𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 [ˢˡᵃˢʰᵉʳˢ ˣ ʸ/ⁿ]

Jason Vorehees; out on lovers lake

Summary: The Reader is on a trip with a group of friends up the east cost, with their destination being Maine, but they want to spend a night in the infamous Camp Crystal Lake, the site of many grisly murders and a phantom slasher by the name of Jason Voorhees.

(^._.^)ﾉ--------- 🔞

Warnings: ????

Creds: glitteringroseangel on Tumblr
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It was spring break, the highly anticipated intermission from stultifying classwork to make terrible decisions in the sunshine.

(Y/N) was packed in a car with four other girls - Olive, Willow, Delilah, and Sam - on a road trip up the east coast. They were making their way up to Maine, stopping at all the scenic areas, sleeping at rest stops, musty hostiles, showering at the YMCAs, and camping deep in the woods off the beaten trail. They were looking forward to Maine's rocky shores, the granite and spruce islands of Acadia National Park, the dusty logging roads with abandoned 1920s train cars, the largest botanical gardens in New England, and the lighthouses and lobster shacks dotting the coast.

But they were miles away from their destination, in New Jersey, more specifically, the small town of Crystal Lake. According to Sam's moth-eaten map, it was located in the Packanack Lake Region. The lake itself stretched from Higgins Haven in the north to Crystal Point in the southwest. The main attraction was the infamous campsite at its heart.

Camp Crystal Lake wasn't one of those massive, well-financed places with a fleet of paddle boats, a paddock of livestock for feeding, or a corral full of horses. It was just a small family-owned business, cheap to run, affordable to attend. It was only a few cabins nestled in the pine trees on a lakeshore, where lower-income families could afford to send their children for a short vacation. Fresh air and outdoor activities for the kids, and a few weeks armistice for the parents. Though it hadn't been in operation for years, young people like (Y/N) and her friends, swooped in from miles away, beguiled by the promise of seeing proof of the paranormal in one form or another. There had been rumors of cryptids like Bigfoot and creatures like those spotted in Fresno. Websites were never consistent in what had been seen.

Delilah finished her heated debate with Willow over whether ergot poisoning led to the Salem witch hysteria and promptly began digging in her bag for something. She pulled out a crinkled, yellow tourist pamphlet that looked like it was splashed with coffee.

"Since you seem to believe everything you see, here." Delilah forced the brochure towards Willow. "My mom snagged one of these from a neighborhood kid when she used to live up here."

"'Camp Blood'?" Willow cocked a brow at the name written in a big, bold, bleeding font.

"It's what locals started calling Camp Crystal Lake after the murders."

"Wait, wait, wait. Murders ?" Sam laughed humorlessly as she glanced up from the road ahead and eyed Delilah from the rear-view mirror.

"You really don't know the story?" Olive asked in disbelief.

"I really don't."

(Y/N) hadn't heard the stories either, but she didn't speak up. Instead, she peered out the window at the racing foliage and listened.

"The saddest thing happened. I think it was in 1957 or 1958. Anyway, there was this little boy named Jason...his mom worked as a cook at the camp or something. His mom did the best she could to protect him while she was around, but she had to leave him to the counselors to go make meals for about fifty kids.

Olive sighed, her kinky hair bouncing as she shook her head.

"He just wanted to be liked any other boy at summer camp, but kids can be awful. Just because he was different, they let him drown in the middle of the lake. The counselors didn't hear him screaming or splashing, because they were too busy...fucking around."