(A/N: All characters are fictional; any similarities to any real people are entirely coincidence. Also, I do not own any of the movies, TV shows, and fictional characters seen in this fanfic.)

It is 8:00, Friday night, the thirty-first of October; yes, Halloween. Halloween is my favorite holiday, despite it not really being one, but that does not stop me from handing out candy and treats to little kids, scaring people in my neighborhood, and going to parties dressed in costumes that I make. Another thing that I love about Halloween is that most of the TV shows play nothing but excellent horror movies and documentaries of the history of horror and infamous serial killers, something I love to watch.

I was sitting on my couch in my apartment with a tub of popcorn in my hand flipping through the television channels finding something to watch. I am going to a party at about 10:30 and I had a great costume that I made this year.

My roommate, David, came walking in wearing a scary monster mask, the same one he wore every year. He never had much of an imagination to this kind of stuff. "Hey, I'm heading out to scare some people and to grab some beer. You want anything in particular?"

"Nah, nothing really, but make sure to grab something light though; remember last year, when you got so drunk that somebody found you on their back porch with your shirt off talking like a redneck?" I told him. He nodded and headed out the door. I continued to flip through the channels.

Soon enough, I found something on the history channel: "Most Infamous Serial Killers". I turned the volume up and primed myself ready. The show was very interesting; it covered the most dangerous of killers as well as their somewhat interesting habits, methods, had police officers and officials who worked on the cases give their opinions and thoughts, and so on.

The show covered Ted Bundy, who had killed at least thirty-six young women, though it is believed he has killed one hundred, and his case inspired many novels and films. There was Ed Gein, who was obsessed with his mother, a religious fanatic. He robbed graves, practiced necrophilia, and experimented with human taxidermy. What was really interesting was that he was the inspiration for Norman Bates and Leatherface, two very famous movie serial killers. The show continued to talk about famous serial killers, all equally evil and insane.

The show was only two hours, and there was only a half hour left. I was excited to see who else was left in the line-up. Heh. Would you believe me that those last thirty minutes were devoted to a very special serial killer? Everyone else got only about fifteen minutes, but this one, got thirty, no commercials either. Watching those thirty minutes felt like a breaking news bulletin more than a documentary.

The narrator went on like this:

"This next serial killer has resurfaced after his mysterious disappearance four years ago. In the span of only five months, he has killed over fifty people in multiple states. His targets were mostly families with children. They were all found in their homes brutally mutilated; most gutted, while others were brutally beaten to death.

"No one has ever seen this killer, until three months into his killing spree; a young boy survived an attack. He is here with us now." The camera switched to a teenage boy sitting in a chair. His name, Thomas Reynolds, flashed onscreen.

The boy cleared his throat and began to speak, well, actually he tried to. He took a sip from a glass of water nearby and began speaking. "My God, I don't want to remember his face, that hellish face. Anyway, four years ago, when I was young, I awoke one night from a nightmare. I noticed that my bedroom window was opened even though I remember closing it that night. I got up and closed it once more." Thomas wiped his eyes, which had tears in them. It was clear that it was scaring him to talk about this.

"Sorry, anyway, when I got back in bed, I had the strangest feeling that—that I was being watched. I looked up, and I nearly jumped out of bed. There, in the little ray of light, illuminating from between my curtains, were a pair of two eyes. Oh, my fucking god, those eyes." He said, holding his face in his hand, tears streaming down his face.

"Would you like to stop?" asked a voice from off camera. Thomas just shook his head.

"No, I have to tell everyone about him, because no one can remember him, or maybe they don't want to remember him." He inhaled a great breath and let it out, but tears were still on his face. I remember seeing him, thinking how horrifying this must be for him.

"Those eyes," he resumed. "They weren't normal eyes; they were dark, ominous eyes; bordered in black and…they just terrified me. Then I saw his mouth. Oh shit, his mouth. I can still see it. His mouth had a long, horrendous smile that made every hair on my body stand up. Now, I know that that smile was carved into his face for all eternity. The figure stood there, watching me." He shivered in his seat. "Finally, after what seemed like forever, he said those words that will haunt me to my dying days. It was such a simple phrase, but the way he said it was in a way that only a mad man—no, a hellish monster could say.

"He said, 'Go To Sleep.' Hearing that, I screamed, and he came at me. He aimed a knife for my heart, and he jumped onto my bed. I fought him back; I punched, kicked, and rolled around, trying to knock him off me. Then, my dad burst through the door with his twelve-gauge shotgun. The man then threw the knife, and it went into my dad's shoulder. The man would've finished us both off if he didn't hear the police sirens roll into the driveway, thanks to one of the neighbors.

"Then, the man turned and ran for the hallway outside. I heard the sound of glass smashing, and when I came out of my room, the window at the back of the house was broken. I rushed over to it and saw that evil man vanish into the distance." He took another sip from the glass.

"Dear God, I will never forget his face. I can still see those cold, evil eyes and that hellish smile in my mind when I sleep. He's why I always carry a gun with me everywhere I go except for government buildings. In case he comes back to finish me, I will be ready." Thomas finished his story, and he started breaking into tears. He covered his face with his hands and, while his words were muffled, I could hear him scream, "That fucking face is everywhere I go! I can't stop seeing him no matter how far away he is! I never want to hear that man's name again! The sadistic name that is Jeff!" The camera switched to someone else.

The narrator started to talk while the TV showed pictures of the crime scenes of this Jeff. "Yes, this killer is known as Jeff the Killer, now seventeen years of age, who started his killing spree at thirteen, first taking the lives of his own family. He disappeared five months after he started and no one has ever seen him since.

"But now, he has returned. In the last three months, he has killed five families, leaving only a single note saying, 'Go to sleep'. Jeff was last seen in the state of Tennessee, heading south to the state of Georgia. Here is a picture of him." A picture of this Jeff flashed onscreen; it was so horrifying that I jumped out of my seat, as a chill went down my spine. His face was pure white, burned actually. His smile was haunting, and his eyes were devoid of any humanity. I hope I never see his face in real life.

A police officer appeared onscreen. His name was Officer John Winston. "My team and I were the first to see the return of Jeff," he said. It all happened one sad night, three months ago. I was cruising around in my police car looking for crime, when my police box got a message, talking about a break in at 504 West Street. I was near the location so I called for backup from anyone nearby and headed to the house. When I got there, there were three other police officers who pulled in.

"I told one of them to circle around to the back of the house, while the remaining two went with me. We busted down the door and moved in, flashlights and pistols ready. My God, we were not prepared for the horrors we saw inside. We found the family brutally murdered; the husband lying against a wall with his guts spilled across the floor, the wife with her head bashed in with a bludgeoning object, and one of the kids with stab wounds and his mouth sliced open in a smile.

"The worst part was when we saw him. He was holding the second child in his arms; he burned the child's eyelids off, carved a smile into her face, and her guts removed with blood everywhere. He looked right at us, that damn face, and we all felt chills run down our spine. You already know what Jeff looks like, but I will say that his face has haunted me and the officers to this day. We ordered Jeff to drop the knife and get on the ground; instead, he ran for the back of the house and jumped through a window. I heard a scream and raced for the back window, where I found the knife plunged in the shoulder of the officer back there. When we got out back, Jeff had disappeared." John Winston covered his eyes with his hand.

"He still haunts me to this day. I never want to see that man again for as long as I live. I never want to see that fucking face ever again!" he screamed, as he broke into tears.

The camera switched to the narrator. "What's most horrifying about Jeff the Killer is his face, which has haunted people for years, and that he is still out there, hunting for prey. If you see Jeff, contact the police immediately, hide, and pray he does not find you." Then, the program ended, the screen flashed the agencies and whoever helped in the making of the program, and ended.

After seeing all that, I realized that I was not breathing so I tried to relax. I looked out my window and saw a few people on the street. Then I realized something: Jeff for heading for Georgia; my state. But what are the chances that he'll walk into my town. I took another look out the window again, and this time, I saw a strange man standing out wearing a hood over his face. I could not see so well, but I swear a saw the man had a creepy smile on his face.

I immediately got scared and called the police. They said they will be over right away, so I ran to grab my gun that I got as a gift from my father. I loaded the revolver's chamber and poised myself for anything. Then the doorbell rang.

I went to the door, my gun ready and looked through the eye hole. I saw nothing but black. He was covering the eye hole with his hand. If only I knew that he was actually looking through the eye hole with me, and knew I was in here. I backed away from the door with my gun raised.

That is when he bashed the door open. I opened fire and missed. He jumped on top of me and knocked my gun away. He held me by the throat as he pulled a knife from his pocket. He had a gray hoodie on, with the hoodie covering his face. All I could see was a big, red smile from ear to ear. He lowered his hood and revealed himself; he was Jeff, and he has come to kill me.

He got close to my face and whispered those horrible words, "Shh. Go to sleep." I screamed as loud as I could but no one could hear me. Just as Jeff was to plunge the knife into my heart, he suddenly rolled off me as he was hit with some object. David came back and, seeing what was happening, he smashed his beer against Jeff's head.

I crawled towards my gun, grasping it in my hand while David and Jeff fought each other. David got in a few good punches, but Jeff stabbed him in his side, knocking him to the ground. He would have finished him off if he did not see me crawling for my gun. Jeff lunged at me, but I was too quick for him; I aimed and fired three rounds into him, hitting him in his chest. Jeff dropped the knife and, clutching his chest in pain, ran out the door and disappeared.

I ran over to David and tried to stop the bleeding just as the cops pulled in. They took care of David while a couple of officers questioned me of the events that happened. I told them everything. I was put under protection, while David had to stay in the hospital for a couple of weeks. He made it out okay; I really owe him for saving my life.

But one thing is for sure, I have witnessed the horror of the man known as Jeff the Killer. I had no idea that he was actually real, and now, I can never forget that fucking face. Those eyes filled with nothing but evil, that horrifying smile that haunts my dreams every time. I pray every day to this day, that I never see him again.

END

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story, if you did, leave a review. If you want to see more of my stories, follow me and check them out and I'll see you next time.)