Dogmatic Insanity
07-30-2007, 10:58 PM
Since this is a new board and all, I'd figure I'd post my Friday the 13th short stories here for all to read, maybe get some new input on 'em. For those unfamiliar with them, I attempted to expand on this that have happened in the F13 universe with really good results(Requiem; Happiness is Fleeting) and not so much(Prelude to the Future). Oh well, at least I tried. Keep watching this spot for updates and new stories. Enjoy!
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Friday the 13th Part 1 : Pamela
Many things have been said about Crystal Lake. The town has always had a black cloud hanging over it, mostly because of the infamous summer camp there. But the formation of the cloud started before the camp was ever built. It started in 1930, with the birth of Pamela Ann Britton. By all accounts, she was a normal healthy child. But her home life was far from normal. Her father was an abusive drunk, who would take every opportunity to berate Pamela and her mother for ruining his life. Beatings were quite frequent for her, and dad wasn’t afraid to do the same to mom in front of Pamela. Obviously, these things didn’t help young Pamela’s psyche.
Pamela did the best she could in school. She frequently got good grades and was extremely polite, but she was shut off from just about everyone around her. She didn’t have many friends, as she would have to go straight home after school. On any given day there was no telling if her mother would be in any condition to make dinner or do household chores, thanks to the father. One day in 1940 would change her life forever. She was hurrying home as usual, when she stopped in front of the door to her home. They were fighting again. She steeled herself and walked in the door. They were really going at it this time. The first thing Pamela saw was her father backhand her mother to the ground. Inside her, something changed. She felt anger flow through her, and she rushed at her father, screaming. The only thing that her efforts got her was the same treatment as her mother. Tears stung her eyes as she laid on the floor. Father berated her, starting in on his usual spiel. But this time, a shaky voice interrupted him. It was Pamela’s mother. Pamela looked up, and saw, with shock, that her mother had a pistol pointed at him. He laughed, saying that she didn’t have it in her, and that he was going to take the gun from her and show her how to do it. With that, a loud sound hammered Pamela’s eardrums and caused her to close her eyes. When she looked back at her father, he was on the ground, a red stain spreading across his chest. Her eyes widened. She looked back at her mother, who was sobbing. She looked at Pamela, and only said four words. “I’m so sorry, Pam.” She then put the gun to her own head and pulled the trigger as Pamela screamed.
Needless to say, the incident scarred Pamela. She spent the next two years of her life in a psychiatric hospital under heavy sedation. The doctors said that she was borderline psychotic. She was prone to violent outbursts, but only when she didn’t take her meds. When the doctors were confident that she was finally stable, they released her into foster care. She had emerged a changed woman. She was a lot more outgoing at school. Her social circle grew, and she was well liked. But still, you could see a certain glint in her eye at times. Even when she smiled, you had to wonder what exactly was going on in her head. Then she met him. He was a dashing young man, full of everything a woman could want. His name was Elias Voorhees. Their affair was a whirlwind one. He promised to make her life better than the one she had lived up to this point. And he did make good on that promise, as his family was well off. They encountered a bit of a rough patch when Pamela became pregnant, but they got through it. They even married soon after. But everything changed in 1946.
Everything was going fine for the Voorhees family. They loved each other, and managed to eke out a decent existence, until the day their son was born. Through circumstances beyond their control, the child was born with a condition called hydrocephalus, a harelip, and facial disfigurement. Whether or not this was a result of the medications Pamela was taking remains unknown. Pamela didn’t care. This was her son, and she would bring him up to live a better life than the one that she had. Elias on the other hand, did care. He thought that the child was an abomination. He voiced this opinion on many an occasion, blaming Pamela for it. Pamela did her best to try to ignore it but it became really hard. When Jason was three, Pamela and Elias got in a very heated yelling match. Jason began to cry, and clung to Elias’ leg in a vain attempt to calm him down. Elias became angry and swatted the child away. Pamela freaked out. She snatched a steak knife off of the table and held it to his throat. She told him that if he ever hurt Jason again, she would slit his throat herself. She then set the knife down and cradled Jason. She looked at Elias and smiled her smile at him. She told him in the calmest sounding voice that it would be best for him to leave. And leave he did.
In the years following that incident, things went fairly good for Pamela and Jason. Pamela got a job at the local Camp as the cook, and she enjoyed her job immensely. She would live at the camp during operating seasons and she would bring Jason with her. He loved the outdoors. Her emotional state at this time could be described as relatively calm, although she did have outbursts here and there. Whenever she would witness the other children mocking or abusing Jason, she would let her anger fly. Granted, the Camp staff didn’t enjoy her doing so, but they understood completely. It was better to let anger out than keep it inside. Especially someone with her condition. She would arrange private playtime for Jason with two of the counselors, a young couple named Barry and Claudette. They would take Jason out and let him have a grand old time without the other kids harassing him. One day the counselors made the mistake of telling Jason to be careful while they had something to take care of. As they ran off, Jason looked at the Lake. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go in the water without the counselors, but he didn’t see the harm in going in for a little bit. Pamela heard his cries for help. She rushed outside just in time to see him slip beneath the water. She screamed, and called for counselors to save him. But it was all in vain. Even after the police came, no body could be found. Needless to say, Pamela just shut down. She became catatonic and wouldn’t speak to anybody. She would just stay in her home, only venturing out for food and such. She was essentially an emotional zombie. It looked like nothing would snap her out of her state.
Until they said that Barry and Claudette were not responsible for Jason’s drowning…
Friday the 13th Part 2 : Requiem
Frightened. Alone. That was all he felt out in the woods. He was alive, if you could call it that. Everyone thought that he was dead, but for some unknown reason he still existed. What had happened? One of the last things he remembered was the cool, inviting waters of the lake. Then there was nothing, until he awoke with a start curled in a ball on the shore. How much time had passed? He didn’t know. As he looked around, he saw nobody. He felt a strange comfort in that. Everyone he ever knew had been mean to him. Hateful. Everyone except his mother. He missed her so much, but was still afraid to see her.
The first thing that crossed his mind was the little bit of modesty that he possessed. He crept along the woods near a small house, eyeing the clothesline out back. He quickly scanned the backyard and once he was confidant that nobody was there, he slinked in and snatched a pair of overalls and a flannel shirt off of the line. With his prizes in hand, he fled back to the comfort of the woods. There. That was taken care of. The next thing, he decided, was a place to stay. He longed for the warmth and comfort of the cabins that he grew up in at the camp, but he didn’t want to go there. They hated him there. With that in mind, he decided to take whatever he needed from the cabins and the surrounding town. A bit of sheet metal here, some aluminum siding there. After about a month his own ramshackle home was complete. He liked it for what it was. He even stole a toilet from one of the burned down cabins, but the plumbing eluded him. There was one room, however, that he never went into. A small room, with a makeshift altar. He didn’t quite know why he built that room, or what the altar was for. Not yet, anyways.
He survived by capturing and eating some of the various critters that inhabited the deep woods. He caught them using crude traps. After all his time at the camp he had learned how to make rope snares, which he used to catch rabbits and small deer. No one ever thought that he could learn the snares and wouldn’t teach him. They would say ‘Get that boy away from here. That retard would just end up snaring himself.’ And they would laugh. Oh, how they would laugh. Just remembering that brought tears to his eyes. Tears that were once warm. Now they were bitter cold. But he had watched. And he had learned.
Every day seemed to bleed into the next. Time meant nothing to him anymore. He spent his days wandering the woods, learning them by heart. If by any chance someone else would be in the woods, the fear would choke him and he would scurry off back towards his shack. The more time he spent in his shack, the colder his heart became. More and more the hatred flowed into his body. His heart would calm ever so slightly when he thought of his mother. She loved him, no matter what. He decided he was going to go see her. He had to. He would see her, and she would make everything better again. He tried to clean his one set of clothes as best as he could, scrubbing them in the waters of the lake. His eyes landed on his reflection in the water, and what he saw frightened him. He hadn’t paid much attention to how he looked, but he was sure that mom wouldn’t like it. When he got back to his shack, he took the rough burlap covering off of his pillow, cut a hole in it and tied it around his neck. With that, he set off towards the camp. It was the last place he saw her.
When he got to the outskirts of the camp, he froze. He heard sounds of a struggle down near the lake. As he made his way there, he saw his mother. He wanted to go to her! But he saw someone else there. And this someone else was running at her with a blade in her hand. What was going on? With a flash, he saw his mother’s head fly from her shoulders, and dully bounce on the gritty sand. He stared. He stared as her body finally collapsed to the ground. He stared, even as the cold tears stung his eyes and rage began to take over. He stared to go after her, but she climbed into a canoe and drifted towards the middle of the lake. He walked to the shore, but just couldn’t bring himself to go into the water. He stared at the woman, asleep in the canoe. He would get to her eventually. He turned and looked at his mother. He slowly walked over to her body and fell to his knees. The front of his makeshift burlap mask was wet with the tears that didn’t seem to stop flowing. He cradled his mother in his lap, rocking back and forth. He turned his head to the sky and wailed loudly, unable to contain the emotions inside him. When he stopped, he looked quickly back at the canoe. The woman did not stir. He looked back at his mother, and an idea flashed in his mind. He quickly removed the sweater from the body and wrapped his mother and her machete in it. He jumped up and ran to the cabins and rummaged around and found a box of emergency candles. With his candles and his mother, he returned to his home.
He slept often in that room. The light from the candles giving off a bit a warmth. His mother, here with him finally. Sometimes he would stare at here, hearing her voice in his head. Telling him she loved him. Telling him that everything was going to be all right. Telling him to hate. To avenge. To protect himself.
To kill.
He had waited almost two months. He never thought that he would ever find her again. He had almost given up hope, but he couldn’t let mother down. One evening he was in the woods by the grocery store in town, and that’s when it happened. He saw her. His heart jumped in his chest. He followed her as best he could until she reached her destination. He almost smiled. Quickly, he ran back to his shack. He needed something.
When he got back to her neighborhood, he sat outside. He watched as a young child splashed in the puddles along the curb, singing a nursery rhyme. He remembered liking that rhyme, and absently hummed along with it. The boy’s mother called for him, and the boy scurried off. Now. He stood and walked out of the woods towards her house. He heard the phone ring through an open window in the back. He made his way towards it. He heard her in there talking. The call ended, and she walked away. Do it now. He climbed into the window and placed what he needed in the refrigerator. Then the phone rang again. He froze with fear and leaped out of the window. He watched her, and she seemed scared. Good. Do it. Now. He felt something on his leg, and he looked down. It was a cat, rubbing up against his leg. He stared at it, and bent down to scratch it’s head. Just before his fingers touched it, it leapt through the window, followed by a startled scream. She was in the kitchen through the window. Do it. Do it. Do it. He slowly crept through the window, as she opened the fridge and saw his little surprise. She screamed as he snatched an ice pick off of the counter. She backed up directly into him and he grabbed her. She screamed louder. DO IT DO IT DO IT. He raised the pick and sank it into the side of her head. She didn’t scream anymore.
He gently laid the woman’s body in front of the altar. He looked at his mother and saw her smile at him. ‘You’ve done good, my son. Thank you.’ The tears came again. He had made his mother happy. She told him so. He decided to protect her at all costs. People would surely come into the woods. Come and separate them. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t. He grew angrier the more he thought of the very idea. That would never happen. For you see, Jason still loves his mother.
And she still loves him.
Friday the 13th Part 3: Chris
Coming Soon!
Friday the 13th: Tommy
Coming Soon!
Jason Voorhees: Happiness Is Fleeting
A cold breeze drifted its way off the glassy surface of Crystal Lake. It washed over his rotting skin and his scarred and pitted hockey mask, swirling around him. He didn’t feel it. He never did. The cold never bothered him. It was inconsequential. He slowly walked through the darkened forest, not bothering to stay in the shadows. There was no need for that anymore. Everyone knew that he was there, and the smart ones stayed away. He hated the smart ones, almost as much as he hated the stupid ones. The young people that would loudly descend upon Crystal Lake, with their carousing and carrying on. With their copulation and their negligence. They had let him die. They let him slip beneath the surface of the lake and cease to be.
He walked along the shore of the Lake, the cold water lapping at his shoes. The water seeped into his shoes, but his feet were incapable of feeling it. All at once, the forest grew silent. Dead silent. There were no animal sounds, no chirping of grasshoppers, and the wind stopped blowing as well. Jason looked around at the woods and across the surface of the lake. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, until he glanced back towards the former campgrounds. There were cabins there, when moments ago had been none. Jason stared at them, not comprehending. Then, out of the darkness, a figure walked towards the lake and knelt at the edge, not ten meters from where Jason stood. A young woman in a yellow blouse. Jason cocked his head to one side. This one looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t place her. No matter. She would die like the rest of them. But then another figure crept up behind the first one, and this made Jason stop dead in his tracks. His eye widened as he took in the new visage. A very angry woman wearing a blue sweater and wielding a machete.
Mom.
She howled with rage, and tried to slash the other woman with her machete. Jason watched; confusion in his mind. It all seemed so familiar, but WHY? In a moment of clarity, it came to him. The girl was the one who killed his mother in cold blood. The same one that he killed some time after that. He remembered this night as well. He remembered watching from underneath the smooth water as this girl viciously ended his mother’s life. Rage flowed through him as he watched the scene unfold.
Alice kicked Mrs. Voorhees as hard as she could. The maniac staggered backwards down the sandy shore. Alice looked down at her feet and saw the machete that moments ago was trying to end her own life. She quickly snatched it up and looked up at Pamela. She ran towards her, the machete raised high. Pamela screamed as Alice stopped and swung the machete right at her neck. A loud clash of metal echoed off of the trees, and there was a brief flash of sparks that lit up the dark night. Both Pamela and Alice looked at the machete, which was now being blocked by another one. They both followed the machete to the arm, and the arm to the masked face of Jason Voorhees. Alice’s eyes widened with fear at this new horror. She didn’t even react when Jason swatted her machete away with his own. He raised his arm, and swung his machete at her neck. It cleanly sliced through her neck, and her dismembered head landed at Jason’s feet. He bent down and grabbed a handful of hair and lifted it up. He turned and walked over to where his mother stood, still paralyzed with fear.
“J-Jason? Is that you? Can it be…?”
Jason nodded slightly. Pamela slowly walked to him and raised her hand to his mask. She gently touched it.
“My special boy. You came back! I always knew that you would. It’s something that I have been dreaming about ever since you died. Now… Let me look at you.”
She moved her hand to lift his mask from his face, and he stepped back quickly. He didn’t want her to see what he had become.
“It’s ok, my darling. Mommy’s here now. Nothing will ever separate us again. I love you so much.”
A new sensation filled Jason. Gone was the anger and rage that flowed through his body. It was now replaced with something else. A kind of warmth. Gone was the ever constant urge to kill. The machete, which he carried for so many years and ended so many lives with, slipped from his grasp and onto the ground. And he didn’t care. For the first time in Jason Voorhees’ death, he felt happiness. He had his mother back, and for good this time. He stepped back towards her, and bent over slightly. She slipped the mask off of his head and gazed at his face as he straightened back up.
“Oh, my beautiful boy! Look how handsome you are. You needn’t cover yourself with this dreadful mask anymore. She tossed it down next to his machete.
“Come, Jason. Let’s go home, and be a family again.”
He stared at her as she smiled that smile of hers. His eye drifted to her neck, where he saw a thin ribbon of red form in the middle of her throat and spread around her neck. Jason cocked his head as he stared. Pamela stopped smiling.
“What’s the matter Jason? Is there something wrong?”
When the last word exited her mouth, her head slowly tipped backwards and thudded to the ground. Jason’s eye widened in terror as the head rolled to his feet, the eyes staring at him lifelessly. He stared at it in abject horror and confusion. What had happened? She was here with him, and she promised that they would be together forever! His shoulders slumped as the new happiness bled from him. He looked over at his mask and machete, and he felt the hate start reclaiming it’s place within him.
Suddenly, Jason’s eye snapped open. He looked around, and saw that he was standing in the middle of the woods, his mask on, and his machete in hand. A dream. It must have been only a dream. Jason sighed slightly, until he saw the beams of headlights pierce the darkness of the woods. More victims for him. The stupid ones.
He hated them.
Friday the 13th: Winner Takes All (Tina)
Friday the 13th: Prelude to the Future
CLASSIFIED
FOR EYES ONLY
TRANSCRIPT OF FINAL AUDIO REPORT
COMMAND SERGEANT MAJOR NATHAN LIVINGSTON
CRYSTAL LAKE RESEARCH & MILITARY INSTALLATION
COMMANDER OF PROJECT B-13, BIO-WEAPONS
FRIDAY, JUNE 13TH 2008
[STATIC]
This is Nathan Livingston, Command Sergeant Major and C.O. of the Crystal Lake Research Facility. This is surely to be my last recorded report. I really wish that it hadn’t come to this, but then again, there are a lot of things that I wish hadn’t happened. This whole operation seemed to be one cock-up after another. It was explained to us that it would be extremely simple: Capture the subject, and conduct the very delicate research for the Bio-weapon / Super Soldier division. Heh. Simple enough, right? What the higher ups in “military intelligence” hadn’t counted on was the tenacity of the subject. They really didn’t take the stories about him all that seriously. I mean, really… How were we supposed to believe that he was indestructible? Unstoppable? It never really crossed our minds that the stories would be true. The drowning in the 50’s. The crazy vengeful mother. Coming back to life more times than Jesus himself. We set up the facility after the Lake Crystal real estate deal fell through. Heh. You’d think they would know better than to even TRY that, wouldn’t you? Needless to say, we got the land fairly cheap. Once it was done being built and staffed, we set about trying to figure out the best way to bring him in. This is where things started to look pretty goddamn grim. He had been rather quiet since the construction incident. I don’t know if it was from the lack of victims. There always seemed to be plenty of those around. Maybe he just needed time to convalesce. Who knows?
[SOUND OF LIQUID POURING, DRINKING]
Ahh. Anyways, we sent out a ten man squad to try to take him out. Bunch of green rookies, straight out of the academy. They all were in the same class at the academy, and were pretty damn good at what they did. Probably just a little too overconfident for their own good. They thought the mission would be simple. Straightforward tag and bag. When they ventured out, their mikes were on constant transmission. Now that was a mistake too. We could hear everything that happened to them. The sounds. The screams.
[LIVINGSTON SIGHS]
The first one to cease transmission was Lehman. He said that he had spotted something in the woods, and was proceeding to check it out. All we heard was a sharp crack. Gillette and Dash went to check on him. They found him all right. Neck broken. Then the shouting started… It was only drowned out by the gunfire. Short, sharp bursts. They were yelling that nothing was taking him down. Gillette’s gun stopped first, followed shortly by Dash’s. Corporal Brooker then said that he established contact and had engaged the enemy. He chucked a grenade at the subject, which did little to slow him down. Brooker screamed as we heard wet sounds. By all accounts, he had torn Brooker’s throat out. Kirzinger was the next to establish contact. He was the only grunt that had a shoulder mounted night vision camera. He sat about twenty feet away, just watching him. He watched as White, Wieland and Morga ran into the small clearing and began shooting. Kirzinger reported that he just waded through the bullets, some of them ricocheting off of that machete of his. Once he reached White, his hand shot out and ripped White’s lower jaw off. He then stabbed Wieland in the forehead with the jaw bone. And with one swing of the machete, split Morga’s head clean down the center down to his larynx. With that, he promptly disappeared. Just flat out vanished. It was at this point that I ordered the full retreat. Out of a ten man team, only three remained. This was going to be a fun one to explain. I gave the order for all non essential personnel to take cover and retreat into the underground shelter. They were the lucky ones. Myself, not so lucky. I’m gonna have to break the news to their families. I’ll leave out the part about them being classified as “expendable bait.”
It’s been two hours since they made it back into the facility. The trank team will be here soon. Thank God for them. The only good thing to come out of the incident at Westin Hills, Ohio, was the discovery that the pink tranquilizer they used there takes this boy down. I’ve been watching them sift through the facility, watching out for him. On the monitors I saw him walk in past the first camera. It was the last I saw of him.
[STATIC. UNINTELLIGIBLE YELLING]
That’s Graham. He just got tagged by B-13 and ran into the storage room. Within those shelves is the biggest collection of evidence from the Crystal Lake legacy. Photos, weapons, a few bits of tattered clothing. Wait a sec… There he is. He’s slowly stalking Graham.
[STATIC. GRAHAM’S VOICE EMANATES FROM THE COMM UNIT]
GRAHAM: Sir, I’m hurt pretty bad. Fucker ripped a chunk out of my side.
LIVINGSTON: Stay calm, soldier. Go to your night vision. I’m gonna cut the lights in your sector. Talk quiet.
GRAHAM: Lights are out sir. I see him! He’s staring into one of the cabinets.
GRAHAM: Sir, he’s tearing into the cabinet! I’ve never… He’s ripped it open. He’s reaching in and grabbing… It looks like a sweater. What would he want with that? He’s staring at it.. Now he’s… Well, he’s hugging it. Begging your pardon sir, but what the fuck is going on?
LIVINGSTON: Keep your head, soldier. Remember, this is the world’s biggest momma’s boy. I’m betting that’s his mother’s sweater.
GRAHAM: I have a shot. I’m taking it.
[GUNFIRE; SCREAMING ABRUPTLY CUT OFF]
Dear God… What have we done here?
[DOOR BANGING OPEN; RUSTLING SOUNDS. HEAVY BREATHING]
KIRZINGER: What the fuck, sir? What is he?
HODDER: Yeah, I think we need an explanation here.
LIVINGSTON: [SIGHS] You have your orders. We need to keep him occupied until the trank team gets here. They’re less than a click away.
HODDER: Yeah well, that fuck is in here with us. And he knows we’re here. Can’t the team move double time to get here?
LIVINGSTON: They’re coming as fast as they can. They will subdue B-13 and evac us out. See? There they are on the monitor.
[DOOR CRASHES IN. GUNFIRE]
LIVINGSTON: Jesus Christ! Flank him! Knock him down!
[AUTOMATIC GUNFIRE; SOUND OF A SHOTGUN BEING COCKED AND FIRING. THE AUTO MATIC FIRE STOPS, THE SHOTGUN CONTINUES]
LIVINGSTON: Die, you son of a bitch! Die!
[SOUND OF METAL RENDING FLESH. ALL SOUND STOPS HERE.]
VOICE; TRANK SQUAD: Take him down!
[TRANK GUNS FIRING, A HEAVY THUD]
END TRANSMISSION
Lowe leaned back from the computer monitor, concern across his face. Perez had been right. Voorhees was unstoppable. That just meant that they needed to keep him quite frozen until a suitable buyer could be found. He smiled, and picked up a tray of food. Time to go talk to this Rowan, he thought. Best to play stupid for the time being. He smiled even wider as he voiced his last thought out loud.
“Looks like my luck is finally about to change.”
[B]Friday the 13th: Justice Be Done
Coming Soon!
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Friday the 13th Part 1 : Pamela
Many things have been said about Crystal Lake. The town has always had a black cloud hanging over it, mostly because of the infamous summer camp there. But the formation of the cloud started before the camp was ever built. It started in 1930, with the birth of Pamela Ann Britton. By all accounts, she was a normal healthy child. But her home life was far from normal. Her father was an abusive drunk, who would take every opportunity to berate Pamela and her mother for ruining his life. Beatings were quite frequent for her, and dad wasn’t afraid to do the same to mom in front of Pamela. Obviously, these things didn’t help young Pamela’s psyche.
Pamela did the best she could in school. She frequently got good grades and was extremely polite, but she was shut off from just about everyone around her. She didn’t have many friends, as she would have to go straight home after school. On any given day there was no telling if her mother would be in any condition to make dinner or do household chores, thanks to the father. One day in 1940 would change her life forever. She was hurrying home as usual, when she stopped in front of the door to her home. They were fighting again. She steeled herself and walked in the door. They were really going at it this time. The first thing Pamela saw was her father backhand her mother to the ground. Inside her, something changed. She felt anger flow through her, and she rushed at her father, screaming. The only thing that her efforts got her was the same treatment as her mother. Tears stung her eyes as she laid on the floor. Father berated her, starting in on his usual spiel. But this time, a shaky voice interrupted him. It was Pamela’s mother. Pamela looked up, and saw, with shock, that her mother had a pistol pointed at him. He laughed, saying that she didn’t have it in her, and that he was going to take the gun from her and show her how to do it. With that, a loud sound hammered Pamela’s eardrums and caused her to close her eyes. When she looked back at her father, he was on the ground, a red stain spreading across his chest. Her eyes widened. She looked back at her mother, who was sobbing. She looked at Pamela, and only said four words. “I’m so sorry, Pam.” She then put the gun to her own head and pulled the trigger as Pamela screamed.
Needless to say, the incident scarred Pamela. She spent the next two years of her life in a psychiatric hospital under heavy sedation. The doctors said that she was borderline psychotic. She was prone to violent outbursts, but only when she didn’t take her meds. When the doctors were confident that she was finally stable, they released her into foster care. She had emerged a changed woman. She was a lot more outgoing at school. Her social circle grew, and she was well liked. But still, you could see a certain glint in her eye at times. Even when she smiled, you had to wonder what exactly was going on in her head. Then she met him. He was a dashing young man, full of everything a woman could want. His name was Elias Voorhees. Their affair was a whirlwind one. He promised to make her life better than the one she had lived up to this point. And he did make good on that promise, as his family was well off. They encountered a bit of a rough patch when Pamela became pregnant, but they got through it. They even married soon after. But everything changed in 1946.
Everything was going fine for the Voorhees family. They loved each other, and managed to eke out a decent existence, until the day their son was born. Through circumstances beyond their control, the child was born with a condition called hydrocephalus, a harelip, and facial disfigurement. Whether or not this was a result of the medications Pamela was taking remains unknown. Pamela didn’t care. This was her son, and she would bring him up to live a better life than the one that she had. Elias on the other hand, did care. He thought that the child was an abomination. He voiced this opinion on many an occasion, blaming Pamela for it. Pamela did her best to try to ignore it but it became really hard. When Jason was three, Pamela and Elias got in a very heated yelling match. Jason began to cry, and clung to Elias’ leg in a vain attempt to calm him down. Elias became angry and swatted the child away. Pamela freaked out. She snatched a steak knife off of the table and held it to his throat. She told him that if he ever hurt Jason again, she would slit his throat herself. She then set the knife down and cradled Jason. She looked at Elias and smiled her smile at him. She told him in the calmest sounding voice that it would be best for him to leave. And leave he did.
In the years following that incident, things went fairly good for Pamela and Jason. Pamela got a job at the local Camp as the cook, and she enjoyed her job immensely. She would live at the camp during operating seasons and she would bring Jason with her. He loved the outdoors. Her emotional state at this time could be described as relatively calm, although she did have outbursts here and there. Whenever she would witness the other children mocking or abusing Jason, she would let her anger fly. Granted, the Camp staff didn’t enjoy her doing so, but they understood completely. It was better to let anger out than keep it inside. Especially someone with her condition. She would arrange private playtime for Jason with two of the counselors, a young couple named Barry and Claudette. They would take Jason out and let him have a grand old time without the other kids harassing him. One day the counselors made the mistake of telling Jason to be careful while they had something to take care of. As they ran off, Jason looked at the Lake. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go in the water without the counselors, but he didn’t see the harm in going in for a little bit. Pamela heard his cries for help. She rushed outside just in time to see him slip beneath the water. She screamed, and called for counselors to save him. But it was all in vain. Even after the police came, no body could be found. Needless to say, Pamela just shut down. She became catatonic and wouldn’t speak to anybody. She would just stay in her home, only venturing out for food and such. She was essentially an emotional zombie. It looked like nothing would snap her out of her state.
Until they said that Barry and Claudette were not responsible for Jason’s drowning…
Friday the 13th Part 2 : Requiem
Frightened. Alone. That was all he felt out in the woods. He was alive, if you could call it that. Everyone thought that he was dead, but for some unknown reason he still existed. What had happened? One of the last things he remembered was the cool, inviting waters of the lake. Then there was nothing, until he awoke with a start curled in a ball on the shore. How much time had passed? He didn’t know. As he looked around, he saw nobody. He felt a strange comfort in that. Everyone he ever knew had been mean to him. Hateful. Everyone except his mother. He missed her so much, but was still afraid to see her.
The first thing that crossed his mind was the little bit of modesty that he possessed. He crept along the woods near a small house, eyeing the clothesline out back. He quickly scanned the backyard and once he was confidant that nobody was there, he slinked in and snatched a pair of overalls and a flannel shirt off of the line. With his prizes in hand, he fled back to the comfort of the woods. There. That was taken care of. The next thing, he decided, was a place to stay. He longed for the warmth and comfort of the cabins that he grew up in at the camp, but he didn’t want to go there. They hated him there. With that in mind, he decided to take whatever he needed from the cabins and the surrounding town. A bit of sheet metal here, some aluminum siding there. After about a month his own ramshackle home was complete. He liked it for what it was. He even stole a toilet from one of the burned down cabins, but the plumbing eluded him. There was one room, however, that he never went into. A small room, with a makeshift altar. He didn’t quite know why he built that room, or what the altar was for. Not yet, anyways.
He survived by capturing and eating some of the various critters that inhabited the deep woods. He caught them using crude traps. After all his time at the camp he had learned how to make rope snares, which he used to catch rabbits and small deer. No one ever thought that he could learn the snares and wouldn’t teach him. They would say ‘Get that boy away from here. That retard would just end up snaring himself.’ And they would laugh. Oh, how they would laugh. Just remembering that brought tears to his eyes. Tears that were once warm. Now they were bitter cold. But he had watched. And he had learned.
Every day seemed to bleed into the next. Time meant nothing to him anymore. He spent his days wandering the woods, learning them by heart. If by any chance someone else would be in the woods, the fear would choke him and he would scurry off back towards his shack. The more time he spent in his shack, the colder his heart became. More and more the hatred flowed into his body. His heart would calm ever so slightly when he thought of his mother. She loved him, no matter what. He decided he was going to go see her. He had to. He would see her, and she would make everything better again. He tried to clean his one set of clothes as best as he could, scrubbing them in the waters of the lake. His eyes landed on his reflection in the water, and what he saw frightened him. He hadn’t paid much attention to how he looked, but he was sure that mom wouldn’t like it. When he got back to his shack, he took the rough burlap covering off of his pillow, cut a hole in it and tied it around his neck. With that, he set off towards the camp. It was the last place he saw her.
When he got to the outskirts of the camp, he froze. He heard sounds of a struggle down near the lake. As he made his way there, he saw his mother. He wanted to go to her! But he saw someone else there. And this someone else was running at her with a blade in her hand. What was going on? With a flash, he saw his mother’s head fly from her shoulders, and dully bounce on the gritty sand. He stared. He stared as her body finally collapsed to the ground. He stared, even as the cold tears stung his eyes and rage began to take over. He stared to go after her, but she climbed into a canoe and drifted towards the middle of the lake. He walked to the shore, but just couldn’t bring himself to go into the water. He stared at the woman, asleep in the canoe. He would get to her eventually. He turned and looked at his mother. He slowly walked over to her body and fell to his knees. The front of his makeshift burlap mask was wet with the tears that didn’t seem to stop flowing. He cradled his mother in his lap, rocking back and forth. He turned his head to the sky and wailed loudly, unable to contain the emotions inside him. When he stopped, he looked quickly back at the canoe. The woman did not stir. He looked back at his mother, and an idea flashed in his mind. He quickly removed the sweater from the body and wrapped his mother and her machete in it. He jumped up and ran to the cabins and rummaged around and found a box of emergency candles. With his candles and his mother, he returned to his home.
He slept often in that room. The light from the candles giving off a bit a warmth. His mother, here with him finally. Sometimes he would stare at here, hearing her voice in his head. Telling him she loved him. Telling him that everything was going to be all right. Telling him to hate. To avenge. To protect himself.
To kill.
He had waited almost two months. He never thought that he would ever find her again. He had almost given up hope, but he couldn’t let mother down. One evening he was in the woods by the grocery store in town, and that’s when it happened. He saw her. His heart jumped in his chest. He followed her as best he could until she reached her destination. He almost smiled. Quickly, he ran back to his shack. He needed something.
When he got back to her neighborhood, he sat outside. He watched as a young child splashed in the puddles along the curb, singing a nursery rhyme. He remembered liking that rhyme, and absently hummed along with it. The boy’s mother called for him, and the boy scurried off. Now. He stood and walked out of the woods towards her house. He heard the phone ring through an open window in the back. He made his way towards it. He heard her in there talking. The call ended, and she walked away. Do it now. He climbed into the window and placed what he needed in the refrigerator. Then the phone rang again. He froze with fear and leaped out of the window. He watched her, and she seemed scared. Good. Do it. Now. He felt something on his leg, and he looked down. It was a cat, rubbing up against his leg. He stared at it, and bent down to scratch it’s head. Just before his fingers touched it, it leapt through the window, followed by a startled scream. She was in the kitchen through the window. Do it. Do it. Do it. He slowly crept through the window, as she opened the fridge and saw his little surprise. She screamed as he snatched an ice pick off of the counter. She backed up directly into him and he grabbed her. She screamed louder. DO IT DO IT DO IT. He raised the pick and sank it into the side of her head. She didn’t scream anymore.
He gently laid the woman’s body in front of the altar. He looked at his mother and saw her smile at him. ‘You’ve done good, my son. Thank you.’ The tears came again. He had made his mother happy. She told him so. He decided to protect her at all costs. People would surely come into the woods. Come and separate them. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t. He grew angrier the more he thought of the very idea. That would never happen. For you see, Jason still loves his mother.
And she still loves him.
Friday the 13th Part 3: Chris
Coming Soon!
Friday the 13th: Tommy
Coming Soon!
Jason Voorhees: Happiness Is Fleeting
A cold breeze drifted its way off the glassy surface of Crystal Lake. It washed over his rotting skin and his scarred and pitted hockey mask, swirling around him. He didn’t feel it. He never did. The cold never bothered him. It was inconsequential. He slowly walked through the darkened forest, not bothering to stay in the shadows. There was no need for that anymore. Everyone knew that he was there, and the smart ones stayed away. He hated the smart ones, almost as much as he hated the stupid ones. The young people that would loudly descend upon Crystal Lake, with their carousing and carrying on. With their copulation and their negligence. They had let him die. They let him slip beneath the surface of the lake and cease to be.
He walked along the shore of the Lake, the cold water lapping at his shoes. The water seeped into his shoes, but his feet were incapable of feeling it. All at once, the forest grew silent. Dead silent. There were no animal sounds, no chirping of grasshoppers, and the wind stopped blowing as well. Jason looked around at the woods and across the surface of the lake. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, until he glanced back towards the former campgrounds. There were cabins there, when moments ago had been none. Jason stared at them, not comprehending. Then, out of the darkness, a figure walked towards the lake and knelt at the edge, not ten meters from where Jason stood. A young woman in a yellow blouse. Jason cocked his head to one side. This one looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t place her. No matter. She would die like the rest of them. But then another figure crept up behind the first one, and this made Jason stop dead in his tracks. His eye widened as he took in the new visage. A very angry woman wearing a blue sweater and wielding a machete.
Mom.
She howled with rage, and tried to slash the other woman with her machete. Jason watched; confusion in his mind. It all seemed so familiar, but WHY? In a moment of clarity, it came to him. The girl was the one who killed his mother in cold blood. The same one that he killed some time after that. He remembered this night as well. He remembered watching from underneath the smooth water as this girl viciously ended his mother’s life. Rage flowed through him as he watched the scene unfold.
Alice kicked Mrs. Voorhees as hard as she could. The maniac staggered backwards down the sandy shore. Alice looked down at her feet and saw the machete that moments ago was trying to end her own life. She quickly snatched it up and looked up at Pamela. She ran towards her, the machete raised high. Pamela screamed as Alice stopped and swung the machete right at her neck. A loud clash of metal echoed off of the trees, and there was a brief flash of sparks that lit up the dark night. Both Pamela and Alice looked at the machete, which was now being blocked by another one. They both followed the machete to the arm, and the arm to the masked face of Jason Voorhees. Alice’s eyes widened with fear at this new horror. She didn’t even react when Jason swatted her machete away with his own. He raised his arm, and swung his machete at her neck. It cleanly sliced through her neck, and her dismembered head landed at Jason’s feet. He bent down and grabbed a handful of hair and lifted it up. He turned and walked over to where his mother stood, still paralyzed with fear.
“J-Jason? Is that you? Can it be…?”
Jason nodded slightly. Pamela slowly walked to him and raised her hand to his mask. She gently touched it.
“My special boy. You came back! I always knew that you would. It’s something that I have been dreaming about ever since you died. Now… Let me look at you.”
She moved her hand to lift his mask from his face, and he stepped back quickly. He didn’t want her to see what he had become.
“It’s ok, my darling. Mommy’s here now. Nothing will ever separate us again. I love you so much.”
A new sensation filled Jason. Gone was the anger and rage that flowed through his body. It was now replaced with something else. A kind of warmth. Gone was the ever constant urge to kill. The machete, which he carried for so many years and ended so many lives with, slipped from his grasp and onto the ground. And he didn’t care. For the first time in Jason Voorhees’ death, he felt happiness. He had his mother back, and for good this time. He stepped back towards her, and bent over slightly. She slipped the mask off of his head and gazed at his face as he straightened back up.
“Oh, my beautiful boy! Look how handsome you are. You needn’t cover yourself with this dreadful mask anymore. She tossed it down next to his machete.
“Come, Jason. Let’s go home, and be a family again.”
He stared at her as she smiled that smile of hers. His eye drifted to her neck, where he saw a thin ribbon of red form in the middle of her throat and spread around her neck. Jason cocked his head as he stared. Pamela stopped smiling.
“What’s the matter Jason? Is there something wrong?”
When the last word exited her mouth, her head slowly tipped backwards and thudded to the ground. Jason’s eye widened in terror as the head rolled to his feet, the eyes staring at him lifelessly. He stared at it in abject horror and confusion. What had happened? She was here with him, and she promised that they would be together forever! His shoulders slumped as the new happiness bled from him. He looked over at his mask and machete, and he felt the hate start reclaiming it’s place within him.
Suddenly, Jason’s eye snapped open. He looked around, and saw that he was standing in the middle of the woods, his mask on, and his machete in hand. A dream. It must have been only a dream. Jason sighed slightly, until he saw the beams of headlights pierce the darkness of the woods. More victims for him. The stupid ones.
He hated them.
Friday the 13th: Winner Takes All (Tina)
Friday the 13th: Prelude to the Future
CLASSIFIED
FOR EYES ONLY
TRANSCRIPT OF FINAL AUDIO REPORT
COMMAND SERGEANT MAJOR NATHAN LIVINGSTON
CRYSTAL LAKE RESEARCH & MILITARY INSTALLATION
COMMANDER OF PROJECT B-13, BIO-WEAPONS
FRIDAY, JUNE 13TH 2008
[STATIC]
This is Nathan Livingston, Command Sergeant Major and C.O. of the Crystal Lake Research Facility. This is surely to be my last recorded report. I really wish that it hadn’t come to this, but then again, there are a lot of things that I wish hadn’t happened. This whole operation seemed to be one cock-up after another. It was explained to us that it would be extremely simple: Capture the subject, and conduct the very delicate research for the Bio-weapon / Super Soldier division. Heh. Simple enough, right? What the higher ups in “military intelligence” hadn’t counted on was the tenacity of the subject. They really didn’t take the stories about him all that seriously. I mean, really… How were we supposed to believe that he was indestructible? Unstoppable? It never really crossed our minds that the stories would be true. The drowning in the 50’s. The crazy vengeful mother. Coming back to life more times than Jesus himself. We set up the facility after the Lake Crystal real estate deal fell through. Heh. You’d think they would know better than to even TRY that, wouldn’t you? Needless to say, we got the land fairly cheap. Once it was done being built and staffed, we set about trying to figure out the best way to bring him in. This is where things started to look pretty goddamn grim. He had been rather quiet since the construction incident. I don’t know if it was from the lack of victims. There always seemed to be plenty of those around. Maybe he just needed time to convalesce. Who knows?
[SOUND OF LIQUID POURING, DRINKING]
Ahh. Anyways, we sent out a ten man squad to try to take him out. Bunch of green rookies, straight out of the academy. They all were in the same class at the academy, and were pretty damn good at what they did. Probably just a little too overconfident for their own good. They thought the mission would be simple. Straightforward tag and bag. When they ventured out, their mikes were on constant transmission. Now that was a mistake too. We could hear everything that happened to them. The sounds. The screams.
[LIVINGSTON SIGHS]
The first one to cease transmission was Lehman. He said that he had spotted something in the woods, and was proceeding to check it out. All we heard was a sharp crack. Gillette and Dash went to check on him. They found him all right. Neck broken. Then the shouting started… It was only drowned out by the gunfire. Short, sharp bursts. They were yelling that nothing was taking him down. Gillette’s gun stopped first, followed shortly by Dash’s. Corporal Brooker then said that he established contact and had engaged the enemy. He chucked a grenade at the subject, which did little to slow him down. Brooker screamed as we heard wet sounds. By all accounts, he had torn Brooker’s throat out. Kirzinger was the next to establish contact. He was the only grunt that had a shoulder mounted night vision camera. He sat about twenty feet away, just watching him. He watched as White, Wieland and Morga ran into the small clearing and began shooting. Kirzinger reported that he just waded through the bullets, some of them ricocheting off of that machete of his. Once he reached White, his hand shot out and ripped White’s lower jaw off. He then stabbed Wieland in the forehead with the jaw bone. And with one swing of the machete, split Morga’s head clean down the center down to his larynx. With that, he promptly disappeared. Just flat out vanished. It was at this point that I ordered the full retreat. Out of a ten man team, only three remained. This was going to be a fun one to explain. I gave the order for all non essential personnel to take cover and retreat into the underground shelter. They were the lucky ones. Myself, not so lucky. I’m gonna have to break the news to their families. I’ll leave out the part about them being classified as “expendable bait.”
It’s been two hours since they made it back into the facility. The trank team will be here soon. Thank God for them. The only good thing to come out of the incident at Westin Hills, Ohio, was the discovery that the pink tranquilizer they used there takes this boy down. I’ve been watching them sift through the facility, watching out for him. On the monitors I saw him walk in past the first camera. It was the last I saw of him.
[STATIC. UNINTELLIGIBLE YELLING]
That’s Graham. He just got tagged by B-13 and ran into the storage room. Within those shelves is the biggest collection of evidence from the Crystal Lake legacy. Photos, weapons, a few bits of tattered clothing. Wait a sec… There he is. He’s slowly stalking Graham.
[STATIC. GRAHAM’S VOICE EMANATES FROM THE COMM UNIT]
GRAHAM: Sir, I’m hurt pretty bad. Fucker ripped a chunk out of my side.
LIVINGSTON: Stay calm, soldier. Go to your night vision. I’m gonna cut the lights in your sector. Talk quiet.
GRAHAM: Lights are out sir. I see him! He’s staring into one of the cabinets.
GRAHAM: Sir, he’s tearing into the cabinet! I’ve never… He’s ripped it open. He’s reaching in and grabbing… It looks like a sweater. What would he want with that? He’s staring at it.. Now he’s… Well, he’s hugging it. Begging your pardon sir, but what the fuck is going on?
LIVINGSTON: Keep your head, soldier. Remember, this is the world’s biggest momma’s boy. I’m betting that’s his mother’s sweater.
GRAHAM: I have a shot. I’m taking it.
[GUNFIRE; SCREAMING ABRUPTLY CUT OFF]
Dear God… What have we done here?
[DOOR BANGING OPEN; RUSTLING SOUNDS. HEAVY BREATHING]
KIRZINGER: What the fuck, sir? What is he?
HODDER: Yeah, I think we need an explanation here.
LIVINGSTON: [SIGHS] You have your orders. We need to keep him occupied until the trank team gets here. They’re less than a click away.
HODDER: Yeah well, that fuck is in here with us. And he knows we’re here. Can’t the team move double time to get here?
LIVINGSTON: They’re coming as fast as they can. They will subdue B-13 and evac us out. See? There they are on the monitor.
[DOOR CRASHES IN. GUNFIRE]
LIVINGSTON: Jesus Christ! Flank him! Knock him down!
[AUTOMATIC GUNFIRE; SOUND OF A SHOTGUN BEING COCKED AND FIRING. THE AUTO MATIC FIRE STOPS, THE SHOTGUN CONTINUES]
LIVINGSTON: Die, you son of a bitch! Die!
[SOUND OF METAL RENDING FLESH. ALL SOUND STOPS HERE.]
VOICE; TRANK SQUAD: Take him down!
[TRANK GUNS FIRING, A HEAVY THUD]
END TRANSMISSION
Lowe leaned back from the computer monitor, concern across his face. Perez had been right. Voorhees was unstoppable. That just meant that they needed to keep him quite frozen until a suitable buyer could be found. He smiled, and picked up a tray of food. Time to go talk to this Rowan, he thought. Best to play stupid for the time being. He smiled even wider as he voiced his last thought out loud.
“Looks like my luck is finally about to change.”
[B]Friday the 13th: Justice Be Done
Coming Soon!