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vanillalimeDespite a general dislike for horror movies, I LOVE the original Halloween (1978) movie. (I think it helps that I've watched it so many times now, I know every scene practically frame-by-frame and it no longer scares me. Well, it still scares me, but in a good way, not a traumatic way, if that makes sense.) It's without a doubt in my Top 10 list of all-time favorite movies. It's simply a masterpiece in filmmaking--the pacing, the camera work, and OMG the MUSIC. John Carpenter is a genius, and it's remarkable what he accomplished, especially considering the budget. One scene in particular always has an impact on me (as explained in my end note), and for this year's third and final Spook Me story, I decided to pay tribute to it.
Title: The House Next Door
Main Characters: Unnamed Canon Characters, Laurie Strode, Michael Myers
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,526
Creature Prompt: Boogeyman
Summary: When Laurie Strode came to their house, begging for help, they should've just opened the door.
Notes: Written for the 2021 Spook Me Mult-Fandom Halloween Ficathon. Cross-posted to AO3 and Livejournal. The artwork prompt used for the story is included at the end. Additional inspiration for this story is explained in the end note.
This story is based entirely on a short scene in the original Halloween (1978) movie, where Laurie cries for a neighbor's help and is ignored. The neighbor is unnamed in the movie, so I've made one up for ease in storytelling.
______________________________________
Halloween Night, 1978
It had been a long day, and Mary Castle was exhausted. The kids had wanted to trick-or-treat until their bags were full, and it felt like they'd visited every house within a half-mile radius of their own. She curled up on the living room couch to watch a bit of television before bed, and then promptly dozed off…
Until the sound of terrified screaming roused her from her sleep.
"Help! Oh, God, help me, please!"
Disoriented, she wondered where the screams were coming from. Was it the TV? Was she dreaming? She glanced up and saw her husband, standing in the shadows of the hallway.
"I think someone's on the porch," he told her.
Mary turned the television off. It was way too late for trick-or-treaters. What in the world was going on?
"Hello? Hello?"
Now the person was pounding on the door. Mary reluctantly got up and walked the short distance to the large picture window at the front of the room. As her husband turned the porch light on, she bent over and used two fingers to force a bigger gap between the blinds. Cautiously, she peered through them.
"Hello! Help me! Will you please help me? Please!"
It was a frantic teenage girl, too old to be a trick-or-treater. Mary thought she recognized her, although it was hard be sure.
"I think it's that girl who babysits for the Doyles across the street," she said.
"Oh, for crying out loud," her husband muttered. "Stupid teenagers and their goddamn pranks. Don't fall for any of that."
Mary slowly drew her hand back and closed the blinds tight.
"Can't you hear me?"
Her husband turned off the porch light.
"Oh, God!"
Mary joined her husband in the hallway and heard one last cry before the voice faded into the night.
"Help me, please!"
"Are you sure it's a prank?" Mary asked him. "She seems really scared."
"It's a teenage prank, trust me," he replied. "They do anything for Halloween. I heard that a group of them got caught throwing eggs and soaping windows last night. Somebody vandalized the cemetery today, too."
"Maybe we should call the police, to be safe," Mary suggested.
"No, the cops have enough to deal with on Halloween night. Let's just go to bed."
With an uneasy feeling, Mary followed her husband up the stairs. She began to worry that all the commotion had woken the kids, so she peeked into each of their bedrooms. Thankfully, they were sound asleep, crashed out after their Halloween candy sugar-high.
Quickly, Mary got ready for bed. She quietly slid between the cool sheets and settled in next to her husband. She no longer felt tired. Now she was wide awake.
She tried to forget about the girl on the porch. It was just a Halloween prank of some kind. Her husband had said so.
Just when she had almost convinced herself that there was nothing to worry about, the unexpected sound of a nearby gunshot shattered the stillness around her.
BAM.
Mary held her breath, listening hard. Her husband tensed beside her. Then, moments later, there were five more shots in quick succession.
BAM. BAM-BAM. BAM-BAM.
For a few seconds, they simply lay there in stunned silence. Then finally, Mary spoke.
"I have a feeling it wasn't a prank," she whispered into the darkness.
Her husband said nothing.
*~*~*
Haddonfield was a small town.
Gossip spread like wildfire, and it didn’t take long for the entire community to learn of the small but damning role the Castles had played in the Michael Myers nightmare.
Even before Laurie Strode had a chance to tell her full story, Mary sensed trouble ahead. Their first interview with the police had taken place Halloween night, as Sheriff Brackett's anguished cries from next door echoed down the street. She had noticed the cold looks on the policemen's faces and the accusatory phrasing of their questions.
"So, let me get this right. You thought the hysterical screaming of a teenage girl was just someone playing a Halloween prank?"
"Yes, we did."
"And you didn't even bother to open the door to see if she needed help?"
"No, we didn't."
Michael Myers was caught and put away, for good this time. But the scars he left on Haddonfield remained fresh for weeks afterwards. The town needed an outlet for its anger and pain, and the Castles were deemed a deserving target in Myers’ absence. A rolling tide of hostility and malice washed over them and never receded. At times, it felt like they were as hated as Michael Myers himself.
Mary and her husband tried to explain their actions, tried to justify them, to anyone who would listen. They reminded people of all the pranks teenagers play on Halloween. They questioned why the police never sent out a bulletin to warn everyone that a homicidal maniac was on the loose. They pointed out that no one died because of what they did—Laurie Strode and Tommy Doyle and Lindsay Wallace were fine, and those other kids were already dead when Laurie came knocking on their door. And if they'd allowed Laurie into their house that night, who knows what might've happened? They could've been endangering the lives of their own children!
Their arguments made no difference. Clearly, forgiveness was not forthcoming, but perhaps forgetfulness was. As they settled in for winter, Mary prayed that time would heal Haddonfield's wounds.
April 1979
On the first warm and sunny day of spring, everyone in the neighborhood broke free from their self-imposed winter exiles and ventured outside. Mary hoped the season of rebirth and renewal would extend to personal relationships, and she made several attempts at small talk with various neighbors. Unfortunately, Mary’s dreams of reconciliation ended abruptly when her husband got into a shouting match with the Wallaces next door.
As it turned out, little Lindsay was fine physically, but the traumatic events of Halloween night had led to some significant, lingering mental health issues. Lindsay's father snidely suggested that the Castles should be paying the bills for her therapy sessions, and all hell broke loose.
Mary's husband rejected the idea in no uncertain terms. He told the Wallaces that if they had stayed home on Halloween night with their daughter rather than hiring a babysitter and selfishly going out to some "goddamn swingers' party," not only would Lindsay be fine, but Annie and Lynda and Bob would most likely still be alive, too.
Things escalated dramatically from there, and some other neighbors had to intervene to prevent the situation from devolving into physical violence. As expected, everyone who learned of the incident sympathized with the Wallaces, and the Castles found themselves ostracized once again.
The following week, Mary's husband contacted a realtor and planted a FOR SALE sign in the yard.
For obvious reasons, they did not use Strode Realty.
Halloween Night, 1979
Another Halloween, another long day, and Mary was exhausted once again. Not from trick-or-treating this time—the kids had declared themselves too old, although Mary suspected their reasons were likely more complicated than that. No, this Halloween had been spent busily packing up the last of their belongings in preparation for Moving Day.
It had taken six months, six long months, to sell the house. As it turned out, no one was particularly keen on buying the house next door to the Michael Myers murder house. Or maybe there was a local conspiracy of some kind, they couldn't be sure.
With every price reduction, Mary's husband had cursed the Wallaces and their selfishness. As far as he was concerned, everything that had happened during the last year was their fault, and the fact that no one else seemed to realize this frustrated him to no end. His only solace was knowing that the property value of the Wallaces' house had to be even lower than theirs.
Every time he went on another rant, Mary held her tongue. She suspected that a guilty conscience was at the root of her husband's ill feelings, and she didn't want to rub salt in his wound.
That night, they climbed into bed for the last time in the house. Mary yearned for dreams of new beginnings and was already half-asleep when she heard her husband mutter roughly into the darkness.
"I bet Michael Myers escapes someday. And when he does, I hope he pays the Wallaces another visit."
Mary's blood ran cold. "Surely you don't mean that," she whispered back.
"I sure as hell do. They're as evil as he is. Trying to ruin a person's life is as bad as ending it."
He rolled over and said no more, and eventually Mary heard the slow, steady breathing of deep sleep.
Mary, on the other hand, was awake for the rest of the night. She had felt an undefinable shift in her universe, and was more frightened now than she had been at any point last Halloween. Sometimes the boogeyman is under your bed, and sometimes he's in a state mental hospital. But sometimes he is lying right next to you, and that is the scariest boogeyman of all.
THE END
End Note: In college MANY years ago, I watched Halloween for the first time with a group of friends. When the movie got to this scene, my roommate Kelly (who had already seen the movie multiple times) leaned over and whispered to me, "This is the scariest part of the whole movie." I prepared myself for a big jump scare or gruesome killing and was perplexed when that didn't happen. Afterwards, I asked her about it, and she said, "Well, it's everybody's worst nightmare, isn't it? You think you've found help, that everything will be ok, and then… it’s not." And I was like, "Ah, of course, now I get it."
Fast-forward almost 30 years later, and I'm watching Halloween 2018 in the theater with my son. [Minor spoiler ahead] At one point, the movie pays homage to this scene, where Laurie's granddaughter bangs on the door of a house, screaming for help, and I thought, "Here we go again..." But then this time the person actually opens the door and helps her. I literally laughed out loud (quietly!) and thought to myself, "That was for you, Kelly."
Title: The House Next Door
Main Characters: Unnamed Canon Characters, Laurie Strode, Michael Myers
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,526
Creature Prompt: Boogeyman
Summary: When Laurie Strode came to their house, begging for help, they should've just opened the door.
Notes: Written for the 2021 Spook Me Mult-Fandom Halloween Ficathon. Cross-posted to AO3 and Livejournal. The artwork prompt used for the story is included at the end. Additional inspiration for this story is explained in the end note.
This story is based entirely on a short scene in the original Halloween (1978) movie, where Laurie cries for a neighbor's help and is ignored. The neighbor is unnamed in the movie, so I've made one up for ease in storytelling.
______________________________________
Halloween Night, 1978
It had been a long day, and Mary Castle was exhausted. The kids had wanted to trick-or-treat until their bags were full, and it felt like they'd visited every house within a half-mile radius of their own. She curled up on the living room couch to watch a bit of television before bed, and then promptly dozed off…
Until the sound of terrified screaming roused her from her sleep.
"Help! Oh, God, help me, please!"
Disoriented, she wondered where the screams were coming from. Was it the TV? Was she dreaming? She glanced up and saw her husband, standing in the shadows of the hallway.
"I think someone's on the porch," he told her.
Mary turned the television off. It was way too late for trick-or-treaters. What in the world was going on?
"Hello? Hello?"
Now the person was pounding on the door. Mary reluctantly got up and walked the short distance to the large picture window at the front of the room. As her husband turned the porch light on, she bent over and used two fingers to force a bigger gap between the blinds. Cautiously, she peered through them.
"Hello! Help me! Will you please help me? Please!"
It was a frantic teenage girl, too old to be a trick-or-treater. Mary thought she recognized her, although it was hard be sure.
"I think it's that girl who babysits for the Doyles across the street," she said.
"Oh, for crying out loud," her husband muttered. "Stupid teenagers and their goddamn pranks. Don't fall for any of that."
Mary slowly drew her hand back and closed the blinds tight.
"Can't you hear me?"
Her husband turned off the porch light.
"Oh, God!"
Mary joined her husband in the hallway and heard one last cry before the voice faded into the night.
"Help me, please!"
"Are you sure it's a prank?" Mary asked him. "She seems really scared."
"It's a teenage prank, trust me," he replied. "They do anything for Halloween. I heard that a group of them got caught throwing eggs and soaping windows last night. Somebody vandalized the cemetery today, too."
"Maybe we should call the police, to be safe," Mary suggested.
"No, the cops have enough to deal with on Halloween night. Let's just go to bed."
With an uneasy feeling, Mary followed her husband up the stairs. She began to worry that all the commotion had woken the kids, so she peeked into each of their bedrooms. Thankfully, they were sound asleep, crashed out after their Halloween candy sugar-high.
Quickly, Mary got ready for bed. She quietly slid between the cool sheets and settled in next to her husband. She no longer felt tired. Now she was wide awake.
She tried to forget about the girl on the porch. It was just a Halloween prank of some kind. Her husband had said so.
Just when she had almost convinced herself that there was nothing to worry about, the unexpected sound of a nearby gunshot shattered the stillness around her.
BAM.
Mary held her breath, listening hard. Her husband tensed beside her. Then, moments later, there were five more shots in quick succession.
BAM. BAM-BAM. BAM-BAM.
For a few seconds, they simply lay there in stunned silence. Then finally, Mary spoke.
"I have a feeling it wasn't a prank," she whispered into the darkness.
Her husband said nothing.
*~*~*
Haddonfield was a small town.
Gossip spread like wildfire, and it didn’t take long for the entire community to learn of the small but damning role the Castles had played in the Michael Myers nightmare.
Even before Laurie Strode had a chance to tell her full story, Mary sensed trouble ahead. Their first interview with the police had taken place Halloween night, as Sheriff Brackett's anguished cries from next door echoed down the street. She had noticed the cold looks on the policemen's faces and the accusatory phrasing of their questions.
"So, let me get this right. You thought the hysterical screaming of a teenage girl was just someone playing a Halloween prank?"
"Yes, we did."
"And you didn't even bother to open the door to see if she needed help?"
"No, we didn't."
Michael Myers was caught and put away, for good this time. But the scars he left on Haddonfield remained fresh for weeks afterwards. The town needed an outlet for its anger and pain, and the Castles were deemed a deserving target in Myers’ absence. A rolling tide of hostility and malice washed over them and never receded. At times, it felt like they were as hated as Michael Myers himself.
Mary and her husband tried to explain their actions, tried to justify them, to anyone who would listen. They reminded people of all the pranks teenagers play on Halloween. They questioned why the police never sent out a bulletin to warn everyone that a homicidal maniac was on the loose. They pointed out that no one died because of what they did—Laurie Strode and Tommy Doyle and Lindsay Wallace were fine, and those other kids were already dead when Laurie came knocking on their door. And if they'd allowed Laurie into their house that night, who knows what might've happened? They could've been endangering the lives of their own children!
Their arguments made no difference. Clearly, forgiveness was not forthcoming, but perhaps forgetfulness was. As they settled in for winter, Mary prayed that time would heal Haddonfield's wounds.
April 1979
On the first warm and sunny day of spring, everyone in the neighborhood broke free from their self-imposed winter exiles and ventured outside. Mary hoped the season of rebirth and renewal would extend to personal relationships, and she made several attempts at small talk with various neighbors. Unfortunately, Mary’s dreams of reconciliation ended abruptly when her husband got into a shouting match with the Wallaces next door.
As it turned out, little Lindsay was fine physically, but the traumatic events of Halloween night had led to some significant, lingering mental health issues. Lindsay's father snidely suggested that the Castles should be paying the bills for her therapy sessions, and all hell broke loose.
Mary's husband rejected the idea in no uncertain terms. He told the Wallaces that if they had stayed home on Halloween night with their daughter rather than hiring a babysitter and selfishly going out to some "goddamn swingers' party," not only would Lindsay be fine, but Annie and Lynda and Bob would most likely still be alive, too.
Things escalated dramatically from there, and some other neighbors had to intervene to prevent the situation from devolving into physical violence. As expected, everyone who learned of the incident sympathized with the Wallaces, and the Castles found themselves ostracized once again.
The following week, Mary's husband contacted a realtor and planted a FOR SALE sign in the yard.
For obvious reasons, they did not use Strode Realty.
Halloween Night, 1979
Another Halloween, another long day, and Mary was exhausted once again. Not from trick-or-treating this time—the kids had declared themselves too old, although Mary suspected their reasons were likely more complicated than that. No, this Halloween had been spent busily packing up the last of their belongings in preparation for Moving Day.
It had taken six months, six long months, to sell the house. As it turned out, no one was particularly keen on buying the house next door to the Michael Myers murder house. Or maybe there was a local conspiracy of some kind, they couldn't be sure.
With every price reduction, Mary's husband had cursed the Wallaces and their selfishness. As far as he was concerned, everything that had happened during the last year was their fault, and the fact that no one else seemed to realize this frustrated him to no end. His only solace was knowing that the property value of the Wallaces' house had to be even lower than theirs.
Every time he went on another rant, Mary held her tongue. She suspected that a guilty conscience was at the root of her husband's ill feelings, and she didn't want to rub salt in his wound.
That night, they climbed into bed for the last time in the house. Mary yearned for dreams of new beginnings and was already half-asleep when she heard her husband mutter roughly into the darkness.
"I bet Michael Myers escapes someday. And when he does, I hope he pays the Wallaces another visit."
Mary's blood ran cold. "Surely you don't mean that," she whispered back.
"I sure as hell do. They're as evil as he is. Trying to ruin a person's life is as bad as ending it."
He rolled over and said no more, and eventually Mary heard the slow, steady breathing of deep sleep.
Mary, on the other hand, was awake for the rest of the night. She had felt an undefinable shift in her universe, and was more frightened now than she had been at any point last Halloween. Sometimes the boogeyman is under your bed, and sometimes he's in a state mental hospital. But sometimes he is lying right next to you, and that is the scariest boogeyman of all.
THE END
End Note: In college MANY years ago, I watched Halloween for the first time with a group of friends. When the movie got to this scene, my roommate Kelly (who had already seen the movie multiple times) leaned over and whispered to me, "This is the scariest part of the whole movie." I prepared myself for a big jump scare or gruesome killing and was perplexed when that didn't happen. Afterwards, I asked her about it, and she said, "Well, it's everybody's worst nightmare, isn't it? You think you've found help, that everything will be ok, and then… it’s not." And I was like, "Ah, of course, now I get it."
Fast-forward almost 30 years later, and I'm watching Halloween 2018 in the theater with my son. [Minor spoiler ahead] At one point, the movie pays homage to this scene, where Laurie's granddaughter bangs on the door of a house, screaming for help, and I thought, "Here we go again..." But then this time the person actually opens the door and helps her. I literally laughed out loud (quietly!) and thought to myself, "That was for you, Kelly."
