Share
MidReal Story
Escape from Crystal Lake
Scenario:Dark romance about Jason Voorhees
Create my version of this story
Sarah Jensen
Emily's best friend, friends with Mark and cautious around Jason, petite with curly blonde hair, intelligent and fearful.
Mark Thompson
Emily's boyfriend, friends with Sarah and protective of Emily, tall with short black hair, loyal and strong.
Emily Carter
final girl, friends with Mark and Sarah, athletic build with long brown hair, brave and resourceful.
I was so excited to be going camping with my boyfriend, Mark, and my best friend, Sarah.
We had been planning this trip for months and we were finally on our way to Crystal Lake.
It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining brightly as we drove along the highway.
The windows were rolled down and the wind was blowing through my hair as I sat in the backseat of Mark’s car.
I couldn’t wait to get there and start setting up camp.
We had packed everything we needed for the weekend, including a tent, sleeping bags, food, and plenty of beer.
As we got closer to our destination, we started to see signs for Crystal Lake and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
I had heard all kinds of stories about the place and how it was cursed.
Mark pulled the car into a clearing by the lake, and we all got out, stretching our legs after the long drive.
"Alright, team," Mark said with a grin, "let's get this campsite set up!"
Sarah gave a half-hearted smile, her eyes darting around the dense forest surrounding us.
I could tell she was uneasy.
"Come on, Sarah," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "It's going to be fun. Just think about the campfire and s'mores."
She nodded but didn't say anything.
We unloaded the car and started setting up the tent.
Mark hammered in the stakes while I held the fabric taut.
Sarah busied herself arranging our supplies on a nearby picnic table.
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground.
"Hey, did you guys hear about the ghost that haunts this place?" Mark asked, his voice playful but with an edge of seriousness.
Sarah shot him a look. "Not funny, Mark."
"What? It's just a story," he said with a shrug. "People say there's a spirit that roams these woods at night."
I rolled my eyes. "You're not helping, Mark."
He chuckled and continued setting up the tent.
Once everything was in place, we gathered around a small campfire that Mark had built.
The flames crackled and danced, casting flickering light on our faces.
Mark passed around cans of beer, and we clinked them together in a toast.
"To a great weekend!" he declared.
"To a great weekend," Sarah and I echoed, though her voice lacked enthusiasm.
As we sat there, sipping our drinks and sharing stories, the night grew darker and colder.
The sounds of the forest seemed to grow louder—the rustling of leaves, the chirping of crickets, and the occasional hoot of an owl.
"So," Mark said with a mischievous grin, "who wants to hear a scary story?"
Sarah groaned. "Do we have to?"
"Come on, it'll be fun," he insisted. "Besides, it's tradition."
I sighed but nodded. "Alright, let's hear it."
Mark leaned forward, his face illuminated by the firelight. "There was once a group of campers who came to Crystal Lake..."
As he spun his tale of ghostly apparitions and mysterious disappearances, I felt a chill run down my spine.
Even though I knew it was just a story, there was something about this place that made it feel all too real.
Suddenly, there was a rustling noise from the bushes behind us.
We all froze.
"What was that?" Sarah whispered, her eyes wide with fear.
Mark grabbed his flashlight and stood up. "Probably just an animal. I'll go check it out."
He walked over to the bushes and shone the light into them.
For a moment, we held our breath as he peered into the darkness.
"Nothing here," he called back. "Must've been the wind or something."
But as he returned to the fire, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched.
As the campfire crackles, I sense a growing unease in the silence that follows Mark's story.
Sarah's eyes are fixed on the darkness beyond the firelight, her face pale and tense.
Mark's forced bravado doesn't fool me; I can see the faint tremble in his hand as he holds his flashlight.
The forest seems alive with whispers, the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs sounding like a chorus of eerie whispers.
Mark's flashlight flickers, casting macabre shadows on the trees surrounding us, making it seem like we're being watched by unseen eyes.
He returns to the fire, but the mood is broken; the earlier camaraderie and laughter now replaced with an air of tension.
I feel eyes on me, a chill creeping up my spine as I glance around the circle, wondering if I'm just being paranoid.
Sarah suggests we turn in for the night, her voice trembling slightly, and I can sense her desperation to escape the oppressive atmosphere.
Reluctantly, we agree, and begin to retreat to our tent, the darkness closing in around us like a shroud.
