I do not own Friday th 13th that is the propery of Parmount Pctures and New Line Cinema.
This is a quick story I whipped up just becuase I was bored!
The lightning crashed in the night sky, illuminating the dark in a single stroke with each beam. The rain pounded hard against the ground creating puddles and puddles of mud in these dark woods. The thunder roared as it drowned out all forms of sound. Including that of vicious scream.
The woman ran out of the woods back to her camp. Half-naked her breasts jiggled as she continued to run. She was soaked already but became even more so as she tripped and landed in a deep puddle face down. The woman crawled on her hands and knees trying to recover back to her feet; but her shaking limbs made her unable.
Dead, all dead! This was all she could think about as the bloody images of her friends came into her memory. They had come out for a nice weekend before the reopening of the camp was final. However their journey placed them all in a situation that had no kind of positive ending. Just death. And that is what they had found.
She screamed as a grimy hand reached out and grasped the back of her hair. The woman's head was forced towards the puddle. In it she could see the reflection of her assailant. The one that caused the death. She did not know his name but remembered the scarred up hockey mask that covered his face. And that was the final thing she would see before being held under the muddy water. Eventually time took it toll and her screams to were ceased…permanently.
The giant muscular physique of the man picked up the now lifeless corpse and walked off back into the woods eventually coming to a cabin where he laid the body on top of all of the others. It was then he walked into another room and pulled out a bloody machete, his tool of choice. Holding it firmly he placed it against a roller which he activated with a foot peddle.
The sparks flew off of the machete as the sharpener rolled peeling off the dried and fresh blood. It only took a few minutes before the weapon once again shined with a clean metallic luster that reflected the pale moonlight through a crack in the ceiling.
A female voice then came through the drafty old house, which caught the man's attention. "Jason, my special, special boy."
He turned his head and stared through the hockey mask at an old decayed head of what appeared to be an old woman. He then rose to his feet and walked over to it picking it up. Staring deeply at it he waited as if it was talking.
"You have marvelous honey. Mommy is so proud of you." The voice continued. "All has gone well. Anyone who comes to the camp must die, Jason. They must all pay. You know that they are reopening the camp soon, and then they will all understand that it is under the protection of my angel. When the counselors appear kill them all, Jason. Let them know it's not alright to leave the young ones alone."
Jason placed the head down and returned back to his blade sharpening. And he thought, thought of what it would be like when the camp reopens. As well, like so many others before this little group everyone will die. After all murder is what Jason Voorhees does best. And this week woud be more special because it'll be his birthday on:
FRIDAY THE 13TH!