Chapter One
It was a hot, June summer in the town of Crystal Lake.
Annie Phillips, eighteen, had been born in New Jersey. She seemed carefree, as if her childhood of the nineteen sixties, was full of wonder, and hope. But, after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, Lee Harvey Oswald, Robert Kennedy, Malcolm X, and the Vietnam War, as well as the Woodstock music festival, the previous decade of peace, love, and protests, became a false idea of safety. With the rise of folk singer turned killer Charles Manson and The Family, and the Zodiac Killer, parents warned their sons and daughters not to go to San Francisco, or Hollywood, California, unless they heard they'd died from gun violence, drug overdoses, or were murdered by gangsters. Or serial killers. Annie, an only child, was the daughter of Ed and Karen Phillips, went to school in the mid-nineteen forties, and early nineteen fifties, and she didn't care about the danger she was in. Her brown hair was curtly; her blue eyes focused on the arches. Nearby, she saw a dog. 'Hello, boy...sorry, girl'. The dog was near Bert's Gas Station. Annie wore a plaid shirt, blue, flared jeans, a black belt, red socks, and brown shoes on her feet. She was wearing a tan watch on her right hand. She walked across the ashy road and opened the door of the old Crystal Lake Diner. Inside, there was thirty regulars eating hamburgers, fries, cakes, and sipping coffee.
'Excuse me, but can anyone tell me how to take me to Camp Crystal Lake?', Annie asked the manager.
'Enos, that's about three miles', Tracey Myerson, the forty year old owner, asked the sixty-three year old truck driver.
'About that', Enos answered.
'They're re-opening that place up again?', Randy Hossler asked her. The forty-three year old school teacher, was nervous. Randy, who spent his summers at Camp Tomahawk, the sister camp that was nearby, became nervous. 'Yes, why?', Annie asked him.
'Bad luck that camp is', was all Randy said.
'I'll take you there...', Enos said.
'Name's Annie'.
'Okay, Annie. Let's go!', Enos said.
He paid for his meal and coffee, and grabbed his coat.
And opened the Diner's door.
***
Crazy Ralph, the sixty-four year old doomsayer, arrived on his bicycle.
'You're going to Camp Blood, ain't ya. You'll never come back again. It's got a death curse'.
'Ah, shut up, Ralph', Enos said.
Crazy Ralph sighed.
He rode away from them, and disappeared.
'Real prophet of doom ain't he'.
'What's going on?', Annie asked him.
'Ralph is insane. He is a doomsayer from my time in Crystal Lake. He is mad', Enos answered.
'Well, I should be safe', Annie reluctantly said.
She grabbed her bag, and hopped into the passenger-side door.
And closed it.
***
Annie thought that nothing was worse than the town of Crystal Lake. She saw Enos was trying to tell her something. 'What's the matter?', she asked him. 'Go! Go!', he answered.
'I can't. I got fifty school kids to look after. Besides, Steve Christy hired me. I am the cook', Annie said.
'Go now'.
'You're as bad as Old Ralph. You're seeing ghosts'.
'There was the drowning of the boy back in '57; there was the deaths of Barry and Claudette back in '58; fires in '59. Poisoned water in '60. And, for what! Steve Christy is mad', Enos said.
'I'm an American original', Annie said.
'I'm an American original. You're like my three thirty-five year old daughters. Head full o' rocks', Enos said.
Nearby was a sign that read: CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE 5 MILES TO THE LEFT
'Got to stop here, Annie. Be safe!'.
'Be safe, Enos. Good bye!'.
'Good bye!', Annie said.
And she grabbed her bags, and opened the truck's door.
Then she closed it, as Enos drove away back to town.
***
Annie walked up the road.
She heard the sound of a zooming green jeep.
It was going fast...then it stopped.
'Camp Crystal Lake', Annie said.
She forced her bag into the seat.
The driver was silent.
'I have a dream about the inner-city kids and taking care of them', Annie said. More silence.
The driver was mute, or was silent on purpose.
The Jeep went faster and faster.
The driver went past the camp.
'Hey, wasn't that the sign to Camp Crystal Lake back there?', Annie asked the driver; yet more silence.
She now knew one thing was certain.
Never hitch hike, she thought to herself.
She opened the passenger-side door, grabbed her bag, and jumped onto the ashy ground. Pain went up her right leg. Annie hobbled through the woods. She saw the driver, the killer, was armed with a sharp knife. She saw an oak tree. 'No! Please, no! Please, no!', she whispered. Then the knife slit her throat, and her body slumped onto the soft, muddy, ground. The killer left the woods, and drove the Jeep towards the campgrounds.
***
Page 6.
360Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy8CYtRO9CJ
360Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrg4PriCdio
