THE FESTIVAL OF SAMHAIN
EPILOGUE- SIX FEET UNDER
At the top of Harlow Hill overlooking the town of Haddonfield, a large wooden cross was pounded into the soil approximately ten feet off the ground.
Strapped to it, crucifix-style, was the body of Michael Myers.
His sister, Laurie Strode, stood at its base, looking up at him with a sledgehammer in her arms.
The smell of gasoline permeated the air as Laurie made eye contact with her brother for the last time-- and knew that beneath that facade, that ghostly, blank shape of a man was still alive and glaring back at her.
Watching. Waiting. Calculating what it would take to break free.
Only this time, there would be no breaking free. There would be no escape.
For the first and perhaps only time in his life, Michael Myers was helpless.
Once the realization of that set in, Laurie grinned from ear to ear at her brother and blew him a kiss.
Smiling for the first time in many, many years, Laurie struck a match and lit the crucifix-- and Michael's body-- up in flames.
What followed was a revelation of sorts for the town. A cleansing of the wicked, if you will.
Reports came in of a fire spreading outside of town, but with a limited emergency response, it was up to a lot of the remaining townsfolk to band together and help each other out.
By the time they arrived at the scene, Laurie Strode was long gone, but looking up at her handiwork, the townspeople knew. They just knew. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was Michael Myers. Rumors quickly spread as fast as those flames, and before long, a large group of citizens had gathered at the base of the cross, many of whom were affected by Michael's savagery over the years.
Strangely enough, not one person suggested they put the flames out. Instead, they all just stared up at Michael in gratifying awe.
Their years of misery were finally over.
ONE YEAR LATER
OCTOBER 31, 2015
The real fire department did eventually show up to the scene at Harlow Hill, but by then, Michael was burnt to a crisp, so there really wasn't anything to extinguish.
It took some time, but DNA evidence finally revealed that the body was indeed that of Michael Myers.
And, one year later, on the anniversary of his death, Laurie Strode stood over the grave that once bore her name, finally at peace.
At peace with life. At peace with death. At peace with everything that had happened to her since that fateful night in 1978, when her brother robbed her of her innocence and ruined her life forever.
At that point, the power Michael Myers had over her had finally ceased to exist. It was now time for Laurie Strode to live the rest of her life on her terms.
With orange and brown leaves blowing around her, Laurie took off the black fedora and trench coat she was wearing and tossed them to the ground. She then knelt by the headstone and placed a black rose at the base, just below where "MYERS, MICHAEL AUDREY" was etched into the granite. With that, she stood back up, turned, and walked away, singing an all-too-familiar tune as she disappeared into the distance:
“I wish I had you all alone...just the two of us.”
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