Halloween Killer
I have been asked to investigate many ridiculous things during my career.
Missing documents.
Exploding briefcases.
A suspiciously intelligent raccoon living inside the RED team's ventilation system.
But this was different.
It was Halloween.
And someone—or something—had been walking through the streets every night.
The locals called him the Halloween Killer.
Personally, I thought the name lacked imagination.
Still, when I received the assignment, I went.
Naturally, I wore my finest suit.
One must maintain standards, even while investigating supernatural nonsense.
The town was almost completely deserted when I arrived.
Cold wind moved through the streets.
Halloween decorations hung from the houses, swinging gently despite there being almost no wind.
Pumpkins sat on doorsteps.
Candles flickered behind windows.
And somewhere in the distance, I heard a telephone ringing.
I stopped.
The ringing stopped.
"Wonderful," I muttered.
I continued walking.
My first destination was an old house at the end of the street. According to the reports, the previous investigator had disappeared there.
I opened the door.
It creaked.
Of course it creaked.
Why is it that every horrifying building in existence has a door that sounds like it is begging for mercy?
Inside, the television was still running.
Static filled the screen.
I approached it.
A voice suddenly came through the speakers.
"Hello?"
I froze.
The television went black.
Then the telephone rang.
I looked toward the hallway.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
I picked it up.
There was silence.
Then breathing.
Slow.
Quiet.
Very close.
"Who is this?"
Nothing.
I hung up.
The phone immediately rang again.
I answered.
This time, a voice whispered:
"Turn around."
I did not.
I am a professional.
I slowly reached into my coat and pulled out my revolver.
Behind me, something moved.
I turned.
Nothing.
Only a long hallway disappearing into darkness.
Then I noticed something on the wall.
A photograph.
It showed the street outside.
But in the photograph, someone was standing beneath the streetlight.
Tall.
Wearing black.
Watching the house.
I looked outside.
The street was empty.
I looked back at the photograph.
The figure was gone.
"Oh, this is going to be one of those nights."
I stepped farther into the house.
The floorboards creaked beneath my shoes.
Then I heard footsteps upstairs.
One.
Two.
Three.
I looked toward the staircase.
"Come out."
Nothing.
I climbed the stairs.
At the top was a hallway covered in Halloween decorations.
At the very end stood a figure.
Tall.
Motionless.
Wearing a dark coat.
I raised my revolver.
"Identify yourself."
The figure tilted its head.
Then it began walking toward me.
Slowly.
I fired.
The gunshot echoed through the house.
The figure vanished.
I lowered my weapon.
"...I hate Halloween."
Suddenly, the lights went out.
Darkness.
Complete darkness.
Then I heard laughter.
Not loud laughter.
Not even particularly frightening laughter.
Just a quiet little chuckle from somewhere behind me.
I turned around.
Nothing.
Then I saw a message scratched into the wall.
HE IS STILL HERE.
I stared at it.
For the first time that evening, I considered leaving.
Then I heard footsteps downstairs.
I descended the stairs.
The front door was open.
Cold air rushed inside.
And standing beneath the streetlight was the figure from the photograph.
The Halloween Killer.
He stared directly at me.
I reached for my revolver.
He disappeared.
I ran outside.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No movement.
Only the sound of the wind.
Then the telephone inside the house rang again.
I slowly turned toward it.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
I walked back inside.
I picked up the receiver.
A whisper came through.
"You found me."
I looked around the empty room.
"No," I said.
I smiled beneath my mask.
"You found me."
The line went dead.
Outside, the church bell struck midnight.
Every pumpkin on the street suddenly went dark.
Then, from somewhere in the distance, I heard footsteps running away.
I followed.
Naturally.
Because apparently I have forgotten how to value my own life.
The footsteps led me through the woods.
Branches scratched against my coat.
The moon disappeared behind the clouds.
Then I saw something ahead.
A small clearing.
In the center stood an old wooden chair.
And sitting on it was a Halloween mask.
I approached it carefully.
Written across the mask were four words:
SEE YOU NEXT HALLOWEEN.
I stared at it.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"Boo."
I spun around.
Nothing.
I looked back at the chair.
The mask was gone.
I stood there in silence.
Finally, I sighed.
"Well."
I adjusted my tie.
"I suppose the investigation was a success."
I began walking back toward town.
Behind me, somewhere deep within the forest...
a telephone began ringing.
And I did not turn around.
Chapter 2: The Telephone
I returned to the town the following evening.
I had hoped the entire incident was finished.
I was wrong.
The police station was empty when I arrived.
The front door was unlocked.
The lights were on.
And the telephone was ringing.
I stared at it from across the room.
"No."
The telephone continued ringing.
I walked closer.
"No."
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Absolutely not."
It continued.
I picked up the receiver.
Silence.
Then the same voice from the previous night whispered:
"You came back."
I frowned.
"Unfortunately."
A pause.
Then:
"Look outside."
I slowly turned toward the window.
Across the street stood the Halloween Killer.
Same black coat.
Same motionless posture.
Same pale mask.
I immediately drew my revolver.
The figure raised one hand.
Then pointed behind me.
I turned.
Nothing.
When I looked back through the window, the street was empty.
I sighed.
"Very clever."
A noise came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
I followed them.
The hallway led to the evidence room.
The door was slightly open.
I pushed it aside.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
Every photograph showed the town.
The houses.
The streets.
The church.
The forest.
But there was something strange.
Every photograph had been taken from the same perspective.
Someone had been watching the town.
I picked up another photograph.
It showed me.
Standing outside the house from last night.
I stared at it.
I had never seen anyone taking the photograph.
Another photograph showed me walking through the forest.
Another showed me standing in the police station.
The last photograph had been taken only seconds ago.
It showed me standing in the evidence room.
I slowly looked behind me.
Nobody.
Then I noticed writing on the back of the photograph.
YOU ARE NOT INVESTIGATING ME.
I turned it over.
There was another sentence.
I AM INVESTIGATING YOU.
The lights went out.
I immediately reached for my revolver.
Something moved in the darkness.
I fired once.
The muzzle flash briefly illuminated the room.
Nothing.
Then the emergency lights flickered on.
The photographs were gone.
Every single one.
Except one.
It was lying on the floor.
I picked it up.
It showed the forest.
And standing between the trees was the Halloween Killer.
But this time...
he wasn't looking at the camera.
He was looking directly at me.
I heard the telephone ring again.
Only this time, it wasn't inside the station.
It was coming from the forest.
I stared toward the window.
Then I smiled.
"Fine."
I put the photograph inside my coat.
"I suppose we have an appointment."
I walked outside.
The telephone continued ringing in the darkness.
And this time...
I followed it.
Chapter 3: The Final Call
The telephone continued ringing as I entered the forest.
I followed the sound deeper between the trees.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
The moonlight barely reached the ground.
Then I saw it.
An old telephone booth standing in the middle of the forest.
There was no road.
No electricity.
No reason for it to be there.
And yet the telephone inside was ringing.
I opened the door.
The ringing stopped.
I picked up the receiver.
The voice returned.
"You finally came."
"Yes," I replied. "And I am becoming increasingly annoyed."
A quiet laugh came through the receiver.
"Look behind you."
I turned.
The Halloween Killer stood between the trees.
This time, he wasn't wearing the mask.
He was simply a shadow beneath a wide black hat.
"You've been following me," I said.
"No."
His voice echoed through the forest.
"You've been following yourself."
The figure stepped forward.
The forest suddenly changed.
For a moment, I was back inside the old house.
Then I was standing in the police station.
Then the forest again.
Memories.
Illusions.
A game.
I realized what was happening.
The Halloween Killer wasn't hunting the people of the town.
He was trapping them inside their own fear.
I pulled out my revolver.
"Enough."
I fired.
The figure disappeared.
The telephone receiver fell from my hand.
The voice whispered one final sentence.
"You cannot kill a story."
Then everything went silent.
The wind stopped.
The trees stopped moving.
Even the insects seemed to disappear.
I looked toward the clearing.
The Halloween Killer was standing there one final time.
He removed his hat.
Then his mask.
There was no face beneath it.
Only darkness.
I stared at him.
For once, I had nothing clever to say.
The darkness began disappearing.
The figure faded with it.
The forest returned to normal.
Morning sunlight slowly appeared between the trees.
I walked back toward town.
The streets were quiet.
The houses were still standing.
The candles had gone out.
The Halloween decorations were gone.
And the old house was empty.
I entered one last time.
The telephone sat on the table.
I stared at it.
It rang once.
I picked it up.
Nothing.
I smiled.
"Goodbye."
I placed the receiver back down.
Then I noticed something on the wall.
A photograph.
It showed the entire town.
Everyone who had disappeared was standing together in the street.
Alive.
Safe.
And in the corner of the photograph stood me.
I looked at the date.
October 31.
I turned the photograph over.
There was only one sentence written on the back:
THANK YOU FOR PLAYING.
I stared at it for several seconds.
Then I put it in my coat.
I walked outside.
The sun was rising.
Halloween was over.
The town was safe.
The mystery was finished.
At least...
that is what I told myself.
As I reached the end of the street, my telephone rang.
I stopped.
Slowly, I took it from my pocket.
The screen was blank.
No number.
No name.
Just one word:
HALLOWEEN.
I stared at it.
Then the phone stopped ringing.
I put it away.
"Next year," I muttered, "I am staying home."
And for once...
I meant it.
THE END
