It was a dark and stormy night, the kind that sends shivers down your spine. I was walking home from a late shift at work, trying to ignore the eerie feeling that something was watching me. As I turned the corner, I saw a figure in the distance. It was Jason, the infamous killer from Friday the 13th. My heart raced as I tried to run, but my legs felt like they were made of lead.

Jason was getting closer, his machete glinting in the moonlight. I could hear his heavy breathing and the sound of his boots hitting the pavement. I knew I was in trouble. Suddenly, he lunged at me with his weapon, and I barely managed to dodge it. I could feel the wind from the blade as it whizzed past my face.

I ran as fast as I could, but Jason was right behind me. I could hear his footsteps getting louder and louder. I turned around and saw him coming at me with his machete raised high. I closed my eyes and braced for impact, but nothing happened. When I opened my eyes, I saw that he had disappeared.

I looked around, trying to catch my breath, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still out there, watching me. Suddenly, I heard a scream in the distance. It was coming from the old abandoned house on the hill. I knew I shouldn’t go there, but I couldn’t resist the urge to investigate.

As I approached the house, I could see that the front door was open. I cautiously stepped inside, and the first thing I noticed was the smell. It was a sickly sweet smell, like rotting flesh. I followed the sound of the screams, and they led me to the basement.

What I saw there will haunt me for the rest of my life. Jason was there, covered in blood, his machete dripping with gore. He had a group of teenagers tied up, and he was systematically killing them one by one. The room was filled with the sound of their screams and the sickening sound of flesh being sliced.

I knew I had to do something, but I was frozen with fear. Jason turned to me, and I could see the madness in his eyes. He raised his machete, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the end. But then, I heard a gunshot, and everything went black.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The police told me that they had found me unconscious in the basement of the old house. They had managed to save the remaining teenagers, but Jason was nowhere to be found. They assumed he had escaped into the night.

I never forgot that night, and I never went back to that house again. But sometimes, when I’m alone in the dark, I can still hear the sound of Jason’s machete and the screams of his victims. And I know that he’s still out there, waiting for his next victim.