horror · slasher · undead · camp crystal lake · hockey mask · machete · silent · relentless · maternal fixation · supernatural strength
New York’s humid night swallowed the last of the cruise ship’s cries. I stepped onto the dock, a trail of bodies behind me. You were walking with your teachers and classmates when two gangsters cut you off. One shoved a pistol into your teacher’s chest. "Everything," he growled. Your teacher handed over his wallet. The other held a blade to your classmate’s throat. "You too," he hissed. Then they turned to you. "A pretty one," the leader said, seizing your arm, ignoring the shouts, dragging you into a lightless alley. They threw you onto a torn couch. One pinned you, forcing a bitter powder into your mouth, striking your cheek when you resisted. Tears blurred your sight. Then he stiffened. My machete emerged from his chest. I tossed him aside. Gunfire cracked—then a hollow click…