“He’s coming. You can’t stop him!” she was yelling, over and over again. Violently trying to pull her arm back from where he held her. He marched her to the parking lot and threw her forward. She tripped over herself and looking up at him from the ground snarled, “It’s too late you foolish sinner.”
Micheal had just about enough of this.
What a way to start off. “Look Lady, all I’m trying to do is let some kids have a good summer. So if you’d kindly just fuck back off to planet crazy I won’t have to call the cops.”
“He’s coming.” She spat at him.
“Yeah, I’m sure he is.”
The exchange went on a little longer, though her dialog stayed one dimensional. It was a wonder someone like that could survive in the world, Micheal found himself thinking. He vaguely recalled another Jason-crazy there were rumors about. Crazy Randy or something like that. Ever since that crazy story got around. Nothing more than a myth really, sure that kid’s mother did kill some campers, but her son coming back?
Crazy. .
But the story bleed fantic following. Worshippers almost, in the cult of Jason. People who believed he was some kind of savior. They’d shout there warnings at anyone looking for a good time and if by chance something bad actually happened? Damn the fates! It was Jason.
Micheal headed back to the administration building. He had paperwork to finish up, paying food bills, safety fees. It was all so much more than he had expected. But, if he could give these kids a summer like he had? Well, he knew it’d be worth it.
Tina watched as the two sisters, Rebecca and Sasha, raced towards the cabins. Claiming #7 and #8 as theirs so they could be side-by-side. Their innocence was cute in a make you sick kind of way. The basic definition of a blonde could be seen in their every movement, cutting through clearest in dorky little laugh they shared. It made her glad she was born a brunette.
It was just as this thought was passing her head they both turned and ran back towards her, eyes alive with possibility. “Hey, Tina!” they said together. Sasha took over talking duties while Rebecca looked on expectantly, “you should take #6, then we can all be together!”
They looked so excited at the possibility of being completely separated at all times, but together in such a false illusionary way, that she wondered just how crushed they would look if she said no. She could almost see them crying.
“Sure, sounds fun.”
“Oh, that’s just great.” Rebecca cried out. Then they were off together in their own world discussing something about the campers. Not exactly the group you want to take mushrooms with. Well, maybe at the campfire tonight she could set something up.
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Alex finished the stew and washed his hands. Set out plates for everyone, placed the food up front of the dining room. And proceed to head back to the archery range to trip fucking balls. For the last hour he had been floating in disney world, his visual a series of fractals that shone in multicolor brilliance.
His mood was ecstatic. Every inch of his body felt like heaven floating through a cloud. At times he felt himself pulled away from the third dimension to something higher, swore he could see through time and space. Every moment of his life he was living now, there was nothing like it.
He couldn’t wait to get to the woods. Feel himself surrounded by mother nature, by the earth itself. He forgot all about how much he hated Micheal, thought he was a tool. Forgot all about the days locked in jail cell. Felt only love, free of all other emotional baggage.
He was high as fuck and loving every moment of it.
Darkness.
Darkness had been all there was and all there is for a long time now. Darkness was all there ever was before the calling. It had been darkness for so long he had forgotten everything else.
Laying in an unmarked grave, underneath ten feet of dirt and stone, lays a body not rotting. Worms pierce the eyes and travel tunnels of the body, but it does not rot. What’s eaten grows back, tissue reforming in sickening fashion. Skin held together by blisters and scar tissue.
Upon its face rests a hockey mask. The kind worn by a goalie to turn it into a white faced monster until the end of the game. But this mask has long since been pulled in by the reanimation of face tissue to become a part of the monster that rested in darkness.
The ground above this sleeping giant is a flame. The heat of the firestorm distorting the air above the grave. Years later professionals would look back on this incident and scratch their heads. A fire of such strength that rose on it’s own.
With such rage.
Two festering eyes opened.
The next post should have you over a couple hours, picking a cabin, grabbing a bite to eat, finding your way to the campfire.