of the Myers place where they'd been slaughtered by Michael.

Tracey had just gotten back home after some shopping at the grocery store in haddonfield, she kicked the door closed and sighed in relief. She never did like to be out around people or the public too long, it made her nervous. She was very lucky that she didn't have to work. Her mother must have felt some guilt, because she still sent birthday cards with money and had given Tracey all the inheritance money of her grandmother who had been staggeringly rich, after she had moved in, let's just say it was enough to live on and more! It helped that she chose to be sensible with her money.

Tracey was still a virgin, but it wasn't that, that bothered her so much although it was difficult, no, it was the loneliness that got to her the most.

Sighing to herself, she made a bowl of popcorn when it was nearing seven and stuck on the exorcist, afterall it WAS halloween eve and she wanted to get into the spirit, maybe she was fucked up from her childhood, but living in the Myers family home was cool to her rather than terrifying and it only added to the whole halloween mood.

Falling asleep halfway through the film she nearly sky rocketed into the air when she heard banging on her door. Damn it! She should have remembered that people loved to knock on when it was close to halloween. They always wanted to come in and look around, just so they could say they had been inside Michael Myers house.

She tip toed down and hoped she wouldn't get yelled at for being rude when she didn't speak. Holding her breath she opened the door. Two men who were completely drunk were laughing and falling around when the balding, grey haired one who was at least in his fifty’s managed to slur, “ccaaan wee look arounddd in ere miss!” He rasped.
Getting a really uneasy feeling about these two she shyly shook her head no. 
“Pretty pease!” He managed making his mate laugh.
She shook her head again and went to shut the door.

When it wouldn't budge, she looked down and realised that he'd jammed his foot in between the door, shock shot through her when he slammed it open and stepped Inside, his mate following behind.
Fear coursed through her entire body when they grabbed her. They pawed at her chest and tried to yank her trousers down but she was too afraid to even remember how to scream! 

Suddenly the balding drunk stood stock still in front her, his hands still gripping her shoulders with a look of shock across his face. The guy behind her who had been gripping her wrists painfully, suddenly let go and ran out the back door.

Confused, she looked at the perv’s shocked face and followed his gaze when he looked down to his stomach, she trembled when she saw a butchers knife sticking all the way through, the tip only inches from her own stomach. Gasping she staggered backward and looked up to the towering height of...oh was Michael Myers himself! It had to be even though he was supposed to be dead, it could have been a copycat she thought to herself, but there weren't too many people who reached seven feet tall and besides, his mask was slightly mottled and damaged, a sure sign of the full use and abuse it had faced over the years.

Set on his fleeing prey she sighed a silent breath of relief when he stalked past her, deathly silent as he was well known for, to chase down the other drunk.

Trembling uncontrollably Tracy ran up the stairs and hid under the bed, she knew it was cliche but she also knew that whenever victims had run from him before he always...always! Caught up with them in the end, and so she hid.

If she wasn't sure if he would return before, she sure as hell knew now as a heavy set of footsteps, entered her house and slowly made their way around the place before making a slow descent up the stairs, each creak bringing death closer towards her.
He was looking for her, panicking, all she could do was hold her breath and pray as she saw as well as heard his black worker boots enter her bedroom and stop still in the doorway. What was he doing? She wondered. 

Then, as silent as the night itself he bent down, dragged her out from under the bed and hurled her up and onto her feet. Fear engulfed her but she still couldn't scream, what was the point anyway she thought, she was clearly done for and so she closed her eyes with the last memory being of those black worker boots, that mechanic uniform and of course, that hideous plain white mask, damaged and mottled, the fake hair on it dried with blood, and awaited her fate.

Submitted: April 03, 2015

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