Hearts and Daggers

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sighing, I walked over towards the mattress, stopping a few feet away and kneeling down so I came face to face with familiar carving in the concrete.

                                          Michael A. Myers and Kat M. Bury

                                                             October 31, 1991

The date had been exactly one year before Michael killed Judith and the others. It had taken a good three hours to fully engrave the words into the wall, as well as two knives breaking in the process, much to Michael’s frustration at the time.

//oo//FLASHBACK//oo//

“Damn it!” Michael swore as he threw the second knife away, the broken blade making a terrible sound as it skidded across the floor.

“Do you need another one?” I asked.

“No, I plan to carve the rest of it using my nails!” he growled sarcastically, before disappearing up the stairs in search for another knife. I knew he wasn’t really angry at me, but rather how flimsy normal kitchen knives were. Ironically, Michael never had much patience with his blades growing up.

When he returned he was brandishing a large butcher knife and immediately set back to work carving in the date. I had been trying to ignore the harsh sound the metal made against concrete, but it was getting harder the longer he worked. Finally I heard him give a relieved sigh and drop the knife on the mattress.

“Done,” he said with a proud smirk on his face. I looked at the words, tracing the letters with my fingers before smiling happily.

“You better not cover this when you move your room down here,” I warned.

“After all the time I put into carving it?! Hell no,” he almost sounded insulted at the accusation. He stood up and brushed off his costume pants, picking up a large jack o lantern bucket.

“Let’s go before all the good candy is gone,” he said. We spent a good half of the night running all over Haddonfield, collecting as much candy as we could before returning to the Myers basement where we traded sweets until we both fell asleep. I was pretty sure Deborah had taken a picture of us the next morning before waking us up.

//oo//END FLASHBACK//oo//  

A fresh wave of sadness and disappointment filled me as I let myself sit on the mattress before laying down, the fresh smell of fabric softener hitting my nose. Emmy always made a point to get the sheets cleaned every week in case Michael did come back he would, in her words: “Have a nice bed waiting,”

Last night, Emmy had snatched the sheets from the clean laundry as soon as they were done and disappeared downstairs for a couple of hours before returning with a proud smile on her face.

I continued to stare at the concrete wall, my body relaxing into the old mattress, momentarily forgetting where I was. Sighing one more time, I let myself close my eyes and begin to fall into another daydream.

The sudden sound of something scraping against the concrete shattered the silence.

I sat up sharply, ignoring the blood rush to my head as I stared into the darkened room. The flashlight had rolled away from me and was casting a dim light over to the far side of the basement, leaving everything else in darkness. Another scrapping noise echoed and I lunged for the flashlight, refusing to let my body curl up into a ball as I sat on the mattress, scanning the room with the little light I had. I slowly stood and took a few steps forward. My breathing was coming out heavier as I tried to tell myself not to freak out; it was probably Michael taunting me.