A/N: Sorry for such short chapters, I don't have a lot of time to post.

Chapter 7: Captured By A Man Named Mister Death

"Buffalo Bill's

defunct

who used to

ride a watersmooth-silver

stallion

and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat

Jesus

he was a handsome man

and what I want to know is

how do you like your blueeyed girl

Mister Death?"

I wake up in a large family room, on a strange, rugged, old couch. I sit up, my head throbbing, as I realizing I sat upwards too quickly. I put my hand up to rub my head, but a warm liguidy-substance seeps onto my hand. I quickly bring my hand down to eye level, and see my crimson blood glowing in the moonlight from the roof above. Michael must've hit me. Must've knocked me out. Why would he do that?

He's a serial killer, you idiot.

I scold myself. Man, I've been doing a lot of scolding lately. Maybe, I've been too self-centered? Maybe so, but that is none of my concern at the moment. Now, where's Michael? And, where am I? The body of the house doesn't look so good, the paints on the walls all ugly and battered up, pictures crooked and cracked, wallpapers torn, stairs with holes in them, and the roof with gaping holes allowing the full moon's light to creep in. I sigh, causing my head to throb again. This whole place is dilapidated. I crane my neck to the side, rubbing the back of my sore neck(which I figured would be sore due to the fact I was sleeping on a couch, so I could've been in a awkward position), and I spot something red on the walls. I get up, stumbling to the railing of the stairs, I fixate my gaze onto the wall. It reads: Mister Death. And just to the right, it reads: Samhain. A Celtic holiday, and/or Halloween if I remember correctly. And just to the right of that, it reads: Michael Myers...(and barely visible to me) Boogeyman. Hmm.

I literally jump at the sound of an echoing creak behind me. I slowly turn myself around, and when I reach a whole turn, nothing awaits me. 'Hmm. This house is old. It must make noises all the time' I think trying to reassure myself. I turn back around, and literally scream. In fact, I did scream.

"MICHAEL DON'T DO THAT!" I whisper-yell at him in surprise, and he doesn't do anything but stare at me coldly with his icy blue eyes. Something tells me in his gaze, that something isn't right. I give him a look like, 'What's wrong?' and his stare goes back to a blank, emotionless look. I give him a more stern look...like that'll ever work...and question him with a certain gaze again. Still, no response. I decide to take all the energy I have, and ask: "Michael, why do they call you 'Mister Death'?" I ask ever-so-innocently. He gives me the look that expresses, 'You should know that,' and I nod. "Why am I here?" I question again, awaiting a response. He stares at me, and I feel my cheeks get hot. My heart beats faster, and I feel my cheeks get rosy red. Aww crud. Not now. He cocks his head to the side, and I try to hold back a girly giggle. What is WRONG with ME?! I am never, I repeat, NEVER, like this. What do I have for Michael? He's a freaking serial killer! What is wrong with me?

'Your in my house, the Myers' house. I am your captor. Now don't make me regret not putting you on chains.'

A notepad that was shoved into my face, reads. Thanks, Michael. The sarcastic voice fills my thoughts. I really needed a notebook flippin' shoved into my face. I growl, and Michael backs away.

Wait.

It all of the sudden came to me like a tidal wave at Japan. Holy guacamole. He just backed off when I growled! I grumble again, this time on purpose for a test, and he backs up even more. I begin to walk towards him, muttering strange things under my breath, and creating high pitched sounds with my un-used voice. He cups his hands over the ears of his mask, pressing his hands tightly against them, as if it were a high pitched shrill. I back him up into a wall, and close in on him. I hear his now, un-steady breathing, more like heaving, through his mask. I look at him, his eyes pleading for me to stop. Wait, he was pleading?! I place my hand on his shoulder and he shakes for a quick second, and shoves me hard across the room, into a wall. My head hits the wall with a loud bang, and it begins to bleed and throb again, causing me to become dizzy as Michael's ghost-like form trudges over to me. Now, all I can see is his scary blue eyes, piercing blue eyes, and these words from a poem I once read, echoes through my head.

"How do you like your blueeyed girl

Mister Death?"