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One Shot
Disclaimer: I don't own Friday the 13th; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.
Summary: She was no more, her head rolling across the floor.
Warning: Violence and other oddities.
Her hand clamped over her mouth, she attempted to muffle her sobs as she hid under the cot. She kept an eye out for his legs, remembering very vividly what she'd just seen happen. Blood, inners, and death; this was not how a camping trip should have been. She remembered what her friend had said, that there would only be fun this weekend and maybe even a few scares from spiders. What happened? She didn't know.
She broke out her thoughts as the door opened, her gaze shot to the general area. Boots, those heavy boots that she knew to look out for. They weren't familiar; they gave the sound that had chased her through the woods. She snapped her eyes shut, sobbing mutely into her hand and struggling to pull herself together, so that she would not fall victim to this massacre.
Thud, thud; he was coming for her now. She curled her body and then tried to calm herself. There was no way he could see her or even know where she was hiding. She could feel him coming closer, so close that she was sure she could reach out and grab his ankle. She thought about doing just that; maybe she could grow super human strength and give her friends their deserved revenge. She knew it was impossible, so - just to see how close he was - she cracked an eye open.
He was standing right there in front of her, the tip of his boot just an inch away from her arm. She gasped behind her hand, which was trying to mute it but failed. The legs she could see tensed and then... the mattress was flipped over and she whipped her body around. She screamed, loudly, as she stared up at the masked killer. She couldn't get away, she realised as he lifted the blade above his head - which promptly tilted. She was stuck between a wall and the man, there was no where to run.
The blade came down on her; through the thin bars of the cot, ripping through organs and muscle of her torso, and sticking into the floor beneath her. There was pain, fiery and intense, and there was blood, pass her lips and down her chin. She choked and gurgled on her own life force, and her body trembled with the agony she was in.
The large blade was forcefully removed from her body and the cot was thrown. With a swift movement, the weapon came back at her and there was nothing she could do. The previous wound surely prevent that. The metal met her again and she was no more, her head rolling across the floor.
Author's Note: Thoughts? Considers? Constructive Criticism?