In the summer air, the wind howled and splattered rain on the house. But inside the boy paid no attention to the roiling anger of the hurricane he was much more interested in the scene playing out on his television. Sure he had seen Halloween before, but he was enthralled by it, as if he had never seen it in all his years of Horror movie fandome. He watched intently as Dr. Sam Loomis lurched from the shadows and fired his gun at Michael Myers. He watched as Myers fell out of the second story window and vanished...
With the music of the credits still blaring in the otherwise silent house, he walked upstairs to his room. Amid the howling wind and the crackle of raindrops he could still hear the haunting four notes of the Halloween theme. As he bent down to retrieve an issue of Entertainment Weekly from his cluttered bedroom floor, he heard the door at the foot of his steps slam shut.
Whirling around he grabbed his metal baseball bat and inched toward the steps, not knowing why the door had shut. He walked cautiously down the steps and tried to open the door as silently as possible, but the old door was in desperate need of some WD40.
When the door was open he saw that the door to his parents room was wide open, where before it had been closed and locked from the inside. He inched his way into their room, all the while checking to make sure the bogeyman was not hiding somewhere in the room. Then he heard it, a loud clash from the kitchen.
He ran through the house, bat held at the ready, to strike out at the intruder. Of course he had no idea what he would do should the intruder have some sort of a weapon. Arriving in the kitchen he saw the back door close over and then open as the wind pushed it inward along with enough rain to drench the little kitchen. The boy ran to the door and saw a dark figure stalk off into the rain.
He ran to the telephone and picked it up to call the police, only the phone was dead. Suddenly something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. On the white countertop above the knife drawer there was a tiny pool of crimson. He opened the drawer and sure enough the butcher knife was gone.
And in its place a tiny piece of paper on which was written--in blood-- the words: