I met him, 15 年前發佈; I was told there was nothing left; no reason, no conscience, no understanding in even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, of good or evil, right or wrong. I met this... six-year-old child with this blank, pale, emotionless face, and... the blackest eyes - the Devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up, because I realized that what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply... evil #savagemonster #halloween #mask #michael #myers #michaelmyers #october #haddonfield #horror #movie #drloomis
He was deeply in touch with the part in him that thrived amongst mother nature. He would sit in the fields, and he would be the most beautiful flower of all, just with that radiating smile on his serene face. And he wanted to show me how to be in touch with my inner core of nature. "Baby," he called for me from the other side of the pool. I came over to him, almost skipping in the summer morning, "Yes?" Gently pressing his hands on my waist, he pulled me in a quick bear hug before looking at me with bambi eyes dancing with excitement. "Climb the Giving Tree with me," he grinned, pointing at the tree I often saw him climbing to reach his level of spirituality. I snorted as I began to laugh, "You're talking to the most disoriented person on the planet," I shook my head as he started tugging on my arm, "I trip over my own feet, I highly doubt that I could climb trees." Not listening to my squeaks of protest, the 43 year-old man-child pulled me with him to the tree, giggling as his short choppy ebony hair flew behind him. Out of breath against the tree trunk, I wheezed a little as he seemed unaffected by running, a huge smile on his unearthly face. Giving me a few minutes to rest, he then swiftly swung himself upwards on the first branch as if it were the easiest feat. "C'mon," he whispered, still smiling, offering his hand, "Grip on tight." Narrowing my eyes at his hand, he laughed harmoniously, "I swear this time there's no electric buzzer." Deciding that all was fine, I let him pull me up and seat me beside him. Resting against the rough bark, he stared off into the distance. He snaked an arm around my waist, giving my hips a light fond squeeze with his hand, "Look at the sky," he softly pointed out, letting me lean my head on his strong shoulder. As I looked, I saw a canvas like no other. Clouds scattered like children running in the middle of a game, sun shimmering like rubies under a chandelier, birds twittering like a lullaby. "The Giving Tree," he began in a quiet even tone, "Doesn't just give shade or shelter," he paused, "It gives perception, humbleness, protection, inspiration, and shares love," he sweetly looked at me, "Love above all."