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24kvlaks · 3 months

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Haunted House

(Michael Myers x Fem reader!) WARNING! Fluff, Angst, Worded gore, Killing, Flash backs, S3xual! frustration.

Alone in Haddon-Field, It was early October and you lived in the Myers house, sounds dumb but it was listed for a cheap ole' price because of the history and that's what you needed in order to get back on your feet.

Though you could've never expected what was awaiting you, now you're feeding some mysterious presence who swoops up the food you leave around.

At first you were spooked, thinking it was some huge rodent but then came to your senses and realized no mere rodent could demolish such food in ease and in such a barbaric way.

You even thought about calling the cops, but then it made you realize it could've just been some poor child or teenager that had been starving for the longest, so you kept feeding them.

Yet the longer you fed them, you began to wonder what huge child could be devouring this much? They nearly ate six meals a day! And seemingly was still hungry.

So you called the cops and came to the best conclusion some homeless man was living in your home!

Sadly they found nothing, not a single trace of a person or even a rodent! You were never into anything that revolved around spirits but eventually you thought you might've had a hungry one.... Sounds dumb you thought.

So you tried not feeding them, keeping the fridge empty and only ordering takeout, whilst throwing the left overs away,

It must've angered whatever you had been feeding, because there was broken glass scattered everywhere when you woke up, and the trash created by you're leftovers had been rampaged and eaten.

You almost felt bad but the police commanded you to stop feeding whatever it was a stating it would likely go away on its own. But it was clear the poor thing was starving, so reluctantly you kept feeding it.

One day you decided to be smart about it and leave a note. stating "Whoever you are, or what. You clearly are hungry I'll continue to feed it as long as you don't bring destruction to my home, our home.''

Though you couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking... If only you had known.

"Our home? this is my home." It thought, demolishing the food and writing on the note with the blood on his hands stating. "ThIS IS nOt YoUr h0me" in sloppy writing.

And he refused to listen and broke the plate anyway, yet what he least expected was to come. He heard small footsteps jog down the stairs and a lower voice commanding him.

"Hey! What did I say about destruction?!" she yelled, she had her eyes closed trying to be brave by not looking at the stranger, yet she heard a loud thump as it stood.

she opened her eyes trying to be bold only too cower in fear as she realized the size of the thing, not just anything, a man. A myth? He wore a pale mask and a jumpsuit. He stared at her.

"Holy shit." she gasped, backing away slowly, only for him to walk slowly towards her. Knife in grasp.

"Food, I bought some more food for you in the fridge."

He was starving even though he knew you were just trying to manipulate him, so he started walking away, though suddenly she called his name.

"Michael, is that you?"

she was curious, wondering if this man was the reviving legend she heard so much about. He knew she was oblivious to how utterly dangerous he was, and he was not a person any soul should be around.

So he drew his knife, and walked towards her. As scared as she was she bolted upstairs, locking the door. Though if he was Michael Myers, this was his home so she had no way of escaping.

He knew this place better than you could ever.

Scared? Yes you were. The man was nearly 7'0 and he was big and burly. If he wasn't such a maniac he would be considered attractive.

You heard loud thumping, coming towards your room. Well whoever it was before it belonged to you. The door slammed open, breaking the lock as you cowardly hid under the blanket like a child.

Peeking out of the side of it to watch him, he walked right past which was so obviously you. Just too stand near the window.

Was this what they were talking about? They said he didn't attack kids, because he didn't see them as a threat, even though you were an adult did he not see you as a threat?

So you carefully lifted the blanket and spoke.

"I'm sorry for intruding its just this was really the only place in my budget!"

He thought you were stupid for talking to him, to a killing monstrous machine. No emotion what so ever, but its not his fault. He was born this way.

"I'll move out as soon as I get stable, I swear!"

Move out? For some odd reason he didn't want you too, likely for the food he thought.

You didn't know what to do so you just sat there.

Eventually you found yourself asleep. And God did he think you were stupid, going to sleep, in front of one of the most evil individuals known to Haddon-field.

Obviously you were weak and dumb, so he had no interest in killing you.

He stood over you, you were so fragile and small compared to his frame. He walked out, and into the new added basement when they re-modeled the house.

He just couldn't understand why would she easily go to sleep around an individual 'like him?' did she feel safe? No fucking way, he cursed. almost slashing himself for that pitiful thought.

And why would someone like him want that anyway?

Eventually this became a common thing for the two of you, to randomly see him in the corner of your eye, and making food for the two of you.

Leaving his plate in the microwave wrapped up for him to eat, he at least had enough sense to put the plate back.

Though the farther you went into October, the more he disappeared. And sometimes there would be tiny red smudges that resembled blood, yet you didn't dare call the cops.

Well because it could be your blood on his hands next if you do.

You started to notice he hadn't been eating your food. And honestly you began to worry, wondering if he was hurt or captured. So as dumb as you were you went out too look for the missing murderer.

At night, so it'd be more likely to see him even though he was hard to spot in general. Though u didn't see him so you just put all the plates in the mini fridge in the basement. You notice his little things down there so you left it alone.

As you walked upstairs you heard a knock on your door, and hoping it was Michael you jogged to it, opening it you were met with an unfamiliar face, they wore a police uniform.

"Sir?"

"There's been a series of murders ma'am we have reason to believe he's coming here soon, so evacuate."

"What? No way! I live here and no ones gonna drag me out of it."

Of course you knew what he was talking about and honestly you had hoped the killer would come back home, it got lonely with him gone.

"Jeez I wonder if he's okay"

you accidentally said out loud and the officer questioned what you meant but you obviously dismissed it. Taking a closer look at the officer you realized he had a warrant unfortunate for you he had a asked to come in.

So you agreed, and walked him to the table, completely unaware someone had been watching the both of you.

He wondered if you called the police, angered he still watched. But realized you didn't so he calmed, yet he couldn't but help realize how flirtish you had been with the officer.

Smiling, giggling and seemingly the officer shared the same feelings, for some odd reason he was filled with rage, wanting to grab the man by his vest and slice his throat but he knew it would be a dumb move.

So he waited, the officer explained since she didn't want to leave the house he'd patrol it for twelve hours of the day, she reluctantly agreed and bid her farewells. The officer was on his way out and Michael had vanished, waiting for night to come.

Though on his way out, Michael heard something. "Poor Michael, I hope the poor guys okay." He never heard someone speak of him so fondly before, not even as a kid.

He ignored the beating in his lower area, and the throbbing on his heart and went away, he thought so fondly of that woman he didn't know how to react,

obviously he was a grown man so he had gotten aroused and angry because of it. He didn't know how to deal with such a thing, he ignored his thoughts yet not his actions, watching her sleep and shower.

Just to make sure she didn't drown, or die in her sleep.

He had no clue why he cared, or why she cared about him but the feeling was mutual.

He went into the basement and ravished on the food she had put in his little fridge, she even put snacks and drinks, new blankets and pillows. So odd that she really cared.

He noticed everyday before he left out she did too, he followed her as she went to the library, and he watched her look him up, he almost found it amusing, she wanted to know about him.

He remembered she looked up if teleporting existed because of how fast he moved, to be honest he didn't know how he did it, he really just left when he wanted. And he was so big he wondered himself how people didn't notice him.

He was interested in you, you were funny, and considerate.

Sometimes he shamefully let his guard down around you and your comfortable presence, he didn't notice he just did it. Like all his senses went blank once he was with you.

He was a psychopath, he couldn't enjoy something. So what was this? Obsession, Desperation?

quickly it got late, and the officer had been on his phone in the car. Not patrolling shit. Michael stood in front of the car, and eventually the officer took notice of him, stepping out the car with a taser in hand.

The officer told him to speak, which obviously he didn't do. Michael pulled out his knife and the officer tased him, obviously it didn't do much. So Michael put his knife right in the mans abdomen,

the man collapsed, on his knees, Michael being as ruthless as he was he ripped of the mans dispatch so no one could contact him until he bled out.

He put the bottom of his boot in the mans mouth and placed on his weight down on one foot dislocating the whole of his bottom jaw.

Quickly Michael vanished into his home. Hearing a thud and scream come from upstairs, he went towards the sound, wondering if you had been in danger.

And he supposes he was right you had attempted to lift your bed on your own and was crumbling under its weight.

Michael scoffed and lifted it, you were surprised he had helped but you thanked him. Yet you smelled a strong stench of metal and you had blood stains on your mattress.

Yet the most obvious sign was the knife dripping.

"Michael."

A gasp left her lips and the taser head was stuck in Michaels stomach.

"You didn't"

She was backing away, what did she expect. He was a cold blooded murderer.

"I thought-"

Thought what? That he'd just stop killing all of a sudden?

You can love a monster all you wish, the monster can even love you back, but that doesn't change it's nature.

she took a deep breath, inhaling the stench of death, what did you expect. You mentally cursed yourself, and for a glimpse Michael saw a hint of disgust in your eyes.

Yet he stood there breathing heavy, covered in blood and sweat. You turned your back to him, grabbing the blankets and pillows throwing it on your bed.

Trying to pretend you weren't terrified even though he saw your body shaking.

He took a step towards you, your back on his chest and breath on your neck, his knife near your arm when suddenly both your eyes snapped towards the sirens.

And to his surprise even though you were terrified you told him to hide in the closet. The police barged in the door, yet instead of hiding he grabbed you with a knife to your throat.

You were a fucking idiot because even in this position you trusted him, so you didn't fight back.

The police kicked the door down and aimed the gun at Michael.

"Let the woman go!"

He pressed the knife on your throat, not deep enough to cut you. He tossed you towards them causing most of them to drop their guns, quickly you rolled out the way running down the stairs. You were going to fast and knocked yourself unconscious.

You woke up dizzy and in a bed, Michael standing in the corner. He was drenched in blood, and it was obvious it was not his.

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laios-thorden · 1 year

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To them [people who don't read horror] it is a kind of pornography, inducing horripilation instead of erection. And the reader who appears to relish such sensations-why he's an emotional masochist, the slave of an unholy drug, a decadent psychotic beast.

-David Aylward

horror is about catharsis. it is about experiencing fear or pain or shame or suffering via a piece of media, and being able to sigh in relief when it is done. it is about emotion and flesh and the human condition.

the point of the genre of horror is to inflict the emotion called "fear" or the related emotions "discomfort," "disgust" and "shame." if you do not want to experience and explore negative emotions and the stories that they can tell, you do not actually want to engage with horror. the point of horror is that it might make you feel bad or upset or, god forbid, scared. there are stories that rely on that and it doesn't make horror a lesser medium for narrative than any other genre. it just means that you personally might not enjoy horror.

it's fine to not like horror, but don't pretend like it's something it's not because it makes you uncomfortable.

a lot of takes about horror i see are like, "why doesn't horror have x, y, or z" and the answer is it does. you aren't engaging with the medium or searching out stories that have those things because you don't want to deal with the trappings of the genre (being scared/experiencing negative emotions). liking one piece of horror media doesn't mean engaging with the genre as a whole with all its tropes, trappings, and its rich and varied history.

Ursula K Le Guin writes,

A writer sets out to write science fiction but isn’t familiar with the genre, hasn’t read what’s been written. This is a fairly common situation, because science fiction is known to sell well but, as a subliterary genre, is not supposed to be worth study—what’s to learn? It doesn’t occur to the novice that a genre is a genre because it has a field and focus of its own; its appropriate and particular tools, rules, and techniques for handling the material; its traditions; and its experienced, appreciative readers—that it is, in fact, a literature. Ignoring all this, our novice is just about to reinvent the wheel, the space ship, the space alien, and the mad scientist, with cries of innocent wonder. The cries will not be echoed by the readers. Readers familiar with that genre have met the space ship, the alien, and the mad scientist before. They know more about them than the writer does.

the same is true for horror; people who do not engage with horror as a medium, as a genre, as a way to tell stories and convey meaning do not get to reinvent the wheel. doing so won't be met with gratitude by people who do like horror. it's not helpful. it's condescension.

#horror #writing #this post cowritten by my boyfriend #this is also like . just frustration at people who take the phrase elevated horror seriously #horror is about telling a story the same as any other genre #and like any other genre not every horror work is going to be good or deep. but they have meaning #and horror particularly gets written off as drivel by people who have only ever watched like. one slasher movie.#read clive barker. watch jordan peele movies. open your hearts and minds to the works of people who are sharing their terror with you #and understand it.

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