The wind whispered through the quiet streets of Haddonfield, where orange pumpkins glowed on front porches like watchful eyes. Laurie Strode walked briskly, her books clutched tightly to her chest. The eerie stillness of Halloween night wrapped around her, broken only by the crunch of leaves under her feet.

As Laurie approached the corner, she felt it—a presence, cold and unshakable. She turned, her breath catching. Across the street, standing motionless beside a tall hedge, was a figure. A man, perhaps? He wore a pale, featureless mask that seemed to stare straight into her soul.

"Annie? Is that you?" Laurie called, her voice trembling but laced with hope. Silence answered her. The figure didn't move, didn't flinch. The world seemed to freeze in that moment, the night growing heavier with each passing second.

But then, as quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone. The man in the mask vanished behind the hedge, leaving only the echo of Laurie's heartbeat in her ears.

She hesitated, then shook her head with a nervous laugh. "It's just Halloween," she muttered to herself. "Probably some kid playing a prank." But as Laurie turned and continued down the sidewalk, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched—watched by something far more sinister than a mischievous trick-or-treater.

And somewhere in the shadows, Michael Myers waited.