So here I was, get this, running for my f*cking life. Apparently my cousin thought that it would be a good idea to take me and three other dudes camping. My God was she a dumb slut. And the first to die. Did I mention that I'm being chased by an angry revenge zombie that drowned here when he was a kid? That's kind of important.
Anyway I just tripped over a log. Great. Now he's right here. Standing over me. Menacingly. Creepy. As. F*ck. Oh great, he's raising his machete. I gotta try something real quick, what was his name? Chase, Jase... "Ja- Jason!"
He stopped and tilted his head. 'Yes! Going to live!' Then he raised his machete again. 'Crap! Gonna die!' He reached down for the collar of my shirt and lifted me off the ground. 'Soooo dead,' I thought. Just as he was bringing his machete to chop off my head, I screamed, "Jason! Please! Stop!"
He froze for an instant, then lowered me to the ground. He dropped his weapon and looked at the dirt, he seemed ashamed of himself. "I-I'm sorry, we didn't mean to upset you, me and my friends, I mean. I'll leave, and I won't tell anyone what happened..."
He looked up from the dirt. He regarded me with a solitary, powder blue eye. I stared back at him. He looked sad and alone. I almost pitied the man who had tried to kill me. Almost.
Seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he had been in, he grabbed my hand and began to walk briskly back towards the lake, if I remember where it was correctly. At first I resisted, but he only pulled harder. Eventually I just gave up and let him lead me wherever he was going.
We came to the edge of the lake. Jason looked left, then right. He started walking to the far end of the lake, I could barely make out the 'Camp Crystal Lake' sign. He was letting me go! I had never felt so happy in my life.
Suddenly, I heard a loud bang. Jason's shoulder was pushed back by an invisible force. I gasped as he turned towards the noise, revealing a bleeding bullet hole. 'Wait, why do I care, he just tried to kill me!' I can't explain why, I just felt the need to hold and comfort him, like a mother does when her son gets a scrape on his knee.
But this wasn't a scrape on his knee. This was a f*cking bullet hole.
"Got you now, *sshole!" It was Jackie, one of the guys that had come here with my cousin and I! "Jackie, stop! He's cool!" I yelled, desperately wanting him to drop the gun.
"Pam?! What the f*ck are you talking about, we watched him kill Sam and the others." Jackie was terrified and confused. Something compelled me to want to save the strange man that had killed so many tonight.
I stepped in front of Jason, who was watching me with his hauntingly blue eye. "Jackie, please, drop the gun. Jason won't hurt you,"
"Jason?! You're calling that piece of sh*t by name now?"
"Jackie, listen to me!"
"Get out of the way or I'll shoot you! I mean it!"
"Jackie, stop!"
"Last chance!"
"Jack-"
BANG.
I woke up to a throbbing pain just underneath my collar bone. I opened my eyes and looked around, I was in some sort of small, two room shanty. I was lying on a mattress and was covered with some old blankets, at least they didn't smell.
I tried to sit up, but my collarbone burned. I looked down to see that my shoulder was wrapped in bandages. I remembered that I had been shot. I remembered why I was shot. "Jason? Jason, where are you?" I propped myself up against the wall next to the bed. I heard swift footsteps, then the door opened. Jason stood in the doorway, wearing a different, but still tattered, outfit.
"Are you okay?" I asked, concern in my voice. Without answering, he walked towards the 'bed' and kneeled on the ground beside it. He rested his head on my lap and sighed.
After a few days, I left the camp. I was reluctant to go, and Jason was reluctant to let me. I promised that I would come back. I went online and did some research. Turns out that Jason had died at camp some 50 years ago. His mother, also named Pamela, had gone berserk and killed some counselors.
I read somewhere that Jason had been born on Friday the 13th of June, and what do you know, that exact date was just around the corner. I went out and bought a jacket that was his size. The weather was getting cold, strange for this time of year.
I drove to Camp Crystal Lake that Friday, clutching the jacket to my chest. I hoped that he was still here. I called out his name, "Jason! Jason! Happy Birthday, I brought you a present!" It was mere minutes before I saw him swiftly approaching from the wooded area, where we had that fateful encounter. He looked down at me with that mournful blue eye. I held the jacket out to him "Happy Birthday, Jason," His eye clouded over for a second and he tilted his head. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or past me. Suddenly, he scooped me up in a firm but gentle bear hug. I laughed happily and he set me down, accepting the jacket,
I hung around camp with him until the sun set, I told him that I had to go home. He looked so sad and crushed. I was leaving him, again. I promised that I'd always come back on Friday the 13th's and on his birthday, and I did for many years. I always brought him a gift, once I brought him a German shepherd puppy, named Gunner. He was so happy...
One day, I didn't come. Jason waited by the entrance to camp all day. Gunner, getting on in age, sat obediently by his master's side. Jason waited on until midnight of the next day. He had known that I was never coming back when the sun had set yesterday, but he still hoped. He looked down at Gunner and patted his furry head. He trudged his way back to his home and opened up a drawer.
He held the picture that i had given him one day in his hands. I had been 40 that year, and it showed. I had wrinkles, and my eyes weren't sparkling like they did when I was younger. Jason had known that this day was coming when I started to have my daughter drive me to camp because I couldn't see the road anymore. He knew that I had always told her that I wanted to visit the graves of my friends. Sighing, Jason ran his hands over the writing in the corner of the picture.
Happy Birthday Jason! I love you!
Pamela