Sleep is a Death Warrant.
Chris awoke in an instant, beads of sweat on her forehead. She hated nightmares, I mean, who wouldn't? But Chris were so frightened by them, that she'd isolate herself in her room for a couple of days, refusing to eat. This had only started recently, about three weeks ago, when she first encountered Freddy.
"Chriss…" Freddy called.
Chris spun around, but she couldn't see him.
She was in a dark alleyway, with one street light at one end that barely illuminated the narrow alleyway.
Screeeech…
Chris had started to panic ages ago, and now, her entire was over-come with fear.
Screeech…
She instantly spun around, and saw a person walking in the middle of the alleyway, towards her. He was wearing a dirty and tattered red and green sweater, a faded brown fedora hat and a leather glove with four steel blades, one on each finger. As he got closer, she got a look at his face. His face she'll never forget. It was horribly burned.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Don't you want to give me a hug?"
Chris stood rooted to the ground, unable to move. He continued to advance forward.
He laughed wickedly.
His arms began to extend, and has he walked, scratched the brick walls of the alleyway, making that horrible screeching sound.
Screeecchh…
He was less than ten feet away, and Chris still was unable to move. He unexpectedly charged at her and this time, Chris was able to move her legs and run frantically. She got to the end of the alleyway, she spotted a door, and without thinking, she charged through it, the last thing she heard was Freddy's evil laugh.
Chris was breathing hard, but over the sounds of her breathe, she heard some rustling noises. She also noticed a breeze that put a chill in her bones. She slowly turned and saw that she was standing in a enormous factory, with a hundred or so desks, each with its own typewriter and lamp. Everything in sight was covered in cobwebs, so it most have been abandoned for an extended period of time.
Chris walked cautiously up one of the isles, glancing at each desk she went past. Each typewriter still had paper in it, as if the people typing just got up and left.
When Chris got to about the middle of the cavernous factory, she spotted a faded newspaper and picked it up. It read: Springwood Slasher is "Innocent". Dated 17th of February, 1981.
Before Chris could read more of the article, she heard the sound of a hundred or so typewriters, typing in unison. No-one was in evidence (except for Chris). She walked over to the next typewriter, and the piece of paper read:
One, Two Freddy's coming for you,
Three, Four, Better lock your door.
Five, Six grab your crucifix
Se…
"Chrriiissss," came a voice from the loudspeaker.
Chris looked around and spotted a light coming from a window high up on the eastern wall.
Sccreecchh…
Chris began to panic, and was about to run ahead to go though the door at the end of the factory, when it began to creak open by itself.
In a trance-like state, she began walking to it, as if drawn to it.
Closer and closer she got to the door, louder and louder became the "screeches".
SCCRREECCHH…
Chris stopped in front of the door and slowly bent forward to see what lay beyond. It was nothing much. A few broken chairs and typewriters. However, she did spot a set of stairs descending to another level below. Chris cautiously descended down the stairs, and as she did so, she noticed she began to feel hotter. She could hear the "cackle" of fire, but she could also hear a child crying. Chris got three quarters down the stairs and noticed that she was in a boiler room. In the far corner, she saw the girl whom she heard earlier and she also saw the man who chased her in the alleyway slashing the young girl's face with his glove.
"Stop it!" Chris cried, but there was nothing much she could do for the young girl, who remained limp in the man's arms.
The man glared at the intruder, and then grinned while tapping his knives together. What he did next was totally unexpected. He vanished into thin air! Chris didn't wait for an invitation, and bolted to see if the young girl was alright. She wasn't alright. She was dead. Chris got up slowly, and heard the distinguished sound of knives screeching against metal. She spun around, only to come face to face with the killer. His face alone sent her falling backwards and stumbling over the dead girl's body, felling the "squelch" of blood in her socks. Now Chris was cornered, with the assassin towering over her.
"Who are you?" managed to escape her mouth.
He just chuckled. "I' am the very root of fear." And then laughed, loudly, his snicker echoing off the concrete walls of the room.
He raised his leather glove to strike, and Chris screamed and covered her face, preparing for the worst. But it never came.
Chris happened to wake up in her purple queen-sized bed, covered in cold sweat. This was, by far, the worst nightmare she'd ever had.
After some breakfast, Chris began to come to terms with her nightmare. As she got undressed for a shower, she noticed her socks were soaked with blood. Now, this was something she couldn't explain. During the morning, in order for herself not to have constant panic attacks, Chris had to remind herself that the nightmare was a one off thing, and wouldn't happen again.
Boy, was she dead wrong.
Hello people. I'd like to thankyou for reading my FIRST EVER fanfiction. Because it is my first, I realize that there would be some glitches, so if you could R&R and tell me what you think and where I could improve, I'd appreciate it. Thanks!