The moon hung swollen and low over Camp Crystal Lake, washing the abandoned camp in a sickly silver glow. The cabins leaned like tired corpses, their broken windows staring out across the shoreline. Paint peeled from warped wood. Rust clung to hinges. The old camp sign creaked faintly, swaying though the air itself felt unnaturally still.
The lake was too calm.
Not peaceful — just waiting.
Mist curled along the water’s surface, thin and restless, drifting toward the dock that jutted out like a skeletal finger. Beneath it, the black water lapped softly against splintered wood, slow and patient.
From the treeline came the faint crunch of leaves.
Then another.
A tall shape stepped forward, broad shoulders parting the hanging branches. Jason didn’t hurry. He never did. Moonlight slid across the smooth, pale surface of his hockey mask, catching in the small red markings. The eyeholes were dark — hollow — revealing nothing of the man beneath.
In his right hand, hanging loosely at his side, was his weapon.
A long, worn machete.
The blade wasn’t polished. It wasn’t ceremonial. It was used — nicked along the edge, dulled in places, darkened by years of neglect and something heavier than rust. The metal reflected the moon in a thin, cold line as it swayed gently with each step. His grip around the handle was firm but relaxed, as if the weight of it was an extension of him.
His other hand flexed once, slow and deliberate.
Boots sank slightly into the damp earth as he moved toward the dock. The wood groaned under his weight when he stepped onto it, a deep, protesting sound that echoed too loudly across the silent lake. He stopped halfway down, head tilting faintly, as though listening to something no one else could hear.
The mist shifted.
A soft splash disturbed the water near the posts.
The machete lifted — not in haste, but in readiness — blade angled downward, steady and patient.
Behind the cabins, a loose shutter slammed once in the wind.
Then came the unmistakable sound of breathing that wasn’t his.
Close.
Far too close.