Rated T for horror aspects, swears, and mild suggestive themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Freddy Krueger or A Nightmare on Elm Street affiliated. I am perfectly content with just writing fanfics about him. :)
Author's Note: First off, sorry about the sucky summary. If you are reading this, my mind is completely blown that it caught your attention. Thank you for wanting to read this. :)
This is my first Freddy fic eva', and it's also my first attempt at writing anything even remotely close to horror, so I'm sorry if I fail; I just had to try a horror fic at least once in my lifetime to see whether or not this is a genre that's doable for me. I kind of altered Freddy's character just a tinse, modeling him more after the Freddy of the first film than any of the others. I wanted to make him legitimately scary and not so much of a comedian (and plus, I've only watched the first movie and Freddy vs. Jason, so I am more familiar with the serious Freddy). I just feel that his character is better served without that comedic aspect.
Review if you like it, and review if you don't like it (just no flames, please). Constructive criticism would be appreciated to help me in the future, so please tell me what you think. :)
~ Syrialla
Edit 10/21/11: Re-uploaded and reedited, hopefully better than ever. Enjoy.
Dream Fever
Chapter 1
For as long as she could remember, Sarah had always had a knack for lucid dreaming. When she was a little girl, it had been her only lifeline to sanity, for only during the blessed hours of night could she escape the cold, cruel reality of life and create her own nirvana.
But after a while, when the main source of coldness and cruelty was gone from her life, Sarah grew tired of playing God with her dreams. No longer was her lucidity a heavenly gift; it was a curse, a blight meant to drive her mad. Any normal person would go to bed at the end of the day and simply sleep the night away, waking in the morning feeling as if only a second had passed. But not Sarah; the lucid dream-state would fall upon her night after night, and she was forced to dwell in it for hours until morning arrived. It was a terrible curse, one that Sarah futilely tried to fight.
But now, something was different.
She woke into the dream to find her senses on fire. The hard, metal surface she lay on pressed into her back with excruciating clarity, and an uncomfortable heat radiating from every direction caressed her bare skin. From all around, constant hisses and ominous creaks and clanks shattered the uncomfortable stillness of the air. Everything felt so real.
Sarah got to her feet, baffled at how her flimsy attire did nothing to relieve her of the heat. It was strange to feel such intense discomfort in a dream. Even the metal catwalk beneath her, pressing into her bare feet with its latticed frame, added a new depth that had never been present in any other dream before. Stranger still, she could barely sense the fog of sleep that covered her mind. It was so thin that it would have been undetectable if she hadn't been innately proficient in perceiving such things. Out of habit, she found herself subconsciously searching through the fog, looking for the subtle nuances that would allow her to manipulate the dream. But there weren't any.
Screeeech.
Sarah's hands flew to her mouth as she jumped a foot off the catwalk. The piercing sound echoed ominously around her, almost as if it were taunting her.
She gulped and gripped the safety rail, peering nervously down below her. The noise had definitely come from down there somewhere, but all she could make out were enormous tanks and pipes vaguely illuminated by crimson halos of light. Her eyes darted all around, taking in the myriad of catwalks stretched between the cluttered spaces and interspersed at multiple levels, following them up, up, to the ragged darkness that clung to the ceiling.
"Sarah . . ."
She shrieked and spun around, leaning heavily against the railing for support.
Only the opposite rail stared back. Breathing rather loudly, Sarah ran her fingers through her hair, her heart pounding furiously. Wow, her subconscious really had done it this time. She actually felt scared. Terrified, even. Was this how normal people felt in their dreams? Was she actually experiencing a nightmare, one that she couldn't control?
Taking a few deep breaths, Sarah pushed herself off of the railing and slowly started down the walkway, comforting herself with the thought that it was perfectly ordinary to feel such vivid fear while in a dream, that all she had to do was keep moving and everything would become clear.
A shadow shifted out of the corner of her eye. She whipped her head to the side, but barely saw the silhouette below her before it slid out of view. An ominous cackle echoed harshly throughout the room.
Sarah could feel sweat beading on her brow as she glanced nervously around. She stood still for a few moments, trying to calm her fluttering heart. Unsuccessful, she continued along the catwalk. She'd rather have something happen to her while on the move than standing still like some brainless fodder.
All ambient light was swallowed as walls rose up sharply on both sides of the catwalk. Ahead, the walk sharply twisted to the left. Sarah deliberated for a moment, and then continued forward. As she rounded the corner, a soft glow of light came into existence. Before her was a flight of stairs, and at the bottom was a dim white bulb smiling at her, simultaneously promising protection and danger. Sarah descended the steps cautiously, unable to fight the claustrophobia that plagued her as hot, steaming pipes pressed in close, hissing their pleasure at having another victim. She lingered for a moment in the bulb's aura, and then continued on.
A thick darkness closed in around her. She caught herself thinking that maintenance was lax as she crept past several burnt out lights that could very well have sheltered her from the blackness if they had been working. Off in the distance, she saw another that light pierced through the darkness, flickering intermittently.
"Sarah . . ."
The silhouette of a man suddenly appeared twenty feet away, just outside of the light's range. Sarah quickly clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling the urge to scream again. She could have sworn that that very spot had been full of nothing but steam and smoke a mere second ago!
A deep, macabre laugh drifted down the walk, resonating between the pipes with bone chilling intensity. It was the laugh of a predator having caught its prey. The silhouette lifted his right hand aloft (it had the body shape of a male, although Sarah couldn't know for sure), almost as if he wanted Sarah to notice the four unnatural shapes that protruded from it. He turned his head to look at them, and then stretched out his arm to touch the nearby boiler.
The screech of metal was shrill and deafening, driving all thoughts from Sarah's mind. She frantically clapped her hands over her ears, willing it all to go away. Frozen with terror, she fearfully watched as the man stalked forward, lazily scraping his hand along the pipes.
"It's only a dream, it's only a dream, it's only a dream," she whispered to herself, pleading, crying. The shadowy figure's laugh echoed off the boilers.
"No, no . . . this is not only a dream, Sarah." He withdrew his hand from the pipes with a low chuckle, and took a step into the light.
No, this definitely was not a dream. This was hell.
"Don't make this too easy," he growled, almost irritably, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a brown fedora. A filthy red and green striped sweater hung from his frame, and soot-blotched khakis covered his legs.
Sarah stared with bewilderment at his hand as he approached. Six-inch blades protruded from his metal glove like the claws of some giant cat, glinting sinisterly in the light. The man must have seen her where her attention was, because he stopped walking and looked at the blades lovingly, revealing a sadistic grin that split his grotesque features.
Sarah screamed, unable to tear her gaze away. The man slowly turned back towards Sarah, his ice blue eyes searing from underneath his hat. "All right, then. Have it your way."
In an instant, Sarah was sprinting back down the dark catwalk, away from the demon.
"Run, run, run, as fast as you can!" the man cackled demonically.
Everything blurred around Sarah as she raced to get away from the terrible walking corpse. She ran faster than ever before, ignoring her lungs as they threatened to burst into flames, ignoring her heart that was trying to beat its way out of her chest. All that mattered was that she got away from that thing as fast as possible.
A metal clang sounded from above, and Sarah looked up wildly.
"Hah!" Knives sliced so near her face that she heard them scream through the air.
She couldn't stop herself in time. In an instant he was all around her and she was screaming, ripping and clawing her way away from him. His demented hands grasped her shoulder for a split second before she managed to fling herself over the railing of the catwalk. For a terrifying moment she thought that she would die, that she had jumped from too high a height, but then she landed hard on the cement floor below and tumbled forward.
"You have more spunk than I first thought," Sarah heard the man chuckle from above. She glanced up, but he was gone. Without taking time to think, she scurried to her feet and bolted into the nearest pocket of darkness.
Sarah had never, ever been so scared in her life. She felt like an unsuspecting mouse trapped in a maze, being stalked by a cunning cat with all the power of God himself. And how could anyone fight against God?
There. There was a little space between the floor and the pipes just big enough for Sarah to squeeze into. She skidded to a halt, panting. She didn't have anything to lose. She waved her hands near the pipe to check the temperature, but didn't have time to think as the thud of heavy boots drifted down the hallway from up ahead. Frantically, she launched herself into the gap and tried her hardest to melt into the pipes.
The man's labored breathing floated down the hall, drawn and nasally, making Sarah's stomach churn with fear as she heard him near. His boots clunked on the ground, slowly, one after the other. He wasn't in a hurry.
"Come to Freddy . . ." she heard him growl softly. A pair of grungy brown work boots stopped right in front of the gap, softly illuminated by the dim red light nearby. They were close enough for her to reach out and touch. Sarah held her breath, trying to disappear into the darkness. Freddy's low chuckle rose over the clamor of her frantic heartbeat, manifesting everything she ever feared into a single utterance. She couldn't hold her breath any longer.
A hand clasped her ankle and she was dragged forcefully out into the light.
"Well, hello, little piggy."
Sarah was roughly pulled to her feet, and abruptly the knives were against her throat.
Time stopped. Her heartbeat sped to an unbearable pace, and her breathing bordered on hyperventilation. Sarah closed her eyes to block out the situation, trying to wake from this nightmare. If only she could wish herself away to a better place. If only it wasn't so real.
Rough fingers lifted her chin up, and she was forced to look into his monstrous face. Horribly charred flesh covered his head and neck, giving off a sickly sheen in the light. Patches of bare tissue revealed a musculature so burnt that it shone black in places and had begun to peel into large flaky crisps. Thin tendrils of skin stretched across the exposed areas, miraculously keeping his seared face from disintegrating into a mass of decaying flesh. Freddy grinned, revealing crooked, yellow teeth.
"Delicious, isn't it?" His breath was hot on her face. Sarah stared into his piercing eyes, trying somehow to crush the tears that welled in her own. His smirk grew until it seemed it couldn't possibly fit on his face, and his eyes slowly trailed slowly down her flimsy nightgown.
Sarah clamped her eyes closed again, tears spilling over her lids and trickling down onto Freddy's hand. She prayed to God that she would wake soon. Freddy released her neck and gently wiped the tears from underneath her eyes. His hand shifted and began to softly stroke her face. Sarah whimpered involuntarily. Freddy's hand paused mid-stroke. She shuddered as he placed it on her forehead.
"Running a fever, are we?"
Suddenly, the world around Sarah whipped by in a haze of red, and lights exploded behind her eyes as her head cracked against the cement floor. She shrieked with the pain, and curled up in a protective ball. Through her swirling vision, she barely registered Freddy towering above her, and she thought she saw something similar to the fear she felt in her chest flicker in his own eyes.
He stared at her for a long time, watching her shiver with pain on the floor. Slowly, a sneer began to tease at Freddy's lips. "You have no idea, do you, darling?"
Sarah felt her stomach drop. The pure triumph and power in his voice made her nauseated.
Freddy suddenly threw his head back and roared with laughter. It echoed down the hallways with an unearthly ring, sharply breaking through Sarah's pain-filled haze.
"Please, God . . ." she pleaded, knowing there was no escape. In some far off part in her mind, she felt disgusted with herself for groveling. But now she had nothing left, and although she knew it was futile, she still felt the need to try to get through to this monster. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't try.
Freddy leered down at her. "This," he said, brandishing his knives, "is God."
Unable to move, Sarah could only watch as he descended, knives prepared to strike, a sick pleasure glowing in his eyes.
She woke up screaming, sweat pouring off her forehead like a waterfall. Her alarm blared in the background.
Sarah's mind reeled. The nightmare still clung to her as if it were reality. Her head throbbed, threatening to make her black out, yet she still clung to consciousness by the sheer strength of her fear.
Every black shadow in the corner hid his face; every cry of the wind from outside her window held the laugh of the demon. She could still hear his deep voice whispering her name, could still see the smile that covered his scorched visage. She could still see the way his eyes glowed as he looked at her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm the heaving of her chest and slow her racing heart.
It was just a terrible nightmare, nothing more. She kept repeating that over and over to herself, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it. It had been so much more than just a nightmare. Sarah released a tense breath, smoothing her hair back.
"What the . . ." Sarah quickly withdrew her hand. Her forehead was scalding.
Whipping the covers off, Sarah swung her feet off of the bed and stood up shakily. Her legs were wobbly and uncooperative as she staggered out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall. Thank God her parents weren't home to see her in such a state.
With trembling fingers, Sarah opened the medicine cabinet and dug around for the thermometer. After sifting through a sea of obsolete medications, she quickly found what she was looking for, slipped on a protective plastic covering, and stuffed it hurriedly under her tongue.
When the thermometer beeped, she withdrew it and stared unblinkingly at the number.
103.3
A sudden wave of nausea overtook her, and Sarah leaned into the sink and vomited. She sat there, clenching the sides of the sink, as she heaved and heaved until there was nothing else to dispel from her stomach. It was a struggle for her to remain standing as a wave of dizziness swept through her. Finally, after what seemed like hours, her stomach settled down enough where she could run the water and clean out the basin.
The second time around the thermometer read 98.9. Sarah glanced at the clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed. She had just been running the highest fever in her life, and within a quarter of an hour it was gone.
Words came crawling back to her, words that had been whispered to her in a dream. "Running a fever, are we?" His face flashed through her mind, a flicker of fear in his eyes. He had been afraid, albeit only for a second, but he had been afraid nonetheless. He had been afraid of something.
Of the dream fever.