It was a dark and stormy night, and I found myself driving down a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the wind was howling like a pack of wolves. I had heard stories about this place, about the legend of Friday the 13th and the infamous killer, Jason. But I never believed in such things, until now.

As I drove deeper into the woods, I could feel a sense of unease creeping up on me. The trees seemed to be closing in, and the darkness was suffocating. Suddenly, my car sputtered and died, leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere. I tried to start it up again, but it was no use. I was stuck.

I got out of the car and looked around, trying to find some sign of life. But all I could see was darkness and shadows. And then, I heard it. A faint whisper, like someone was calling my name. I turned around, but there was no one there. I started to walk, hoping to find some help, but the whispering grew louder and more insistent.

As I walked, I stumbled upon an old cabin, hidden deep in the woods. It was dilapidated and abandoned, but I had no other choice. I had to take shelter from the storm. I pushed open the door and stepped inside, and that’s when I saw him. Jason, standing in the corner, his machete glinting in the dim light.

I tried to run, but he was too fast. He chased me through the cabin, his heavy footsteps echoing in my ears. I could feel his breath on my neck, and I knew that I was going to die. But then, I saw a glimmer of light. A flashlight, shining through the window. I screamed for help, and the police arrived just in time to save me.

As I sat in the back of the police car, shivering and shaking, I knew that I had narrowly escaped death. But I also knew that Jason was still out there, waiting for his next victim. And I knew that I would never forget the horror of that Friday the 13th.