Halloween 2K26 - The Michael Myers Connection

I was twelve years old when my father bought me my first horror movie: Halloween. It was October, and Blockbuster had released the film under its own label. I remember standing near the registers and seeing a stack of VHS tapes. My dad picked one up, asked if I had ever seen it, and when I said no, he smiled and told me I was going to love it.

That moment was strange for a couple of reasons. First, my dad was willingly letting me watch a horror movie. Second, he was actually buying a movie. My dad did not believe in buying movies. As far as I can remember, Halloween may have been the first and last movie he ever purchased.

I had seen a few horror movies before that, things like Pet Sematary and Popcorn, but horror was never really a genre that played in our house. My parents were pretty lenient about what I watched. Violent ’80s action movies were fine, although I was expected to cover my eyes during sex scenes, which was a very normal and not at all confusing set of viewing rules for a kid.

I was absolutely thrilled when I got home with that tape. I wanted to watch my first real horror movie properly, so I went to my room, turned off the lights, popped Halloween into the VCR, and settled in.

I’m pretty sure I didn’t sleep at all that night.

What I saw was simple, creepy, and unlike anything else I had watched before. Michael Myers terrified me because there was nothing to reason with. He barely spoke, he didn’t seem to have any emotion, and no matter what Laurie Strode did to stop him, he just kept coming. He wasn’t a monster in the traditional sense, but he felt like one. He was this emotionless force that could not be talked down, frightened away, or convinced to leave you alone.

The movie also had John Carpenter’s unforgettable score, incredible use of space, and a cast that made the whole thing feel grounded enough to be believable. It was the perfect storm for terrifying a twelve-year-old boy.

Oh yeah, and did I mention my last name is Myers?

After I recovered from that first viewing, I watched Halloween three or four more times over the next month. I became obsessed almost immediately and spent the time between video store trips wondering if there were any sequels. I vaguely remembered seeing another VHS box with a pumpkin on it in the horror section, so I was pretty sure there had to be at least one more.

On our next trip to the video store, I discovered Halloween II, Halloween III, Halloween 4, and Halloween 5 all sitting there on the shelf. I rented the second and third movies first and was thrilled when Halloween II picked up right where the original ended. I loved the idea that the story simply continued, and I went into Halloween III expecting the same thing.

Then I watched an hour of Halloween III without Michael Myers showing up.

I became so annoyed that I eventually started fast-forwarding through the tape, hoping that somewhere near the end I would finally catch a glimpse of the man in the white Captain Kirk mask. Nothing. Michael Myers wasn’t in it at all. The entire movie was a completely different story.

I was furious.

For years, I considered Halloween III an abomination. I have since matured and realized I was wrong, but twelve-year-old me felt personally betrayed.

On my next trip to the video store, I rented Halloween 4 and Halloween 5. This time I actually read the backs of the boxes first to make absolutely sure Michael Myers was in them. I was not getting burned twice.

I enjoyed both movies, although even then I knew something had changed. The original Halloween was genuinely scary. The second movie had some great scares and felt like a natural continuation. The fourth and fifth movies were entertaining, but they felt more like mythology. Michael Myers had become less of a mysterious shape lurking in the dark and more of a character with an expanding storyline.

I didn’t care. As long as the story continued, I was happy.

Halloween became my gateway into horror. From there I moved into Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Sleepaway Camp, and just about anything else I could get my hands on. Every trip to the video store became an excuse to raid the horror section, whether the movies were good or terrible. It took about a year, but eventually I had exhausted most of what our local stores had to offer and started drifting toward other genres.

A few months later, I was looking through the movie listings in the newspaper when I spotted an advertisement for a midnight showing of Halloween 6. There was almost no information listed, and I didn’t even know another Halloween movie had been released, so I called the theater to make sure it was real.

The person who answered told me they only had one showing because the movie had performed terribly and nobody was coming to see it. That did absolutely nothing to discourage me.

I immediately went into full whining-preteen mode and begged my dad to take me. It did not work.

About a year later, we moved from Orlando, Florida, to Dallas, Texas. The move was exciting because, for the first time in our lives, my brother and I were getting separate bedrooms. That is a major milestone when you are a kid. After years of sharing space, I was finally going to have a room entirely to myself.

We arrived in Dallas early on a Tuesday morning, unloaded the truck, and then followed one of my father’s moving traditions. Once all the furniture and boxes were inside the house, we were done for the day. We would find the nearest video store, rent a few movies, grab a pizza, and leave the unpacking until tomorrow.

We ended up at a video store, and while I was scanning the new-release wall, I saw a familiar emotionless face staring back at me. Michael Myers, more specifically, the VHS box for Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers.

You would have thought I had won the lottery. I let out some sort of embarrassing squeal and went running across the store to find my dad, with absolutely no regard for my own safety or anyone else’s.

My dad was considerably less impressed, but he agreed to rent it.

I could barely sit still through dinner. All I wanted was to finish eating, get back to the house, and watch Halloween 6 while my dad watched whatever boring movie he had rented.

Once I was finally excused, my little brother followed me into my new bedroom. He had never really experienced Halloween, and I was excited about introducing him to something I loved. We turned off the lights and put the tape into the VCR.

It took me a minute to realize that the grown woman in the movie was supposed to be the little girl from Halloween 4 and Halloween 5. I tried explaining the story to my brother, but the movie was moving so quickly that I was barely keeping up myself.

The next ninety minutes were a blur. There was familiar music, the guy from Clueless, some cool deaths, and a very confusing story involving a cult.

The main thing I took away from the movie was that Michael Myers was apparently destined to kill off his bloodline. He would keep coming until every Myers was dead.

My brother was pretty shaken after the movie. He was probably even more confused than I was, but he definitely understood one thing: Michael Myers was a killing machine.

It is hard not to be scared of Michael Myers the first time you see him. So, being the loving older brother that I was, I decided to use that fear to my advantage.

When the movie ended, I turned on the lights, walked over to the edge of my bed, and stared at the floor with a concerned look on my face. My brother looked at me, confused.

I let a few seconds pass before taking a deep breath.

“Now you know why we move so much.”

He looked at me, startled.

“Military families don’t move every three years. They move like once every ten years. We have to stay on the move because of Michael.”

He stared at me with a mixture of fear and confusion.

“You’re just messing with me.”

I managed to keep a straight face.

“No. I’m not. Michael Myers is our uncle.”

That was when I really committed to the bit.

I told him nobody in the family talked about Michael because of how horrible he was. I reminded him that he had just watched an entire movie about Michael trying to kill everyone in his family. Then I explained that our father kept moving us from city to city because Michael was still out there searching for the rest of the Myers family.

My brother didn’t completely believe me, but the fact that we actually did move every few years made the story just believable enough to cause problems.

“It’s a family secret,” I told him. “When you turn ten, they’ll explain everything. I just thought you should know now in case he finds us before then.”

The color disappeared from my brother’s face.

“I’m going to ask Dad.”

“Go ahead. He won’t tell you the truth. He doesn’t think you’re old enough. He wants you to enjoy being a kid before you have to spend every day wondering if this is the day Michael Myers finally finds you.”

“Whatever, Brandon. I’m going to my room. You’re a jerk.”

He grabbed his sleeping bag and left.

A few seconds later, I heard the television turn on in his bedroom and I laughed. It was evil. I know that now, and honestly, I knew it then too. But at the time, I thought it was hilarious.

Little did I know that my brother was going to get the last laugh.

We had spent the entire day moving furniture, hauling boxes, exploring part of our new town, eating pizza, and watching movies. I was exhausted. I turned off my light, climbed into bed, and enjoyed the feeling of finally having my own room.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of snoring.

Since I could hear it, I knew it wasn’t coming from me.

I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom for a moment before my eyes adjusted enough to see my little brother asleep on the floor next to my bed.

I didn’t say anything. I figured I deserved it.

Then he slept there the next night too, and the night after that.

After three nights, I finally sat him down and admitted everything. I told him I had been a jerk, Michael Myers was fictional, Halloween had never actually happened, and yes, military families really did move every few years.

The look he gave me was almost identical to the look he had given me when I originally told him Michael Myers was our uncle.

He had no idea which version of the story to believe.

I spent nearly twenty minutes desperately trying to convince him that I had made the whole thing up. Eventually, he accepted the truth and agreed to start sleeping in his own room again. In exchange, I agreed to play some board game he loved and I hated.

Everything was finally going to work out. Then, just as he was leaving my bedroom, he stopped. He turned around slowly.

“If you made all of this up, then why do you have that?”

He pointed toward the wall above my bed.

At first, I thought he meant my Michael Jordan poster. Then I realized what he was actually pointing at. The Mark of Thorn.

The Mark of Thorn is a simple symbol used in Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers. In the movie, members of the cult connected to Michael have the symbol tattooed on them. I thought it looked cool, and while unpacking my room the day before, I had found a box of Popsicle sticks and decided to make one as a decoration.

I had hung it directly above my bed and that bit me in the ass.

My brother immediately assumed the symbol was there to protect me from Michael Myers. Everything I had spent the last twenty minutes explaining was now meaningless. He was done listening.

As far as he was concerned, Michael Myers was real, he was our uncle, he wanted to murder our family, and I had constructed some kind of protective cult symbol above my bed to keep myself safe.

Eight months.

That is how long my brother slept in my bedroom. Every single night.

I tried getting my dad involved. I even told him he could punish me for scaring my brother if he would just convince him to sleep in his own room.

My dad thought the entire situation was hilarious. As far as he was concerned, the best punishment for me was making me live with the monster I had created.

I honestly don’t remember what finally convinced my brother to start sleeping in his own room again. Over time, he watched the other Halloween movies because I had started collecting them, and maybe he eventually accepted that they were fictional. Or maybe he just decided Michael Myers was unlikely to find us in Texas.

Whatever happened, one night my brother simply stopped appearing on my floor. After eight months, I finally had my own bedroom again.

My brother still loves telling this story whenever I meet one of his friends. He enjoys making me sound like a complete jerk, which is fair because I absolutely was one. More importantly, though, he loves telling the story because it eventually became part of his own relationship with horror.

I look back now and realize that I was definitely a bully in that moment, but thankfully no lasting harm was done. My brother eventually moved past being terrified of Michael Myers and turned that fear into an appreciation for the character and the Halloween movies.

So in a strange way, my attempt to traumatize my little brother ended up introducing him to something he would eventually love. I’m not saying that makes what I did okay. But it does make for a pretty great Halloween story.