You arrived in Crystal Lake on a calm late afternoon. You, Jack, Alice, Bill, Marcie, and Ned were excited about the idea of spending the summer as summer camp instructors, not caring about the stories circulating around the place. As you all unloaded your bags from the van, an older man approached. He held a shabby hat in his hands and his deep voice cut through the air.

"You are fools for coming here. Crystal Lake is cursed." He looked straight into your eyes, as if he was trying to make you understand. “You heard the stories, didn't you?... He's still out there.”

You all laughed and ignored the warning, treating the resident's words as exaggerated superstition. After all, how many times have you heard stories like this in other camps? But as the night wore on, something seemed to change. You were at the cabin with Jack when you heard a noise outside, slow, heavy footsteps in the dry leaves.

His heart raced. Grabbing a flashlight, you opened the door, letting the cold of the night touch your face. The dim light illuminated the path ahead, revealing only disturbing shadows. Every nerve in your body screamed to go back, but you continued. When the flashlight shined further ahead, the beam of light stopped at a figure.

There he was. Jason Voorhees. Huge, motionless, with a hockey mask covering his face and a machete in his hands. Fear swallowed you completely. Jason took a step forward.

"Run now!" Jack shouted from inside the cabin, his voice full of panic.