In honor of my favorite holiday, I went looking for a piece I wrote several years back and never got around to tinkering with further. Until now. It’s a re-imagining of Michael Myers, not as some supernatural entity but as a real person.

Happy Halloween . . . 

Michael grabbed the keys from the hook in the foyer before moving into the garage. His eyes squirmed and then settled as he located the light switch. He jabbed at the button beside it and the garage door came to life. He studied the jumble of keys in his hand, all of its purpose had gone dead now. A couple of pumps of the key-less entry and he was sitting behind the wheel of a jet black Audi and tap dancing on the candy coated rev. He checked the fuel indicator . . full. And with a diesel engine to crunch tire on, it would bridge the five hour gap between his toes and Long Point, Illinois very nicely.  He set the GPS and smiled.

With open road came enough leisure with which to settle his mind on some tunes. He plugged in the i-Pod he had gathered on his way out the door. He toggled at the concert panel, tapping the media selection into life and fingering his way through a stack of entries. Dr. Henley Warren had been an academic of some repute, but his taste in music? It was shit for. Michael switched over to satellite radio and pumped up some White Zombie before turning his attention to Warren’s smart phone.

Dr. Warren had lived the retrofitted American dream of the baby boomer generation. He had morphed from counterculture propagandist to stock market gangster, after which he moved his doctorate into a cushy tenure at a university. The sonofabitch had been a someone thanks to humping the backs of real someones.

Warren’s writings on cognitive dissonance produced four books, after which he scavenged the realm of Disassociative Identity Disorder for his profit. It was the chapter entitled “The Mythology of Michael Myers” that sealed the doctor’s fate. In the chapter, he opined on a culture that glorified monsters. As Warren saw it,

Our deification of fictionalized characters such as Michael Myers speaks of a nation whose lonely eyes are woefully out of focus. We created Myers from the ether, his existence a dubious counter punch to an establishment whose dictates have impaled all hope. 

Warren wrote of Michael Myers as if a stranger. Despite having gained an audience with him in 1981, five years after Myers murdered his entire family in cold blood. He wrote of Myers as if clueless to that meeting. As if never having known that Michael Myers was a fictional representative of a real event.

But he knew, all of it. Warren had first learned of Myers through a little known scribe whose article on the Myers family murders in a weekly periodical was retracted in November of 1976, a week after it ran. The author of that piece, Reid Loomis, was the editor of the Long Point Herald. A brilliant writer, and a drunk. No one batted an eye when the story was retracted. And no one was shocked when Reid was found dead in his bathtub a couple weeks later.

The composite of Michael Myers happened into being on the crumbs of that long lost article by Loomis. Its afterlife was achieved when a little known director by the name of John Carpenter bought the ‘premise’ from a government agent at a poker game in Los Angeles. For twenty bucks. After which Carpenter turned the nightmarish events into a rhythm sectioned profit center, never knowing how right he had been.

Urban legends work best when there is no one left to blame. And with Michael Myers imprisoned in a government facility for the rest of his natural born life, all that was left was the money to be made off those murders. Warren’s meeting with the fifteen year old Myers was of a classified nature. The Myers family murders had been sealed. Permanently.

This cloak of darkness had come as the result of an experimental drug born of Dante’s worst tale. HR-9 was developed by a team of U.S. Army doctors in the hopes that once the drug was perfected, it could be given to combatants. It would introduce a killing machine the likes of which the theater of war had never seen. Soldiers who were tireless, merciless and inhumanly strong.

Thomas Myers was a doctor in the program. His son, the last known casualty. The ten year old Myers had wandered down to his father’s basement office on Halloween night with his bag full of treats. When he found his father asleep on the sofa, he swapped a milky way bar for one of those pink discs on the desk. They looked like smarties, his favorite.

Hell was unleashed shortly thereafter when Michael bludgeoned his father, along with his mother Judith. After which he turned his attention to his teenage sister Audrey and his infant brother Jason. Michael was finally apprehended by police, running the streets in a blood crazed ruin.

Technology had gone wicked in its depth and reach since Michael had been shuttered away to a government facility in New Mexico for the rest of his natural born life. But Michael had kept up. He possessed thirty-seven years worth of unencumbered education on the world and now that he was free, he was prepared to show his full reach.

He would never own a permanent residence. His mind possessed volumes of information on cities and towns and hamlets- from San Diego, California to Estcourt Station, Maine. His whereabouts would prove as impossible to nail down as the wind. He would hide in the plain sight of cities that concerned themselves with low flying airliners and homemade bombs and striking Congressmen. He would go small town whenever those big brother subsidized empires started gaining on him.

Dr. Warren’s smart phone held names that mattered, Names that had once helped to make that horrible night in 1976 possible, and names that had helped to bury it.  Names that were going to pay dearly for such a thing, just like Dr. Warren, whose head was resting comfortably at the bottom of the aquarium in his living room. To those who had passed, Michael would take his rage out on their families. It wasn’t fair, but neither was losing your life to a pill that never should have existed.

Michael set the Audi into cruise as his body went lazy on the leather seat and his brain went blank, in preparation. All those years of wondering what he might do with a life on the other side had served to turn his patience heavy. Now, he was busy slimming the purpose of it all into shape.

His new life would start in the sleepy bedroom town of Long Point, Illinois- better known to fans of cinematic horror as Haddonfield, He would visit a retired sheriff by the name of Laurie Strode and he would lay his response to Thomas Wolfe on her corpse, and it would read simply.

You can go home again. 


76 thoughts on “Boogeyman

  1. B,

    It’s kinda weird to comment here as we are chatting there but I will anyway!

    I can foresee getting into this “series” (calling it such loosely as this is definitely just a taste to whet our appetites, hook us in and leave us begging for more) even though I am a wimp when it comes to horror. I think I am less so when reading vs watching 😉

    I admit to having read this thrice and gaining more and more with each read. I am so looking forward to how you develop this story. Who’d a thunk? First you get me into baseball and now horror! Though not focussing on the details of the murders is what works for me, personally.

    Yep. Do please continue this one!


    Liked by 3 people

    • Q,

      Weird I cannot do, but thank God it’s also odd . . because that happens to be my wheelhouse.

      I say this as I chew on some Larceny whilst Watching Halloween and jotting notes on Michael Myers. So yeah . . odd fits me.

      Consider this a horror, yes, but unlike a typical slasher story, this one ain’t looking to get its jollies by making you scream. It’s more intent on making you think. Think about why it is that most peeps are so turned on to the horror genre. Why do we create these boogeymen in the first place?

      No, I’m not so much interested in the blood and guts unless it’s Romero, Tarantino or Zombie doing the dealing. I want the horror that comes with a collective psychosis that celebrates the bad guys and yet roots for happy endings.

      Oh, Imma do just that.

      Gracias times one hundred for reading this, thrice! And sorry . . but it may be many more times than that.


      Liked by 1 person

      • You know what I meant!

        G’head call yourself odd if that’s what it takes to get your creativity going. Of course Larceny and Halloween are more than a plus to help you in this endeavour.

        I am only calling it horror for lack of another term – what did Dexter fall under? I like that it is more a make us think than make us cringe – though cringe we will. Just not in the slasher way. (Am I babbling?)

        Blood and guts only goes so far. And I don’t know why I can take it with Tarantino. Must be because the writing and everything else is so damn good. And yes, the collective psychosis is way more interesting.

        Yay! I am jiggy wid it, big time!

        And puh-leeze. You know I am your number one fan. And bring it on. I shall be there for each draft!

        Liked by 1 person

        • Of course I did. But why would I miss the chance to fuck with ya? 😉

          I like the odd. It figures me out and gives me a badge for the damage, so I’m not complaining in the least. Larceny . . too tasty. The latest Halloween entry? This is my fifth-ish time watching it and the more I do watch it, the more I appreciate the original.

          Dexter was drama/horror I do believe. And yes, that kind of place. Where Jim Morrison woulda been like “I gots to write me a song about all these strange peeps . . .”

          You didn’t babble there. I’ve seen your babble. Heard your babble. That wasn’t a babble.

          Really, so true! Tarantino proves that blood really isn’t such a big expense after all, so long as the writing is that kind of ass kicking brilliant. I mean, the dude gets away with all that violence AND the hard N word for a reason. He’s got the respect, of everyone who loves cinema.

          I think that’s a rap song, mama.

          I really do know it. And appreciate it. So very very. With Expos on top . . unlike those stinkin’ Nationals. 😉

          Liked by 1 person

          • You are a brat, yanno that?

            The odd looks good on you. I looked it up and Larceny is not available here. Sigh. So maybe, just as well. Fifth-ish, eh? I betcha it’s more than that.

            I couldn’t remember how they classified it but yeah drama/horror sounds right. So yeah, Jim Morrison would have had a field day.

            Uh huh. Thanks for the confirmation.

            This is true. Think he really will quit with the next one? It will be number 10. That would be a sad thing…

            You be right, daddy-o!

            I am glad you do. And that very cool. And no comment on the Expo/Nationals thing… Dammit.

            Oh, and I forgot to mention – excellent choice of music, as per! Quite spooky!


          • I kinda do.

            I won’t go back to Larceny. But Imma dabble in some other remedies as a result, so it accomplished its devilish work as far as I’m concerned.

            Me neither. But Jim . . he’d have had a field day with all of this, eh?

            The confirmation number was sent to your email address. Please respond to this notification within seven days or your babble certification will be in jeopardy . . .

            I told you what he’s gonna do. He’s gonna write for TV next.

            Another rap song . . .

            Glad I did. That very cool. Hey . . I’m all about the Expos. Those dudes took a 2-0 lead in the series. And then Washington went and fucked it all up. Welcome to America!

            Radiohead . . . I love them so much. Because it’s so fucking depressing and I really shouldn’t be loving them so much, but yanno . . . writers.

            Liked by 1 person

          • I think you more than kinda 😉

            Why not? Is it too expensive? Too good so you’ll have trouble resisting? Now I’m curious as to the future remedies 😉

            Jim would have done it more than justice, methinks.

            I’ll be checking my mail. Wouldn’t want to blunder the babble.

            Yeah, yeah, I know. But that’s not what I meant – and you know it!

            Rapper D is my middle name.

            I love how you call them the Expos when they win but the stinkin’ Nationals when they lose. Sadly they are 3 and 2 and I am hoping they even it up, just to make things innerestin’

            I truly don’t know them that much – probably because they are so depressing… Or, they just didn’t cross my musical path till now.

            Liked by 1 person

          • I misspoke, I’ll go back to Larceny at some point, sure. But I’ll dabble in other remedies. Maybe try Knob Creek again.

            And Jim would have done it without a lick of sampling.

            Don’t blunder the babble bebe.

            I think Notorious Q should be a possibility as well. Sounds killah.

            Interestingly, I heard a sports talkie this morning saying that Game 6 IS the series and that if Washington can win it- with their best pitcher on the mound- they will win it all. That would be unprecedented, I think . . if the visiting team were to win every game in the WS.

            They’re great, but to be taken in small doses . . .

            Liked by 1 person

          • Ahhh… I felt you were being a tad harsh to the mellow it seemed to have brought you 😉 Speaking of which, I needs me some, too! Knob Creek, that is.

            Done it in his sleep.

            Wouldn’t dream of it

            Oh yeah, I had forgotten that moniker.

            Interesting indeed. Needs must watch that game and I would dearly love this upset.

            I believe it, based on the sampling you gave…

            Liked by 1 person

          • Would never dream of harshing that mellow, no huay.

            He literally COULD have done so, and it would be better than most of the new stuff . . . says “In My Day” dude . . .

            It’s sinistah sounding.

            They’ve got a chance, albeit the slimmest of one, but it’s still a chance.

            Good stuff indeed.


          • I should think not!

            Since I’m an “In My Day Chick”, I needs must concur.

            Kinda is. My alter-ego. I’m not all sugar and spice and all things nice, yanno.

            Slim is still there.

            I’ll dabble later….

            Liked by 1 person

          • I mean, never mind that it’s TOTALLY true or that the eighties was the greatest decade for music in the history of music. Or that the seventies was pretty damn special in its own right. Or that today’s music . . ain’t that.

            I know, 😉

            His pal None went out for a bite and we cannot confirm nor deny whether he’s left the building for good.

            Just don’t blunder the babble while you dabble.


          • Cannot disagree with this whole statement. Today’s music ain’t no where near that.

            Ahem. 😉

            None can just have himself a seven-course meal while Slim shines his light.

            Wouldn’t dream if blundering the babble while I dabble the downloads.

            Liked by 1 person

          • Nothing against today’s music. It’s just not what the eighties was and it’s not even close. No shame in that.

            Mmm Hmm.

            None is dining with Fat Chance, who really loves to eat, as the name would attest.

            Blundering by the babbling brook whilst dabbling downloads and writing a book. I HAD to rhyme in this instance.

            Liked by 1 person

          • I hear ya. There is some good stuff out there just small doses of it. The eighties were THE decade.

            Uh huh.

            Well they can just stay out there together, go for a stroll that takes them away till Thursday.

            Well damnation, what in tarnation,
            Wish I had the time to top your rhyme
            But I’ll have to let go and give you status pro.

            Liked by 1 person

          • Like no other. The seventies were pretty amazing in their own right, but mango slice! The eighties had it all.

            Yuh huh.

            LOL. None and Fat Chance . . muy unpredictable fellas.

            Boom! Drop the mic! Give it up for the Notorious Q!

            Liked by 1 person

          • That they were. The eighties had so many different genres going on at the same time.


            Well, if’n you are okay with it, Imma stick with Slim. Coz he at least has a twinkle of positive attached to him whereas the other two do not.

            Takes a bow…

            Liked by 1 person

          • Which was amazing. I don’t think we truly knew just how good we had it.


            Good idea. Yeah, those guys ain’t got a lick of hope going on. Real downers, they are.


            Liked by 1 person

          • Of course we did and do. Coz we’re STILL digging on it today 😉


            I just feel the need to open the door a crack… ya just never know.

            Blushes, smiles and exits stage left.

            Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Marco,

    Horror is not a genre I generally go after, unless it’s the horror in history. 😉 You roped me in. Not only that I felt sympathy for Michael, imagining what emotions riddled him when the drug wore off.
    Trade Milky Way for Smartees? Not on your life.

    Unimaginably chilling.



    Liked by 1 person

  3. First of all, Radiohead, love them, and what a perfect creepy song for this piece. 👏

    I have to say growing up in Chicago I’m really not afraid of the boogieman. But walking out to the burn barrel late at night here in the boonies creeps me the heck out. It’s the creepy Crawley things that night that get me.

    Looking forward to reading this a second in so much of you’re writing there are layers that I love taking the time to peel back.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ella!

      Chitown has no time for the boogeyman, that’s for sure. But there is something a ‘lil spooky about the quiet.

      It’s quiet . . . TOO quiet, LOL.

      Thank you for the sugary chime. Have a great Monday.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. What an awesome take on a legendary boogeyman! It reminds me of the book Phantom that imagines the early life of the one who became Phantom of the Opera. It makes it all seem so probable – and this scarier than ever. Have me hangin’ here….

    Liked by 1 person

    • Eilene,

      There were so many fascinating possibilities to me in this. Like, the characters in the original movie as real people. Loomis as a writer, Strode a Sheriff, etc.

      Also, the morbid question had to be asked. What would a madman do with technology? Where he could hide in plain sight?

      So many possibilities and questions.

      Thank you for reading and for letting me know there’s something to this. It is very much appreciated.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Your prose is always so realistic, I’m shaking now at the imagery of your words. Well done, even if you’ve effed up my ‘cool’ vibe I was feeling. Oh wait, that’s probably more due to the ‘support column’ in the dog run. 😊Well done, sir.

    Liked by 1 person

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