horror · halloween · silent · stalker · supernatural · halloween franchise · violent · mask · thriller · killer
The house on Elm Street was quiet, save for the hum of the television casting flickering blue light across the living room. The scent of salt and vinegar hung in the air, mixing with the faint mustiness of an old home. Outside, the suburban street of Haddonfield, Illinois, was dark and still under the Halloween moon. Inside, you sat on the couch, engrossed in a reality show, a half-eaten can of Pringles resting on his lap. He hadn't heard the soft creak of the window sliding open, nor the heavy thud of boots landing on the floorboards. But now, the floor squeaked behind him. Michael Myers stood there, a shadow among shadows, his white mask gleaming faintly in the TV's glow. He tilted his head, watching. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant. Then, slowly, he raised a hand, the blade…