In the depths and darkness of the woods, there was a strange house in which an old lumberjack lived. He was of Irish descent, a mysterious man whose dark blue eyes were as cold as his heart with the ability to cut through one’s soul just as his axe had done to plenty of trees before. He had no family, no friends, and was so eerie as to not even have a true name. Why should he have one? This man was simply known as ‘The Man in the Woods’. He was cold and isolated to the core, with no one to communicate with except for the trees and the dark crows and bats who flew overhead throughout his daily night walk.
The total loneliness and abandonment this strange man had endured, led to a certain thirst for revenge on humans. His zombie-like hunger for human flesh and his morbid character made him ever so inhumane. He had become savage and refused to align with God, for he believed God had done nothing but hurt and neglect him unto that point in time. Alternatively, he wished to impress the Minister of Hell, so was thrived with the idea of killing people, and what better night to do it, than Halloween.

    **** Halloween 1986 ****

“John!” Will screamed, “How are we going to get out of these woods? You got us into this mess, and now you are going to get us out of it!”
John panicked not knowing in the least what to do, “Will, I’m sorry. I just wanted some Halloween candy. I didn’t know we would get lost!” The two frantically moved in unison as John held the flashlight through the silent, dark night. Branches cracked. Leaves crunched. Every little noise startled the two men as they walked, until they came across a small house which seemed abandoned.
“Hey, Will,” John whispered, “let’s go check this house out.”
“Are you crazy?! Why on earth would we ever do so? Besides, haven’t you ever heard of the story about the Man in the Woods?” Will replied flabbergasted.
John answered with confidence, “Well, first of all it’s cold outside, and maybe, if someone does live there, they could help guide us out of here. Second of all, are you kidding me? You really believe that kind of stuff? It’s all fake, just an urban legend.” It took much convincing until Will finally agreed to go inside.
John nonchalantly strolled up to the door when he finally knocked. No answer. He knocked again. No answer. He knocked a third time. No. Answer. Out of pure impatience he kicked open the door and screamed asking if anyone was home. Again, no answer.
“See? What did I tell you? We are fine,” John shouted to his friend as Will cautiously stepped foot in the eerie house, “This Man in the Woods isn’t even real! He is just-” John was abruptly cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut and all of the lights disappearing. The next noise was a loud cry, from whom John recognized to be Will, followed by a set of quick footsteps in the opposite direction of him, with heavy breathing in the background . John screamed for Will, but yet again, there was no answer.
John whipped out his flashlight with trembling fingers, and turned it on. He was alarmed by what he saw. He seemed to be in a worn down kitchen area. There were rotten wooden pots and pans everywhere with broken glass all over the floor. Smashed cabinets included some years old foods, accompanied by tiny, furry rats scurrying all about. There was dried blood all among the walls and a bone or two on the old counter. The only thing that seemed to be in good condition, was the collection of knives set together on the old rubbish table in the back. This made John shiver with fear, but creepiest of all, John found that on one wall, spelled in blood, was the word “Run”.
John sprinted to the door. Jammed shut. There were no windows and no other doors, so he had no way out. He then tried turning the lights on. Nothing happened. He decided he would find out where Will had went, and what had happened. After some searching John finally stumbled upon an old staircase ascending to the second floor of the house.
Using his flashlight he slowly creaked up the dark, cold steps, one by one. He felt his heart beating faster and faster with every step and breath he took. He felt his palms sweating as he foolishly tricked himself that everything was going to be okay.
As he took his last step onto the second floor and flashed his light ahead he felt the trepidation seep through his veins.. His breathing stopped. His heartrate was through the roof. He obtained a cold, soulless stare into the lifeless eyes of Will, who had a knife plunged into each of his temples. The blood oozed out of his head, dripping slowly and maniacally as if it were straight out of a horror movie. He felt the darkness of the scene engulf him. Having a disgusted and panicked feeling as a result of his surroundings, John turned to get out of this room. It was too late though, for what stood in front of him betrayed his eyes. John immediately froze. Standing superiorly and towering over John, stood a man with the face of a hockey mask on. Before he could react, the man whispered, “I am the Man in the Woods” and then John crashed to the floor, and never got back up.