Member Blog Post

Friday the 13th

Part One- Opening Day

1. Camp Crystal Lake always gathered children through their last two weeks of Summer and keep them until the first day of Fall. This is the first day of those two weeks and the children were flocking like cattle from a herd; fifties style cars drove through the makeshift wooden squared entrance way reading “ Welcome to Crystal Lake” in bold painted yellow letters. Some campers were already exiting their vehicles in front of the Camp Counselor’s main office, where parents sign in their children for a great two weeks of fun! Young camp counselors were outside to greet the individual children with their faux peppy behavior, which came through waving hands and shouting- an understanding, childish behavior to connect with the children.

Camp Crystal Lake is composed of five cabins- the main office being the biggest- surrounding an open dirt area that will eventually house a bonfire to house spooky campfire stories and marshmallow roasting. Beyond the camp, along a path, is a boathouse with a long wooden dock extending out into the lake partially and towering above it is a single lamp that connects to a generator.

Slipping from the main office is a middle aged man with balding brown hair- that if seen close up, would showcase hints of grey- wearing a brown shorts outfit around his pudgy build. He removes a round brimmed hat from his head and wipes his failing hairline of the approaching sweat. A smile crosses his thick lips in hopes of a good camp season, and from the looks of it, seems to be going very smoothly. This was Jacob Christy, a man that has called Camp Counseling his career for almost thirty-four years, watching with that smile as children pass through his doors to the service desk. He gives his hellos and good mornings as they pass.

Slipping through the doors is an attractive young woman in her early twenties wearing a blue sweater and long white dress, her belly bulging out abnormally to indicate that she was in the later stages of her pregnancy. She has a youthful, angelic face with wide pale blue eyes, a slender nose, and thin lips, which are surrounded by sweat y strands of dark brown hair. She leans against a nearby wall and catches her breath, yearning to stop the aching kicks of her only child. She knew this wasn’t Braxton Hicks , for she was too far into the pregnancy. No, this was the real deal and it didn’t fair well with her.

“ I see you’re fairing well, huh, Pamela?” says Jacob with a concerning smile toward the woman, who chuckles playfully.

“ Yeah, as well as woman about to bust open with child”, she said with a joking smile.

“ How far along are you?” he says curiously.

“ Not far. According to my recent doctor’s visit, they say he’s going to be here in a few months. I definitely believe them on that. This child is killing me and it feels like he’s about to come,” she replies with a wince, as if stabbed in the side by an unseen blade.

“ A beautiful thing, isn’t it? To know that you’re about to give life to a precious baby. Yeah, at first, it is rough, but hang in there long enough and you’ll discover something precious,” assures Jacob with a confident nod, which seem to make Pamela feel slightly better. He was right, this is something precious, regardless of what she’s feeling now.

“ Yeah, inside this annoyed mother is something proud and beam, I’ll let know when I get to that point,” she jokes with a nervous laugh, but it seem agitate the child.

“ Yeah. So, what are the names, if you don’t mind me asking?” interrogates Jacob with a cocked brow.

“ Jason, if it is a boy, and Sarah, if it is a girl. I like those names. They’re homely and typical. I don’t need to give my child some strange name that will later haunt them with clichéd nicknames and horrible childish jokes”, she replies wholeheartedly, smiling when those names plays in her mind. They were perfect names for her, even if no one else likes them.

“ Ah, fine names! Fine names, indeed, Pamela,” he said like a cheerful king to his people.

“ By the way, I managed to fix some pies for tonight’s ceremonies. I am sure the children want something homely to encourage a nice stay at these campgrounds. I know I sure would. The idea of having mother’s comfort when you’re away at camp seems like a good idea. I baked apple, cherry and chocolate pie,” she manages through an uncomfortable feeling, which Jacob nods in approval. She could remember smelling her mother’s pies baking and it made her feel nice and safe, which should translate well to these children, who are not old enough to veer from their mothers. Most of these children are no older than twelve years. If she remembers right, the oldest she seen was a twelve year old boy that came here last year.

“ Why don’t you go home, Pamela? You look like you’re having a hard time,” denotes Jacob watching, the poor young woman struggle against her pregnancy. She needed a break from what her child was doing to her and get off of her feet and have a good rest. It’s not good to see a pregnant woman on her feet all the time, it’s unhealthy.

“ No, I’m fine, really. I am just struggling a bit, that’s all,” she argues with a shake of her head. This wasn’t necessary and pointless. She lasted this long, so why not continue through to the end? She will just endure it until the end.

“ Quit being stubborn and heed the advice of your boss. When the boss talks about taking a break, then I suggest you take it while you can,” he retaliates with a shake of his head. She was being silly and needed to relax. He understands that she’s having trouble and acting independent, but she needs to do to help the baby.

“ Alright, alright! I understand what you’re saying. I will go home and relax. See you tomorrow?” she says, giving into his demands. She walks down the stairs and slips through a small crowd to the path going toward the dock, passing it to the woods, which the path cuts through. She follows it for half a mile until she comes upon a simple four room cabin just outside of the campground boundaries, which sits in front of the water’s edge with a breathtaking view of the tree line and murky green waters, slipping in through the front wooden door.

Her home was made into five rooms with the living room/ kitchen combination being the biggest of any the rooms. It’s a homely little building that would be perfect for a family to live in. The living room had a simple look of three pieces of green furniture, which include a love seat, couch and chair, all sitting around a wooden coffee table. Surrounding the furniture are various pictures of her family, whether they be dead, a fond memory or something that once held purity. One picture always catches her glance when she walks by, the photo of her brother Elias. He used to be a nice, quiet young man that cared for Pamela when no one else would, the perfect older brother. But something happened between them that makes that nothing more than a fond memory yearning to become reality, yet again. She can’t stand to look at that picture, but doesn’t want to let that memory go away. Adjacent to living room is the kitchen and a hall with three other rooms fading behind it, her bedroom , a guest bedroom and a bathroom. Her kitchen is composed of a wooden round table with three chairs with wooden countertops surrounding it. At the end of the counter is a white fridge that holds just enough food for a small family. Over the countertops are hanging cabinets that conceal various plates and glasses.

She walks into her home and grabs the agonizing photo of Elias and sits down in the chair, rubbing her stomach firmly. Her child was slightly kicking and she tries to calm him. Her eyes examine the pure smile he once held in his hey day, a warm insignia that let you know everything will be alright, but that was in the past, it’s always in the past. This moment, this faux truth has been clouded by something horrible he had done, but she never spoke of it, drowning it out with something more charitable and promising. Unbeknownst to her, her eyes begin to water those fond memories of what could have been, rather than what is happening now. The slight pain shifting in her stomach adverts her attention toward the soul in her stomach, tossing the picture aside and singing a soft lullaby:

“ Sleep my weary child and sing your dreams to me. I’m here when you need me during that slumbering. Dream, dream those fantastical dreams and never think about tomorrow. I’m watching you and wavering the harm, my special little baby,” she sings softly to her moving belly as it slowly calms down to the sound of her voice, which she plays off as the song.

She begins to slowly shed tears as both eyes close in mental pain. This is not how she wants her child to live, and yet, she seems to be helpless against this ambition. This life is so unfair and unjustified, it’s something that seems to becoming horrible and an endless nightmare. Her eyes slowly open to reveal a bloodshot, gazing down at her slender wrists that decorate in various weak scars, the scars of someone who can’t handle what has been given to her. It’s not based on what she bares now, but what the past held for her in those weaken times. No one should result to these scars, they promote something demeaning and reckless, but what could she do? She shakes her head of those thoughts and wipes away the burning tears. This is the type of stress she doesn’t need, for it might harm the child she is going to eventually have. Stress might do something unstable to the child and she doesn’t need that right now. She shakes her head again and hangs the photo back on the wall, walking into the kitchen to gather a glass of water, leaning on the counter in deep thought. The soothing water slides down her throat through a slow slip. Her eyes continue to shed tears, as if second nature were kicking in, and she wipes them aggressively away. This seems to always happen when she comes home, those damn pictures provoke traumatic tears that will never heal her emotionally or mentally. She looks at her watch latched around her slender arm, which reads ten till noon. Perhaps a nap is something she definitely needs at this time, slipping to one of the back rooms. Her bedroom had three significant things lying in it: a comfortable queen size bed with thick covers, an oak vanity dresser and a walk in closet. She flips on the light switch and squints into the glowing light, and walks around to the side of the bed and lays gently upon the bed. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, trying to filter out any negative notions. And before too long, she finally gave into the sleep and falls into a quick deep slumber.

She wakes up to the sound of someone singing in her house, slowly opening her eyes in a dark bedroom. She sits up and looks around against a drowsy feeling, listening to the singing, which seems to be coming from her living room. She slips out of bed cautiously and peeks out of her bedroom door to see a strange figure standing in one of the corners in her living room. Had someone followed her to her house and entered her home? She watches in the shadows as this stranger kneels to something in the corner humming gently. What is this person doing in the corner? She wants to shoo them out of her house, but doesn’t know if they’re carrying a weapon of any kind.

“ Do you think that they will know who their real father is, Pamela?” said the shape with a masculine voice, which makes her heart run cold and every muscle tense in her body. That voice sounded eerily familiar. She doesn’t respond, watching as this shape slowly turn toward her, but made no real definition, as if the shadow was there to torment and confuse her. He steps to the side and her eyes widen at the sight of a bloody fetus lying dead in the corner. It starts to pulsate like a heartbeat and the sound of a child screaming could be heard deep in her head. She clenches it and falls to her knees as a pool of blood forms around her dropped knees. Her eyes open to the sight of blood, crawling backwards with a bloodcurdling scream.

Like a scary jack and the box puppet, the frightened young woman jolts up in her bed with sweat streaming down her face and neck, and eyes dilated with a widen trepidation. Tears stream down her soft, round cheeks as eyes wander around her illuminated bedroom. She gets out of bed and walks into the living room to see it empty, sighing with relief at the result. It had been a nightmare, one of many she’d been having since a incident. This one seem to be worse than the others, leaving her scared to go back to sleep in her own house. She looks at the clock on the wall, which reads four in the afternoon. Time to get back to work and forget all this silly sleeping. She slips into the bathroom, a small room with sink and it’s vanity, a toilet and bath tube, running water and cupping her hands under the cool flowing liquid. She splashes the water in her face and enjoys the soothing comfort of it, the electric realism from that horrendous dream that felt so real. When is this madness going to end? She tries her best to forget the past, but somehow it comes back to bite her in the end. Could she really get over what happened between Elias and her?

She can still remember it like it was yesterday, a horrible occurrence that left a everlasting scar on Pamela’s conscious, mentally and emotionally, hiding it behind faux smiles and hidden notions. The very thought brings a sense of dread to Pamela like a good horror movie, spiraling her self-esteem into a bloody residue of lies and corruption. It was early Autumn when it happened and the afternoon was cool with hints of an early winter felt in the howling winds around Camp Crystal Lake. She was laying on the couch in the living room reading a book, one of her favorite suspense novels that always captivates and draws her deep within the pages, when a knock came to her door. She gets up and goes to check and see who it was, finding Elias at her doorstep unannounced. He had a worried, yet distant look in his glossed over brown eyes, which worried Pamela. The last time she saw him was in the Tahoma Mental Institute trying to be cured of his estranged mental illness, he became unstable after their parents were killed in an auto accident, eventually blaming it on his little sister because she felt unmoved and didn’t cry, but she did cry, a constant internal crying that continues to happen to this very day.

“ What’s wrong?” she says with a worried tone as her brother slips in pass her to the living room area. She shuts the door behind him and swallows hard, an unsure feeling coming over her. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Something about this wasn’t right at all.

“ They let me out on good behavior, Sis. I was a very good little bitch dog for them and they showed me sympathy,” he says with a nervous arrogant smirk.

“ Good behavior? But you were only there for maybe two weeks, if that, the last time I called they said you had an episode regarding an orderly and you stabbed them’, says Pamela with an anxious, wondering smile toward Elias.

“ Damn orderlies don’t know what they’re talking about, I was patient for them and they didn’t show me that same respect!” abruptly hisses Elias with a grimace face that didn’t set right with his sister. That same anger was re-surfacing the first time he tried to harm her. Something bad was bound to happen to her on this night.

“ You need to go back to the institute, Elias. I can tell by the way you’re acting that you’re hardly cured,” pleads Pamela, backing against the door and grabbing its handle. He goes over to her and palms the door next to her head, licking his slender, chapped lips. As a reaction, she tenses up, inhaling his rancid breath that burns like acid.

“ You’re the reason I’m in this mess, Pam. First, you didn’t seem to care that mom and dad were killed by the arrogance of a drunk driver, and then you send the only family you have left to the loony bin to be experimented on like some sadistic individual. The only cure I need is to get rid of the “ problem” in my life,” he says with a narrowing glance. She didn’t like what he was insinuating, nervously watching his uncomfortable antics. He lifts his other hand to reveal a bloody makeshift blade, pressing it softly against her trembling cheek. He let’s out a soft cackle through a wide, yellowish toothed smile.

“ Please don’t do anything you might regret, Elias. You’re always saying that family is important and that we shouldn’t abandon that hope,” she shudders through quivering lips, feeling the cold, wet numbness of his blade.

“ The only regret I have is trusting a someone like you, Backstabber! You abandoned me and lost that privilege of calling anyone anything that resembles “ family”, Pam!” growls Elias, cutting the strap of a blue tank top she wore, revealing a partial, soft breast. “ Time for you to go through your own hell, Dear sister,” he tosses her to the ground and she tries to get back up, but his heavy boot heel presses down on her slender ankle, she cries out in pain, feeling bone slightly splinter with a soft crunch. She cries out in pain as tears steam down her soft, quivering cheeks. She tries to pull away but the force was implied more, increasing the control of pain over this unfortunate woman. He kneels down to Pamela and keeps pressure on her legs, cutting up her skirt she wore to expose her white cotton panties, which are ripped violently off to a toned bottom. She tries to claw away, but every attempt failed as he undoes his pants and forcibly applies pressure to her backside, she cries out with a loud gasp, feeling his arrogant intrusion that degrades her immaturely. She tries to plead to this man, but nothing came out when opening her mouth. What seems like forever, only lasting several minutes, fades quickly into a frightening realism as her brother stands to his feet.

She looks on through a disgusted, dirty feeling, covering herself up, the anger filling her soul with a red hot passion, which translates to a hard punch to the groin, sending her brother hard to the floor with immense pain throbbing through his pelvis. He’d dropped his knife in that process, and she scurries to pick it up, stabbing Elias furiously into his abdomen as tears start streaming hard amid the chase of screams. She couldn’t believe what happened, her own flesh and blood took her purity away for his own selfish need. And with one last, yet meaningful stab, she lets off one last scream, horrified at what just occurred.

A single, yet very emotional tear streams down her trembling cheek as her small hand rubs her rub belly. What he did was unforgettable, an act against the nature of things. He deserved that punishment, like any foolish, immature “man”. She still gets the occasional pain between her legs since that ordeal, throbbing to remind her of what the past held. She shakes her head to clear any thoughts of that ordeal, wiping her face off and slipping back into the living room. Maybe going back to the campgrounds would promote a better sensible feeling, heading out of the door and along the path toward them.

Approaching the campgrounds, she could see that the children were settled into their environments, playing and carrying on like children door, which brings a happy memory of what lies in Pamela’s future. Yeah, it will be rough for the both of them but there will be those moments of happiness between mother and child, something she’s definitely looking for as a person who’s wanted a child for a long time. She heads back to the main building, catching glimpse of two flirting counselors next to the entrance. Such behavior while on the job, it’s that nonsense that desensitizes the mind’s of children to think such things are alright in public, but she says nothing slipping into the building. The main building roars with the conversation of various people sitting in the small lobby area with three pieces of furniture surrounding a round, wooden coffee table and before a stone fireplace, most of them being counselors. No child of this age range wants to sit and talk, but hang out with friends and play, pick on one another or preoccupy their time with a rambunctious nature. Beside the lobby area, sitting in front of a hidden staircase, is a small desk area slipping back into an open room. On the wooden counter is a campground sign in sheet and various other papers. Behind it is Counselor Christy talking to a lovely young lady about future plans regarding the campgrounds.

“ Ah, I see the mother-to-be has awaken from her beauty sleep. Did it fair well?” wonders Jacob with a warm Santa Claus smile. He says goodbye to the counselor and approaches Pamela, who leans backwards on the desk.

“ Eh, good as a pregnant sleep can be, I guess. I see the children found their foundation with this camp, huh?” she retaliates with a warm smile of her own, nodding to Jacob.

“ Yeah. The turn out seems to have went well. We got nearly thirty children, twice as much as we got last season“, he replies with a confident nod, walking around and leaning on the desk next to her, watching the children play outside. He was proud to see that children still wanted to come to an old campground to have a good time, it makes you wonder if innocence is truly gone or if this a fad that stop at the teenage years.

“ So, is there anything I can do while I stand here? “ she politely asks leaning up from the desk and turning toward him. She felt helpless and pointless standing there on the job.

“ Not really. The counselors seem to have everything under control. Not to change the subject, but I need to talk to you for a minute, Pamela. Care to talk a walk with me?” says Jacob, motioning toward the door way. Pamela shrugs and nods, walking out of the door with him not far behind him. “ I’ll cut to the chase with this. I want your child to experience the same joy a lot of campers have when they come to Crystal Lake. I want you to raise and teach him on these grounds, show him a good foundation that all children need. I’m not insinuating or insulting your parenting Pamela, but looking out for the child themselves”.

“ No, I understand, and it would be a good thing to do. Alright, I will take you up on that consideration, Counselor. My child will live on this campgrounds and learn from these children,” she politely accepts, wondering if this would be a good idea. She didn’t want to spark any interests with your decline. She knows her child won’t be a normal one and society doesn’t take lightly to such things, even if Counselor Christy will. The majority are cruel and heartless when it comes to difference in the world, a deadly mental virus that slowly eats someone alive, especially if you’re too young to actually understand that notion. But on a better note, it would improve the child beyond the capabilities of a struggling mother.

“ Can I ask you something, Jacob?” she adds, hoping this question wouldn’t backfire against her and transform Pamela into something strange or weird.

“ Sure. You can ask me anything, Pamela. I know you well enough”, he says abrupt and confidently. This woman is like a friend to him, getting to know him the several years she was a cook for him.

“ What if my child is different? You know how children can be when the spot different, careless and immature. No offense, but I don’t want my child to go through something that might jeopardize him or her,” she said through a mental wince, knowing that this might turn out to be something she regrets saying to Counselor Christy.

“ Eh, doesn’t matter. This camp is a safe place for all children. If something does happen to your child, then we can make sure to find a way around it. The main point behind this camp is to be in a safe environment to create a better child, let a child be themselves. Children come here to get away from their parents and be children, and we let them do that. There is no discrimination around these parts, Pamela,” assures Jacob with a reassuring smile. She had nothing to do worry about, everything will be fine with her child when the time comes. He gently hugs her shoulder as a comfort mechanism, laughing playfully at her silly nature. Already worrying about her child and she hasn’t even had it yet.