Chapter Three

Steve Christy hadn't heard about death curses since he grew up in Connecticut. He was a staunch Catholic, and his parents, Lionel and Margaret Christy, were business people, and attended Mass every Sunday. He was educated at Crystal Lake High School from 1931 to 1945. On his fourteenth birthday, he went to summer camp and decided to go there until he turned seventeen. That was in the hot summer of 1948; it was almost a decade before the tragedy in 1957, when Jason Voorhees drowned; it was the end of the light, and the darkness came later.

***

'You're sure he is here', Jack said.

'Yes, besides, look!', Marcie said.

They saw the man chopping wood with an axe. The three teenagers got out of the van. 'Hey, can you help me? I'm Steve Christy', he said. 'Great! I thought we didn't need to work during summer', Ned complained. Then he remembered the vacation he had last Christmas in the bitter December morning. And he forgotten it for now. Afterwards, they saw Bill Travers, a tall teenager. He was carrying a bucket of paint; he seemed nice enough. 'Where's Alice?', he asked. 'Coming!', Alice Louise Hardy said. The red haired, blue eyed, Californian artist was around for the action. The twenty-one year old camper shook her head. 'Steve, what's the matter?', she asked. 'Nothing; nothing', Steve answered. He seemed perturbed; he wasn't his self. 'I want Bill to paint; I want you to find Brenda'. The other girl, Brenda Camper, was around. As a volunteer, she wanted time to meet friends. The girl was twenty, and wasn't into drugs, or freaky people in the streets. She was a Catholic girl from Michigan. And loved her parents. That was all. Camp Crystal Lake was going to be the way forward; that was why she wore her favorite sweater because she was cold all the time in the summer.

'Let's go to the cabins', Alice said.

And they all smiled, and saw the broom she was holding for sweeping the old, cursed, campgrounds.

Page 3.