THE SHAPE watched the house across the street with a chilling focus. It was an average-sized house, on a normal street in a suburban neighborhood. 45 Lampkin Lane. It was the shape's house. The front porch lights were turned on as if expecting someone.
A car pulled up to the house, and a young man of about seventeen exited it. He had short blond hair and wore a blue-and-white striped t-shirt. The teenager walked up the steps and entered the house.
The shape moved across the street. Gliding over to the house, it could hear voices.
"-Michael's around here somewhere - take that thing off!"
It moved to the window. The boy and a girl were sitting on the couch, watching TV. It was Halloween; there were countless monster movies on tonight. The two, however, were not interested in the movie, but more in each other. They kissed on the couch.
"Let's go upstairs," said the boy.
"Oh, all right," the girl relented.
Dropping the clown mask he had used to startle the girl, the boy led her out of the living room and up the stairs. The shape watched them, lifting its gaze to the window above. A single light was shining.
Then it went off.
The shape moved back to the front of the house, through the front door. It made not a sound. Seeing the deserted living room, it turned off the TV. The shape picked up the mask, putting it on himself. Walking into the kitchen, it strode to a drawer, pulled it out, and unsheathed a large kitchen knife. And there it waited.
After a while, the boy came down the stairs.
"Call me later," the girl's shrill voice followed him.
"Yeah, Judith." The boy went out the kitchen door, not seeing the shape as he left. It heard the car leave, then ascended the stairs itself. It made its way into a small bedroom, where the girl sat at her mirror, brushing her hair. She was singing to herself, an innocent song that made the fact of what she had just done that much more ironic.
She noticed the shape entering the room. "Michael!" the girl shrieked once.
The shape plunged the knife into her, over and over without remorse. When the girl ceased to scream, it stared at her body for a long time. Its task completed, it left the bedroom.
Another car was pulling up. Walking out the kitchen door, it halted in front of it as two people walked up. "Michael?" puzzled the man as he pulled the mask from the shape's face.
The adults froze in shock.
A six-year-old boy gazed blankly beyond them. His face was utterly emotionless, his eyes empty and cold. The knife rested in his hand, blood spattered all over it. He wore a simple, dollar-store clown costume.
Michael Myers stood forever before his parents. His sister Judith was dead.
