A few months ago, Jamie lost her real parents and became an orphan. Fortunately, a kind couple decided to adopt her.
But over the past few nights, Jamie hadn't been able to sleep. Or maybe it was more accurate to say she didn't want to fall asleep—because deep down, she was afraid something bad would happen.
And in fact, something bad had already happened. Quietly. Without her realizing it.
It was late at night.
Jamie knew she had to go back to her room to sleep.
For some reason, her heart felt uneasy that night, as if a bad omen were whispering in the back of her mind.
She took out a photo of her late mother and couldn't help but sob softly.
After that, she said her nightly prayer—when suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open on its own.
Jamie tiptoed over and found her favorite doll lying on the floor. She bent down, picked it up, and gently placed it back on the shelf.
But that uneasy feeling only grew stronger. Her wide eyes darted left and right, and she even turned around sharply, but found nothing out of the ordinary.
Still, she felt it—someone, or something, was watching her from the shadows.
And not just one pair of eyes.
That thought alone was enough to make her tremble.
Thunder boomed outside, but Jamie barely noticed. She was too focused on finding the source of that invisible gaze.
After a while, she sat back on her bed, convincing herself it was just her imagination.
But just as she turned around, the door—now shut—swung open again.
Impossible! Jamie frowned. She was sure she had closed it.
"Oh well," she muttered. "I'll just shut it again."
She started toward the door—then froze.
A cold sensation crept up her leg.
From the darkness under her bed, a hand shot out and grabbed her ankle.
Completely caught off guard, Jamie screamed as she was yanked to the floor.
She kicked and clawed, tiny fingers digging desperate grooves into the carpet.
But she was just a child. Too weak to fight back. Inch by inch, she was being dragged under the bed.
That's when he intervened.
From the ceiling, a long, snake-like figure uncoiled and dropped down—Barry. His upper body dangled upside down, four bone-bladed limbs splayed wide. Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating his pale, grotesque face.
And then, the monster smiled.
"Don't be afraid, kid," he said in a strangely gentle tone. "Uncle's here to protect your dreams."
"AAAAAHHHH!"
Jamie screamed even louder.
Adrenaline surged through her tiny body. Somehow, she broke free and scrambled toward the door.
But the doorknob wouldn't turn—it was jammed.
Terrified, she glanced over her shoulder—and saw him.
A tall man in a white mask, sitting up straight like a puppet suddenly coming to life.
The feeling that hit her then was strange—fear mixed with… familiarity. Like a twisted sense of family.
"Help me! Somebody, please help me!" Jamie sobbed as she pounded on the door.
"Bold of you," Barry growled. "How dare you attack someone in my presence!"
With a roar, he swung forward from the ceiling, his elbow blades flashing as he slashed toward the masked man.
Whoosh!
But the man vanished.
"What?!" Barry froze. "He disappeared? Inside a dream?"
Before he could make sense of it, the door burst open.
Standing there—knife in hand—was none other than Michael Myers, the silent killer who had waited ten long years to return.
He lunged forward, stabbing straight at his niece, Jamie.
Jamie shrieked and dove under the bed just in time.
Michael stepped after her—but before he could reach, a massive blow struck his side. The sound cracked through the air like a thunderclap.
Barry's tail had whipped him.
With one powerful strike, he sent Michael crashing through several walls and out into the street below, where the killer landed in a crumpled heap.
"My house… sniff… my house is gone," Jamie whimpered, peeking out from under the bed. The second floor now had a gaping hole where her bedroom wall used to be.
"As long as you're alive, your home still exists," Barry said reassuringly.
Believe it or not—he was actually a bit of a softie.
Well… a warm-hearted snake, at least.
But the moment he spoke, Jamie shrank back under the bed again, whispering over and over, "You can't see me, you can't see me…"
"I can see you," Barry said mercilessly.
"Eek!"
She froze, eyes wide.
She didn't dare move. The image of Michael's broken body was still burned into her mind. If that thing could do that to him, one hit would turn her into red mist.
"Don't be afraid," Barry continued softly. "I'm a good guy to kind little girls. Otherwise, why would I help you?"
Jamie hesitated. That… actually made sense.
Timidly, she peeked out—just half her face—and when she finally saw Barry clearly, she immediately ducked back again.
He looked terrifying. Way worse than the masked man.
"Come on, kid," Barry said, trying to sound patient. "Don't judge by appearances, or I'll get upset and leave. And if that masked freak comes back… who's gonna protect you then?"
His voice grew closer—Jamie could even hear the bed creaking as he crawled across it.
She hated herself for having such a wild imagination.
She could picture his claws sinking into the mattress, the scrape of rough scales against the sheets.
The sound made her skin crawl.
Then—CRASH!
The entire bed flipped over, throwing blankets and pillows everywhere. Jamie froze in place, completely petrified.
Before she could even move, a black shape tore through the wall—a car.
Yes, an actual car burst straight through the second-story wall, headlights blazing.
The driver? The white-masked man.
Michael Myers.
Barry snarled, "You've got some nerve coming back here, you freak!"
Before the car could accelerate, Barry arched backward like a loaded bow and hurled the entire bed straight at it.
BOOM!
The impact sent the car flying out of the house.
A fiery explosion lit up the night. Shattered glass rained across the room as orange flames danced on the walls.
Jamie's home now had… a lot more open space.
Cold rain blew through the hole, stinging her cheeks as she sat frozen in shock.
"Don't be afraid, child," Barry said gently, picking up a fallen blanket and draping it over her shoulders. "Uncle's here to protect you."
Even if he looked like the stuff of nightmares, for that moment—he meant it.