The Aftermath

The early morning fog had settled over the glassy surface of Crystal Lake. The surface reflected as much of the morning sunlight that could possible get through the fog as the sun rose in to the sky. Slowly the silence of the morning started to fade as the animals and birds the lived within the trees that surrounded the lake started to wake from their nightly slumber. Suddenly the sound of water splashing broke through the silent morning. The still surface of the lake was broken by the head of Jason Voorhees. The water dripped from Jason's rotten brownish grey skin and flowed over the battered and broken hockey mask that bore the scars of his recent battle. Jason's broad shoulders came out of the water next followed by his massive chest and huge arms, all covered in the rags of material of what had once been shirts and other garments, now almost as rotten as Jason's flesh and baring the scars of Jason's long years of bloodshed and death.

Then Jason's gloved hands rose from the water, in his left hand he carried the machete that he had slain so many people with, the blade was stained with blood from all the slaughter that had gone before and even gone on a few short hours ago. But the most disturbing was the object that he was carrying in his right had, or rather what was left of it. The object he held with the stumps where his fingers were before they were sliced off, was a human head. But it wasn't any normal head, until recently the horribly scarred thing was sat upon the shoulders of a killer who had somehow invaded his mind and tortured him with visions of his drowning that had happened years ago in the very lake he was now climbing out of. That he would have killed him for, but the man had added insult to injury by posing as his long dead mother in order for him to kill for the man. That was something that Jason would never, could never forgive. In the end ironically it wasn't Jason who had delivered the death blow to the man; it was one of the man's intended victims. Jason would have killed her but the battle with man had left him too weak to do anything but sink to the bottom of the lake, however he did notice something in her eyes as he sank below the surface, Jason didn't know what it was, because most of the time all he saw was hatred for him in the eyes of those he came across, but this was something different it was something that he had only seen within one other, is mother.

Jason shook off the thought; his mother had been slain by just the person he allowed to live. Jason had avenged his mother's death but now he had to slay all that would cross his path. Which he did thoroughly, only a handful had ever escaped his wrath.

As Jason stepped on to the shore he felt the head move. Jason stopped and held the head up to his masked face. The scarred thing was dead. But looking at it reminded Jason of what the man had done and his hand tightened until he heard the fait sound of the skull cracking under the scarred flesh. If it had somehow moved it wouldn't now. Jason then continued his march to the one place within the trees of Crystal Lake that he ever felt was home.

Jason stood before a small cabin that sat with in the woods; the cabin was nothing more than several boards of wood or corrugated iron that he had placed together in a rough box shape, something he had been taught by his mother when the others at camp refused to allow him to come along on one of the exercise. Jason had made his cabin strong, it had stood for years, but it wasn't the first he had built, Jason's original cabin had been destroyed after it was discovered years ago when he had slain the teenagers of a nearby camp. The police had found the bodies of his victims, who had taken there to show his mother that he was continuing to do as he was told, but he had moved the head of his mother to a secure location. Now she waited for him inside his new cabin. Jason slammed his machete in to a log that sat near the entrance to the cabin and with his free hand he pulled the heavy iron door to one side and entered the dark dank cabin. The cabin smell of death, every room was full of it, but Jason didn't notice a thing, to Jason everything in this cabin was how it should be, it was the outside world that was wrong. Jason made his way to the end of the corridor where his mother's room lay. Jason hesitated for a second before removing the iron bar that sat across the doorway. Then Jason opened the door. The head of Pamela Voorhees, now no more than a skull, but to Jason it was as if his mother was whole, sat on a rotten chair. Around the chair sat the bodies of several of Jason's victims, all in different states. Jason walked up to his mother hand held the head in his hand up for her eyeless skull to see. The as if he was having a conversation with his mother Jason nodded, turning Jason grabbed a large metal pole that he had killed one of his victims with, pulling it out of the body he had used it originally on Jason then drove it in to the dirt floor and using it as a pike Jason slammed the head on to its tip driving the pole deep in to its skull. Once he was sure that the head was securely on the pole Jason turned back to his mother's skull carefully reached out with one hand and gently stroked the skull's cheek. Then Jason turned and left the room. After making sure that his mother was safely locked behind the door Jason fell to one knee.

Jason felt weak he knew that he hadn't fully recovered from his battle and that he needed to rest. Forcing himself back to his feet Jason dragged himself to another room. His instinct was to go outside, continue what he had to do, but looking down at his ruined had he realized that the best thing to do was allow himself time to regain his strength and heal his wounds. Jason let himself fall forward and hit the floor. He would rest then he would continue doing what he must, soon Jason would return.