The legend of Henry Slasher is one told by many counselors.

Once a peaceful summer morning,

the campers arrived, hooting and hollering as they left the bus.

The counselors were too young for their job to care.

All they were out there for was for some alone time every now and again.

Just a generic set of horny teens, y'know?

Maybe there might've been a few who actually cared, but that was about it.

Then there was Dana and Eric.

The two ran off during their duty one day.

But they didn't go alone.

Someone noticed.

And that someone followed.

Deep into the woods the two went, with their unnoticed stalker in toe.

At the side of the lake they sat, getting up to stupid activities by the lakeside.

The stalker didn't follow to watch. He followed for the tactical advantage.

He drew a knife from a sheath on his belt.

And next came their untimely end.

There was a scream that could be heard for miles.

A bloodcurling, horrific scream.

Two of them.

By the time the stalker was finished the blood was leaking into the water.

He left them sitting on the dock, leaning on each other's shoulder.

The holes in their body still allowing sun rays to spots which their shadow covered.

Their bodies weren't found until the campers were gone.

The killer was nicknamed Henry Slasher.

Named after the honored docks.

And the very thing he did.