Friday the 13th: Camp blood Part 1
Chapter 1: The man behind the mask
The moon rose over his land, the shadows of the trees stretched over and clawed at the surface of the earth beneath them, the mighty trees in their age had grown tall and scorned the dirt and gravel of the floor with their incredible power of it, the floor stayed in it's place, it submitted to the power of the trees, for that was the way of things, the mighty overpowered the weak.
As a child he had seen this, he was young then, scared, defenceless and weak, he was made a outcaste immediately by their kind's laws, he was humiliated by their scorn for him, for they were afraid of him and had to subdue his true destiny from him and in their attempts soon lead to his demise, they thought they had stopped him, that they could murder him, they were mistaken.
Their insolence and failure in recognising his might over them had cost them their lives and from their blood his name was thundered through the generations.
It had all began when his own flesh and blood had been taken away from this world by one of their kind, since his birth their kind had been out on a death hunt for his families blood, first he was shunned from existence and left to die in their water, his mother at the hands of a woman had fallen to their weapons.
But he had risen from his grave, a grave marked and dug by their very demons who had believed him dead, he had out smarted them then and from the gravel and dirt, his legend rose with him and his destiny was reborn with him.
He avenged his mother's death, with his own hands he closed each one of the insolent kind's lips, and from each revenge he reaped his legend grew and grew and his name was marked on the minds of all their kind, the town only muttered his name in hushed whispers, none of them dared to lay a footstep on his land, in this world he was king, his angel of death, his mighty weapon they named the machete he wielded was his shining avenger, his prize from on of their kind, they were unworthy of such a weapon, his tool in his crusade to avenge their sins and their misdeeds.
All who opposed him fell under the deadly swing of his sword, but that didn't stop scare away their kind as well as his other tool of power.
In truth it was this that made his legend renown, his mask, as a child his mother told him stories of ancient warriors who held great power in the respect and fear granted to them from their masks.
When he first found the great mask he was terrified and amazed by the barren yet fearsome expression it signified.
It fitted neatly over his head and covered his face stupendously, this was his crown worthy of a king.
With this mask his presence sent chills down his enemies spines, he could feel it, he could taste their fear and he craved it, only the brave few of their kind dared to touch him and few survived to tell their nightmare.
No, he was unbeatable, as a boy his destiny was unclear but he had been given the tools to survive this world and now the mighty answered to him.
Those who mocked him ran for safety, his apparent final resting place all those years ago became his territory which he ruled and watched over like a great silent unstoppable silent bear.
With each footstep the earth shook, every tree fell silent and clustered amongst each other for safety in numbers, the world feared him, the land had watched over him, from the darkness of the trees came his prey, his food.
Beneath the surface hidden from the world the dead bodies of the insolent kind who had defied him and met their end now slept, their bones now turned to dust over the years.
Everything he craved he could fins, the forest was now his second mother, it nurtured him when he needed it, he had learned how to survive on his own with the great watchful eye of the great white moon who rested in the sky, the mightiest of all beings, the great lone warrior in the star embraced him, empowered him beyond recognition, in its light was when he was most powerful.
And in time the whole forest soon answered to him, they hid him from hunters, fed him, every move he made they watched over him and guided him.
He had risen from the grave to become a ruler, he was the legend of Camp Crystal lake, the mass murderer some called him, some didn't believe of his existence at all, they were insolent and treaded on his land to defy his legend, but he had let them do this, he had been hidden away by the negligence of their world, the town who chose to forget his name, his legend though passed from word of mouth and more came to see this legend and so he would mend all their sins, they called him monster they called him a demon, they called him a legend, he was none for he was not of their kind and did not speak their tongue, he was different his mother had known that.
His mother had known every thing right from the moment he had taken his first breath, he was special, his name was Jason, Jason Voorhees…