The Anniversary: Prologue of Jeff "the Killer" Revamp
New York town was not as silent as it always was at midnight. Halloween evening had become something else this evening. There was a new phenomenon, one that made makeup artists and store owners richer. Leaving Jenkins' small party store, Bradley Keaton began walking home. For some odd reason, he chose to don the uniform he bought years earlier when he was still a rookie. Perhaps he wore the costume for nothing more than to scare some teenagers. Whatever the case, he had his reasons for buying that bottle of wine at midnight.
Five months ago, he remarried, and gained a new mother for his son. The woman's name was Laurie Gray, though now she went by Laurie Keaton. Being the wife of the Chief brought a certain kind of pride in the American dream, and they were both going to be celebrating Halloween night with more white wine and less stress. Bradley was sure that when he got home, his son would already be asleep. As he came back from Jenkins', the sidewalks were full of costume, kids dressed as Heath Ledger's Joker or the Night Owl getup, although he tended to mix the two up sometimes.
A year later, as well, not being able to apprehend the criminal still haunted him. But in a way, the Halloween parties are just the best comforting sign maybe, a sign that life went on, and that the rest of his family remained intact. He unlocked the door with his key. The house was no more than walking distance from the neighborhood store. His gun stayed in his coat pocket, that pocket used to belong to a knife that he had given to his son, that lost knife. Well, he never did discover what became of it. His son never spoke about having said anything about it either. As he came in, Laurie greeted him. They hugged, kissed knowing how broken their family still was, and how much the family needed a new structure.
"Your college boy wants to move out," Laurie joked. "He's still stuck up in his room… I don't think he'll notice us." Her voice was playful, provoking.
Bradley looked up the stairs. No matter how much Laurie had taken up space from Pamela's death, he was aware there was a space that could never be filled, his daughter's. Katie has been dead for a year now. She'd taken her own life… or at least, that's what he sometimes attempted to believe. In fact, he was aware something wicked had taken her. Something horrible, something talked about in town legend.
I'll go talk to him," Bradley said, gesturing towards the living room.
"First, hand those over, Sheriff." Laurie laughed, taking the bottle of wine from him and disappearing into the kitchen. "Now you can unwind, unbutton that shirt a little… Play the mob boss or whatever, aren't we gonna watch that Scorsese something again?
Bradley chuckled "Last Temptation of Christ perhaps, I'm not in that mood. I wanna feel. I don't know, religious? Whatever." as she moved around behind the counter. He was a thin man, his grey hair slicked back with wax as usual. He didn't take off his leather jacket, but did unbutton his blue shirt as Laurie returned with two glasses of wine.
"So, what's going on with the department?" she asked.
"Typical police stories. Cheers, by the way."
"Stealing, graffiti… Halloween trash. I left work early so I could escape those moron calls from kids screaming about ghosts. Or J-"
"I heard they left a dead cat on the front of the station. True?"
"Everyone did! They're calling Draycott corrupt, everyone's been behaving badly since Keith Jennings!"
"That is not true! Last ye-"
"New kid, huh? The Landons?"
"You're too nosy, Laurie. I don't want to talk about it. That's my business… and it's all about
my son and my daughter's life!" he roared. The image of Katie passed across his eyes the manner in which she died… The way all of it had happened because of that kid. That mad teenager who bothered girls, who thought Katie Keaton was the prettiest goth in Draycott.
“I’m sorry,” Laurie whispered.
“No, no it's not your fault. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he sighed, kissing her cheek. They stayed in each other’s arms for a while. Then, a knock came at the door. Once. Then twice.
“I’ll get it,” Laurie said, standing up. Bradley stayed on the couch, sipping his wine. Red wine would’ve suited the night better, he thought, something darker. As he stared at the glowing pumpkin head, rage was inside him. The faces, the memories, the unclosed case, all blend in together. Moments later, the door shut, and Laurie came back, pale and shaken.
"Whatcha need?" She hadn't time to answer, BAM! The door slammed. Bradley remembered the gun! It was still not loaded.
"Someone in a costume like Killer Jeff again," Laurie answered, her voice trembling. Her eyes were filled with tears.
Bradley approached the door slowly, fear crawling up his neck. He opened it, and what appeared before him was no regular teen or a Joker impersonator. He can’t scare this one with an empty gun. Because the figure's skin was not white, it was molten. There were no circles of dark makeup around his eyes, his eyes were bloodshot in the dark and glowed red. His mouth was shut, but when he smiled. his cheeks split horribly, cheeks were stretched upwards as if strings had been attached to them. His teeth were immaculately white. His smile. unnatural.
And in his hand, a knife. The knife. The missing one. The knife had the initials B. Keaton painted on it. The shock appeared in Bradley’s eyes, as soon as Laurie saw his eyes, she led out a loud scream, no one heard that when Sweet Dreams from Marilyn Manson was playing in the neighbors house, 20 teenagers were partying as Jeff the Killer entered a house for a sick and twisted desire to celebrate the anniversary.
Bradley’s son, upstairs, heard the commotion and ran downstairs. He had lived in terror for a year and now had to face the terror itself. There was nothing but the pumpkin light left in the room. The killer was hunched down, and in a moment's flash, Jeff leaped. He crept in silently like a cat in the night and caught the boy around the neck. Jeff the Killer. Killed his sister. Killed his friends. The monster he had created was now haunting him.
"So your hand's still sore, huh? Weird how we both have scars, we're doppelgangers right Randy? We both got some dresses from Hot Topic, right?"
Jeff whispered. His whisper was threatening. He glared at Randy's hand, the same hand which shot a spiral of madness a year ago, this was their anniversary. The throat of Bradley was slashed, blood still spraying like the water hitting a body from a showerhead, white dress Laurie drenched in black and red around the stomach, belly piercing removed. Jeff brought Randy closer to the Jack o Lantern and the cold metal of Bradley’s stolen knife brushed against Randy's cheeks, but Randy's screams never blend with sirens, Randy slept, hours before police discovered the white wine that was radiating red because of the crimson waters that were filling the room.
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