Michael walked forward, his movements slow but purposeful, the moonlight reflecting off the gleaming blade in his hand. His eyes, hidden behind the blank mask, were locked on Laurie. There was no hesitation, no sense of humanity—just the pure, relentless will to kill.
Laurie stood her ground, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him approach. She had faced this moment so many times in her nightmares, but this was no dream. This was real. And Michael Myers, the embodiment of all her pain, was coming for her once again.
She gripped the broken lamp tightly, her mind racing for a plan. She knew Michael wouldn't stop—couldn't stop. But she had spent years preparing for this, learning how to outthink him. She wouldn't run. Not this time.
Michael was just steps away now, his knife raised, ready to strike. His presence was suffocating, the air thick with the weight of impending death.
Suddenly, with a burst of speed, Laurie lunged forward. She swung the broken lamp with all her strength, aiming for his arm. The impact landed with a sickening crack, but Michael barely flinched. His arm jerked back for a second, but his grip on the knife remained firm.
Laurie quickly backed up, her mind screaming for another opening, another chance. She could feel the desperation rising inside her, but she pushed it down. This was a fight she couldn't afford to lose.
Michael swung his knife in a wide arc, and Laurie barely dodged, the blade slicing through the air where her head had been just moments before. She stumbled back, her foot catching on a loose floorboard, but she regained her balance just as Michael lunged again. His hand shot out, grabbing her by the collar of her jacket.
Laurie gasped as his iron grip yanked her forward, pulling her into his cold, emotionless embrace. The knife was inches from her chest, gleaming in the moonlight as Michael prepared to drive it home.
But Laurie wasn't done yet.
With a sudden surge of strength, she brought her knee up, slamming it into Michael's midsection. He didn't make a sound—he never did—but the force loosened his grip just enough for Laurie to break free.
She staggered back, breathing heavily, her eyes never leaving his. Michael, for his part, was as silent as ever. He straightened himself, his mask tilting ever so slightly as he raised the knife again.
Laurie's mind raced. She had to find a way to stop him, to slow him down, anything. Her eyes darted around the yard, and then she saw it—an old, rusted rake leaning against the side of the house. It wasn't much, but it was something.
As Michael advanced again, Laurie made her move. She sprinted toward the rake, grabbing it with both hands just as Michael swung his knife down. She blocked the blade with the wooden handle, the impact jarring her arms but holding strong.
For a brief moment, they were locked in a deadly struggle—Michael's unstoppable force against Laurie's unyielding will to survive. She pushed back with everything she had, forcing the knife away from her chest. Michael didn't react, his cold eyes staring at her from behind the mask, but his strength was terrifying.
With a grunt of effort, Laurie twisted the rake, disarming Michael in one swift move. The knife clattered to the ground, and Laurie didn't waste a second. She swung the rake again, this time striking him across the face with the sharp metal prongs.
Michael staggered back, his mask knocked slightly off-kilter. For the first time, he seemed momentarily disoriented.
Laurie didn't hesitate. She grabbed the knife from the ground and, with a fierce cry, drove it into Michael's shoulder. The blade sank deep, but Michael barely reacted. He simply turned his head to look at her, his cold, dark eyes meeting hers.
Laurie stepped back, panting, holding the rake in front of her like a shield. She knew the knife wouldn't stop him, but it had slowed him down. And that was enough.
"Come on," she muttered under her breath, preparing herself for whatever came next.
Michael ripped the knife from his shoulder, blood trickling down his coveralls. He tossed it aside and began to walk toward her again, undeterred by the wound.
Laurie's heart sank. How could he still keep coming? What would it take to stop him?
In the distance, Allyson watched in horror, her mind screaming at her to do something. She couldn't let her grandmother face this monster alone. With her heart racing, she scrambled out of the car and grabbed a crowbar from the trunk. She knew she couldn't fight him head-on, but she had to help.
As Michael closed in on Laurie again, Allyson sprinted toward him from behind. With all her strength, she swung the crowbar at his back. The impact caused him to lurch forward, giving Laurie the moment she needed.
"Allyson!" Laurie shouted as she saw her granddaughter rush to her side. Together, they faced Michael, two generations standing against the evil that had tormented them for so long.
Michael, disoriented for just a second, turned to face them both. The odds had shifted, but his resolve was unwavering. He raised his hand, preparing to grab Allyson, but Laurie was faster. She struck first, hitting him with the rake again, this time with enough force to knock him to the ground.
Michael fell to his knees, but still, he didn't make a sound. He was relentless, even as the two women stood over him, knowing that this was their last chance.
"Do it!" Allyson shouted, handing Laurie the crowbar.
With tears in her eyes, Laurie lifted the crowbar high above her head, bringing it down with all her might.
The impact was deafening, and for the first time, Michael Myers didn't get up.