The Depression Of Repression (Michael Myers X OC)

Chapter 4- Hot On The Trail...

LOOMIS'S POV

Last Halloween night, Michael Myers escaped the sanitarium and brutally killed twenty three people. I've been going door to door in search of Michael or the trail of death that follows him. If I found him, I could try and reach him again. There was no particular pattern in the murders, as expected. After several hours, I came upon a two story house, painted an eggshell color, and it had red shingles.The house had a sidewalk leading up to a few steps and above them, a cement floored porch. The house had orange Halloween lights strung about the columns supporting the porch, skeletons in the trees, fake zombies and entrails scattered about the tall grass.... But no jack-o-lanterns , whoever lived here must've out done themselves this year, but forgot to put away the decorations.

After going up the well kept steps, and walking across the porch I approached the tall, red front door and knocked several times. "Hello? This is Samuel Loomis!" I called into the house, pressing my cheek against the door. Nothing. Not a sound. Curiosity got the better of me and I walked down the porch and around the house. The back yard was just as decorated, and had a glass porch. The back door was open..... Something wasn't right. This place gave me and eerie feeling that I knew all too well. I wasn't one to intrude, but this was very important. This was for the sake of Haddonfield.

Deciding to check on the homeowner I wandered through the untrimmed grass that clearly hadn't been mowed in quite some time. I made it up to the porch and tucked my hand into the pocket of my trench coat. My fingers brushed against the handle of my gun. I had it with me in case Michael decided to pop up, which was unlikely. Entering the porch I looked through the open door. There was no light. And then I pieced it together. ' Michael... ' Making my way inside I turned on a few faux candles using the pale natural light from outside to find the outlets. Then, I switched on the kitchen light that was now, visible. Turning around, my eyes drifted to the floor where I saw a grisly sight, indeed. No surprise. A dead dog, it must've gotten in his way. But where was the owner?

Likely dead...But, still. I'd have to explore the house to find answers...

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CARLISLE'S POV

' Why did he get so... Angry. ' I couldn't help but wonder after Michael slammed the door. Then again, he was out of his mind, so putting anything past him would be unwise. I just closed my eyes and tried to relax a bit. And then a quote came to mind that I heard right after I got out of college; 

"One person's craziness is another person's reality." ~ Tim Burton

I kept that quote with me ever since I graduated from Haddonfield University. At the time, I was twenty two, and now I'm twenty four. I had my mind set on becoming a vet. Since I wasn't a fan of people though, I worked online. I helped organize appointments and eventually came in from time to time since I had the ability to assist in caring for the animals. That was how I got Jumbo. The owner didn't want the dog and I found the creature adorable, so I happily took him home with me. But I didn't want to think about the terrible incident that happened recently, so I tried to distract myself.

And then I was reminded of those nightmares. That symbol..... Oh! I remembered it from an essay that I did in English during senior year. It was over cults, and the one that I chose to write on was Thorn. A Celtic cult, that spread a violent and murderous curse.  There were rumors that there was a new ritual added to it so that young women could be cursed as well, but it was unknown if that was true. Then it hit me, that new ritual of curse spreading in young women was what this Michael Myers guy was trying to use on me! I was tied down, had my injuries cleaned and he attempted to put the symbol on my wrist. I realized that he wasn't trying to kill me, but curse me. Jerking upwards with wide eyes, forgetting about my restraints, I winced at the pain in my wrists. 

My eyes drifted to my clothing. A long sleeve, basket ball tee styled shirt. It was mostly grey, with dark red sleeves which were now dirty and wrinkled. My plain, baggy, dark jeans were ripped. My grey converse were covered in scuff marks and dirt. I realized that I looked like a total mess! I let out an annoyed groan and flopped back down onto the bed. But then my stomach chose that time to release a loud growl and I realized how starving I was. 'Ohhhh Great..' I thought as I hoped that I'd be fed eventually. That would be fantastic....

Then, I suddenly felt the bed dip, and I jumped. Looking at the source of the weight, I was met with the sight of my captor. Michael Myers. "We gotta stop meeting like this." I joked aloud, exhaustion and hunger over weighed my common sense. He slowly tilted his head to the side, and my stomach growled again. A deep blush formed on my face as I looked away, embarrassed. Michael stood up , taking a long stride to the door in one swift, graceful motion and yet again slammed the door, making me jump. I sighed in annoyance a moment or so later when I figured that he wouldn't hear it.

'How do I always get myself in such trouble?' Was all that crossed my mind at the moment. I just stared at the ceiling for a little while before I was interrupted by the sound of rustling. Looking up, I saw Michael putting down a grocery bag and approaching me slowly. I watched as he untied my wrists, and then made his way to my ankles. 'If I try to escape, he'll catch me in no time flat, and probably kill me. That's not an option. He probably locked the door or something.' I thought as my heart raced when I was free of my restraints. He made his way to the door and stood in front of it. 'Smart guy....' I eyed him carefully as I shifted to a sitting position and stretched my body, listening to my bones crack and groan from being in one position for so long, and carefully scooted to the edge of the bed. Gesturing to the bag, I asked;

"I-Is this... for me?" He gave a firm nod in response, and I leaned forward. Taking my eyes off of him, I reached into the bag to find a bottle of rootbeer, and a box of chocolate poptarts. A huge smile spread across my face and I looked over at him, barely being able to see him in  the dim light. "Thanks..." His presence may have been eerie.... but hey...

' Maybe he's not THAT bad...'