Disclaimer: I do not own the Halloween franchise nor am I affiliated with John Carpenter, Rob Zombie nor Dimension Films in any way. 'Halloween Night' is a work of complete fiction and any similarities or references to any persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Author's Note: I've been wanting to write a Halloween themed story for quite some time, so I've decided to pen a chaptered short story that takes place over the course of Halloween night, 31 October 2012. In addition, I've been writing it as I imagine it if it were a film, so for each chapter, I'll provide a song that I'd like my readers to play while they read; each song fits the theme and setting of the chapter and was intended to set the mood as well. I hope you all enjoy this and please, if you've the time, give a review and let me know what you think!

1/

31 October 2012
Wednesday; 2:35pm
Sunday – Sia

"Inside every one of us, there exists a dark side. Most people rise above it, but some are consumed by it until there's nothing left but pure evil."
– Dr. Samuel Loomis

It was a brisk afternoon in Haddonfield, with the temperature reaching an unusual 58° Fahrenheit, accompanied by sharp gusts of wind. The autumn leaves had fallen from their trees and gathered along the pavement and sidewalks, littering the city in a beautiful coat of near-dead foliage. Haddonfield High School's final bell had just rung and students flocked out of the school like a stampede of hyenas, ready to celebrate the holiday with pranks, alcohol and deviant behaviour. Dean O'Callaghan stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slate peacoat and hopped down the front steps of the school, dodging the savagery of his classmates. In his mind, he'd already moved on from high school, but according to the educational board, he still had another eight months before graduation. He was just grateful to be done for the day, on one of his favourite seasons of the year, but his least favourite 'holiday.'

Dean walked at a pace as brisk as the weather, with intentions of getting as far away from the zoo as possible. As he walked down the near empty sidewalk, students in their parentally-purchased sports cars and rice-burners whizzed past. He rolled his eyes and thanked the powers that be that he was raised grateful for the little things. The school's buses had just departed and more whooping and hollering had commenced just before he turned onto the quiet and peaceful Sycamore Road. "The bogeyman is coming!" one of the students yelled from a window on one of the buses. Dean rolled his eyes, but he still couldn't help but be bothered by it; Michael Myers was supposed to be dead. It was ten years ago that he'd massacred the Dangertainment staff and celebrities and no one has seen or heard from him since. His body was burned in the garage of his house and shipped off to the morgue. It was still an eerie feeling to think he might still be lurking around somewhere…if he was still alive, that is.

Dean ran a hand through his dark brown hair and pulled a piece of a fallen leaf out of it. He shoved his hands back in the pockets of his jacket and continued walking home. He stopped at the Sycamore package store and picked up a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and some matches before crossing over to Woodsprings Drive, another peaceful part of the town. He lit a cigarette and continued walking, glancing at the houses ahead. As he neared his house, he slowed to a stop as he noticed something near the hedges on the Masterson's property. A figure with a white face, dressed in slate overalls stood out from the side of the hedges. Dean was too far away to have a proper look, but his heart dropped into his stomach when his first thought sprung to mind. He turned and looked around him to see if he could notice anyone hiding, watching from a distance as a horrid prank was played. He couldn't spot anyone, but when he turned back to face the hedges, the figure was gone. Instinctively, he crossed the street and continued walking slowly. As he approached, he realised that what he'd seen had either disappeared or was never there. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it to extinguish it and continued walking toward his house.

He fumbled for his keys in his pants pocket and unlocked the door, quickly shutting and locking it behind him. He noticed his father's stupid hybrid Toyota in the driveway and knew he was home from work. "Hey, Dad, I'm home," he called out.

"In the kitchen!" his father replied. Dean dropped his backpack on the recliner in the living room and made his way into the kitchen. His father looked up and smiled at him and continued chopping vegetables for the night's dinner. "Did you see Mr. Masterson on your way inside?" Dean shrugged his shoulders. "He's gone and painted his face as a ghost to scare Jack when he comes home, as recompense for detention. He was wearing coveralls the last time I watched from the window; I guess he was working in the garage. I told him to change – he looks more like Michael Myers than anything else."

Dean exhaled deeply, completely relieved by what his father had told him. "Yeah, I did see him then. I thought he was Michael Myers for a moment."

His father laughed, "Don't be foolish. That old bastard's been dead for years."

Dean crossed his arms. "Old bastard? Aren't you two years older than him?" His father glanced up and raised an eyebrow, giving him a classic 'did he just go there' look; Dean took that as his cue to retreat upstairs.

Dean's room was unusually cold and as he walked in, he realised that he left the window open before he'd left this morning. He set his backpack down and walked over to the window. He leaned against the frame and glanced outside, gasping slightly when he saw Mr. Masterson standing in his yard, staring up at Dean's window. "Very funny, Mr. M," Dean called out. He remained motionless, his eyes locked on Dean's gaze. Dean pursed his lips and looked down as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket; when he glanced out the window again, Mr. Masterson was gone.

He started to dial his mother's office number and stopped when he saw Mr. Masterson reappear in the driveway from the street, dressed in normal clothes. Dean dropped his cell phone on the hardwood floor, shattering the screen in the process. He stared out of the window blankly, coming to terms with the fact that the person staring at him was not his neighbour, as there was no logical explanation as to how he could've changed his clothes so quickly. He took a step back and shut his bedroom window.

'Listen, you're just imagining things because of that stupid kid on the bus. Michael Myers is dead and even if he were alive, why would he come after you? You're a nobody, just an average kid with nothing special to offer,' he told himself.

Dean rubbed his eyes and glanced at the floor, noticing his phone lying there with a shattered screen. "Fuck." He picked it up and headed downstairs. "Dad, I'll be back. I have to go get a replacement phone; I dropped it and shattered the screen."

He heard his father laugh from the kitchen. "Good job, butterfingers. Your mother should be home by the time you get back. You can take my car if you want."

"Okay, thanks." He grabbed the car keys and headed outside, flipping up the collar of his peacoat. It was much colder now than it was before he got home. Dean trotted down the front steps and unlocked the door to the Prius before sliding inside and quickly shutting and locking the door, still disturbed from what he witnessed. As he started the engine, his phone starting ringing; he backed out of the driveway and headed toward town. He picked up his phone and carefully slid his finger across the screen to avoid cutting himself on the broken glass. "Hello?"

"Dean, where are you?" a familiar voice spoke on the other end.

"In the middle of the Sahara desert, Patrick, where do you think I am?" Dean sighed and remembered to be serious around his boyfriend when he sounded concerned. "I'm heading into town; I dropped my phone and shattered the screen and I'm picking up a replacement."

Patrick cleared his throat. "What are you doing tonight?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, as if Patrick could see the motion. "I don't know. I planned on curling up on the couch with popcorn and movies. Why, what do you have planned?"

"Well," Patrick began, hesitant to continue, "Jodie's kind of having this party tonight at Pantheon tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to go. I know you don't like clubs, but I thought maybe you and I could just sit at a table with the guys and hang out."

Dean sighed, heavily. 'The guys,' as Patrick referred to were his crew of friends – James, Ryan and Andrew – who enjoy spending their free time drinking beer until submission at Buffalo Wild Wings and shouting about fantasy football. Dean wasn't a fan of the trio at all, despite how cool they've been to him directly and in general in regard to his relationship with Patrick. "Sure, Patrick. I still want to watch movies and eat popcorn, though, so—"

"We can after the party," Patrick said quickly, cutting him off. "I've been wanting to have some alone time with you for awhile anyway. Well, I mean, I always do but you know—I mean, much more than usual."

Dean laughed. "I get it."

"Okay, great," Patrick replied, completely ecstatic. "So, I'll pick you up for, 8 o'clock. I love you, babe. See you soon."

Dean dropped his phone onto the passenger seat and gripped the wheel tightly. "Shit."