In a place where nothing existed but abyss, the silence was disturbed. A faint light pulsed; red, wet and alive.
it blinked in the distance, rhythmic as a beating heart.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
'Whe…re…?' The thought drifted from the dark like a whisper, but it never finished.
"HHhhhhhhaAAAHHHHHhhhhh—!"
A violent gasp shattered the void. Michael woke, chest heaving as though he had been drowning. His eyes shot open, wide and trembling, and his hand darted instinctively to his forehead. Fingers brushed sweaty skin, but there was no wound. Only the phantom agony of steel lodged between his brows lingered, making his head throb.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, voice shaking.
Another dream. At least, that's what he told himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a trembling palm. But the silence pressing against the room made his nerves crawl. His gaze darted instantly to the door.
"Oh, hell no…"
He swung his legs off the bed, bare feet pressing against the cold floorboards. The silence was suffocating. Every second his heartbeat grew louder, like it wanted to escape his ribcage. He crept toward the door, body tense, as if expecting something to happen.
He stood there for what felt like minutes.
Nothing.
"…Huh?" His hum of confusion was too loud in the quiet. He pressed an ear against the door.
Nothing.
Not even the creak of settling wood or the groan of pipes. Just the stillness of a house holding its breath.
Slowly, hesitantly, Michael wrapped his fingers around the knob and turned it.
Creeeeaaak.
The door moaned open, spilling darkness from the hallway into his room. His chest tightened, every instinct screaming at him.
"What the fuck am I doing?" he hissed, slamming it shut again, back pressed against the wood.
'What kind of dumb nigga goes looking for danger?'
He shook his head, swallowed, then shouted across the room. "Yo, Jessica! You awake?!"
Silence answered him.
"Fuck this," he muttered.
Hand twisting the knob again, he yanked the door open and stuck his head out. His pulse hammered so loud it was almost deafening. The staircase stretched before him in the distance, leading down into shadows.
"Whew." His sigh broke shaky from his chest.
Maybe I'm tripping.
He scanned the hall, eyes hunting for movement. Nothing. Just dust, shadow, silence. He shut the door quickly and clicked the lock into place.
Click.
He turned back toward the window, its pale glow filling the room. The moonlight painted the world exactly as his "dream" had shown it. A perfect match.
"There's no way I'm sleeping."
He dragged an old rocking chair toward the window, its wooden legs scraping against the floor. Sitting down heavily, he sighed again, shoulders sagging.
'Fucking Tyrel. Dumb motherfucker. Always making his problems everybody's problem,' he thought bitterly.
'Why'd he have to drag me into his bullshit? We had an agreement. Stay out my way, I stay out yours. Simple. But nah—dude gotta get petty just 'cause I said what everyone was already thinking. Petty-ass nigga.'
His gaze drifted to the moon, glowing pale through the glass.
"Thank God it was only a dream. Yeah… why would Michael Myers even show up here? In the movies, he was headed home. Why the hell would he stray… just to kill a sleeping girl… and a nigger? Doesn't make sense."
He said it again. "It was just a dream."
Then once more, firmer. "Just a dream."
As though repeating it might carve it into reality.
Ssshhhfff. He exhaled hard, running a hand through his damp hair.
"Tomorrow, I'm outta this town."
exhaustion crept through his bones, dragging at his eyelids. He wasn't asleep, not really, but the limbo between waking and dreaming pulled at him.
Hoooo. Hoooo. Hoooo.
The low call of an owl snapped him upright.
Tap. Tap.
His head whipped to the window.
A raven sat perched on the sill, feathers glistening black as ink, eyes glowing like cold beads.
"What the fuck?"
He waved his hands at it. "Shoo! Shoo!"
It didn't move. Just stared. Its beady gaze reflected the moonlight with unnerving sharpness.
"Shit."
Annoyed now, Michael shoved the window open and waved his arm, pushing at the bird.
Cawwwwwww!
The raven croaked and flapped its wings violently, darting into the night.
"Creepy motherfucker scared the shit outta me." Michael muttered, slamming the window shut.
He chuckled nervously. "For a second there I thought I was gon—"
CRRRRASHHHH!
The sound of shattering glass exploded from downstairs.
Michael froze. Goosebumps crawled across his arms, his heart thundering so hard it hurt.
It was happening.....again.
Thoomp. Thoomp. Thoomp.
Footsteps sounded. Heavy boots on the wooden stairs.
Slow and Deliberate.
"Oh fuck—"
He darted to the window, flung it open again with a loud creeeak, and climbed onto the roof. Cold air slapped his face.
He turned to the tree line in the distance, darkness swallowing the woods. His voice came out in a desperate whisper: "Michael can't run, right?"
His toes curled at the steep drop to the ground below. But fear of heights didn't matter. Not now. He edged across the shingles, each step careful, heading for Jessica's window.
A sense of déjà vu clenched his gut. He paused, breath shaking.
'Come on, man. You're better than this. Girl gave you food, a bed… you can't just leave her to die.'
THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!
The sound of steel hacking wood cracked through the night.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
Jessica's scream tore through the silence, raw and piercing.
Michael's hesitation shattered. He scrambled across the roof toward her window.
"Jessica!" he shouted.
Fog clung to the glass. Inside, light flickered weakly.
"Jessica, it's me! Open the window, climb out, now!"
Her voice trembled from within. "M-Michael?"
Inside the room, Jessica stood frozen, clutching a kitchen knife in shaking hands. The masked figure loomed at her door, blade rising and falling as he hacked through the wood.
"Jessica, open the goddamn window or you're gonna die!" Michael yelled.
Her paralysis cracked. She ran to the window, fumbling at the latch. But before she could swing it wide, a pale, powerful hand shot out from behind her and seized her hair.
"NNNNOOOOO!"
Her scream was choked with sobs. "No! Please, leave me alone!"
Michael's eyes went wide as he yanked at the window from outside, forcing it open.
"Jessica, come on!"
For a moment, hope flickered in her gaze. Her lips parted. "Hel—"
SCHHLLLKKK!
The knife drove sideways through her cheek, bursting out the other side. The killer's hands gripped the blade, twisting, forcing it deeper through her jaw.
Jessica's scream cut short in a wet, muffled gurgle. Blood sprayed against the glass as her body collapsed with a dull—
Thud.
Michael stared, frozen. Eyes wide, lips trembling, throat clicking as he swallowed hard.
Gulp.
Michael Myers turned his gaze from Jessica's corpse to the window, blank and unstoppable. The mask tilted toward him, like a predator deciding who was next.
Fight?
"Fuck that," Michael whispered.
Without another second wasted, he spun on his heel and leapt from the roof. The drop was high, but the fear of heights was the least of his problems now.