June 22^nd 1979:

It had just gone 12 midnight. Jack Young's 14^th birthday had just passed. His parent's minds had phased it out; the task of watching nine hours of wheel of fortune must have stunted their memory. Jack lay bitter on his bed. Blades of moonlight pierced the musty air as they cascaded onto Jack’s figure. Surrounded by dusty records and air rifles he watched Night of the Living Dead. His eyes were fixed on the screen as the zombies devoured and ripped at flesh. Not one blink of an eye, just silently sitting, engrossed in the madness. Gripped in his hand, a card signed by his only 'friend', Nathan.

June 23^rd 1979:

Jack lived in a small community called Lake View. Situated among the woods was where Jack’s great grandfather had built the family home. Since Jack’s stepfather had moved in the old log cabin it had fallen into disrepair. Windows cracked, wood crumbling, slates broken, it looked like an abandoned house of horror at a carnival.

It was the hottest day since 1963 when the temperature reached a scorching 98° . Jack was walking down Lakeside road when in the distance he noticed the sheriff’s patrol car and an ambulance. As he got nearer to the scene he saw that a medic was wheeling out a body with a sheet covering it. He was now at the sidewalk beside an old wooden house; it was the oldest in the county and had been meticulously taken care of by its owner, Mr Brenner. He lived there with his wife and two children. Twins, Jack thought it strange that the twins were of different sex instead of the same. He stopped and watched the body be wheeled closer to the ambulance, turning his head to the left he could see into the ambulance, three covered bodies were already placed in the vehicle. Jack gasped; he returned his attention to the fourth body. The medic wheeling the bed accidentally caught one of the wheels in a hole in the stone pathway; the bed stopped sharply letting an arm dangle outside of the draped sheet. A brash smear of blood soaked the skin, which dripped onto the walkway leading to the house. The sheriff noticed Jack watching the scene. The sheriff dashed over to the medic and rammed the blood soaked limb back under the blood stained sheet. He walked over to Jack, peering under the sturdy rim of his hat, the sheriff put his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

"You shouldn’t be seeing this, come on get back to what you were doing," he said quietly.

"It was the Brenner’s wasn’t it," said Jack.

The sheriff removed his hat and pushed his thinning hair back over his head.

"You had better move along, I’ve got a lot of work to do."

The sheriff then placed the hat back on his head, turned round and walked back to the old house. The sheriff, obviously deeply affected by this shocking morning sat on the porch steps and placed his head in the palms of his hands and shook his head.

Jack proceeded down the road, past the houses, all lined in a row with their neatly kept gardens and white picket fences. In front of the houses, small trees waving gently in the breeze, behind the houses tall grand oaks, towering over the quiet homes, setting their shadows on the roads. Jack walked in and out of the shadows all along the sidewalk; eventually he reached the corner of the street. He looked across the road. The Lakeside Video Store was open. Jack crossed the road and walked towards the store. He reached the door, a moment of hesitation came over him. He scratched his bad teenage mustache and entered the store. As he looked far older than he was and the fact that the storeowner didn’t care how old his customers were. The fact also that the owner was a friend of Jack helped matters as well. Jack walked up to the counter, handed in Night of the Living Dead and walked over to the horror section. Jack glanced across the selection and picked out Halloween. It was fairly new and was one of the best slasher films ever. Jack took the video with his right hand and read the back. He saw the rating, R. But this didn’t phase him at all. Jack turned to the counter and walked up to the owner.

"Ah, what is it now then Jack?" asked the owner.

"Halloween," replied Jack.

"Right, that’ll be $3."

Jack dived into his pocket and took out a five; the owner handed over the change.

"How was Night?" he asked.

"Fantastic. Tell me will you, when it comes on to the sale shelf."

"Sure. Remember you can keep that till July 4^th, I’m going on holiday so you can keep it a while longer. Enjoy the film," finished the owner.

"I will." Jack turned round and walked out the darkened store and across the street.

As Jack approached the Brenner house once more he saw that the ambulance had gone but the sheriff had been joined by some out of town police accompanied by their black, dark, grim cars. He walked past the house silently and continued on up Wood Hill towards his house. As usual his stepfather was drunk in front of the television, and his mother at work. Jack took the back door to avoid the usual verbal abuse he received anytime he disturbed his stepfather. Jack entered his dusty room and locked the door. He placed the video on top of his video player. Jack looked over at his main bedroom wall. Air rifles were placed all over the dented wall. He stepped over the dented tin cans he used for target practice and stood up on a chair. He reached for his latest gun. He gripped the wood finished handle, dusting away the dirt with the bottom of his shirt he placed it down on his bed. Jack leant over and reached under his bed. He pulled out a rusty tin. Carefully removing the lid he exposed the contents to the dull atmosphere of his room. He reached in and pulled out a box of pellets. He tore open the small box and took a handful of ammo. Quickly he loaded the gun, cocked it and placed the tin back under his bed carefully covering it with a copy of Playboy magazine and an old work shirt. He was so cautious with the hiding process of this tin box as it contained his life savings, and he didn’t want that drunken lard ass finding it, as most probably, it would be spent on whiskey.

July 4^th 1979:

It was now 12:18 in the morning. The moonlight barely lit the cloudy sky as Jack lay on his bed immersed in the final scenes of Halloween. Swallowing the violence his eyes twitched madly as sweat trickled down his forehead, eventually stinging his bloodshot eyes. As the final shot came to Michael Myers sending him falling from the bedroom balcony Jack suddenly sat up straight. A stroke of light slicing across his face as he slowly crept off his bed. He slowly approached his door. Silently unlocking it he ventured outside his room and proceeded to the small kitchen. The dirty curtains hung like scarecrows over the cracked windows at first startled Jack. But then he ground his teeth and walked over to the drawer beside the sink. Carefully sliding it open he reached his hand into the darkness and grabbed hold of the biggest and sharpest knife they owned. Sliding the steel blade out of the cover he turned sharply as a flash of lightening lit the room. Quickly he dashed back to his room and opened his closet, reaching into a plastic box he pulled out a theatre mask his father had given him. Attached by a yellow piece of tape was an old crumpled photo of his father in a play, two days before the car accident that brutally killed him. A small tear dropped onto the photo. Jack quickly wiped it off and placed the photo back in a box. Slowly placing the mask over his face Jack proceeded out of his room, past the living room where his mother was sleeping as a result of a drunken fight with his stepfather and straight up to the door of his parents bedroom. He less than cautiously opened the scratched door and stepped inside, leaving the door ajar he stepped round so that he was at the foot of the bed. A bolt of lightening followed by a rumble of thunder woke the half-drunk stepfather.

"Oh, I see, come back to beg have ya!" he shouted.

Jack just stood there, in the dark until another flash of lightening lit up the room, revealing the outline of Jack’s figure. His stepfather saw the gleaming blade, suddenly Jack lunged forward, forcing the steel blade into his stepfather’s neck. Then stabbing the blood soaked body again and again, then finally slashing the blade across his stomach revealing the gleaming smoothness of his innards. Jack then calmed down and stepped off the bed, he was no longer Jack, he was just another figure in the dark, waiting.

That morning Jack’s mother woke up. She stood and walked over to the kitchen. She noticed a small drop of red above the drawer beside the sink. She dipped her finger in it and rubbed it with her thumb. She quickly dismissed it and opened the drawer. She looked down into the selection of knives and saw the blood soaked steel blade lying there amidst the sea of blades. She gasped suddenly and staggered back. She ran to Jack’s room, forcing the door open. She looked about but didn’t see him. Then she realised. Running to the door of her room she kicked it open. She stopped, looked to the left. She screamed and collapsed on the floor as she saw the twisted, cold, blood covered figure lying there surrounded by a crumpled sheet.

July 2^nd 1985…. 12:30 a.m.:

This was the beginning of the July storms that always came in the summer. You could never have a dry summer in Lakeside.

Jack was being moved to another asylum up state where it would be more secure. Jack had already made several escape attempts in the last month alone, so the judge had ordered an immediate transfer. A secure station wagon had been issued. Metal wiring all around the rear area of the car enclosed Jack who had two security members sat on either side. He sat there staring at the same spot, concentrating. One security member noticed Jack’s veins sticking out of his skin, he looked at his eyes, twitching like crazy.

"Hey! Driver! There’s something wrong with him," said the security member.

"What’s wrong?" asked the driver.

"I don’t know, something weird. Where’s the needle we were supposed to give him if he got like this?"

"In the box by your feet," replied the driver.

The security member on the other side of Jack continued looking out the window while the other opened the medical box and pulled out a needle. He removed the cover and positioned it for the injection. Suddenly, Jack’s arms, tied together with hand cuffs burst apart and hit the two security members in the face. The one to the left was knocked out cold, blood gushing from his broken nose, the other screaming in agony. Jack grabbed hold of the security man’s neck and pushed his head through the wire mesh in front which scratched the back of the driver’s head. He lost control of the vehicle, the car dived into a ditch at the side of the road. The car tumbled down the slope eventually hitting a tree trunk sending the driver through the windshield and eventually landing in a stream, cracking his head open.

July 3^rd 1985…. 11:54 pm:

"Hi, if you’ve just tuned in you’re listening to Lakeside Radio. The coolest Radio show for the coolest holiday resort. It’s coming up to twelve midnight and the anniversary of the Young killing. It hasn’t been long since the Brenner massacre of ’79, and now it’s the Young massacre of ’79. God it makes you wonder how this place became a holiday resort. Reminds me of that film Friday the 13^th, or something like that, ah there all the same. Anyway, here’s a song for all you horror addicts, "Don’t Fear the Reaper."

The song began to play, drowned out by the banging of the town’s blacksmith, working late into the night as he had a large order to fill. He stopped hammering and removed his gloves, wiping his forehead with his arm he was startled by a sudden flash of lightening followed by a rumble of thunder. Then the patter of rain sounded off the tin roof.

"God damn it! How the hell am I supposed to walk home in this weather?" shouted the man to himself.

He began to pace back and forth across the dirty shop floor. Suddenly the power failed.

"Oh for fu…." Muttered the man as he walked towards the fuse box.

He reached for the rusted handle, then grabbed hold and yanked hard. Almost breaking the damn thing off he opened the metal box mounted on the wall sharply. He brushed the cobwebs off the smoking components. Suddenly several sparks blasted from the dusty box and hit the blacksmith in the face. He yelled in anger and pain. Staggering into the centre of the shop floor. Leaning over with his head in his knees he heard a clang coming from the doorway. He stood up straight quickly, and turned his head to look at the open doorway. Nothing. He shrugged it off and set back to work. More lightening followed, forcing the blacksmith to pack it in for the night. He stepped back from the furnace. Another bolt of lightening, this time lighting up the doorway exposing the shape of a figure. The man looked up at the leaky roof.

"Great. Another god damn repair I have to pay out for!"

Another flash came but the figure was gone. The blacksmith looked at the doorway again.

"Must be my god damned imagination!" muttered the man.

He turned. A hand blasted from the darkness and wrapped itself around the man’s throat. It squeezed tighter and tighter. The man was turning blue, he couldn’t breathe. Suddenly the hand that was shrouded in darkness snapped the man’s neck sharply to the left. Just as quickly the hand released and disappeared back into the darkness. As the figure walked off into the night a clock on the wall turned 12:30.

"Well there you have it folks! It's now exactly 6 years since that psycho outcast Jack Young slaughtered his stepfather. He was reportedly found sliced and diced on the bed sheets. Well, if he was just a myth then we’re all safe, but if he’s still alive after being locked up in that insane asylum and has possibly escaped to wreak havoc in the quiet town of Lakeside, we’re all screwed! Well my little listeners, I bid you good morning, and have a great July 4^th," echoed the radio in the corner of the shop.

July 4^th 1985…. 9 a.m:

The sun penetrated the tree leaves and shone scattered patches of light onto the roads and holiday houses. The light breeze gave some relief to the dreadful heat which plagued the town of Lakeside every summer as well as the awful thunder storms which was accompanied by heavy showers of rain. The sun shimmered on the lake, as the sleepy townsfolk me-andered up and down the streets of town, amidst the maze of white houses and holiday homes. The only disturbance was the sound of a car, roaring up the main road towards the woods, packed full of teenagers, just fresh out of high school. Leaves swept up into the air by the passing of their car floated in the light breeze and warm air.

"Hey Danny! Slow down a little would ya!" shouted Melanie who was riding shotgun.

"Christ woman, calm down, we want to get there before the game starts," replied Danny.

"That’s all you men think about, football!" exclaimed Terri.

Danny swerved the car around the corner and excelerated up the road. Kyle and Kate were sat in the back of the car, heads out the back window, catching the glistening sun on their faces. Kate looked to the right of the road, as they roared past she caught a glimpse of a dark figure watching them which quickly disappeared into the undergrowth.

"Hey, Danny!" she shouted. "I saw someone in the woods out there."

"No you didn’t, if it was it was probably only the town psycho, comin’ to get you!"

"Shut up Danny!" shouted Kyle. "That isn’t funny!"

"God! Take a chill pill. Relax, look, we’re nearly there now," said Danny.

He drove the car sharply around the next corner to the left and skidded to a halt on the dirt driveway.

They jumped out of the car and stood in front of the wooden lodge, not best pleased.

"Now what is it they say, oh yeah, it’s rustic!" smirked Steve who had been silent all through the journey.

They all walked up to the door and went inside. Danny automatically went in search of the t.v. while Steve searched the cupboards for food.

"Hey! There’s no damn t.v!" shouted Danny from the living room.

"Thank god for that!" replied Melanie.

"Great! There’s no food either!" shouted Steve. "I’ll go down to the store and get some supplies, hey, give me the keys!"

Danny threw him the keys. Steve rushed out of the door and towards the car. He hopped in and quickly started the engine. As he reversed madly out of the driveway he turned on the radio, but he could receive nothing.

Steve reached the store only nearly being killed at least seven times in total along the winding road.

He dumped the two baskets of food on the counter and pulled out his wallet. The cashier checked through the items and rang up the total.

"That’ll be $37.59."

Steve looked shocked and opened his wallet, grudgingly he slammed the money on the counter and lifted the supplies off the counter. He turned and walked out the door and towards the back of the car. Balancing one bag on his knee, steadying it with his finger, he carefully opened the rear window. He put the food in the back and slammed the window down. He turned round sharply and was faced with a scruffy looking guy.

"Leave, get out of here, you’re all doomed!" he said.

Steve looked freaked and calmly stepped into the car. He quickly turned the key and roared off up the road.

The sun was beginning to sink, it was only 8:30, the game was over and the cabin was already in a mess.

"Hey, you know what we should do," said Terri. "We should skinny dip!"

"What! No way, I am not going to go out there and strip when there could be anyone watching us or something," exclaimed Kate.

"Aw, come on, I’m going," said Kyle.

"Yeah, come on Kate," added Danny.

"O.k. I’ll come, but if there’s some weirdo out there, I’m not going to be the one who has to report it or something."

They all leapt off their chairs and ran out the door. Slamming the door shut on the way out they ran off into the woods towards the lake. They were staying on the remote side of the lake, so there was no chance of anyone seeing them, or escape.

Everyone was in the lake, splashing each other, generally goofing off, but Kate was still on the side of the lake. She was looking over to the other side of the lake, she saw something. It seemed to be a figure, hiding beside a tree, watching them. She was just about to shout to the others when suddenly the figure was gone. She shrugged it off and dived in.

By the time they got back to the cabin it was past ten and the sun was gone, they could barely find their way back as Steve had forgotten the flashlight.

"Few! I thought we would never find this place again," said Danny.

Suddenly Steve stopped them.

"Hey! Wait a minute," he whispered. "Wasn’t the door closed when we left."

"Yeah," said Kyle.

"Kyle, stay here with the girls, me and Danny will check it out," said Steve.

They carefully walked closer to the wooden cabin.

"I’ll go in the front, you go in through the cellar," said Steve.

The pair split up and entered the cabin. Steve stood in the doorway and looked about the darkened room. He reached for the light switch. Click. Nothing. He switched it again and again, but nothing. He sighed and carefully walked into the room. While Steve checked out the cabin, Danny crept about in the cellar. He reached for the light, he pulled the cord, but also nothing. He saw something move, he dashed over to the corner and leapt into the darkness. He crashed into a pile of junk, which fell clattering to the floor, a rat ran out and scuttled into the mass of old newspapers opposite Danny. He noticed the fuse box just above his head. He stood up and opened it. Danny flicked a switch and the power suddenly came on.

Steve was startled, but then he sighed and walked back over to the front door. He stepped out onto the porch and shouted to the others.

"Its alright, you can come in now!"

They ran into the cabin and slammed the door behind them. They all huddled on the sofa desperately trying to keep warm when they heard a bang, which was closely followed by the clumsy footing of Danny.

"Hey guys. Check out what I found in the cellar," he said.

"Jesus Christ! You scared the sh*t out of us!" shouted Kate.

"Alright, calm down," replied Danny.

He walked over to the armchair opposite the sofa and dropped the dirty, torn box on the table in front of his friends.

"What is it?" asked Kyle.

"Old newspapers from the area, found 'em in the cellar, under a bunch of other junk, it's a gold mine of stuff down there!" said Danny as he opened the flaps of the box.

Danny reached into the damp box and lifted out the first newspaper, which was on the top of the pile. Carefully he unfolded it and laid it down of the table. He began to read it out.

"Tuesday, July 1973. Mayor Johnson elected for town council."

"Friday, August 1973. Mayor helps raise money for orphanage."

"Monday, February 1974. Mayor Johnson shot outside town hall."

"Sunday, February 1974. Johnson's son attends funeral."

"There's a bigger gap here. 'Thursday, September 1976. Mayors son Jack sent to correctional institution following assault inquirery."

"Monday, May 1977. Local boy announced as suicidal following attempt at facility."

"Saturday, January 1978. Local boy, Jack released from correctional facility."

"Tuesday, November 1978. Local mother to wed local ex-sheriff."

"Thursday, April 1979. Local runaway connected to robbery. Proven innocent."

"Friday, July 1979. Local man slaughtered. Jack missing.

"Christ! What a screwed up town this is!" said Steve.

"Yeah," said Terri.

"There's a whole bunch of other stuff here also, look," said Danny.

He lifted out a small tin box, he opened it revealing some torn photos. He looked at their backs, slowly progressing through the set.

"Hey. These are the photos of that kid's family," said Danny.

He passed them around. Then, he noticed a small scrapbook. He opened it. Astonished he turned it around to face his friends. Newspaper cutting were stuck to the pages, they all seemed the same. "Man slain on roadside. Bob Young, uncle to Jack, dead. Local couple slaughtered in car at overlook point. Missing: Small boy presumed dead." This murder list continued across the double page spread, as the body count increased. Their hearts pounded with fear.

"Man. This place is just a little too freaky for my liking," said Steve.

"Don't worry, most of these murders were never confirmed to be connected completely, I heard about it on t.v." said Danny.

"Oh yeah, what show?" asked Terri.

"America's most deadly towns. Why?" replied Danny.

Terri sighed, but not with relief.

It was now midnight and the weather was worsening. Beginning with a light shower, a massive thunderstorm started. Crashes of thunder pummeled the sky as the rain flooded the roads of the quiet town.

"God damn! It's really coming down out there," said Kyle as he looked out the window.

Just as he was about to come away from the window his attention was caught by a blurred figure running through the woods opposite, carrying something in his hand. Kyle dismissed it as tiredness and drew the curtains. He turned to face his friends.

"I think I'm seeing things now."

"What?" asked Kate.

"Ah nothing. Doesn't matter," replied Kyle.

"Hey, hey, hey! Look what I found!" shouted Steven as he walked through the door.

Holding a crate of beer in his hands, he dumped it down on the floor and threw one to Kyle and Danny.

"I'll have one of those too," said Kate.

"Yeah, me too," added Melanie.

"What about you Terri?" asked Steven.

"No, I, I don't want any," she said.

"Aw. Come on, just one. It won't hurt you."

"I said no!" shouted Terri.

"God. What's wrong with you. Church goer or something?" said Steven.

"Shut up!" shouted Terri.

She leapt off her seat and ran outside.

"Way to go Steven!" shouted Melanie. She jumped up off her seat and began to run after Terri.

"Don't bother! If she wants to get lost, let her. She needs some time to cool off or something," said Danny.

Melanie closed the door and came back to the sofa. As she picked up her beer Kyle turned on the old, black and white television they salvaged from the cellar. The screen flickered. Unfortunately no picture appeared. Kyle walked up to it and pulled back his arm, smacking it on the side just made it go off again.

"God damn it! This place is a right sh*t-hole, nothing works!" shouted Kyle.

"Hey, you know what movie this reminds me of?" said Kate.

"What?" asked Steven.

"Friday the 13^th. You know. The one-in-the camp. Camp blood."

"Thanks. I feel a hell of a lot safer now Kate," said Steven.

10:37p.m:

The weather was worsening. Rain pelted the dusty earth and looming trees, which arced over the winding roads. The wind blew so violently that it was near impossible to walk. Thunder pummeled the dark, menacing sky as streaks of lightening stabbed the earth.

It was pitch black. The town cemetery keeper was drunk as usual. Stumbling over graves and rocks, the old man managed to reach his car. Fumbling for the keys he dropped them on the ground. He slowly bent down to pick them up. His back twinged. A sudden snap of a twig alerted him to the fact that he was not alone. The old man twisted his frail body round to look behind. Nothing. Just graves. He squinted his eyes, scanning the distance. Then, a sudden bolt of lightening lit up the sky for a second, revealing a figure, standing, staring into him. The old man gasped and scrambled into his car. Jamming the keys into the ignition he started the engine. Revving hard the wheels skidded in the mud. Eventually after frantically jamming the accelerator the car screeched off at such a pace it would wake the dead.

As the old man twisted his mud splattered car through the winding roads and rows of trees. His breathing was erratic as he blinked wildly with fear, he was nearing the exit of the town. He could just barely make out a dark mass at the end of the road. As he got nearer, he could make out the shape of a fallen tree, blocking the entire road. He screamed as he slammed his foot down on the brake pedal. Swerving the car to the left of the road, it leapt off the side of the road, into a ditch then finally crashing into a dead tree. The old man smashed his face into the steering wheel. A large gash opened up as he lifted his head, blood trickled down his face, blinding him.

He scrambled for the door handle. Shakily he opened it and fell out onto the ground. He rubbed his bloodied eyes with his muddy hands.

"Help! Help! I…I can't see! Somebody! Somebody please help me!" he shouted.

Suddenly, a slam. It sounded like the trunk opening. Several footsteps then lead right up to the old man. He looked up and just managed to see a smudged figure. An arm raised. He could barely make out the gleam of the cleaver that plunged towards him. The blood trickled down through the mud and into the river as rain striked the dead man's blood soaked skin, and as the lightening reflected off his soulless eyes.

10:41p.m.

Terri was staggering through the woods as the rain soaked her drenched body further. Her tears smeared her vision. She stumbled onto the road and tripped. Falling onto the cracked road she regained her senses. She slowly looked up, shielding her eyes from the relentless rain and wind. The old man's body, hung by the neck from the branch of a tree above her. A drop of blood hit her on the face.

10:54p.m.

It was getting late. Steven was worried about Terri and was all for going out to search for her, but Kyle convinced him that she would be all right. It was only Steven, Kyle and Kate who were left downstairs. Danny and Melanie had long since 'retired' for the night.

"Well at least someone's having fun," said Kate.

"Well, we could be too you know," said Kyle whilst using his sleaziest face.

Kate smiled and shoved a pillow in his face. Steven laughed and stared at the blank screen of the television set.

"I'm going to get drunk," he said.

"Good idea. Especially with your face and all!" joked Kyle.

Kate laughed as Steven scratched his face while he picked up a six pack. Cracking one-open he sucked it down in record time.

"Well, now I'm at least a sixth of the way there now!" slurred Steven.

"I think your there already man!" remarked Kyle.

"Shh…shut up man! I can take my liquor!" shouted Steven.

"Oh yeah. Well how about the time at the town carnival when you challenged Danny to a drinkathon and you went under the table in two shots of whiskey," said Kate.

"Yeah man. My baby sister could drink more than that while standing on her head!" said Kyle.

"Dude. Your baby sister is one year younger than you," replied Steven.

Meanwhile, Danny was exiting his room. He closed the door slowly as he wiped the sweat from his face. He then lifted his arm and sniffed.

"Jesus!" he muttered.

He walked over to the bathroom and reached for the handle. Opening the door he switched on the light and walked over to the shower and twisted the handle. A steady flow of hot water poured from the nozzle, steaming up the room. He stepped in and ran his fingers through his hair. Then, he heard the turning of the door- knob. He turned his head and could make out the shimmering glow from the door. The light went off.

"Hey! What's going on? Hey. Jerk offs! This isn't funny any more!"

Smash! A fist came through the glass panel of the shower. The shards of glass showered his feet. Before he could scream, the ragged fist crushed his throat. Still barely alive, Danny reached for the shadowy figure's face with his shaking hand. But before he could reach, the man twisted Danny's neck to the right and dropped his body in the shower in a shambled heap.

Meanwhile, Melanie was still in the bedroom, combing her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror. She smiled and stood up. She turned to face the door. Walking over to it she little realised what was about to greet her. Closing the door she looked over to the bathroom door. She then noticed a dark red stain at the base of the door. She looked worried as she carefully opened the door. It was heavy. She just managed to open it. Melanie slowly stepped into the darkened, steamy room. She glanced over to see the smashed glass panel of the shower. She then saw that she was standing in a smear of blood, which soaked the carpet. She slid her feet back as she turned to face the door. Before she could reach for the handle, it swung back slowly, revealing Danny's mutilated body nailed to the door. Blood was smeared all over the wood of the door. His body sliced from throat to stomach, his eyes were locked on her horrified face. She shook with fear, she tried to scream, but she was so scared. It was then that the man leapt out of the linen closet and dug a screwdriver into her skull, quickly followed by a trowel to her throat. The blood splattered the hanging corpse. Her eyes rolled back as she was thrown down onto the floor.

11:13p.m.

The storm was holding up. The crashing thunder and blade-like lightening pierced the sky like a knife through soft flesh. The relentlessly violent rain lashed at the windows as it began to seep in through the porch.

"I'm going to drain my lizard," said Steven.

"It's about time. What are you man. A camel?!" exclaimed Kyle.

Steven gave him the finger as he stepped into the downstairs bathroom, which was directly below that of the upstairs. As he was washing up he noticed a trickle winding its way down the mirror in front of him. He glanced at it but thought he was too drunk to say that it was definitely blood.

He staggered out of the bathroom. On his way back into the living room, he looked out the window.

"Man! It's really coming down out there!" he mumbled. "I'm going out to search for Terri, she must be scared out of her mind."

"Did you say something?" asked Kyle.

Steven, flapped his hand at Kyle and Kate who were sat on the sofa in front of the fire. He pulled the door open and stepped outside into the cold night. The door slammed behind him.

"Sh*t!" he shouted. "Give me a freakin' heart attack why don't ya!"

He sighed and proceeded off into the dark, deadly woods. His blurred vision led him off path into the deepest part of the woods. Steven stumbled through the leafy ground. Tripping and crashing into trees. As he clambered his way through the low branches and dark shadows. He heard something. Steven flipped round. His body wavered as he brushed his hair from his eyes. The shadows hung from the darkness, crawling towards him like snakes.

"Man I'm drunk!" he slurred.

He eventually found his way onto the road. He looked to his left. A glowing light was getting closer and closer. He strained his eyes.

"Sh*t!" he leapt into the ditch beside the road as a car narrowly missed him.

He gasped as he picked himself up off the ground. He looked down the dark road. Then, he heard a snap behind him. He quivered slightly as he turned round. He was looking directly into a man's chest. He lifted his head to see a hatchet, clasped tightly by the man's fist. It came crashing down, landing into his neck, sending his blood splattering over the dark man's body. Landing in a heap in the blood soaked mud ditch, the man walked away.

11:42p.m.

Kate looked at her watch as she stretched her arms. She yawned.

"Man, it's getting late, I should probably turn in," she said.

Kyle was already asleep, slouched over the arm of the sofa. Kate looked over at him and smiled.

She stood up and walked into the kitchen. Wondering over to the refrigerator she stretched her back. She grabbed hold of the cold, steel handle, sharply pulling on it, the door swung open letting a cool soft breeze surround her ankles. Food was scattered around everywhere, empty beer bottles and cartons of milk lay in a mess. Kate rummaged around amongst the filth and found a Pepsi.

"At last, something without legs of its own!" she muttered to herself. "Now. Where is that bottle opener?"

Kate twisted round, puzzled to the whereabouts of the bottle opener. She began to randomly open drawers until she eventually found it.

"Ah-ha!"

Clutching it tightly, Kate wedged the point under the bottle cap. A large fizz and a spurt of froth dribbled down her hand.

"God damn it! Bet those bas*ards shook this up!"

Holding the bottle with the other hand, she shook cola from the right. Wiping the remainder on her jeans, she threw the bottle cap into the sink. Placing the bottle opener on the counter she turned for the living room. Suddenly, the lights went out.

"Oh great! Another one of their 'hilarious' jokes!" she mumbled.

Sighing as she walked into the living room, a flash of lightening lit up the room. At that moment she captured a glance at a figure, holding an axe high in the air, just above Kyle's head.

She screamed. The figure's head shot up like a bullet. Another flash gave light to the mask, a theatre mask, which originally lay on the mantle. The scream awoke Kyle who glanced upwards to see the hanging axe, suspended above his head. He jumped onto the floor, landing awkwardly just before the killer buried the blade of the axe into the sofa. Kyle grasped his ankle and groaned. He twisted his head sharply, catching sight of the killer leaping over the sofa. A trickle of sweat fell down his brow as a glimmer of lightening struck his face, the killer's axe swung down, but Kyle moved, but not quick enough. The blade swung clean into his shoulder. A tidal wave of immense pain struck him like a flash. His right hand trembled as blood stained his fingers. Moving slightly towards a screaming, terrified Kate, the killer hoisted Kyle into the air. The killer twisted his head slightly with mild curiosity and as a strobe of lightening blasted the room full with luminous light. The killer flung the axe back-wards over his left shoulder sending Kyle, half-conscious, crashing into the corner lamp. Lying like a disregarded rag, Kyle struggled for breath. Without hesitation, the killer advanced on Kate. Her eyes wide open and with bullet like pupils she staggered back into the kitchen. She found herself stuck in a corner. A glance revealed the man, luminated in the doorway. Her left hand wavered and brushed up against the knife rack, she looked down, and grabbed the nearest. Bursting up, the knife gave light to an empty doorway.

Quick and short breathed Kate stepped slowly to her right, holding the knife up by her face. Darting across the room, her eyes fixed like blade-like fascination on the porch door. Open as it was, the room was only closed off to the cold, wet outside by a flimsy net door. Carefully moving past it, the moon light shone through. She stepped back slowly, clasping the knife with both hands, she was transfixed on the door. The tension was only broken by a piercing scraping sound….then an axe tearing through the netting, which bit the flooring. Smeared with blood, the buried axe gave rise to the killer who ripped the door off its hinges, thrusting it into the garden. She squealed with fear and fell backwards. The dark figure lunged forwards, swinging his arm towards her. The killer took another lunge, but his overgrown, black, dirty nails just scraped her face. The figure stood upright again. Kate feared for her life, then crashing through the doorway, Kyle pounced onto the dark figure, knocking him to the floor. Kate screamed, she flipped herself round and scuttled her way frantically to the front door while Kyle battled the killer.

The killer stood and glanced down the corridor to see Kate pulling on the door handle, whaling and crying. The man then looked to Kyle who was lying on the floor semi-conscious and attempting to grasp the man's leg. The killer merely kicked Kyle's head, twisting his neck violently to the side leaving a mangled body lying on the blood-smeared floor.

Kate gave up on the door and turned to face the stairs, in the background she saw the killer confronting her in the kitchen doorway. She gasped and made a run for the stairs. The killer then shot into action and bashed his arm through the railing to grab at Kate's ankle. Gripping tightly he twisted her ankle, sending her crashing down on the wooden steps. She struggled and eventually broke free and pulled herself up the remaining steps to the landing. She gripped the post at the top of the stairs and saw the killer slowly stepping towards her until he was towering over her, dressed in dark overalls, only the mask was highlighted in the shaft of moonlight coming from the bedroom to the left of her. An arm came falling down to her, clasping it's grip around her neck, choking her, then pulling her up to the ceiling and throwing her weakened body through the bathroom door.

Kate struggled to focus, but what she saw was a grisly work of art. Danny and Melanie's bodies were strung to the ceiling, sliced and cut open. It was only then that she realised that she was lying in a shower of blood. Screaming as she struggle to her feet she slipped out of the bathroom and ran for the main bedroom, locking the door fast on the way in. She cowered in the corner as she looked on hopelessly at the brass door-handle, poorly illuminated by the weak lamp on the dresser. It twisted back and forth. Then again more violently, then the killer began crashing into the door, but it was only when he struck the axe into the handle that the door shot open in a flash of lightening.

The silhouetted killer stood wildly in the soft, diffused light, glancing around the room. He saw her quivering figure and rushed over in a flash of violent pain. Kate quickly dived out of the way as the swinging axe smashed the grimy window above. She ran blindly and furiously out of the room, but knocked into the railing of the stairs, eaten through with woodworm, it sent her falling down onto the sharp, wooden stairs.

Flat on her back Kate looked nervously at the bedroom door past the broken railing. Gasping for air. Her eyes twitched frantically. Her heart racing. Breaths short and stunted. Sweat fell from her brow into her eyes, stinging sharply. The moment seemed to go on for eternity. The tension tore and ripped at her until she could no longer bear it. Suddenly, the tension was ripped apart by the sound of the clock on the adjacent wall, 12:30. Bursting from the jagged steps she burst up to the door, and opened it.