Halloween
My Soul to Take
Prologue
"Dr. Sam Loomis: I met him, fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six-year-old child, with this blank, pale, emotionless face and, the blackest eyes... the *devil's* eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply... evil"
In Jungian psychology, the shadow is a part of the unconscious mind consisting of repressed weaknesses, shortcomings, and instincts. It is one of the three most recognizable archetypes, the others being the anima and animus and the persona. "Everyone carries a shadow," Jung wrote, "and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is." It may be (in part) one's link to more primitive animal instincts, which are superseded during early childhood by the conscious mind. Michael Myers was maniacal, malevolent and seemingly unstoppable but as with everything in life all things come to an end.
His reign of terror and fear over the sleepy American town of Haddonfield has gone on for decades, many lives have been lost and many more destroyed. It has been over 20 years since his name was even mentioned. His family home, the cursed building no longer stands, an empty shell of burned wood and mortar stain the street where it once stood proud and just another piece of the suburban jigsaw.
The residents of this town are mere shells, vessels if you will of the people they used to be. A few new families and the odd business have sprung up but the memory still long haunts the town and it will be forever the place where many believe Beelzebub cast his faithful servant to roam for eternity.Chapter 1 – Never the twain shall meet
The town of Haddonfield, Illinois has seen its fair share of tragedy and misfortune, these days empty houses, stores and businesses litter the once thriving centre of town. No kids at the playground or sports teams on the fields and a cold breeze seems to hang year round and the few remaining families and towns people go about their daily lives in a blank often invidious existence. The year 1963 will be forever associated with death in this town, much the same as New York is associated with 9/11 and it lives in legend. What drove that 6 year old child, who should have been full of innocence and wonder to brutally and without contempt murder his sister? It's a question that has plagued the town, it's people and the staff at Smith's Grove Sanatorium for the last 39 years. For that night started something which would change forever the town. The place where the Myers house once stood, is now just a twisted heap of bricks and burnt wood, ever since the events of 31st October 2002. That fateful night when Michaels rampage cost the lives of several local college students, with thousands more watching the events unfold online. The last ten years has been a frenzy of lawsuits and protests of the families seeking justice for the victims of that night "Dangertainment" has long since gone bankrupt, it's owner receiving a lengthy jail sentence, but to the families of the people killed the settlement and subsequent justice can never compensate nor bring back their loved ones. A police cruiser rattles up to the pavement, its exhaust kicks out a gasp of fumes, out steps the athletic looking, good for his age "Sheriff Anderson". He sighs " God damn it, what a mess" he kicks around the ashes and moves some old wood. The sound of wood moving, a hollow echo hits something metal, the sheriff walks over to where the noise came from, he can see some kind of sinkhole, he peers over the edge. A figure looks back up at him, we can hear shallow breathing. The sheriff notices something down there, he slowly removes his torch and unclasps his gun clip from his belt. "Ok Haddonfield PD come out of there before I run you in for trespassing" Slowly a wiry frame ascends the ladders from what appears to be a sewer drain, "Ok sheriff don't shoot I was just taking a look around". "God dammit kid, you almost gave me a heart attack". The boy stands up, wearing a Star Wars t-shirt, his face and arms covered in burnt ash from the wood. "What the hell were you doing here" "I was just trying to find some souvenirs sheriff". The sheriff now looking annoyed slips his torch back into the loop on his belt and clips his gun clasp shut. "Well you won't be able to poke your nose around here much longer, the developers are moving in next week, a brand new house is going up, so you will have to find somewhere else to get your kicks" "They can't build a house here" the kid seems astounded, "this is part of town legend", "well not for much longer, Myers is dead and his legacy is gone, time to move on kid, now get out of here" The sheriff pleased he has taught the kid a lesson, watches him trundle off down Lampkin Lane. He grabs some police tape out of his jacket pocket, quickly puts up a thin, but still somehow menacing barrier around the hole using the burnt timers as posts. "Good riddance, and may the future never remember you". He walks away, slides back into his police cruiser, the engine splutters to life and he pulls away. The rain starts to come down heavy as the Sheriff drives off down the street a storm is coming….. Location: Haddonfield County Morgue 2:00AM A young orderly whistles walking down a long, foreboding corridor, pushing a gurney its grisly contents hidden beneath a black bag. He stops and flashes his ID badge across the reader, the door buzzes open the security guard makes a grunt in his direction. The orderly stops at 2 huge steel doors, he punches a code in and the doors swoosh open. He wheels in the gurney and hands the clipboard to the pathologist; she scribbles her signature annoyed at being disturbed and the orderly leaves. Jennifer Hanson (30) fresh out of her internship at Cedars in L.A, is an ambitious yet caring person. She deals with death and tragedy on a daily basis yet still retains her optimism and her high spirit. She had taken over from Dr Monroe as the county coroner some 6 months earlier when a broken hip had forced him into early retirement. Many scoffed at a woman especially one so young being given such an illustrious position, but she had braved on through the macho criticism and often hard pressed bureaucratic nonsense to establish herself as a fine choice and never shirked at taking on difficult cases head on. Perhaps this was one of the reasons she was still single, her parents back in Maine, often rang her and the conversation eventually turned to grandkids, marriage and god forbid she ended up single and lonely. But she had a strong will, and despite the odd fling, and the drunken mistake as she called it, she was happy, but if the right guy came along then who knows. She flung the clipboard on the metal table next to a computer, not even bothering to check the name. She opened the bodybag carefully, the zip juddering its way open to reveal it's macabre contents. This part never surprised her but still made her feel uneasy, " Urgh" she moaned as before he lay a bloodied and battered body, some resembling features which she made out must be a woman maybe late 20's. She picked up the clipboard, and read the first few lines that had been scribbled by the EMT's. Name: Heather Willaims Age: 28 COD: Hit and Run, multiple lacerations and fractures, cause of death most likely heavy internal bleeding cause by high impact to the stomach rupturing the spleen and perforating the stomach. "what a waste, whichever bastard did this I hope they hit a tree on the way home" It always seemed to bother her when a young life was taken in a way which could have been avoided. "Hey Jenny" an excited voice shouted from the doorway. She didn't even have to lift her head she knew it was Rick. " Rick how many times have I told you, its Dr Hanson at work". Rick was a young intern at the morgue, he was bright enough but easily distracted, ever since that drunken one night stand after the Christmas party last year, he hung around maybe hoping for a date. She knew it was nothing more than alcohol, loneliness and her hormones that made her go home with him that night, still she had enjoyed herself even if she had to take the walk of shame, creeping out of his apartment at 5am the next day."So gorgeous when am I gunna get to take you out again". "Ah Rick maybe I can fit you in next century Im kinda busy". "Haha you always crack me up" he cackled back. "Have you heard the news?" he said like a kid a Christmas, "I've been in the freezer all night so apart from the odd beep of the door opening it's been pretty much silent down here" "Well its big news, you have heard of Michael Myers right? " Something huge has happened over in Russellville, they found maybe 8 or 9 bodies at the old Bowles Farm on I59". "ok so what has this got to do with Myers? She said exasperated. "and the er short version please Rick" "Ok Ok, well they think its Myers handiwork, all the victims stabbed, some near decapitated, maybe 2, 3 weeks old, They called in the state troopers to help out its all over the news" "Ok Rick settle down, firstly Myers hasn't been heard of in nearly 10 years, and second any maniac with a motive and a knife could have done that" "Yeah ok true, but is it a coincidence that Sarah Moyer was one of the victims?" This made Jennifer stop, she seemed to freeze and dropped the clipboard it clattered on the floor. She had known Sarah since their days together at HSU (Haddonfield State University) they had roomed together in the first semester, and kept in touch since their graduation. She buckled a little and leaned against the gurney for support, Rick rushed over to help, "You ok Jenny?" she smiled at him with a tear in her eye, " "Thanks Rick, I…I cant believe she's gone" "I need to erm, I need to go and make a phone call, Il talk to you later" she kissed him on the cheek and stumbled out of the morgue and Rick stood, he did feel sorry for her, maybe he would ask her out for a drink later…
LOCATION: Bowles Farm, I50, Russelville
