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Michael’s favourite activities were killing. With a variety of weapons, but mainly his trusty kitchen knife. And placing the corpses in decorative ways, In such the same manner civilians in Haddonfield would put up Halloween decorations bought from the local stores.
But above all, going home to his childhood place of residence, a now decrepit and abandoned building that was never demolished.
A local high school student, Laurie Strode, her father was looking to sell the house to new owners, touch up the property and make some money back from such a long standing house.
The wallpaper was flaking off, old and dirty. Cobwebs littered the walls, and layers upon layers of dust took over the years prior clean air.
Michael pushed open the front door to his house. His rightful place of residence. Aiming to take the stairs up to what was once his older sister Judith’s bedroom.
To look out at Haddonfield. It was one of his few pastimes outside of killing. It had the usual sights: The children walking with their friends trick or treating. The adults setting up their candy buckets for greedy trick or treaters.
It was all so familiar to him. Halloween has always been The Boogeyman’s time of year. And this year, was no different.
Michael’s initial plan after casting his shadow over the streets of Haddonfield, looking at his own reflection was to take a nap, hibernate for another year. Before coming out next Halloween.
But there was one obstacle in his path, preventing him from getting his “well deserved rest” was significant pain in his lower abdomen. Michael considered his pain tolerance to be much higher than any living beings.
And it wasn't like this abdomen pain was anything out of the ordinary, he's been experiencing for decades now.
And even he knew that this pain in his abdomen wouldn’t just leave him alone on its own. He needed something to deal with the pain. Particularly medication. From the local pharmacy down the road.
Was there a way he could blend in with Haddonfield’s local community? Without being hunted for sport at his most vulnerable.
Perhaps, if he removed his mask, changed into more casual attire and hid the scar that was on full display for anyone to see.
The injury came from a fatal encounter with a knitting needle, his now blind scarred eye. He should slip by their senses. Hopefully.
No one besides Laurie Strode and the rest of his dead family knew what he looked like under the mask.
Rising from his cobweb dusted childhood bed, the rusted bed springs creaked loudly. As Michael sat up before standing, his brown boots made the decayed wooden floorboards squeak.
Michael approached the white closet doors, practically prying them right off the hinges with his bare strength alone, rifling through whatever still remained in his closet.
Which, unluckily for him, was nothing. It was just a bunch of empty clothing hangers. Michael’s heavy breathing underneath his white latex mask, and subsided with a single deep sigh.
Left with no other choice, he reached for the zipper to the blue mechanic’s jumpsuit he always wore. Day in and day out. A outfit that he stole from a car mechanic he murdered Halloween day.
Letting the fabric for the torso half of the jumpsuit drop around his waist, allowing for a black shirt to show. With some luck, he'll be mistaken for a regular old mechanic operating out of the small town of Haddonfield.
Michael pulled his most treasured possession off his face, his mask, a soulless face, with pitch black eyes. Now equipped with his never changing blank expression, a piercing blue healthy right eye and a blind iris that he once called his left eye.
His curly brown hair always got messed up by the latex. And he didn't own a brush, not a brush that wasn't rotten with decay and old hair that once belonged to his older sister.
That mask was his entire identity. The face of Haddonfield’s most infamous serial killer. Michael hasn’t seen his face, his unmasked reflection in years. Not since he left Smith’s Grove.
A scar beginning to form on the side of his neck from where his only living family, a teenage girl named Laurie had stabbed him with a knitting needle.
And even his torso was full of bullet holes. Scars were beginning to form. He was lucky there were exit wounds.
The pain in his lower abdomen reminded him what he was doing all this for. Medicine. Michael doesn’t have a single cent on him. How was he going to pay for it? He could just shoplift.
Leaving the abandoned Myers house. The autumn leaves crunching beneath his work boots, Michael began heading down the street, crossing the road. Even as cold as the night air was. It was better than being recognised.
Michael beelined for the local pharmacy not far from his childhood house. The shop’s entry bell rang as he was welcomed by warm air. Not like the stark cold of the outside air.
”Evening! Is there anything I can help you with?”
Michael locked eyes with the woman behind the cash register. Michael was selectively mute, has been ever since the murder of his sister Judith back in 1963. It wasn't that he couldn't speak. He just chose not to.
And instead of providing the woman with a verbal answer. He shook his head side to side. Before walking behind the store shelves. Looking for pain relief medication. Ibuprofen specifically.
Michael’s sharp eyes (well, singular functioning eye) scanned the shelves of medicine. Landing on Ibuprofen. There it is.
His hands launched forward and pocketed the Ibuprofen. Without a single dollar on him, he was left with no option other than to shoplift.
”Did you find what you were looking for?” She spoke up, leaning on her hand as she expected the strange and intimidating man not far from her, to at least pay for whatever he was looking for.
The woman behind the cash register shot him another slight smile. Not knowing the Shape, the Boogeyman of Haddonfield, a man who murdered three or more teenagers this Halloween alone, was in her store. With not a single witness in sight.
It'd be so easy to murder her, to kill the only witness of a minor crime such as shoplifting. The police wouldn't make it there in time, it'd be too late.
Michael shook his head, determined that he would get away with a simple crime such as shoplifting, Haddonfield was a small suburban town, security measures weren’t as refined as they must be in bigger cities.
"Hello? Sir, you have to pay for those!" Her voice fell on deaf ears as Michael walked right out of the small store without even a word escaping his mouth. But then again, words weren't really his thing.
The poor store clerk stood there, debating over and over again in her head whether it was worth calling the police over shoplifted medicine from a suspicious man who came into her store past the normal working hours.
Ultimately deciding it wasn't worth bothering the police's heavy workload. After all they were looking for a man in a Halloween mask, a murderer who had been terrorising Haddonfield for years.
Not knowing just how close she came to death herself. The very Boogeyman of Haddonfield, a fabled ghost story had just stolen from her, and she assumed he was some other kind of criminal.
A criminal not worth agitating, he was so much bigger than her after all. If she were to be attacked, she wouldn't have a chance.
She took in a shaky breath, believing she had just escaped with her life intact, and boy she didn't know just how lucky she really was. And how dead on she was when it came to the truth of her situation.
Michael left the local pharmacy, a few boxes of ibuprofen in his jumpsuit pockets. Making a straight beeline for his childhood home, reaching for the door handle, he pushed it open, stepping inside before unintentionally slamming the door behind him with force he hadn’t intended.
He climbed the stairs, ripping open the box of ibuprofen, briefly reading the instructions on the back of the box, before downing the recommended dose for adults. Two pills.
Michael’s adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He swung his childhood bedroom door open, removing his brown boots and leaving them by the edge of his bed.
The cold night air crept through the cracked dusty windows. And Michael’s body involuntarily shivered from the slight breeze.
Michael reached for the removed top half of his stolen mechanic jumpsuit, untying it and zipping it back up as it climbed his torso. After successfully completing his nightly task to get medicine for lower abdomen cramps.
The warm yet slightly dusty material now clinging to his body. Michael was all set to get that “well deserved rest” he sought out in the first place.
The moonlight crept in through the dusty and cracked bedroom window. Allowing for Michael to see the streets of Haddonfield from inside his childhood home.
A reminder that nowhere in Haddonfield is safe from the Shape. After all, It’s Halloween. Everyone’s entitled to one good scare.