Theatrical Muse Catch-Up

What is my greatest strength? That’s easy – it has to do with two things. The first being that I’m virtually immortal – no one has ever managed to destroy me completely, to kill me utterly, and I don’t think anybody ever will. Something keeps me rising from the dead to kill and kill again. My body, though deformed and scarred, is forever strong and ready. I resist every attempt to get rid of me, coming back even from the depths of hell to exact my revenge.

The second part of my strength has to do with Mommy. My memories of her, my love for her, and the echoes of her voice in my mind. She is not with me in body, but her essence, her ghost if you like to see it that way, is what drives me. I take lives in her name, avenging her death, and I’m sure that beyond the grave she smiles upon me.

Words: 157

Betrayal. How well I know its bitterness. Those counselors at Camp Crystal Lake whose only concern was their filthy sexual pleasure betrayed the trust their superiors had in them to mind the children, to make sure their young charges were safe. They betrayed me by losing themselves in their lust and letting me die.

The children who pushed me in the lake also betrayed me – heartless bullies who full well knew the hurt they caused by mocking my deformed face, yet they did it anyway. My Daddy betrayed Mommy and me by leaving us. The people who come to Crystal Lake now and do all their dirty rutting are betraying all decency, betraying the memory of my beautiful Mommy. It is for this that I kill them – it is for Mommy that I take their worthless lives.

My precious Mommy is the only one who could never betrayed me. After I died the first time she killed to avenge me, killed in my memory. It is for her that I rose again, for her that I continue to kill.

Words: 179

I’ve never said an angry word I wished to take back. These days I can’t even talk without the help of these journals, so how could I ever say an angry word to anyone? I certainly don’t regret any of the angry thoughts that I’ve had these days, I must admit. They were all thoughts of righteous rage, urges to kill those who immerse themselves in filthy lust, who offend my darling Mommy.

If there was an angry thought, word or deed I wish that had never crossed my mind, that had never existed even for a moment, it would have to do with when I was a very small child and didn’t know any better. Those feelings of frustration that all small children have when they are chided or disciplined by their parents. Any feelings, even briefly, of being angry at Mommy for saying no to the little me, I wish I could take back. I wish I had never felt or thought them. Because my Mommy is perfect and precious, and I miss her.

Words: 176

To look at me, you wouldn’t think that I’d be the sort of person to give gifts to anyone. Unless it was the gift of a quick death to those who are unworthy to be alive in the first place. But there was a time when I gave a very special present to someone I loved very dearly. It was a simple thing, something that cost absolutely nothing at all. But it brought her so much joy, and thinking about it almost makes me happy. Almost.

It was when I was a tiny child – I can’t remember exactly how old I was. I was with my darling Mommy and we were walking somewhere very beautiful where there were lots of flowers. I remember picking the prettiest one and bringing it back to Mommy. She was so happy when I gave it to her – her eyes were shining, It was beautiful, like her, and I felt so joyful and proud to see my Mommy so happy.

Words: 165

There have been so many mysterious occurrences in my life, so many things that have happened to me that I can’t explain, that it’s impossible to even begin to list them all. For example, there’s the matter of however often people try to destroy me, I can’t seem to be killed. I get scarred and wounded, but I always end up coming back to take more lives. Maybe it has something to do with Mommy – maybe she’s protecting me from beyond death somewhere.

Then there are the mysterious beings I sometimes come across – supernatural creatures like myself. Angels, demons, ghosts, freaks of nature – I can’t explain where they come from and why they seem to be drawn to or interested in me.

And then there’s Mommy. I know she’s dead, that I can’t touch her or bring her back, but I still feel her presence with me. Maybe her soul watches over me like a guardian angel. I know that her voice inside of my mind is telling me to kill.

There are so many more things I could tell you, but for the moment I’m sick of answering questions. Where’s my machete?

Words: 193

Muse: Jason Voorhees
Fandom: Friday the 13th