2687: This is Halloween – Oneshot

Title: This is Halloween
Author: Nessa Shadows
Media: Movie
Topic: Halloween
Genre: Romance/Drama
URL: Chapter 1
Critiqued by Ghostcat

 

 

Spooky greetings, dear Patrons!

Today I’m bringing you a little oneshot from the spookiest of all sections, the Halloween section!

Because I’m pressed for time so I went after the low-hanging fruit. And of course people write fanfics for slasher films, a genre not known for having compelling interpersonal narratives. Hey, as least it isn’t Slendpai hentai.

For those of you unfamiliar with the source materials, here’s the short version;

There’s this guy, Michael Myers, who is an escaped mental patient running around in a pair of coveralls (or ‘boiler suit’ for the overseas folk) and a Captain Kirk mask painted flat white. He stabs and strangles people, mostly babysitters. He gets stabbed repeatedly by Jamie Lee Curtis, once with a knitting needle, and then is shot several times and falls off a balcony into the Formless Void where there’s a lot of heavy breathing montage happening, setting up the endless sequels.

I think that’s enough for now. To the fic!

New Friendship

I have the sudden unsettling worry that this might be a stealth crossover with MLP:FiM.

I am not a normal nine year old girl.

I’ve yet to meet a ‘normal’ child of any gender or age. Kids are just ambulatory piles of weird.

My name is Samantha Star.

I feel like that could be an obscure Marvel character given the alliterative name but don’t want to bother looking.

I don’t have any friends.

Is it because people are horrible trash-goblins? Because same.

People think I’m weird, but I don’t care, I don’t talk much anyway.

That makes it sound like her weirdness level is somehow tied to her lack of speaking.

I talk to myself and the voices in my head.

But the voices don’t talk back to you?

Damn. Even the voices in your head don’t want to be your friends. That’s just sad.

I’ve been like this from since I can remember.

Dude, please. You’re NINE, not ninety.

The voices are all I need.

When I was nine all I cared about was my sticker album; I was insanely jealous of my sister’s sticker album because she had more scratch-and-sniff stickers than I did. (She had a chocolate one, dammit.) I had more glitter stickers in mine, though.

It was the 1980s; we had to make our own fun.

My family hates me just as much as I hate them.

Again, you are NINE.

My father’s an alcoholic that abuses me, physically and verbally.

… Okay, that’s pretty bad.

All my older sister does is make fun of me, sleep with her boyfriend, and dress like a slut.

Which I’m sure is exactly how a nine-year-old girl would express herself.

The only family member is ‘nice’ is my mother.

Should I be worried that ‘nice’ is in quotes like that?

I guess she’s nice to me, but I think it’s only because she’s scared of me. Not like I care who’s afraid of me.

Why on earth would anyone be afraid of a nine-year-old? You can literally just pick them up if they get in your way.

Not that anyone should go around picking up unattended children in any sense of the word. That’s just wrong.

School was over and I was walking home seeing as my stupid sister ‘forgot’ to pick me up.

I guess that means all the faculty at her school don’t like her either, as I doubt they would have just let her wander off on her own instead of trying to contact the slutty sister or one of Samantha’s parents if they actually cared what happened to her.

All of the kids that hated teased and threw things at me.

Just in general or is this a specific incident? Because I’m more than a little confused.

I ignored them until one kid pushed me to the ground. I tried to get up but he pushed me down again, and put his foot on my back to keep me down.

Where is this happening? At school? On the side of the road? I need some context for this cartoonish bullying.

I kept my head down, trying to keep my anger from rising, which wasn’t really working.

I probably would have been in the kicking/biting stage by that point.

I knew who had pushed me down. His name was Josh Reynolds. He was about twelve or thirteen. He was a boy who thought he was the shit. He thought he could beat anyone up and not get in trouble, because he comes from a rich family.

Well, you are literally under his heel right now, so he might have a point.

He was about to kick me in the side when someone yelled at him.

If she’s face-down and he’s standing over her, then how does she know he’s getting reading to kick her? He only has two feet and one of them is on her back, so how can he kick her? Can he levitate?

“Leave her alone!” I looked over to see who it was that had screamed that.

Was it Snap?

It was Michael Myers.

Except Michael Myers doesn’t talk.

He lived two houses down from me and was in my class.

Michael Myers stabbed his sister to death when he was six and was then sent to an insane asylum, so either she goes to school at the crazy farm or the sororicide hasn’t happened yet and she’s been held back a significant number of times.

I never really talked to him though. Never really had a reason to.

Yes, because you hate everyone and people are terrible and what have you. Do you want some ripped fishnets and black eyeliner to go with your angst?

I looked him over. He had shoulder length blonde hair, and dark brown/black eyes and clear skin.

Why are his eyes different colors? Is he carrying around a spare pair? And I don’t know if I should be wondering where his clothes are or if I should just be grateful there’s no wardrobe porn.

Very different than my waist length red hair, green eyes, and freckles.

Kind of weird to be making that comparison right now, but apparently this is the Character Description portion of the fic.

But we did share the lifeless look in our eyes.

Such Tragek. Much sad.

Josh scoffed. I had forgotten that he was here.

He has HIS FOOT on YOUR BACK! How do you forget someone is partially standing on you?

“Oh look, Myers is talking. Is this your girlfriend?” I looked at Michael. He looked back at me.

:yawns:

“Yeah, she is. Now leave her alone!” I looked down and blushed.

Again; she is face down on the ground with someone’s foot on her to keep her there. How can she look even more down?

Josh grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. He put his lips close to my face.

How is he able to do that while still standing on her? The angles are all awkward; he should just kneel down first.

“Oh well, she’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

I feel uncomfortable with that question considering her age.

With that he licked my cheek from my chin to my earlobe which he nibbled on.

Ewww.

Not only is this guy a creep, but she’s probably filthy from being forced into the ground. Good luck trying to appear intimidating while spitting out a mouthful of dirt.

I yelped. I did NOT expect that.

I doubt anyone would unless they were around a dog or an unusually affectionate cat.

He chuckled. I looked down and tried to wiggle out from under him.

Why does she keep looking down? What is she looking at?

“I like a fighter. A good quality in be-” He never got to finish the sentence. When I looked up again, Josh was sprawled out on the floor, with blood coming out of his nose, which was now probably broken, seeing as it was positioned at a weird angle. Michael was standing over him looking at him.

Are you sure the blood isn’t there because Michael stabbed the assbasket in the face? Because that would be far more in character for him than just bopping someone on the snoot. Also, how can she even see the guy’s face? She’s laying on her stomach and he was just knocked onto his ass in some random direction.

“I. Said. Leave. Her. Alone!”

This. Is. For. EMPHASIS!

I was about to laugh at the scared look on Josh’s face. He scrambled off the floor and probably ran home to cry to his parents.

That takes care of him, but what about all the other kids who were throwing things at her? Where did they go?

Whatever. I looked at Michael, to see that he was looking at me.

Instead of staring directly into the sun, I suppose.

After staring at each other for a short moment, I broke the silence.

:sighs:

This is why we can’t have nice things. I’ll go get the dustpan.

“Um… thanks for that Michael.” He blinked.

“Thanks for calling me your girlfriend in front of an unspecified number of our peers and then breaking an asshole’s nose for me! There’s no way that would ever socially stigmatize us both and make us open targets.”

“Um… no problem. I couldn’t just leave you here, who knew what that creep would do.

Apparently he would step on her and lick her face, which just sounds so very over the top. The guy was basically running down the list of “evil bully tropes” and ticking the boxes as he went.

And I was also hoping that we could be friends…” He had a hopeful look in his eyes.

I thought his eyes were as dead and lifeless as Samantha’s? That was the one trait they shared, other than being upright bipedal mammals.

I slightly smiled.

A Tragek Sue is smiling?!? I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of the End Times.

“I would love to be friends. You’re my first!” After I said that, he too smiled a bit.

That was the beginning of our friendship.

So, wait … All that nonsense at the beginning of the chapter where Tragek Sue was rambling on about how she doesn’t need anyone, that everyone hates her, she doesn’t have any friends, but that’s all okay because she has the voices in her head – that was all a lie? And what about those voices in her head? Where were they? You would think they would have had something to say while she was being forced into the ground and had her face licked. And yet, they were completely silent. It’s almost as if all that Tragek Backstory was just slapped together without any regards to how it would affect the character.

---