F A T E || Michael Myers ||

¤chapter one¤

     I sigh, in relief. After hauling boxes to and from the moving truck all day, well not ALL day but ya know, my back was fucking dead. You may be asking, 'Y/n, how are you hauling boxes to the moving truck?' Well I would answer with saying that everytime someone moves into this house, they soon leave after or die. Yeah, I know. Maybe not the best place to live, right? I say fuck that.

     Anyways, they soon leave or die. Meaning, that all their shit is left behind for the next home-owner to deal with. In this case, that next home-owner is me. So, all this week I've been moving peoples shit out of my house, and moving my shit in.

     Flopping myself down on the couch in my new living room, I view my surroundings. I didn't get to tour the house before I bought it since I came from so far away, so I take in the view. I try to place the feelings the house gives off, I can tell it used to be so full of life and laughter. Now it's just a shell of what it once was, but I hope to brighten it again.

     Glancing down towards my meowing cat Toby, I think fondly of the memories we've made over the years. If anything happened to him, I'd lose it. Tobes has all chocolate brown fur and huge green eyes, and is pretty chill. He has a great moral radar for bad humans and has warned me about may people over the years. I've learned to listen to him when he doesn't like someone.

     My eyes sweep the room, filled with open boxes with their guts spilled around, and then land on the clock. 4:33pm, and oh shit. Of course I'm late for my interview.

...
    
     Knowing me, of course I didn't get the job. I'm an artist. I tried to get a booth for the upcoming Fall Fest festival, but they didn't like my portfolio evidently.

     On my shameful way back home, I pass a sweet little plant shop, and I instantly light up. The bell rings as I enter, taking a good look at all the plants and such. A kind looking older man grins at me from behind the counter. "Welcome in! You must be the Myer's girl, yes? I haven't seen you around before," he concludes. I gulp. Ths damn town and their legends. "Yes, I do live in the Myer's house but I wouldn't call myself that. I'm Y/n, you are?"

     "Mr Carver, dear. It's my pleasure to meet you. You know, I've been looking for an apprentice and I could tell from you face that you have a liking to plants, yes?"     "You would be correct in assuming so."

     Mr Carver grins and holds out his hand for me to shake. "How'd you like a job here, kid?" I freeze. A job? Holy shit. That was fast- "Thank you sir, I'd love to work for you! When do I start?" "Can you take the morning shift tomorrow? We open at 8am." "Yes, I'll be here." "I'll see you then, dear. Get some rest, you have a lot to learn tomorrow," Mr Carver walks me out, gushing about his plants and such, bidding me a goodnight eventually.

     The walk home is quiet. The peaceful, almost comforting but still slightly suspicious quiet. I'm alone, however I can feel eyes on me. Now that I'm thinking about it, there hasn't been a second where I felt alone. Sure, Toby was with me most of the time, but it was a bigger presence. I shook it off before, but now it was stronger. Right behind me.

     I tense up and walk faster towards my new home. The presence stays, growing closer. I don't have it in me to look behind myself. It's almost like I knew I wouldn't see whatever was following me. Something in me knew. Maybe it was the part of me that believed. The part that thought, maybe Haddonfield's legend isn't all dog shit. Maybe its based, at least somewhat, on the truth. Instead of delving further into the idea, the rational part of me focuses on getting me home safe.

     The door slams behind me, now locked. I slide down the wall and let out a breath. The presence is there, but weak. This time it feels not so threatening.

    Toby wobbles over, meowing for his dinner. "Hey Tobes," I say with a weak smile. I don't want my son to worry about me. I scoop up my little boy and give him is dinner.

    Getting ready for bed, thoughts of the presence following me come back. I think about it for a moment, shaking off the looming feeling of the presence still around me. I slide under the chilled sheets of my bed and try to relax. I don’t like going to bed because I usually waking up in tears from a nightmare. The same damn nightmare.

     The last thought on my mind as I cuddle with Toby is 'what could be following me?'

...

     I wake up in tears from a nightmare and finally open my eyes to a white face with souless eyes looking at me, head tilted gently.

     He had never seen someone as beautiful as her. The girl looked like his mother, and the soft tears reminded him of boo. He had let his guard down, but when she saw him, instead of screaming, she froze. Then, realizing this is the walking legend the whole town warned her of, she started laughing. He tilted his head to the other side. He had never received this reaction. She made him curious, and he decided he hated it. Stealthily he pulled his knife from his holster and edged toward the almost hysterically laughing Y/n. She stopped laughing and flinched when his knife started soaring towards her. But there was no scream. He was puzzled, shocked, astonished, any other synonym that you could imagine.

     I open my eyes and lower my hands from my face to see I'm alone, in my empty bedroom.