1999 October 31st, Halloween

In most towns, beggars’ night is the night before Halloween, but we are not like other towns. I watch as the kids wander down the dimly lit streets. Pirates, fairies, dragons, queens, cops, and real cops.

I laugh.

They slowly patrol the streets, it’s pathetic.

The houses on this street all have their porch lights on, some have the candy bowl on the front step. “Take One”

Laughable.

Those are my favorite; when you see them sitting on the couch through their windows, watching those shit TV shows, too lazy to answer the door. So they leave a bowl with the pitiful “please take one” sign. 

I always take just one.

After all, they said please.

I step onto the grass. I turn around and look towards the street as a cop car rolls by and waves to the kids on the sidewalk. I roll my eyes and turn back towards the house. “Don’t step on others’ yards, it’s rude, stick to the sidewalk,” that’s what mom always said.

Sorry, mom.

My shoes leave an imprint in the grass as I walk towards the house. I’m just getting candy, I’ll only take one. I reach the bowl and look down at its contents. DOTS. I step back and look up at the house, taking it in.

The house is two stories, probably has a basement and attic too. The house’s siding is clean and looks new. The shingles on the roof are all still in place. It’s a nice house, too nice to be handing out DOTS.

Damn, I had high hopes for this one.

I step off the porch and back onto the grass. I turn and start walking. Not towards the street, the back door.

I glance around the yard, clean with no fence, which means no dog.

I grip the metal doorknob, I can feel the cool metal through my gloves. I turn it gently and listen. I turn it more until I hear the sliding of the latch.

I gently push the door open. 

I can hear the TV coming from the living room. The door swings open easily on the hinges. I slowly rotate the doorknob, silently releasing the tension in the spring.

I look down at the floors, wood.

I slowly bend and slip off my tennis shoes, leaving them outside the door, I step into the house.

My feet hit the hardwood floor of their dining room. The house is warm. I listen and quickly find the sound of the heater. The hum is low and smooth. Not loud enough.

I slowly walk across the dining room and towards a single door. I press my ear to the wood and listen, quiet. I can hear the TV coming from the opposite direction. Empty room.

I push on the door lightly and it starts to swing open, I glance inside to see a white pristine kitchen. Fuckin DOTS.

I slip inside and the door swings silently behind me. I look around the counters. No knife block? Means I’m going to have to open drawers, too loud. Fuck.

I slowly grab one of the drawers’ curved handles and give it a light pull. I cringe at the scraping sound that wood against wood makes.

Motherfuckers don’t have drawer slides.

I still and hold my breath as I listen.

Nothing.

The TV still plays on in the living room.

I continue to gently pull the drawer out, inch by inch. 

Too loud, it’s too loud.

I continue to pull open the drawer and peek inside, towels. FUCK!

I brace myself and this time push the wooden drawer back into place. I listen. 

Nothing. 

I take a breath and grab the next drawer.

Over and over, drawer after drawer.

Too loud, taking too long.

Finally, I pull open a drawer and I catch sight of a blade.

I smile, although no one would be able to see it through the mask.

My breathing picks up as excitement runs through me.

I pull the drawer open more, just enough to grab the knife.

I drag the knife out and hold it up in the light.

New, and sharp. The light dances across the dangerous edge.

I grip it firmly in my hand as I lower it to my side. I slowly make my way back into the dining room.

Listening.

I hold the knife still by my side as I creep to the edge of the dining room. I hold myself against the wall next to the cased opening.

Finally, I hear it.

The heater jumps as it registers the temperature change from me leaving the door open. The low hum becomes louder as it pushes to compensate for the broken barrier. Loud.

I hold my breath as I glance around the corner, exposing my head. I quickly scan the living room. My eyes go wide. No.

When did they move?

The TV remains on but no one sits in the living room.

No, no, no. Where are they?

I freeze, knife in hand. SHIT!

I listen. Footsteps, upstairs.

I release my breath and enter the living room. Nothing.

I slowly walk towards the TV, I wouldn’t dare turn it off.

I stand in front of it and watch as blood is splattered across a shower curtain. Psycho, good movie. I turn away from the screen and look over my shoulder towards the stairs. Ironically, I hear the shower, upstairs, turn on. I hold in a laugh. I start making my way to the stairs when the smile on my face disappears. Ironically? No, fuckin way.

They know.

No sane person would watch psycho and then take a shower alone.

They fucking know.

What was it? The door, the drawers, the floor, the heater, my breathing? How do they fucking know?

I stand at the bottom of the stairs and stare up into the pitch-black hallway. My heart pounds in my chest. I wait and listen as the water runs.

In or out of the shower, the water is noisy, with the rumbling heater and TV, I should be able to walk upstairs.

I take a silent breath and raise my foot. It connects with the plush carpeted stairs. Fool.

I step again, and again, I count thirteen stairs in total.

I look down the hallway, a light shines from under one of the doors. The bathroom.

Before I step further I glance at every door. All shut. Not a single one cracked open.

The water continues to run as I stand at the top of the stairs. I stare hard at the slightly open bathroom door, they know. My eyes quickly find the door across from the bathroom. I quirk an eyebrow under the mask.

Hide n’ seek?

I slowly stalk down the hallway, my footsteps silent. I stop in between the two doors. I put my back against the bathroom door and push it open, letting light into the hallway; the hinges creak. I watch the door across from me slowly open.

Predictable.

I slam the bathroom door shut plunging the hallway back into darkness. They don’t have time to scream. That would be too loud.

People would know, people can’t know.

Not yet.

November 4th, 1999

Another Found Dead. Related to Past Halloween Murders?

Woman found dead in home after Halloween, police suspect the murder is connected to a string of past Halloween murders.

Neighbor, Grace, called 911 after Marry didn’t leave her house for three days. The police found her doors unlocked. They entered the home and after looking around the house they walked upstairs and found Marry's corpse in one of the rooms. Her body was almost unrecognizable. According to police the crime scene shares similarities with past murders also committed on Halloween night. 

Candy bowls left on the front porch, body brutally murdered, no fingerprints, the weapon was a knife used from the victim’s own kitchen, and the main detail was the victim was alone. With little to no evidence, the police continue to investigate the string of Halloween murders. All assumed to have been committed by the same killer, every year. After noticing the similarities in the left-out candy bowl with the “please take one” sign, people are deciding the best name for this killer is: Take One.