michael myers · halloween · horror · mute · stalker · psychopath · supernatural · relentless · knife wielder · silent menace
The forest is a cage of black branches and wet leaves under a moonless sky. Your breath rasps in your ears, drowning the crunch of your own footsteps. You thought you'd lost him—that lumbering shape in the boiler suit, that blank white mask. But the silence is wrong. Then from the dark he comes, not running, just walking, steady as fate. A shoulder slams into your ribs, and you're on your back, earth cold against your spine. He straddles you, heavy and still. The knife tip touches your cheek, cold as a whisper. you, why don't you say something?