Why does Jason hide bodies?

OCT 31 1978 wrote:Because it’s funnier when a body pops up out of nowhere to frighten people who don’t know everyone is dead yet.
Lol

Ivan1987 wrote:I was never truly wondering about it, but now that you mention it, it seems a bit odd to me. Looks more like a Michael Myers style to me. Not that any of the two would ever won a Nobel Prize for nuclear physics, but you gotta admit that Jason comes out as the one, who is more dumber.

ThePunisher wrote:I was thinking he might hide the bodies in the short term to cover up his presence at least in the short term, then when he thins the herd enough, wipe out who's left without added interference.

Jason Voorhees wrote:

ThePunisher wrote:I was thinking he might hide the bodies in the short term to cover up his presence at least in the short term, then when he thins the herd enough, wipe out who's left without added interference.

That's also a very reasonable explanation of why Jason has those placement of the bodies in different locations.

ZroSkeerd wrote:I've always figured that Jason hides the bodies because he watched his mother do it.

I don't know if I'm in the minority, but I'm in the camp that believes Jason didn't actually drown, but because of his mental state he ran off into the woods, which is why they never found a body when they dragged the lake.

In Part 2 they posit that Jason saw his mother get beheaded, and he kills out of revenge for his mother - at least at first. As far as I know this has never been disputed. So if he saw her beheaded, he probably also saw her killing the other counselors and hiding their bodies.

I know the theory is pretty thin, but it's what I always assumed.

PG.45-48 wrote:"Jason’s memories of what happened on the night he drowned were very dim. He remembered being frightened as his legs cramped up and he started to slip beneath the surface of the lake. He had a vague memory of struggling to stay afloat—of water rushing down his throat and filling up his lungs. He could recall the terrifying sensation of sinking down into the murky lake. The fading light. The roaring in his ears. And then... nothing. At some point, consciousness returned but he had no way of telling how much time had passed. He came to on the shore, covered from head to toe with mud and slime. Apparently, having dragged himself out of the lake somehow, he coughed up water for a very long time. He remembered laying in the bushes and retching, vomiting up slimy worms and maggots as his body fought its way back to life. It never occurred to him to wonder what it was that made him different from the others. Why they shrank from him as rabbits shrank from snakes. He never asked himself why he was always healthy. Why the slight injuries of childhood had always healed so quickly. He had never broken any bones. So no one ever had the opportunity to notice the supernatural way his body could repair itself. Pamela Voorhees never questioned it. Just as she never questioned his peculiar silence. A mother loves her child. She was simply grateful for having been blessed with a healthy little boy. Like father, like son. It did not occur to Jason Voorhees to wonder just how long he had been underwater. He merely dragged himself deeper into the woods. Some primitive urge driving him to find a hole somewhere that he could crawl into—a dark place where he could rest and heal and wait until he could think of what to do After a while, he returned back to the camp. His simple mind telling him that perhaps it was what he was supposed to do. Only there was no longer anybody there. The season had ended and the camp was closed. He broke into several of the cabins and found some cans of food and some old clothes for himself. In the process, he happened to catch sight of himself in a mirror and he recoiled in horror from the image that confronted him. He had been at the bottom of the lake for much longer than he realized. His flesh was trying to regenerate and heal itself but decomposition had set in. The worms had eaten at his face. He fled into the woods, terrified of his own reflection. After a while, he found a sack and cut some holes in it then put it over his head and tied it down around his neck so that he wouldn’t have to see the grotesque thing he had become if he saw his reflection in the lake. He had no idea what to do or where to go. He wondered why his mother didn’t come for him. He was afraid to leave the vicinity of the lake, for that was where he’d seen her last and he didn’t want to miss her if she came looking for him. He didn’t want to get in trouble. He lived like an animal—hiding in the woods, avoiding people, killing small creatures for food. He was vaguely aware of time passing though his days became an endless succession of wandering in the woods and foraging. He was aware of feeling cold as winter came. He took shelter in the cabins at the camp and huddled before fires he built inside the hearths. He had learned to make fires in camp, though several times he did it wrong let the flames get out of control, burning down a couple of the cabins before he got the hang ofit. On occasion, a policeman would drive by and see smoke curling from the chimney of a cabin that was supposed to be locked up for the winter. He would stop to investigate but Jason always ran back into the woods whenever anybody came. He was waiting for his mother and he did not want to get in trouble. He knew she would be very angry. And then one day, his mother had returned. Some people had come to open up the camp again and he had run off into the woods, hiding from them and watching as they rebuilt the place. Years had passed and he was now full grown though still with the mind of a small child. But whatever vestige of sanity might have been left in that child-like brain had been driven out by the hardships he had suffered and by the sight of his Mother, mad with grief, embarking upon her bloody murder spree. He had been afraid because she had seemed so angry. He had hidden in the woods and watched on that fateful night when Pamela Voorhees had unleashed her vengeance on those whom she blamed for her son’s death. She had killed them all except one girl and Jason had watched her struggle with the last survivor: Alice. He had seen that awful moment when the girl had picked up the machete his mother had dropped and swung it with a savage desperation. He would never forget the sight of his mother’s decapitated body falling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The stump of her neck spouting arcs of bright red blood. Her head falling to the ground like a ripe melon, rolling several feet and then stopping. The eyelashes still fluttering as it lay upon the ground. When the girl had pushed off from the shore in the canoe, he had hesitantly crept out of hiding and approached his mother’s body. He had stared down at it uncomprehendingly at the vivid red of her blood soaking into the ground, at the raw torn flesh and the white bone where the machete had chopped completely through the neck like an axe through a small sapling. He had knelt down and picked up his mother’s severed head, holding it tenderly so that the sightless, deaf glazed eyes looked up at him. He had stared out into the darkness of the lake, looking in the direction where the girl who had done this to his mother had gone. And whatever fragile links his tortured mind still had with reality had snapped like the neck bones of little forest creatures that he caught and killed for his survival."

Page 62 wrote:Jason would never forget, just like he could never die. He could never forget the sight of his frenzied mother, driven insane with grief, murdering to avenge her son, whom she thought dead. He could not forget the vision of her decapitated head, eyes fluttering, blood spouting, mouth open in a soundless scream... It all centered around the place he knew as Camp Crystal Lake. Camp Blood. The blood that could never wash away the horror, no matter how much of it was shed. Jason glanced down at the thick slime coating the machete. Red blood, like his mother's, bright and slick, the scarlet fluid of life, precious, beautiful...

Jason Voorhees wrote:

ZroSkeerd wrote:I've always figured that Jason hides the bodies because he watched his mother do it.

I don't know if I'm in the minority, but I'm in the camp that believes Jason didn't actually drown, but because of his mental state he ran off into the woods, which is why they never found a body when they dragged the lake.

In Part 2 they posit that Jason saw his mother get beheaded, and he kills out of revenge for his mother - at least at first. As far as I know this has never been disputed. So if he saw her beheaded, he probably also saw her killing the other counselors and hiding their bodies.

I know the theory is pretty thin, but it's what I always assumed.

The Part 2 Novelization basically sums it up...

PG.45-48 wrote:"Jason’s memories of what happened on the night he drowned were very dim. He remembered being frightened as his legs cramped up and he started to slip beneath the surface of the lake. He had a vague memory of struggling to stay afloat—of water rushing down his throat and filling up his lungs. He could recall the terrifying sensation of sinking down into the murky lake. The fading light. The roaring in his ears. And then... nothing. At some point, consciousness returned but he had no way of telling how much time had passed. He came to on the shore, covered from head to toe with mud and slime. Apparently, having dragged himself out of the lake somehow, he coughed up water for a very long time. He remembered laying in the bushes and retching, vomiting up slimy worms and maggots as his body fought its way back to life. It never occurred to him to wonder what it was that made him different from the others. Why they shrank from him as rabbits shrank from snakes. He never asked himself why he was always healthy. Why the slight injuries of childhood had always healed so quickly. He had never broken any bones. So no one ever had the opportunity to notice the supernatural way his body could repair itself. Pamela Voorhees never questioned it. Just as she never questioned his peculiar silence. A mother loves her child. She was simply grateful for having been blessed with a healthy little boy. Like father, like son. It did not occur to Jason Voorhees to wonder just how long he had been underwater. He merely dragged himself deeper into the woods. Some primitive urge driving him to find a hole somewhere that he could crawl into—a dark place where he could rest and heal and wait until he could think of what to do After a while, he returned back to the camp. His simple mind telling him that perhaps it was what he was supposed to do. Only there was no longer anybody there. The season had ended and the camp was closed. He broke into several of the cabins and found some cans of food and some old clothes for himself. In the process, he happened to catch sight of himself in a mirror and he recoiled in horror from the image that confronted him. He had been at the bottom of the lake for much longer than he realized. His flesh was trying to regenerate and heal itself but decomposition had set in. The worms had eaten at his face. He fled into the woods, terrified of his own reflection. After a while, he found a sack and cut some holes in it then put it over his head and tied it down around his neck so that he wouldn’t have to see the grotesque thing he had become if he saw his reflection in the lake. He had no idea what to do or where to go. He wondered why his mother didn’t come for him. He was afraid to leave the vicinity of the lake, for that was where he’d seen her last and he didn’t want to miss her if she came looking for him. He didn’t want to get in trouble. He lived like an animal—hiding in the woods, avoiding people, killing small creatures for food. He was vaguely aware of time passing though his days became an endless succession of wandering in the woods and foraging. He was aware of feeling cold as winter came. He took shelter in the cabins at the camp and huddled before fires he built inside the hearths. He had learned to make fires in camp, though several times he did it wrong let the flames get out of control, burning down a couple of the cabins before he got the hang ofit. On occasion, a policeman would drive by and see smoke curling from the chimney of a cabin that was supposed to be locked up for the winter. He would stop to investigate but Jason always ran back into the woods whenever anybody came. He was waiting for his mother and he did not want to get in trouble. He knew she would be very angry. And then one day, his mother had returned. Some people had come to open up the camp again and he had run off into the woods, hiding from them and watching as they rebuilt the place. Years had passed and he was now full grown though still with the mind of a small child. But whatever vestige of sanity might have been left in that child-like brain had been driven out by the hardships he had suffered and by the sight of his Mother, mad with grief, embarking upon her bloody murder spree. He had been afraid because she had seemed so angry. He had hidden in the woods and watched on that fateful night when Pamela Voorhees had unleashed her vengeance on those whom she blamed for her son’s death. She had killed them all except one girl and Jason had watched her struggle with the last survivor: Alice. He had seen that awful moment when the girl had picked up the machete his mother had dropped and swung it with a savage desperation. He would never forget the sight of his mother’s decapitated body falling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The stump of her neck spouting arcs of bright red blood. Her head falling to the ground like a ripe melon, rolling several feet and then stopping. The eyelashes still fluttering as it lay upon the ground. When the girl had pushed off from the shore in the canoe, he had hesitantly crept out of hiding and approached his mother’s body. He had stared down at it uncomprehendingly at the vivid red of her blood soaking into the ground, at the raw torn flesh and the white bone where the machete had chopped completely through the neck like an axe through a small sapling. He had knelt down and picked up his mother’s severed head, holding it tenderly so that the sightless, deaf glazed eyes looked up at him. He had stared out into the darkness of the lake, looking in the direction where the girl who had done this to his mother had gone. And whatever fragile links his tortured mind still had with reality had snapped like the neck bones of little forest creatures that he caught and killed for his survival."

The Part 6 Novelization basically sums it up again...

Page 62 wrote:Jason would never forget, just like he could never die. He could never forget the sight of his frenzied mother, driven insane with grief, murdering to avenge her son, whom she thought dead. He could not forget the vision of her decapitated head, eyes fluttering, blood spouting, mouth open in a soundless scream... It all centered around the place he knew as Camp Crystal Lake. Camp Blood. The blood that could never wash away the horror, no matter how much of it was shed. Jason glanced down at the thick slime coating the machete. Red blood, like his mother's, bright and slick, the scarlet fluid of life, precious, beautiful...

So yeah I would say 100% he did see it Simon Hawke's writing makes sense to be honest for linear storylines and storytelling.

ThePunisher wrote:Pretty comprehensive post.  It makes you wonder why he never went looking for his mother, but maybe he didn't know where to start.  Where did they live?  How come she never tried to find a body, or did she?  

Jason Voorhees wrote:

ThePunisher wrote:Pretty comprehensive post.  It makes you wonder why he never went looking for his mother, but maybe he didn't know where to start.  Where did they live?  How come she never tried to find a body, or did she?  

I can probably answer these without any "Fan headcanon"

Answer 1: I believe Jason was far more confused with everything, as its explained with his resurface due to his regenerative healing keeping him from dying and yet biologically aging, I would believe after 21 years, his knowledge of the Area is no longer the same, ya know?

Answer 2: If we go by JGTH logic then Pamela had a residence near or on the camp grounds.

Answer 3: I believe she tried her best to find her son's remains but finally broken down mentally when she believed deep down he was "dead" and not coming back.