Author's Note: his story is for a Halloween challenge put on by sdavid09

The challenge was to create a story inspired by a horror movie, and a song and I chose the movie "Halloween" which, at its heart, is a story about a woman having a psycho stalker, and the song "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga. The month got away from me so I'm still writing it, but it'll probably be about four or five chapters or thereabouts so not super long.

Warnings: Intense Horror Elements (honestly not sure how to explain it other than that. It's nothing that I graphically detail or anything, but it does get pretty intense at times so I wanted to put a warning for that) If you have read my writing then you probably have a pretty good idea of how far I'll go, and also that I always provide a guaranteed happy ending. SO, you can rest assured that, no matter how scary or intense it gets, it's going to be all right in the end for the protagonist. Anyhoo, just be aware, this is for a Halloween Challenge, and is meant to be scary and IS scary. If you are not a person who can handle horror (and that's perfectly fine, I'm actually not a person who can handle horror so I literally just scared myself writing a story :P) then this may not be the story for you. Fortunately, I have PLENTY of other stories you can read with no horror elements at all so I will shamelessly plug them and invite you to check them out! :D

"There, now was that so bad?"

Bilba gave Priscilla a look that suggested her best friend had taken leave of her senses, and gestured outside the car's window. "You're joking, right?"

As if summoned, a large group of children rushed across the street, breaking around the car like waves around a rock as they rushed from house to house in search of candy.

Priscilla laughed and shut the car off. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"I doubt it," Bilba muttered. She'd only had her license a few months, and was still getting comfortable driving at night. She'd driven them both to the movies, when the sun was still nice and up, but had refused to drive anywhere in the midst of thousands of children running about.

Priscilla frowned. "Shoot, I just realized." She gave Bilba an apologetic grin. "I drove to my house instead of yours."

She didn't look sorry, Bilba thought crossly.

"I guess," Priscilla said innocently, drawing out the word, "you'll have to drive the rest of the way yourself."

Bilba gave her a flat look and then, without breaking eye contact, grabbed her purse and coat and got out of the car.

Immediately, she was assailed by the shrieks of children dressed in bright costumes as dozens of tiny bodies dashed from house to house in search of sugary treats to fill plastic buckets and pillowcases. A crisp autumn air wrapped around her and she set her purse on the car's roof to pull her coat on.

Priscilla scrambled out of the car, dodging a handful of ghosts and ghouls and their harried parents. "Wait, what are you doing?"

Bilba pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at her friend. "What does it look like? Walking home."

"You can't walk home," Priscilla said, rounding the car to where Bilba stood on the sidewalk. "It's dark!"

Bilba turned in an exaggerated circle to take in the streetlights and the veritable hoard of trick-or-treaters and their parents. "It's like two blocks. I think I'll be fine."

Priscilla scowled. "I'll walk with you then." She crossed her arms triumphantly, clearly convinced Bilba would now capitulate and agree to drive.

Instead, Bilba merely smiled. "How will you get home?"

Priscilla rolled her eyes. "I'll wal-" she trailed off, realizing her mistake, but it was too late. Bilba grinned.

"Oh, so you don't think it's too dangerous to walk." She waved at her friend and took a few steps away, quickly before Priscilla could come up with another argument. "I'll come pick up my car tomorrow."

Priscilla's mouth opened and closed as she tried to find a way out of the box she'd neatly trapped herself into. Finally, she scowled and said, "call me when you get home, all right?"

"I will!" Bilba gave a final wave as she headed toward her home. She reached the corner and looked over her shoulder to see Priscilla standing near her front gate, watching to make sure she didn't get kidnapped in public. Bilba waved and the other girl returned the gesture before raising her phone and pointing to the screen. Bilba gave an exaggerated nod to show she understood and then rounded the corner. Priscilla worried too much. The streets were overflowing with people trick-or-treating or driving to and from parties. It was probably the safest night of the entire year.

As the thought passed through her mind, it occurred to her that the street she'd just confidently strode onto was decidedly darker than the one she'd just left. Unease settled over her and she hesitated. Maybe she should double back and take another route? There was a house a block or two away that threw a Halloween party every year and she knew it'd be teeming with people.

She looked back, for just a second, and then shook her head. Going that route would double the amount of time it would take her to get home, and for what? Because a street she'd been on a thousand times was a little dark? She was letting Priscilla's paranoia get to her. It wasn't that dark, and it wasn't entirely empty either. Several small group were running between houses, bags and pails in hand.

It was fine.

She'd be fine.

It was like a block.

Nothing bad could happen in a block.

Bilba squared her shoulders and started walking again, this time with what she hoped was a particularly confident air. Priscilla always insisted that no one messed with you if you acted like you knew what you were doing. The other girl was nineteen, three whole years older than Bilba, and that much closer to official adulthood. If she said something was so, then it was so.

Unless it involved convincing Bilba to drive in the dark on Halloween night. Then she was simply being...overconfident.

It was a fine line.

An especially cold gust of wind hit her, freezing her nylon clad legs and whipping her skirt about her thighs. Priscialla had invited a couple of her college guy friends to come along, not as an official double date but just a "meet and greet" as she'd described it. Bilba had gone along with it, but almost decided almost immediately she was nowhere near ready for that sort of thing again.

She shivered, for reasons more than just the cold, and paused to zip her jacket all the way up to her chin. She adjusted the strap of her purse as it threatened to slide off her arm, and wrapped her arms around herself in a futile effort to add an extra modicum of warmth.

Perhaps she should have accepted Priscilla's offer of a ride after all. She could have just let the other girl keep the car until the morning, or asked one of her parents for help.

"Way to think of practical solutions now," she grumbled to herself.

Something niggled in the back of her mind, a subtle but insistent feeling like some sixth sense tapping on the door of her consciousness. Bilba's footsteps slowed until she'd come to a complete stop on the sidewalk. While she'd been lost in her thoughts the street had mostly emptied. Even as she watched, the last group vanished around the corner, laughter and shrieks of excitement fading as quickly as they did.

Bilba swallowed down a dry throat as, around her, the now silent street seemed to grow darker, and shifted from a familiar, and comforting place to one utterly alien and unknown.

Don't be ridiculous, she tried to convince herself. It was still the same street, the one she'd walked down more times than she could count, on her way to school with Priscilla or the park or some other grand adventure. The only difference now was that it was dark whereas, before, she'd always walked it in the bright light of day.

She'd never realized before just what a difference the dark could make.

She started moving again, faster this time, short heels clicking on the sidewalk as if to alert the shadows to her passing. It was just a street, but the sooner she was off it the better. She wanted to be in her bedroom, light and warmth surrounding her and walls holding back the night. She'd change as soon as she got in, she decided. Put on her most comfortable pajamas and the thick robe she'd just gotten for her sweet sixteen. Maybe she'd make herself a mug of hot chocolate, and then go and curl up in her bed with a good book.

The feeling returned.

It was stronger this time, more aggressive as if something primal inside of her was trying to warn her. Screaming at her in a language she couldn't speak, but still understood.

Something was wrong, and it was more than her simply being out on a cold and lonely night.

She focused, trying to understand what it was that was causing her heart to suddenly beat so fast in her chest.

And then she heard it. As her feet hit the pavement there was the slightest echo, the barest hint of a footstep just out of sync with her own.

As if someone were walking behind her, and taking care to almost match her steps.

Her stomach clenched, and a sick feeling washed over her.

"Don't be stupid," she whispered under her breath. It was Halloween. Of course there was someone behind her. She tensed and then, before she could talk herself out of it, whirled around.

The street was empty, nothing but moonlight and fallen leaves skittering across the street in the cold October breeze.

"Hello?" Bilba called. Mentally, she kicked herself. The very last thing she wanted was for someone to answer, so why in the world was she inviting a response?

The street stayed silent.

Slowly, Bilba's heart rate began to slow and her breathing evened. This was all Priscilla's fault. She'd acted all paranoid, and now Bilba was letting her imagination run away with her. Thinking she heard footsteps and whatnot when, in reality, it had just been her mind playing tricks on her.

She let out a small laugh at her own foolishness, spun back around, and promptly screamed.

There was a person standing behind her, less than a foot away. He wore a basic white sheet with black circles painted on for the eyes, and holes cut out for the sleeves. His arms and hands were covered in a black shirt and gloves, and she could see black pants and sneakers peeking out from the bottom of the sheet.

He raised his arms, and Bilba sucked in a sharp breath, only to let it out in a rush as she saw that he was holding an orange, pumpkin shaped trick-or-treat bucket in his hands. He was short, she realized, his head probably only coming up to her shoulder and that was saying something as she was short.

A kid, her mind supplied in near hysterical relief. He was just a kid.

"Sorry," she said, putting her hand to her chest. Her heart thudded under her fingers, so hard she wondered that it didn't burst out of her chest. "You scared me." She frowned. "Are you lost?"

The ghost said nothing. Instead, he simply lifted the bucket higher. It was empty.

"I'm sorry," Bilba said again, wondering why he would ask a random stranger on the street for candy. Then again, wasn't that what Halloween was all about? Getting candy from complete strangers? What was the difference, really, between asking for it from a person in a house or someone on the street? "I don't have any candy."

The ghost tilted his head to the side, as if studying her. There must have been small holes cut in the black holes painted on the sheet, but they weren't large enough for Bilba to see his eyes. It was disconcerting, his strange silence combined with the inability to really see him. "Are you lost?" she tried again. "Do you need help?" She fumbled in her purse for her phone. "Do you need me to call someone for you?"

Still, there was no response. With the costume on, Bilba had no idea how old the child was. He was small, but it was hard to judge if he was too small to be out on his own. He didn't seem scared or upset, so that was a good sign? Probably?

Her hand brushed against a bit of paper that crinkled under her fingers. She'd completely forgotten that Priscilla had presented her with a candy bar after the movie, calling it her Halloween present.

"Here." She pulled the candy bar out and held it out to the young boy. No child should have to go without a single piece of candy on Halloween. "I forgot I had this."

The ghost held his bucket up a little higher, and Bilba dropped the candy in. It hit the bottom with a clunk, and the boy pulled it back to look in and study it. After a few seconds, he lowered the bucket, gave her a slight nod and started to walk away.

"Happy Halloween!" Bilba called after him. She looked down at her purse, making sure she'd zipped it up securely. Maybe she'd follow him, she thought, just to make sure - she raised her head, and froze.

The child was gone.

"What in the world?" She stepped into the street, trying to see if he'd gone up the walkway of a nearby house, or stepped behind a parked car. She saw no sign of him. Perhaps he actually lived in one of the homes, and had simply gone home? It would explain what he'd been doing out by himself in the first place. Hopefully his parents would have leftover candy to fill his bucket with so he wouldn't get through Halloween with only a single candy bar.

Even so, a shiver ran down her spine at the odd encounter, and she quickened her pace toward home, good mood gone.

When she finally made it to her own street, and spotted her home in the distance it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The area was better lit here, and filled once more with children and parents running from house to house. Most of her neighbors loved Halloween and had loads of candy at hand to give out.

Her parents were no different. They would decorate like it was Christmas, with jack-o-lanterns, spooky lighting and ghosts strung up in the limbs of the tree out front. As she drew near, Bilba expected to see her parents out on the porch, sitting back in their matching, rocking chairs with a giant bowl of candy on the table between them as they waited for each new group of excited children.

It was oddly dark as she approached, and it took her a few seconds to realize all the lights were off. Even the Halloween lights strung along the eaves and up in the trees were off, casting the entire yard and front of the house in thick darkness.

Her footsteps slowed as she neared the porch, confusion putting her nerves on edge. She'd talked to her parents before leaving for the movies and they'd told her to be ready to hand out candy when she got home. She'd expected to arrive to find a crowd of children on the porch, her parents front and center in the midst of them.

Instead the porch was empty, and eerily quiet. The worn wood of the steps creaked beneath her feet, sounding far louder than they should in the quiet.

Bilba hesitated. Behind her, she could hear the shouts and shrieks of excited children, but it felt like they were in another world, one far removed from where she had gone.

She'd never realized just how dark the porch could be without the light on.

She retrieved her phone, and pulled up the flashlight app. Immediately the porch jumped into stark relief, revealing her parents empty chairs, and a full bowl of candy sitting on the low table between them.

The popcorn she'd had at the movie began to churn in Bilba's gut. Her gaze shifted toward the front door, and caught on a large box sitting on the doormat. Someone had written on it in black Sharpie and she took a step forward to read it.

Happy Halloween, Whore.

Around the words were dark splotches, with several resembling finger marks or palm prints. The box itself had been taped shut but, on the sides, she could see more of the dark...whatever it was, that seemed to actually be leaking from whatever was inside the box, saturating the cardboard around it.

Her eyes went to the writing again, traveling over the small, tight lettering, and jagged edges. The word whore had clearly originally been misspelled as "hor" before the W had been squeezed in after the fact.

She knew that writing.

Bilba felt lightheaded. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her throat burned as she struggled to pull in air.

She couldn't seem to move. It was as if an invisible wall had sprung up in front of her, blocking her off from the front door, and what lay before it. It wasn't that she didn't want to move forward, she physically couldn't.

A child shrieked in excitement somewhere behind her, and Bilba jumped. Some deep and primal feeling that she couldn't fully define began to spread through her. She could feel herself starting to sweat, but was ice cold at the same time. Her legs started to tremble and threatened to buckle under her.

She turned and stumbled back down the steps. Her eyes focused on the house across the street, bright lights shining from the window and porch. The Lundleys lived there. Mr. Lundley was a police officer, and his wife had just been promoted to detective. There'd been a huge celebration with balloons and cake and everything. Bilba had gone with her parents and could easily call to mind her father's jovial voice and her mother's bright smile as they'd celebrated Mrs. Lundley's promotion.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and the bridge of her nose began to burn. She didn't know why. What reason was there to cry? Everything was fine. It was just another horrid prank. Another way to get back at her for having the audacity to speak her own mind.

The sense of dread pressing down on her didn't lift, and the hollow pit in her stomach showed no signs of filling.

A group of children were just leaving the Lundley's front door, passing by her in a rush of bright colors, buckets and bags crashing into their legs and each other as they fled.

To Bilba, it was as if she were watching them from the other side of a thick pane of glass. Their movements were almost unnaturally slow to her, voices strangely distorted and indiscernible.

"Bilba? Are you okay, Honey?"

The world snapped back into focus in a rush of sound and light. Bilba was standing on the porch, Mrs. Lundley in front of her, framed in the warm light of her home. Warmth from the house escaped outside, along with the smell of gingerbread wafting from the direction of the kitchen.

"My parents," Bilba managed to blurt out. She pointed back toward her home. "They should be out, but all the lights are out, and there's a box on the porch…." her voice cracked on the last and the tears began to squeeze out of her eyes against her will. Why was she crying? It was fine. Everything was fine.

Please, let everything be fine.

"Come on inside, Dear." Mrs. Lundley put an arm around her shoulders, and then she was inside and sitting on the couch. A body sat next to her that she vaguely recognized as Angeline Lundley. She was fourteen, two years younger than Bilba, and was one of her closest friends. The other girl took her hand, and might have said something, but Bilba couldn't hear it.

Her eyes were fixed on the front door, through which Mr. and Mrs. Lundley had vanished. As if transfixed, she got to her feet and began to slowly walk to the door. She didn't want to go out there, but it was as if she had no choice. As if some unseen force were dragging her.

She reached the open door in time to see Mr. and Mrs. Lundley crossing the street back toward her and the look on their faces as they met her eyes…

No...

No, she didn't want to hear it.

NO.

And as the darkness rushed in, and her world shattered about her, Bilba's last conscious thought was the inescapable fact that everything that had happened was entirely her fault.