Photo by Sandy Morrison
He stood on the shore staring out at the lake. A breeze whispered across the water, ripples of moonlight danced on its surface. He closed his eyes as the cool air breathed against his face, the scent of lingering campfires tickled his nose. Looking up at the broad-faced moon and glittering stars, he wondered why his life had come to this. Too young to lose so much, and for what?
Music and laughter echoed from nearby cabins, the sounds of ecstasy, youth, life. Who were they to live so free when he’d been denied so much? Anger pulsed through his veins in a wave of heat. He turned and marched into the woods, gliding from tree to tree, shadow to shadow, until he was close enough to see into the cabins, and waited.
Finally she came, stumbling and giggling, down the steps. “I just need some fresh air. It’s hot in there,” she called over her shoulder to a boy in the doorway. The boy was about to follow, but shouts from inside pulled his attention away. He hesitated, giving her one last glance over his shoulder, then disappeared into the cabin.
The time had come to claim his prize. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he watched the boy retreat. Slipping the mask into place, he stepped away from the tree. Her eyes flew open at the sight of him, but before she could scream, he tightened his grip on the machete and swung.
In honor of a horror classic on this Friday the 13th.