The sky is a vast, dark blue array of stars hanging above. Out here, in the middle of the woods, all of the stars and constellations can be seen. A slight sparkle emerges in the darkness and, as quickly as it appeared, a shooting star crosses through Earth's ceiling.

It reflects off of Diana's glasses as she stares up at the night sky.

"Did you see that?!" she smiles, a little too excited, as she glances over at Randy. His nose twitches and he snores faintly as he drools on his shoulder.

The two lay on a fleece blanket with a basket centered between them, clearly they were having a picnic. They are surrounded by miles of nothing but trees. Several yards away behind them Randy's truck sits next to a dirt road. He snorts and wipes at his nose as he rolls over to his side. A half-empty bottle of cheap wine sits beside him with a fly circling around the bottle's neck.

"Randy!"

His eyes snap open and he wipes at his mouth. "Huh? Ohh, hey."

She pushes the basket aside and turns to face him, still smiling. "You missed it."

"Missed what?" He mumbles as he wipes at his weary eyes.

"There was a shooting star."

Randy brushes her bangs out of her face. She's is a cute girl, but getting a haircut would do wonders for her. And maybe dress in clothes that fit a little tighter. He bites his bottom lip as he lets his mind wander elsewhere. He fakes interest. "Did you make a wish?"

She nods excitedly. He leans in closer and their nose touch. As he speaks they can feel their lips slightly brush each others. "Well, what did you wish for?"

Smiling, Diana leans in like she's about to kiss him. Then she reluctantly pulls away, laughing uncontrollably. He leans back, looking at her like she's crazy. Maybe she is.

"I can't tell you, silly! Then it won't come true."

She's a nerd at heart, but he doesn't mind. It's not her heart he's after. Faking a laugh, he grabs her and pulls her in close to him. She rests her head against his chest. She stares up at the sky, when his head slowly leans in over hers. "You're silly. Y'know that?" He whispers.

"Yes. Well I guess. I've been told that before." She pushes back her glasses.

He reaches down and slowly takes off her glasses, tossing them aside in the grass. Again, he pushes her bangs out of her face. His hand slowly runs down her neck and to her back. He keeps going, almost to her ass, when she opens her mouth yet again.

"I can't believe so many people died out here."

Randy's hand retracts. "If you were trying to kill the mood, you succeeded."

"Seriously, think about it." She begins to play with her hair, examining her split ends. "These people never knew what was coming. They were just out in the woods one night, or over at the cabins. Young, unsuspecting—"

"Horny." He groans miserably.

Diana nods. "That too. And then this guy wearing a hockey mask, wielding a machete, just shows up and starts attacking them."

He stares over at the trees. "Harsh."

"Very." She looks back up at the sky, but without her glasses it's now just a distant grey blur. She squints. "I mean, how would you react if Jason Voorhees were to just pop out of the woods and attack us right now?"

"Pee."

She laughs, "Yeah, I'd probably pee my pants too."

He sits up, forcing her to move her head. "No, I need to piss."

"Oh." She moves over and watches as he gets up to his feet. "Be careful. I was reading this handbook before I signed up to volunteer here. There are a lot of wild animals out in these parts."

Randy leans down and reaches in the basket, pulling out a grape. He tosses it in his mouth. "Fascinating. I'll be back." He turns and walks off toward the trees.

She shrugs. As he walks away she feels around the blanket, looking for her glasses.

"Jesus Christ." He mumbles to himself as he cuts through the trees, clearly annoyed. "What a waste of perfectly good wine." A branch snaps in the distance, coming from the labyrinth of trees ahead. Pausing, he turns to the sound's direction as he thinks of Diana's rambling about the oh-so-mighty Jason Voorhees. Ignoring it, he turns back and spots a tree as he unzips his pants. He turns to lean against it with his back and, instead of peeing, slowly begins to stroke his hand. Another branch snaps and he twists his head. His top head. "Diana?" Leaves rustle from the trees above as a gust of wind blows through. He shrugs, and keeps at it.

Diana, feeling around the grass, finally finds her glasses. She smiles as she puts them on and crawls back over to the blanket. She reaches over to dig in the basket, pulling out a handful of grapes, and lays back down to stare up at the sky.

Leaves crunch nearby and Randy freezes, looking around. "Did you come out here to finish the job?" He laughs nervously. Suddenly, from around the corner of the tree, a figure steps out. Before he can move a muscle the blade of a twenty inch machete, already raised in the air, swings down.

Something falls to the ground.

He lifts his hands, both covered in blood, and his jaw drops in utter shock. Before he can let out even the faintest scream the blade swiftly drives through his chest, pinning him into the tree. He twitches, still barely alive, as his feet dangle about a foot high from the ground. Blood oozes from his mouth as he tries to talk. The machete is yanked out and his body falls to the dirt.

Shoving her face full of grapes, Diana continues to gaze up at the sky when she hears branches snapping as someone emerges from the trees. "Finally." She mumbles through a mouthful of grapes. "What took you so long?"

Randy's body flops down to the blanket beside her and she screams. She peers up to see Jason Voorhees—just as he described, the legendary killer sporting a battered hockey mask, wearing torn-up clothes, and clenching onto his signature machete. He peers down at her, tilting his head as he slowly raises his machete in the air.

Screaming, she crawls backwards, kicking helplessly at the blanket and rolls over to dodge the blade just as Jason swings it. It smashes the basket in half.

Diana jumps to her feet and immediately bolts in the direction of the truck. Jason slowly takes pursuit. She trips on a seemingly random branch and falls to the ground. Groaning, she turns back to see him only a couple of feet away. She screams again as she pulls herself back up to her feet, stumbling forward.

"Somebody help me!" She cries as she reaches the truck. She rips the door open and climbs inside, swinging it shut behind her. She looks around for the keys, checking the glove compartment, then the center console. Randy's phone rests inside and she snatches it. The screen flashes on and reveals there's no signal. Panting, she tosses it to the floorboard and lets out a frustrated scream. "Shit! Okay, keys. Keys." She reaches up and pulls down the mirror above her, the truck keys falling out onto her lap.

"Oh, thank God!" She thrusts the key into the ignition and twists it, but the truck's motor just clicks. "Come on, come on!" She screams, pounding onto the dashboard. She looks up through the windshield but can't see Jason through the darkness. She twists the key again and the motor rattles, the headlights flashing on to reveal him just a few feet away. The motor dies.

"Shit!" She turns the keys again and, finally, the engine roars as it comes to life. She laughs frantically and peers up to see—he's gone.

The door rips open, almost so fast that it breaks off its hinges, and Jason reaches in to grab her arm. She screams, pulling away as she tries to crawl over the console. He grabs her leg and pulls her back into the driver's seat, and halfway outside, when she clinches onto the door frame. She kicks her leg loose, causing him to stumble backward and fall onto the ground, and manages to pull herself back into the truck.

Jason quickly jumps back to his feet and lunges at her. She turns his direction and quickly kicks at him again, this time hitting him in the shoulder.

He stumbles back, "Oww!" His voice sounds like that of an adolescent young man.

She rolls her eyes as she takes her glasses off. "Oh, don't be such a baby."

"Cut!" Nigel Davis, a tall scrawny man wearing ridiculously big glasses, emerges from the trees with two cameramen. Another walks from around the front of the car, along with a sound mixer and boom operator. More people stand behind a fixture of lights set up several feet away from the truck. Overall, it's a small crew. Chatter fills the air.

"Sorry." Jason groans as he peels off his mask, revealing himself to be an actor. Wren Stevens is his name. He pathetically rubs at his shoulder.

"It's okay. We can work with that." Nigel turns to the girl, "Okay Lacey, we're going to pick back up when you first got in the car and were looking for the keys. Wren will attack you the same as before, but try not to kick too hard."

"I didn't kick him hard at all." Lacey Stewart snarls, "Not my fault he's being such a little bitch."

Wren snaps, "Are you kidding me?!"

Andrew Koebel, the actor playing salacious Randy, steps up from the other side of the truck and watches, clearly amused. Fake blood stains still drip from the crotch of his pants.

"Look, I'm just doing what it says in the script. If you can't take a little kick, maybe we need to call the stunt double here."

"Guys, guys. Relax." Nigel peacefully says as he stands between them, lifting his hands as if they are barriers.

Lacey turns her attention to him. "Speaking of the script, what is up with the story?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Like why am I running around in the woods, screaming for help, when I know that we came out here to be alone? And then I get to the truck, there's no cell reception, and the truck conveniently doesn't start. Cliché much?"

Nigel eyes narrow, but he retains his patience. "Lacey, sweetie, this is a horror movie. We're not filming the Titanic. Face it, it's going to be full of cheap suspense, cliché chase scenes, poor dialogue, and probably a shitload of plot holes."

"And a lot of sex." She continues. "Like come on, really? Who goes out into the woods in the middle of the night, when they already know the legend of said wood's killer, just to have sex? And besides, sex in a movie based on true events of a guy that went on a huge killing spree. Kinda tacky, don't ya think?"

——— 

Moaning, Amber leans back as far back as she possibly can. She's completely nude, legs spread on top of Todd as he caresses her breasts. His hands fall to his side and he leans back on the docks, breathing heavily.

She lies down next to him and smiles. "That was good."

He laughs, "Fuck yeah."

Frogs croak loudly from the other side of the water. At night, Crystal Lake looks pitch black—an eerie pool of darkness that stretches for miles throughout the campgrounds. The only light coming from the moon as its reflection stretches across the water's surface.

Todd and Amber lay at the far end of the dock. In silence, they stare up at the sky, both taking a moment to catch their breath.

Amber turns to face him. "Ready for round two?"

"What?" He leans up and cocks an eyebrow, surprised.

She climbs on top of him and shoves his head back down as she claws at his chest. "Come on, babe. Let's do it."

He sighs, "Again?"

"What, can't keep up?" She smirks.

"No, it's not that. I mean, I can."

"Then what is it?"

Water splashes nearby. His head turns in the direction of the noise. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Again, she pushes his head back down against the docks. She leans down and begins to kiss his chest, following his treasure trail down to...

More water splashes. He sits up, unintentionally knocking her aside. "Okay. What was that?!"

"You're losing your mind, Todd."

"I swore I heard something." He buttons up his pants as he stands up, and walks over to the ledge of the dock to kneel down. He clasps onto the side of the wood planks, and stares at his reflection as it ripples in the water just two feet below.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Amber throws her shirt on and reaches over for her pants. "You know, Todd, if I knew you were such a scaredy-cat I wouldn't ha—"

She stops talking.

Todd stares out at the lake, watching as a fog slowly drifts in above it. "Amber?" He suddenly hears water splash, this time the slosh extremely louder, coming from behind him. He jumps around.

"Amber?!" He yells out as he approaches the side of the dock. He scans the water below him as the small waves calm. A red substance gradually seeps out from underneath the dock, looking like a thick pink cloud as it mixes with the water.

"What the..."

He leans down against the boards of the dock to peek through one of the many holes in the deteriorating wood. Something moves and he squints, catching a glimpse of Amber's blonde hair. "Amber, what the hell are you doing down there?" Her head bobs and falls backward, revealing it's been severed. Blood gushes out from the carotid arteries that poke out of her neck, the water around her—or what's left of her—fading into a dark, crimson red.

He leans up and screams, right when the blade of a machete rises up through a plank just inches away from his face. He falls back, almost into the water behind him, and lets out another scream. The blade pulls back under. He looks around the docks, too afraid to move, when the blade rises up again. This time through his hand.

He screams, looking down at the blood oozing from his hand. He grabs it with his other hand, wanting to pull it up and off the blade. But he can't find the strength, or the grit, to do so.

The machete's blade swiftly pulls back through his hand, disappearing underneath the dock. He clenches onto his bleeding hand, blood seeping through the cracks in his fingers, when the blade cuts through another nearby board and slices his thigh. Groaning, he pulls away as he struggles to get to his feet.

Todd glances down at the stretch of dock that reaches the shore. His car is parked only twenty feet or so away. He can make it. Blood flows down his arm as he limps forward, the blade behind him withdrawing. A trail of blood follows him as it drips from his elbow.

He picks up his pace as he reaches the last few feet of the dock, holding his breath, when—

The machete slices up through his left foot, tearing through his shoe with ease. He can't help but scream as the agonizing pain consumes him, and he bangs helplessly on the wooden planks in front of him. He turns his head back to see his foot nearly split in half by the blade. He pauses, hearing splashing underneath him.

Suddenly the boards in front of him break apart, chunks of wood flying everywhere as Jason, the real Jason, emerges from the water to grab Todd by the shoulder. Still screaming, he attempts to helplessly pull away as Jason's grip tightens, crunching his shoulder blades. Jason drops back through the hole he made in the planks, pulling Todd effortless along with him, down into the abyss of Crystal Lake.

Part of Todd's ripped shoe lays next to the bloody blade of Jason's machete before it retreats underneath the dock. Frogs continue to croak in the distance.