Pamela's head talks

She jerked her hand away in terror.

But it was just a box, a gray cardboard box nestled in the hollow of the tree.

She removed the box, which was surprisingly heavy, and set it on the ground. Then she lifted the lid.

She started to scream.

So did the severed head inside the box.

   Friday the 13th: Mother's Day, chapter 20

Carly dropped the box. Inside the box the head kept screaming. The voice was incredibly loud, high pitched and harsh, like grinding gears. The box was jiggling from side to side as the head moved inside it.

"She's here! She's here! She's here!"

From where she was standing, Carly could barely see into the box, could only see the tight curls of iron-gray hair on top of the woman's head. She had already gotten a close up look at the rotted old flesh, the dark eyes burning with anger. Somehow, though, seeing that little bit of hair was even worse.

Carly backed up a few steps. But it was as if her entire body were a funny bone that had been whacked with a rubber hammer. She felt totally and unpleasantly light; she couldn't move.

Now she heard the sound of someone thrashing loudly back toward the clearing. She backed away from the sound.

"She's here, you fool!" the head shouted. The box shook as the head struggled to scream even louder. "Kill her! Kill her!"

The murderer emerged from the darkness, shotgun in hand. His white mask caught and reflected the thin beams of moonlight that filtered down through the trees.

Carly took another step back, hit a rock, and stumbled. She would have fallen but she smacked up against a tree trunk. She stood there, shaking.

"Kill her! Kill her!"

The man in the mask was staring straight at her. Now he was starting toward her. As he passed the cardboard box, the head shrieked, "Pick me up! Pick me up!"

Dutifully, the bloody killer bent down over the cardboard box and lifted the old woman's head by the iron gray hair. The head's angry eyes fixated hypnotically on Carly's. Now the killer came forward, carrying the severed head like a lamp.

Carly pressed back against the tree. The head of the old woman eyed her. It's rotten mouth twisted into a sneer. "Look at her, the filthy little slut is too scared to run."

The killer held the head toward Carly. Carly cringed. The head writhed as it spat at Carly with all its might.

Carly made no move to wipe her face. She couldn't. Her hands were frozen at her sides. She couldn't speak either. Her mouth was bone dry.

"That's what you get," said the head, "for what you did to my son. All you dirty minded rotten little tramps!"

The eyes of Jason Voorhees' mother glared at her a moment longer, then glanced up at the hunter.

"Kill her." the head ordered.

   Friday the 13th: Mother's Day, chapter 21