Halloween [✓] (Michael Myers X F!Reader)

Chapter 12

The evening was bitter and tangy with a faint aroma of woodsmoke. Lampkin Lane was alive with the orange glare of jack-'o-lanterns, while the trick-or-treaters poured out of their homes simultaneaously as if lured by some siren song, unheard by grown-ups.

From the front porch of your house you observed the wind blowing through their various costumes, billowing them outward.

So far you'd seen your fair share of witches, skeletons and ghosts. But you weren't shivering outside to watch kids go from door to door. You were waiting for Tommy Doyle, carrying with you a bag with sodas and a large pumpkin to carve, something that would definitely keep him occupied long enough until it was time to go to the Wallace's, around 8 PM.

Tommy had a nice house, average with a well-kempt garden and a tire swing.

The sun was already a fading pale glow behind the trees as a single car zipped past you, taking a left out of sight before pulliny up to the road, next to the old graveyard on a windy hillside.

Out of it came Dr. Loomis, along with Taylor, the graveyard owner. The latter of the two was a small, officious man in his late 60s, who glanced at a small notepad. "Let's see. Myers. Judith Myers. Row 18, plot 20. Over this way."

The two men began walking along through the cemetery, winding around headstones and flowers. "Every town has something like this happen. I remember a guy over in Russellville, Charley Bowles. About 15 years ago, he finished dinner, went out into the garage and got a hacksaw, then came back into the house and proceeded to..."

"Where are we?" Loomis abruptly cut his story short.

"Just right over there aways. And I remember Judith Myers. Just couldn't believe it. A young boy like that..." Taylor stopped cold. "...Why do they do it?" He pointed to a plot right in front of them where the headstone was missing, uprooted from the ground.

"Whose grave is it?" Asked Loomis.

The other man checked his notebook, then counted the rows and plots. "18, 20... Judith Myers..."

-

*Tick, tock*

*Tick, tock*

*Tick, tock*

The small hand of the clock ticked further to the left, until it stopped at 8 PM sharp.

8, you grumbled to yourself and glanced over at Tommy, who was still drawing flowers and cars in the corner of his paper.

You had no issue with staying in the Doyle's household a little longer. Still, not getting an explanation as for why his mother didn't pick up for 45 minutes straight made you mildly worried.

Tommy's parents were really strict and while they completely trusted you with their son, around this time of the year, his mom would call in once every hour to check up on you.

Yeah, it was safe to say the Halloween paranoia got to everyone. Today was a bit inconvenient, though. Now you had to call Annie to let her know you'd be later.

"Did your mom tell you she'd be busy?" You asked the boy gently.

He looked up from his drawing, making a small 'o' with his mouth. "Oh, no. They didn't."

You felt a pang of sympathy for him. Tommy appeared calm, but he must be as worried and confused as you were, maybe even more.