Michael Myers

Halloween

She sat on the windowsill with a cup of tea and looked out onto the street. The streetlights glowed yellow, and children were laughing somewhere. An ordinary evening.

At nine o'clock the neighbor's dog started barking and suddenly stopped. Right in the middle of barking.

Strange.

At ten o'clock all the lights went out. All at once. The street was plunged into darkness.

She stood up, peering out the window. And she saw him. A man stood under an old maple tree. Tall, in dark overalls, with a white mask on his face. An empty, faceless mask with black eye sockets. He was looking straight at her.

She recoiled, her heart pounding.

When I looked out again, there was no one under the tree.

The phone was silent. There was no connection. Not a dial tone, nothing.

And then there was a knock on the door. Heavy, dull thuds. Boom. Boom. Boom.

The blows died down.

She exhaled and took a step towards the door...

A crash shattered the silence. The front door flew out along with the frame.

He stood in the doorway. Dark overalls, white mask, a large knife in his hand.

She screamed and ran away, through the kitchen, out into the street. She ran through courtyards, her legs numb, until she saw a dark house with a half-open door.

She flew inside and slammed the door. Silence. Only her heart was pounding.

Step.

Slow, heavy. Somewhere below.

He is here.

She rushed upstairs and ran into the first room. An old wardrobe stood in the corner. She buried herself inside, in a pile of rags, pressed herself into the corner, and froze, covering her mouth with her hand.

A piece of the room is visible through the crack.

Footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Then they died away right outside the door.

The silence presses on the ears.

A floorboard creaks. Right in front of the closet.

A shadow blocked the moonlight on the floor. Tall, broad, motionless. He stood two meters away and looked straight at her. Through the cracks. Through the shutters. He knew she was there.

She stopped breathing.

Gloved fingers slid along the door leaf and found the handle.

The metal clanged softly.

The cabinet door began to open slowly...

OBSERVATION LOG: MICHAEL MYERS

Case No.: H-78 Identity: Michael Audrey Myers Status: WANTED / EXTREMELY DANGEROUS Compiled by Dr. Samuel Loomis

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1. PHYSICAL DATA

Height: 188–193 cm Build: Lean, sinewy, but abnormally strong Hair: Dark, straight Eyes: Brown, almost black. Absolutely empty, emotionless. Witnesses describe the gaze as "inhuman." Characteristics: Complete lack of facial expressions. Pale skin.

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2. PSYCHOLOGICAL PORTRAIT

Observed since 1963.

Diagnosis: Unclassifiable. Not psychotic.

Specifications:

· Absolute lack of empathy. Never showed remorse or affection. Selective mutism. Capable of speech, but has remained consciously silent for over 15 years. Lack of motivation. He doesn't kill out of revenge, anger, or profit. The victims are random. Killing is a natural process for him. · Emotional emptiness. Does not respond to pain, fear, or threats.

Loomis' conclusion: "There's nothing behind those eyes. This isn't human. This is pure evil in physical form."

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3. MODUS OPERANDI

Weapon: Kitchen knife (chef's knife). Prefers personal contact. Behavior:

1. Observation. Can watch its prey motionless for hours.
2. Slow pursuit. Never runs, but always catches up.
3. Inevitability. Doesn't react to obstacles. Simply moves through them.
4. Fixation. Having chosen a target (Laurie Strode), he pursues her for years.

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4. HISTORY OF CRIME

October 31, 1963 (age 6): Stabbed to death his older sister, Judith. Did not answer when asked why. Placed in Smith's Grove. October 24, 1978: Escape. Killed three teenagers in Haddonfield. Shot six times, fell from a balcony. Disappeared. 1978–2018: Returned multiple times. All attempts to destroy it (bullets, knife, fire) failed.

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5. APPEARANCE DURING ATTACK

· Mask: White, featureless, with black eye holes. · Suit: Dark blue work overalls. · Footwear: Heavy work boots. · Always: Kitchen knife in hand.

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6. RECOMMENDATIONS AT THE MEETING

7. Do not engage in contact. Negotiations are futile.