jonathanrileymyers

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael's body trembled with frustration and rage as he returned to the old house, only to find it deserted and devoid of life. The silence was deafening, and the absence of the people who once filled the space only fueled his anger.

"........."

He clenched his fists tightly, the leather of his gloves creaking with the pressure. In a sudden outburst, he lunged at the mirror, his fist smashing mercilessly into the glass. The mirror shattered, the pieces tinkling to the ground like broken shards of his fury.

"......"

[jonathanrileymyers]

Hey Michael! Why do you kill people in Halloween? Do you only kill the randoms or the blood related ones???

Michael's eyes skimmed over the message, the question lingering in his mind. He was used to people speculating and trying to understand his motives on Halloween, but this query went deeper, asking if he had a specific focus when selecting victims.

"........."

His mind wandered back to the numerous kills he had committed on those fateful nights, the cold and calculated silence that had always surrounded his actions. But the question about targeting victims related to him by blood caught his attention. It was a truth he had kept hidden even from himself.

"....."

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael's tall, dark figure loomed over the abandoned credit card on the street. His head was tilted to the side, a subtle sign of curiosity, as he regarded the shiny piece of plastic.

"......"

He reached into his pocket, his hand extracting a second credit card, identical to the one on the ground. Holding both cards in his hand, he stood motionless, his expression obscured by the blank mask.

"...."

[jonathanrileymyers]

Hey Michael I'm sorry for asking that question about the blood, didn't realize it was such a uh...sensitive topic. Please don't kill me! *Leaves you some candy as an offering and runs away.*

Michael's eyes flickered momentarily, a hint of surprise seeping into his otherwise stoic demeanor. He raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly, at the audacity of the question and the swift retraction.

"....."

But the offer of candy piqued his interest. He wasn't used to such gestures, and it caught him off guard. The thought of a random stranger, fearing him and offering sweets in response, was both amusing and mildly bewildering to him.

"...?"

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael Myers had never cared for social media attention or any form of online validation, but if he were somehow aware of achieving 50 likes on a platform, his reaction would likely be his usual indifferent stare. He would observe the notification with a stoic gaze, his emotionless expression not changing in the slightest.

"........"

Michael wasn't the type to be phased by numbers, especially not on social media. He would simply acknowledge it internally, perhaps with a hint of bemused curiosity, before moving on with his brooding demeanor.

"mh...."

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael when you wrote the message in blood in the bathroom, who was it for? 🩸👀

Michael's gaze hardened as he scrutinized the message. The mention of a message written in blood struck a nerve in him. Who knew about that? He had carefully chosen his words and their location to convey a message to someone specific, intending it to remain a secret. Curiosity and a slight hint of annoyance stirred within him. This stranger was asking questions that touched a sensitive nerve.

"........"

He clenched his fist, the leather of his gloves creaking softly. Who was asking this question? How did they know about the secret message? Michael's mind whirled with questions and caution. He didn't respond immediately. instead, he leaned back, contemplating his next move.

"..."

[jonathanrileymyers]

michaeeell please have more collabs with @officialstevengrant you two are like a fking cool duo😭😭😭👹👹👹👹👹👹

Michael Myers stared blankly at the message, his expression shielded by his featureless white mask. The phrase "michaeell" and "@officialstevengrant" seemed foreign to him, suggesting that they were online personas. He paused for a moment, contemplating the request. The anonymity of the user made replying more intriguing than usual, but he had no idea who these people were.

"mh...."

He continued reading the message, taking in the words "cool duo" and a string of devil emojis. A sense of curiosity began to grow within him. Michael didn't often engage with others, but the idea of collaborating with someone piqued his interest. Nodding anyway as he was accepting it.

"...."

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael Myers stalked silently through the dense woods, the shadows and underbrush barely hindering his imposing figure. Suddenly, a small girl from a nearby camp ran up to him, her hand clutched around a fragile flower. With a child's innocence, she thrust the flower towards him before darting off to rejoin her parents. Michael paused, looking at the unexpected gift in his hand. He stood there motionless for a moment, tilting his head as he regarded the flower. It was a stark contradiction to the dark, morbid reality he was accustomed to.

"......."

After a moment of contemplation, he gingerly clutched the flower in his large, calloused hand and continued his walk, the flower the only bright spot in the grim surroundings. He made a mental note to place it in a vase later, a rare moment of thoughtfulness in his otherwise cold and emotionless existence.

"mh...."

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael sat in the bathtub, his clothes still on and soaked from the water. He stared blankly at the tiled wall in front of him, his mind far away. The silence in the room was broken only by the occasional dripping of water from his soggy clothes.

"....."

Suddenly, he shifted, his large form rising from the tub. He walked over to the sink, leaving wet footprints on the tiled floor. He than places his finger against the bathtub that was now stained with blood and pulls it out as he began to write on the white ceramic, leaving a trail of bloody letters "you♥️".

"......"

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael Myers wandered aimlessly through the vast, quiet woods. As the night deepened, he came across a strange sight - three bloodied knives lying on the ground, abandoned and discarded. The sight of them seemed almost out of place in the normally peaceful surroundings. Michael paused, tilting his head in thought. He wasn't sure why, but he felt an inexplicable urge to collect the knives. Perhaps they could be useful in the future, or maybe his past instincts were taking over.

"....."

He picked up the sharpest-looking knife, its blade still stained with dried blood. The weight of it felt strangely familiar in his hand, a cruel reminder of the violence he was capable of. Michael tucked the knife safely into his coveralls, before doing the same with the other two blades.

"hm..."

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael Myers walked through the woods late at night, lost in his own thoughts. The silence of the forest was occasionally broken by the sound of his footsteps on the leaves and twigs. As he wandered, he noticed a large building in the distance an old, abandoned structure. Michel drew closer, drawn to the sight of the grand piano sitting neglected and silent in a corner. It was a stark contrast to the wilderness surrounding it.

"......"

With careful, almost hesitant movements, Michael approached the instrument. He reached out, his large, gloved hand resting on the polished wood of the piano. The touch was soft, a far cry from the violent acts he was known for.

"......"

[jonathanrileymyers]

Michael Myers wandered through the dense woods, his path lit only by the soft glow of the moon. The silence around him seemed almost eerie, broken only by the sound of his own heavy breathing through the blank, white mask he wore. After hours of walking, Michael came upon a quaint house nestled deep in the forest. There were no signs of life, no lights within the windows. He paused, tilting his head in thought.

"...."

Despite the lack of signs of life, something about the house drew him in. Perhaps it was the isolation, the sense of being cut off from the world. With a deep, shuddering breath, he pushed open the front door, the creaky hinges announcing his unwelcome arrival.

"hm..."

[jonathanrileymyers]

When I was small I saw your first movie and I was so scared of you that my Mom had to hide her collectors doll of you in her closet for a few years cause I would break out in panicked sobs. You still scare me, but you're my favorite slasher 👍

Michael's unfeeling eyes fixed on the message. He had heard variations of this story many times in his years as a legendary slasher people recounting their first encounters with his exploits, the fear he instilled in them as children. It was a strange sort of validation, knowing that he had left such a lasting impact on others.

"........"

The mention of the doll fascinated him more than anything, also the idea that someone had kept it hidden away for so long, unable to confront their fear. It was almost ironic a symbol of dread, yet somehow cherished.

"hm..."

[jonathanrileymyers]

As Michael Myers stood tall, blood staining his blue coveralls and darkening his thick work boots, he felt the stickiness of the crimson liquid on his hands. The night had been filled with his usual violent acts, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. With a slight tilt of his head, he moved his left hand over the sink, turning on the cold water. As the water flowed, he placed his stained fingers under the stream.

"....."

The water turned a deep shade of red as it washed away the evidence of his actions. Michael's eyes remained fixed on the stream, seemingly lost in contemplation. It was an unexpected moment of pause, as if he was trying to cleanse more than just his physical being.

"Hm..."

[jonathanrileymyers]

After the night of trick-or-treating, Michael Myers stood alone in his home, the silence of the night surrounding him. In his hand, he held a small, nearly empty bag of candies he had collected from the kids who had eagerly knocked on doors. As he looked inside, he saw that the majority of the treats were gummy candies: a mix of fruit shapes, colors, and sizes. As he sifted through them, a thought crossed his mind. It was an unusual moment of contemplation for a man of his nature.

".....?"

The candies, with their bright colors and sugary sweetness, were a stark contrast to the dark, twisted world that was Michael's reality. They were symbols of innocence and joy, something that seemed foreign to a man who had been surrounded by pain and death for most of his life. Michael's expression remained stoic behind his blank mask, but a sense of intrigue, curiosity even, began to stir within him. He turned the small bag over in his hand, contemplating the peculiar gift.

"....."

[jonathanrileymyers]

Hey michaeeell, what do you think about that steven grant guy👀?

The message caught Michael's attention. Steven grant, The name rang a bell. He knew of this person, though he couldn't recall how or where exactly. It was an unusual feeling being asked about another person. His head tilted slightly. If he could, he would scoff in contempt. The message, however, piqued his curiosity.

"......"

The killer's eyes narrowed behind the blank mask. He wasn't sure how to respond, as he had never been in a situation where he had to provide an opinion on someone else. The question caught him off guard, forcing him to delve into a part of himself he hadn't explored in decades.

"...."

[jonathanrileymyers]

"........"

Oh shi👀 @jonathanrileymyers @officialstevengrant