He’d spared you, why? You’re not sure, he just sort of stood over you ominously looking down, the bloodied knife in his hand.

You’d heard stories about Michael, for some reason you’d never believed he was real until today, cleaning out the Myers house for selling, when he’d caught you off guard.

The masked silent killer stood there, the shadows of the old house casting over his eyes of the mask, he then turned and left, his footsteps on the stairs as he makes his way up.