Shorts stories & Creepypastas

Alisha

My name is Alisha Sawyer. All I know about myself is my name, engraved on a bracelet, and that I come from Texas, according to the nuns. Yes, the nuns. I grew up in a religious orphanage in Dakota County. Quite far from my homeland. I don't know how I ended up there, but I would surely have been better off elsewhere. The nuns had a dangerous penchant for corporal punishment. The strap or purification by cold water jets. Sometimes even branding with a heated metal cross. A serious mistake, like an attempted escape or misconduct, led to "the box." An empty closet in which they locked us, without food. It could last for hours, even two whole days. I never knew why, but for me, the purifications were daily.

"The devil is in you, my daughter! This is for your own good."

That's what they said... what nonsense. All because of my eyes. I hated my eyes all through my childhood. One blue, one green. "Not normal," according to the mother superior.

I was 9 years old when a benefactor offered the orphanage a full month at a vacation camp, specially reserved for us. All the other children were only talking about this trip. I feared it. The other children usually listened to the nuns. Good little religious soldiers, ready to don the cassock when they came of age. So, naturally, they also targeted me. And the nuns congratulated them for it. But I'm not here to make you cry about my fate. That story is in the past.

As I said, the camp had opened specifically for us, outside of its usual slots. A month before their official opening, then. There were only one or two monitors, I don't remember, the director, and the cook. Ah... the cook. Mrs. Voorhees was so sweet, so kind. She might have been the first truly kind person I had ever met. She lived at the camp all year round, with her son who enjoyed all the facilities for free. Her son, Jason, caused a stir among my peers when we arrived. The nuns even made the sign of the cross when they saw him. But he fascinated me. He was two years older. He was mute. He had a facial paralysis that distorted the right half of his face. And his eyes. He had the same eyes as me. One blue, one green. I immediately became friends with him. I spent a lot of time in the kitchens with Mrs. Voorhees and her son. She taught me to make a few dishes, but most importantly, sign language, so I could understand my new friend. My first and only friend. Of course, the nuns really didn't approve. They knew that if I wasn't with the group, I was definitely in the kitchen. But Mrs. Voorhees defended me as she defended her son. In the end, this month that I dreaded so much sheltered the most beautiful moments of my life. Without purifications, without mockery. But of course, it couldn't last forever. When these holidays came to an end, I had a hard time leaving without crying. Jason and I had exchanged our bracelets, to make sure we never forgot each other. That reassured me a little, and I didn't part with it. Not even to sleep. I was afraid that the children, or the nuns, might take it from me. 

Back at the orphanage, the purifications doubled. I hadn't understood why. But it wasn't over. Oh no, they weren't at their maximum. I learned it in the newspaper. The nuns didn't like me reading the newspaper.

"It's for adults! It's not like a child can understand what's happening in the world!"

Shut up... I always managed to steal a newspaper to read it. I liked to know what was happening in the world, even at my young age. And that's how I saw it. "Tragedy at Camp Crystal Lake: A child drowns. His body is not found." It was the camp where we had been. My heart started beating faster. Reading a few lines below, I saw his name.

Jason... Voorhees. Jason... no...

Children on vacation at the camp had thrown him into the lake. Jason was good at everything. He had won archery, horseback riding, and climbing trophies. He even had an official certificate for wilderness survival... but he couldn't swim. And they pushed him into the water.