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Halloween: Origin of Darkness (Prologue)
By AlanGrant5
HALLOWEEN: ORIGIN OF DARKNESS
Written by Devin Da Graca
STARRING:
Josh Hartnett
as John Tate
Selma Blair
as Melanie Woods
Forrest Whitaker
as Detective Brian Grimshaw
Treat Williams
as Larry Tate
Peter Boyle
as Dr. Sam Loomis
with
Jamie Lee Curtis
as Laurie Strode
– PROLOGUE –
Gwen Anderson Sanitarium
October 30th, 2002
8:48 AM
I hadn’t seen my mother in a long time. It’s been three years since she was admitted to Gwen Anderson and three years since the incident which put her there. For years she had been emotionally distraught and three Halloween’s ago she had proved her instability when decapitating an innocent man. Grant it, she was deceived and ultimately tricked into doing so by her brother, Michael Myers, but I had often wondered how far her fear and paranoia would take her. Ever since October 31st, 1978 she had been unraveling and the end result now lied in a hospital for the mentally ill.
A low fog cloaked the environment; spread across the courtyard as if it were part of the eerie foundation. Parking my 1973 Ford Mustang, I locked the doors of the rusted vehicle (something I wouldn’t typically do) and began my journey towards the hospitals entrance. The building, which looked more like a mansion than it did a hospital, had long strands of ivy climbing up its brick walls, with the foliage obscuring the hospital’s title. Before I opened the door and crossed into the world where sanity failed to exist, I gazed out at the area my mother had become so familiar with and sighed. The entire premises was littered in wheelchairs and towering, depressing, trees that had just begun to shed their autumn leaves. The thought of living in this place seemed impossible... capable of driving one insane.
As I walked down the long corridor which led to my mothers room, wheelchairs both empty and occupied set against the walls, I felt as if I were being watched. Confirming my assumptions, I turned around to view a group of nurses observing my actions. Staring at me as if I were making a bold move, visiting the disturbed Laurie Strode. I continued walking down the dismal tunnel, preparing myself for what I might find behind the door of room 137. When placing my hand on the door knob I froze, taking in a deep breath.
“Mom?” I greeted.
Sitting in a chair, facing a window which overlooked her residence of three years, was the weathered Laurie Strode. Her hair, unwashed and tangling, consumed her shoulders, stretching down to mid chest. She looked to be unaware of my presence, but she knew I was there. Holding a Raggedy Ann doll the way a professional football player might when headed towards the goal line, Laurie turned her head to face me. As if she were just making sure it was I who walked in and not some impostor, she turned back toward the window.
“Close the door,” she said, her voice monotone and distant.
I gently closed the door, making sure no one else was near.
“You called? Is everything okay?” I asked, as sincerely as I could.
“I did call and to answer your last question, take a look around. Does it look like everything is okay?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. It had been at least a month since I last visited her and now, it was as if I were meeting her for the first time. She seemed so far away... so foreign.
“It’s okay John. I didn’t ask for you to come here and sympathize for me. I belong here... it was only a matter of time.”
“Mom, what happened wasn’t your fault. I don’t know how many times I have to keep telling you that–”
“It’s that time of the year again,” Laurie said, before I could say another word. “The leaves are falling, the decorations are up, and Michael... Michael is coming, I can feel it.”
Here we go again, I thought. I’d heard this all before, particularly a few days prior to Halloween. The only difference now is that she seemed to look forward to it; as if she were ready for him.
“We go through this every year... how do you expect to get out of here when you act so God damned paranoid all the time?”
“I don’t expect to get out of here John, not alive anyway.”
I hated to see her like this. She was drained; a zombie awaiting death to knock at her door. If only there was something I could say to make her okay... something that would bring her back. But there wasn’t.
“I called you because I have to talk to you,” she admitted. Her voice was beginning to crack. I slipped behind her, ready to console her should she break down.
“About what?” I asked, placing my hand on her shoulder.
“You have to understand something John... if I wasn’t certain Michael was coming for me–”
“Enough!” I yelled, ejecting from my seat beside her. If she wasn’t asking for sympathy, I had trouble understanding what she was asking for. “I can’t deal with this anymore... seeing you like this. Your scaring me mom.”
Laurie turned in her seat, reaching out for me as she said, “Good... that’s good John. Fear is what keeps us alert and cautious and at times it’s what keeps us alive. Promise me John, promise me you will be careful out there.”
I pulled myself away from her. “He’s dead mom, you hear? Dead! Why are you acting like this?”
Suddenly all the concern she had seconds previous seemed to fade, as she turned back towards the window, becoming zombie-like once more. “Michael will never die John, even when he’s dead. Michael will die once I die... understand?”
“No... no, I don’t understand,” I said, grabbing the jacket I had placed on my mothers bed. “I will never understand you mother because I choose not to. Your the only thing keeping me from living a normal life; the only thing holding me back.”
I turned and walked towards the door, determined not to look back; determined to not let her hold me back.
“John, wait, please!” she cried.
And, as usual, I turned back, allowing her to hold me back... giving in. I stared at her. She seemed confused, unaware of what she wanted to say, but then she remembered.
“Take this,” she said, holding out a folded piece of paper.
I glared at it, snatched it from her shaking hands, and placed the stationary into my coat pocket.
“If you ever need answers John, that will tell you where to go. I’m sorry I couldn’t give them to you myself,” Laurie said, a single tear streaming down her cheek.
“Goodbye mother,” I replied, walking out of the room. As I walked down the white-washed tunnel, I could hear my mother whispering, “Don’t turn back John, don’t ever turn back.” And I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t even read the letter she had told me to read should questions arise. I wouldn’t open it until the day following her murder; October 31st, Halloween.
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12/26/2002 12:47:31 PM
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