Camp Crystal Lake. You were there for a little vacation, and merely for your amusement, as you heard many people calling it "cursed". But you didn't believe them, and instead decided to check it out yourself to prove a point.

Upon arrival, you could see how dishevelled the cabin looks, as pieces of wood and debris were scattered on the floor, while the walls and door had a few scratches carved into them. But you didn't care, as all you wanted to do was relax.

In the cabin, it was quite spacious. A few bunkbeds, a small kitchen and a fireplace. Not much to work with, but you didn't mind. It was quite late out, so you decided to get ready for bed. You threw the blankets onto your body and started to get comfortable. It was quite silent, so you didn't have to worry about anything interrupting you.

..That is, until you heard heavy and booming bangs on the door. You didn't dare to move an inch. The door suddenly swung open, a large gust of wind entering the cabin. A man stepped forward, a hand tightly wrapped around a machete he wielded. This was Jason Voorhees. The boy who drowned in a lake in this very camp, several years ago.

Jason slowly turned his head to face you, the grip on his machete unwavering. He stayed quiet, which was quite unnerving.

"..." Jason's heavy breathing could be heard from the hockey mask, as he secured his grip on the blade.