I feel like
I’m going crazy. It could just be the holidays – you know I love Halloween. It’s
my favourite excuse to go Michael Myers on a town.
Did you
know I met Stanley Stiers? He was the inspiration for the character Michael
Myers in Halloween. He’s dead now but when I was about 11, my family was on
vacation and pulled over in a truck stop late at night. No one else was there
except for an old man sitting in a corner. While my parents were getting food
and directions, my sister and I sat with him. To this day I don’t know why but
we both gravitated towards him as soon dad turned his back. We didn’t say
anything – just coloured (because we were always colouring and destroying
things). He seemed like a nice old man. Never smiled though. When our parents
came to get us, he pulled out his wallet and gave my mother money. Presumably
for our meal. A photo fell out. There were three children: two girls and one
boy. The boy wasn’t smiling. On the back was written: Susie S., Stanley S., and
Marie L. ’23. I handed it back but he shook his head. I still have that photo. Years
later, I was googling prolific serial killers and psychopaths – for fun of
course – and I came across a young man who killed his family and several people
in town in 1923. He looked an awful lot like the boy in the photo.
I thought
that was a sign. To keep digging. To keep learning. To give in. I had already
been killing for years when I found out who he was. But it really was a sign.
…
I think I’m
being followed. Just little things like the feeling of being watched; something
in the corner of my eye. There was someone in the house again. I could hear the
doors opening and closing, floorboards squeaking. Nothing was touched. So I
have to wonder what they wanted.
In my line
of work there’s always the chance of being found out and blackmailed or
threatened. And being a women – often alone at night – there are those who
would see me as a target. I’ve dealt with both. This isn’t that.
Maybe I am
just crazy around the holidays but I’m not taking that chance.
I won’t be
coming home tonight. And someone of you won’t either.
As always,
dear readers,
Stay Safe
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