October 31st, 1963

Children laugh and shout through the night as they go house to house, dressed up in their Halloween costumes. “Trick or treat! Trick or treat! Give me something good to eat!” they say to the people who answer the doors they knock on. Jack-o-lanterns beam in the dark of the night, a full moon hangs in the sky, illuminating the small town of Haddonfield, Illinois. Just like all those other children, you also went trick or treating, but in the earlier hours. You dressed as a pirate this year and got lots of candy, all of the adults seemed to find you adorable. That night your parents go out, leaving you home with your two older siblings. You’re in your room eating your Halloween candy and watching a scary movie on the TV which you shouldn’t be watching when you hear some footsteps going down the stairs, followed by the front door closing. Soon after you hear some more footsteps, this time ascending up the stairs. Your immature mind doesn’t think anything of it, candy seems to be your biggest priority. But that changes when you suddenly hear loud, bloodcurdling screams echo out from just down the hallway. It sounds like your older sister, Judith. Panic rushes through you as you rush over to your door, slowly opening it. “Judith?! Michael?!” you call out. It’s then you spot your brother in his clown costume slowly walking down the hallway. In his hand is a large, shiny kitchen knife. The worst part about it is the fresh red blood on it.

15 years later…October 31st, 1978

It’s Halloween and you’re walking to school on a cloudy, breezy autumn morning. Red and orange leaves blow about. You’re now 17 years old, having no recollection of the events that occurred as a child. You were only three then. Perhaps forgetting the events was a coping method for your young brain. Whatever the reason, you don’t remember anything. You now live with a new family, a family who has never told you anything about being adopted. They’ve even changed your name from your original one: Cynthia Myers.