“Camp Crystal Lake: A Trip Advisor Review,” by David Elliott

Oct 31st, 2018 | By | Category: Fake Nonfiction, Prose

Avoid this place.

The amenities, the cleanliness, the customer service, everything leaves a lot to be desired, and I certainly wouldn’t take my family here ever again. The only reason I gave this place even one star was due to the peace of mind provided by the ever-vigilant security guard, Mr Voorhees, who would stroll through the woods, every single night, with his protective white hockey mask and machete.

It was very comforting to know he was out there, and I for one, slept like a baby.

Or at least I would have done if the beds hadn’t been so uncomfortable.

Lumpy mattresses, creaking bedframes, it was enough to drive you insane. Also, on our first night, I rolled the corpse of the previous occupant off my bed, only to find that there was no complimentary mint on the pillow.


By the way, is it too much to ask for the maid service to remove the corpses of previous guests before new guests arrive? I really shouldn’t have to dispose of the carcass myself. Luckily, that nice Mr Voorhees let himself in, and dragged the body out by its hair, before I could even offer him a tip.

This brings me neatly on to the state of the communal bathrooms. As I entered one of the shower cubicles, took my clothes off, and started to wash away the pool of blood and gristle on the floor, I was utterly repulsed to find a knot of hair in the plug hole!

What a disgrace!

And as for the meals? Well, don’t even get me started. I thought it was strange when my lasagne was served with a recently decapitated human head on top of it, but this was clearly just a pathetic attempt by the caterers to cover up the driest, most rubbery piece of lasagne I’ve ever had the misfortune to put into my mouth.

All of this, however, was eclipsed by my complete and utter disgust at the pollution in the lake.

My children had spent several weeks being incredibly excited at the prospect of finding the remains of “The Disfigured Boy Who Drowned” (as advertised in the “Fun Activities” section of your brochure). Instead of this, they were unable to get anywhere near the spot of this famous accident, due to a never-ending stream of litter, plastic bottles, and severed limbs.

Now, I understand that people may lose the occasional limb while swimming, but is there any need for the litter and plastic? The answer is NO!

Once again, the only positive aspect of this experience was the sight of that nice Mr Voorhees, keeping a close eye on the children, while anxiously fingering his chainsaw. He was clearly going out of his way to make sure they had a safe and pleasant experience, which, by the way, is more than I can say for the rest of the staff. Most of them had the nerve to simply lie around in their beds during our stay, covered in blood, with their faces contorted in a rigour of agony.

In conclusion, do NOT choose Camp Crystal Lake for your summer vacation. I can only hope that the wonderful Mr Voorhees (or “Jason”, as I came to know him from his name badge) can find alternative employment, somewhere where his caring and considerate approach will be truly appreciated. A pre-school, for instance. Or a hospital, or nursing home.


David Elliott is a freelance writer, born in Liverpool in 1981. After discovering that exposure to real life was bringing him out in a rash, he started to apply the soothing cream of fiction, silly fiction, seven times a day, both internally and externally. This led to a worrying addiction, and another rash, for which he is now seeking help. His life is an open book (although not a very good one), and his work has been published by a wide variety of people, places, and things. You can find him desperately trying to make contact with other human beings at @DavidEllioops.

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