(A/N just a list of the characters any their roles form the original movie.

1. Alice Hardy– The final girl and protagonist.

2. Pamela Voorhees– The main antagonist, revealed to be the killer.

3. Annie Phillips– A camp counselor who is murdered on her way to Camp Crystal Lake.

4. Marcie Cunningham– A camp counselor who is killed by Mrs. Voorhees.

5. Jack Burrell– A camp counselor and Marcie's boyfriend, killed by Mrs. Voorhees.

6. Ned Rubenstein– A camp counselor and Jack's friend, also killed by Mrs. Voorhees.

7. Bill Brown– A camp counselor, one of the last to be killed.

8. Brenda Jones– A camp counselor who meets her end at Camp Crystal Lake.

9. Steve Christy– The owner of Camp Crystal Lake who is killed by Mrs. Voorhees.

10. Ralph– The town's "crazy" man, who warns the counselors about the camp.

11. Officer Dorf– A local police officer.

These characters form the core of the cast, with Pamela Voorhees being the iconic killer in this first movie, before her son Jason takes over in later films)

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I stood at the edge of the parking lot, staring into the thick woods surrounding Camp Crystal Lake. The trees stood tall and motionless, but something about the silence felt off, almost oppressive. The last light of the sun was fading, leaving the sky tinged with purple and gray. There was a weight to the air, a feeling that I couldn't shake—a sense that I wasn't alone. It was irrational, I knew. There was no one out there but squirrels and deer, maybe a stray raccoon digging through the trash. Yet, I couldn't stop my eyes from darting into the shadows, trying to catch a glimpse of… something. Anything.

"Where the hell is Marcie?" I muttered under my breath, pacing beside my car. I had been waiting for nearly an hour, and my sister was nowhere to be found. Typical. She'd probably hooked up with some drunk guy on the way and lost track of time. Again.

I leaned against the hood, arms crossed, eyes still scanning the treeline. A flicker of movement caught my attention. A shadow—just for a second—flashed through the trees. My heart skipped a beat, and I straightened up.

"What the hell was that?" I said, louder this time, my voice breaking the eerie quiet. I squinted, trying to make out anything in the fading light. But there was nothing. Just darkness and trees.

"Man, screw this. Marcie can find her own damn way to camp."

I pushed off the car, grabbing my bag, and started walking down the gravel path leading to the camp. The crunch of my footsteps echoed in the quiet night, the only sound in an otherwise dead atmosphere. The camp's cabins were still lit up ahead, and as I drew closer, I could see the flicker of a fire near the main lodge. Laughter carried on the breeze—familiar voices. The other counselors were already gathered around the fire pit, smoking and drinking. Typical.

As I approached, I saw Jack sitting with his arm draped around Marcie's waist. Well, that explained where she'd been. Beside them, Ned and Annie were sharing a joint while Brenda poked at the fire with a stick. They were all relaxed, carefree, completely oblivious to the strange feeling that had been gnawing at me since I arrived.

"Marcie's probably lost," I grumbled to myself, loud enough for Jack to hear as I dropped my bag near the fire. "Little bitch."

Jack smirked but didn't even look up from his drink. "You invited her?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't even know she was coming."

"Yeah, well, I don't think she knew either," I shot back, feeling my frustration rise.

Ned chuckled, passing the joint to Annie. "What'd you expect? She's always late. And drunk." His words slurred a little, clearly tipsy from the bottle of whiskey sitting by his feet.

The others laughed, but the sound grated on my nerves. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that something—or someone—was watching us from the dark woods just beyond the firelight. I turned to look over my shoulder, scanning the treeline again. Nothing. Just shadows.

"You alright?" Brenda asked, noticing my discomfort.

"Yeah, fine," I said quickly, trying to shrug it off. "Just tired."

But I wasn't. I was on edge. Every instinct in my body was telling me that something wasn't right. The laughter, the drinking, the false sense of security—it all felt like a distraction. A way to ignore the growing dread that hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

After a while, the group began to disperse. Marcie and Jack stumbled off toward their cabin, giggling like teenagers. Ned and Annie followed, arm in arm, disappearing into the night. That left just me and Brenda by the fire. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

"I'm gonna head to bed," she said, standing up and brushing dirt off her jeans. "You should get some rest too. Long day tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," I lied. The truth was, I didn't want to go to bed. Not yet. Not with that gnawing feeling in my gut.

Brenda waved and walked off toward her cabin, leaving me alone by the dying fire. The crackling embers cast long shadows on the ground, and the trees loomed large and menacing in the distance. I stared into the darkness, my ears straining for any sound beyond the fire's crackle. And that's when I heard it—a soft rustling in the bushes, faint but unmistakable.

My breath caught in my throat. I stood up slowly, my eyes locked on the spot where the noise had come from. My heart was pounding in my chest. It could've been an animal, sure. Or it could've been…

I grabbed the flashlight from my bag and clicked it on, shining the beam into the trees. The light sliced through the darkness, illuminating the underbrush and the gnarled roots of the trees. But there was nothing. No animals. No people. Just the quiet rustle of the wind through the leaves.

"Get a grip," I muttered to myself, turning off the flashlight. "You're being paranoid."

But as I turned to leave, I heard it again—the same rustling, closer this time. My heart raced, and I froze. I could feel someone—or something—watching me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

I spun around just in time to see a shadow dart behind a tree.

"Who's there?" I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. There was no answer. Just silence. And then, slowly, the figure stepped out from behind the tree, moving toward me. I couldn't make out their face, but they were tall, their silhouette looming in the darkness. A kitchen knife glinted in the faint moonlight, raised and ready.

"Hey!" I shouted, backing away, my pulse skyrocketing. "What the hell—"

The figure lunged forward, fast and silent. I barely had time to react before they were on me, the knife flashing in the dark. I stumbled backward, tripping over the fire pit. My hands hit the dirt, and I scrambled to my feet, but it was too late. The blade sliced through the air, catching my throat in one swift, brutal motion.

I gasped, the pain searing through me like fire. Blood poured down my chest, soaking my shirt, and I collapsed to the ground, choking on the taste of iron. My vision blurred as the world spun around me.

In the distance, the cabin lights flickered. The fire crackled softly, oblivious to the horror unfolding just a few feet away. The others were inside, safe and warm, unaware that death had come to Camp Crystal Lake.

I tried to scream, but no sound came. The last thing I saw before everything went black was the figure, standing over me, their knife dripping with blood.