"The pen of the writer creates both dreams and nightmares. Sometimes it creates things darker than nightmares...things we can't even imagine..." Mike Believe.

Nightmares of the Past

A Halloween-Fic by Secret7

They were all dead now.

Blossom.

Bubbles.

And Buttercup.

They had died 4 years ago, when they were investigating a murder. So it goes...

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Blossom was combing her hair. It was October 11th, 2000. Halloween was coming up, and she wanted to be a ghost. She didn't know how that wish would come true soon.

Buttercup was downstairs with Bubbles, playing video games.

"HA!" Buttercup shouted. "Killed you!"

Bubbles frowned. "No fair..."

"Fair AND square, sis! I kicked your--"

"Girls, girls! Settle down!" The Professor said angrily. "It's just a game. Besides, the mayor's on the phone!"

"OK, OK!" Buttercup yelled. "Let Little Ms. Perfect get it!"

Little Ms. Perfect flew down the stairs, and grabbed the hotline phone.

"Hello Mr. Mayor? Oh no...a murder?"

There was a long pause.

"Mike Believe...? Oh god..."

The video game was paused. The girls were silent, as was the Professor.

"What...happened?" the Professor whispered.

"Mike Believe...somebody...killed...him..." Blossom was barely able to say.

There were more silent tears for several seconds.

"Mikey...?" Bubbles whimpered. "Oh, Professor!" Bubbles cried, hugging her dad in tears.

"I...can't believe it..." Buttercup muttered. "It just...can't be true..."

Blossom bowed her head and closed her eyes.

"There's nothing we can do," Blossom finally said. "What's done is done, and we have a mission to find out what did this to Mike, and to make it pay!" she cried.

Her sisters nodded softly.

"Yeah, Bloss. You're...right. We gotta...make whoever did this pay!!!" she suddenly burst into anger.

"Poor Mikey..." Bubbles whispered.

"It's OK, Bubbles...We're going to get whoever did this!" Buttercup screamed.

"C'mon, we need to get to 03 Natas St. and fast!" Blossom yelled. "Let's go girls!"

As they jetted away from the house, Professor Isaac John Utonium watched them leave. He felt a sudden jolt of sadness, as if he knew what was to come. As if they would die...

He got a hold on himself and walked back to his laboratory.

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"So, Officer, when was Mike found?" Blossom asked. They were at the scene of the crime, just as she had said, 03 Natas St. Police surrounded the fairly large house where Mike used to live. Used to live. Those words stung all three girls.

"He was found lying next to a typewriter in his room," the cop responded.

What? Who uses a typewriter? Blossom thought to herself.

They began to float into the house slowly, to investigate the murder, but—

"Don't." a woman said, walking up to them. She had long blonde hair with green eyes. She was wearing a long, old-looking, brown trench coat with a badge on it that said in bold letters TCPD Detective.

"Why not, officer?" asked Blossom.

"Don't call me that. My name is Detective Shirley, and I demand you don't go in there! If you do, you are going to die!"

"Wh-what?" Bubbles said.

Shirley put her hand on her forehead, and began to explain. "It was October 7th when we found his body. We sent the forensics team in to investigate, and they...they disappeared. All of them. I was sent in to find out what happened to them, and my entire team died. I heard screaming. I saw something, something so horrible...God...it was a monster..."

"We can take them!" shouted Buttercup. "They...killed Mike! An' his family too"

"You can't take them. No one can take them. It may have killed your friend, but it killed...my husband. We always worked cases together, and...I heard screaming...and all I found of him was...never mind. Forget it. Do your job, and kill that asshole that murdered my husband. Just...be careful..."

"We will, Shirley," Bubbles said.

"Yeah...I guess..." Blossom said. She wasn't sure what to do...

Oh well, she thought. We can take anything that they throw at us...right?

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"I don't think we can take this thing..." Bubbles whined. The old Believe house seemed to be ancient, made of old wood, and covered with strange paintings. They continued looking for clues. They came to a hall, darkly lit and ill taken-care of.

"That's strange..." Blossom said to herself. "You wouldn't think even a house this big would have enough room for all of this stuff..."

"Yeah, I know! It's just freaky!" Buttercup exclaimed. "Like a horror movie...heheheheheh! I'm gonna get ya, Bubbles! I'm gonna get ya!"

"Stop, Buttercup! You're...scaring me! What if something really does come along?"

"I doubt it! There's no such thing as--" Blossom was quickly interrupted.

Mike was standing in front of them, staring.

"You have to leave. You don't know what's been created here. I'm sorry Bubbles. I've always been your friend. I'll miss you."

He walked up and hugged Bubbles. Bubbles was shocked, and began to back away. Mike's arms...his whole body...it was covered in blood!

"Save yourselves," he whispered, before vanishing into thin air.

Bubbles looked for the blood on her shirt—it was gone—and then promptly screamed.

"Bubbles! Calm down! There has to be some logical explanation for this!" Blossom said.

"No...Mikey! He's...alive! I—I have to find him!" Bubbles yelled, and shot forward through the dark halls, flying through one of the doors.

"We have to follow her!" Buttercup yelled.

"I don't think we can..." Blossom whispered. The door had disappeared.

There was a sudden scream in Bubbles' voice, a loud crack, and a long, dark slurping noise.

"Oh god oh god oh god" Buttercup began to mutter rapidly.

"It's OK. She's probably OK. Everything's going to be OK," Blossom reassured herself.

"It's not," said Mike's voice. "I'm sorry, but you are all going to die."

At that, Buttercup took off, shooting towards the exit. Or where it would be. It was gone. She tried breaking through, but it felt like the hardest substance she'd ever felt. And now, she, too, was lost.

"Blossom? Blossom—where are you?!?"

There was no response but a low growl.

"B-B-B-Blossom?" she whimpered.

Blossom heard screaming, barks and growls coming from where Buttercup had gone. She would try to help her sister—if she could. The door behind her had vanished too.

"Oh god...guys?" Blossom whispered. She began to fly as fast as possible, jetting towards a door close to her, opening it, and slamming it shut. She was in a room. Mike's room. It looked like it would be Mike's, and it was covered with pictures of superheroes, villains, movie posters...

A soft bed was against the wall, with a cover depicting Superman resting on it. And in the corner, a typewriter. On the table, resting near the typewriter was a group of stapled papers, a story. She began to read:

"I'm 5 years old, and my name is Mike Believe. This is a scary story I'm writing, and I hope you enjoy it. The pen of the writer creates both dreams and nightmares. Sometimes it creates things darker than nightmares...things we can't even imagine. Scary things, very, very, scary things. Like the monster in this story. But what would you do if..."

Blossom was so wrapped up in the writing, she didn't notice the door to the room opening. Footsteps coming from behind her. And when she did, it was too late.

She closed her eyes. She had discovered the killer.

"I know what you are," Blossom said, her eyes closed.

And then a scythe-like arm went through her chest.

And so they died. So it goes.

to be continued...