It was a quiet September night when I drifted off to sleep. You see, as you lay there, hoping for sleep to consume you, it doesn't occur to you that you may die before the sun rises. Unless you live on Elm Street, as I do. For, on our street, children are haunted by the wicked murderer who goes by the name of Freddy Krueger. His knived hands fill our thoughts and his distorted face fills our dreams. I had never believed in the horror stories that were told about our quiet suburban town. Until it was me in the story.
It would seem perfectly normal that when you close your eyes, you appear in a strange new place. Until you see the gruesome face that has burned itself into the minds of the innocent children of Elm Street. It was more hideous, more burned and scarred then I could've imagined. My heart filled with a fear unknown to me at any point before.
His striped sweater looked as if it needed a good washing, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
I closed my eyes, hoping to wake from my nightmare, but I had never been an extraordinarily lucky person. When my eyes fluttered open, he was an inch from my face. I grimaced, smelling the thick stench that Freddy emitted. The odor of rotting corpses and blood filled the air.
He caressed my neck with his razor fingers, smiling wickedly. "Are you ready to die, Marissa?" he hissed. I took a deep breath, careful not to suddenly move, which would result in the knives plunging into my neck.
"Yes," I whispered, omitting any fear from my voice. I watched as a look of confusion crossed his face, as if he had never had someone give in so easily. I took the split second of diverted attention to my advantage. I darted out from within his grasp, causing Freddy to growl. I ran as fast as I could, thanking my lucky stars that I had been on the track team that year. I was fast, but in this world, Freddy was the king. He could appear anywhere, no chasing necessary. He appeared in front of me, stopping me short and causing me to fall to my knees.
"You can't get away that easily, dear Marissa," he said with a soothing and dreamlike tone, "You've heard the stories, haven't you? Nobody ever escapes me alive." He ran one of the knives on his finger around my face, stopping at the chin. He adjusted my head, so that my eyes met his. I choked, as the taste of blood filled my mouth.
I trembled with fear, every ounce of courage ripped away with those hideous claws. My will to live was decreasing rapidly with each moment that passed. That was when I remembered the song. The song that we'd jump-roped to as kids. I closed my eyes and began to sing aloud.
One, two, Freddy's coming for you.
Three, four, better lock your doors.
Five, six, grab your crucifix.
Seven, eight, gonna stay up late.
Nine, ten, never sleep again.
When we were young, we never quite grasped what the song was about. To us, it was just a song to sing while jump-roping. Or, we knew deep in our hearts, but wouldn't admit it in a naive hope that it wasn't more than a song.
He chuckled quietly. "I haven't heard that song in quite a while," he mused, "it is one of my personal favorites." I realized that there was nothing I could do, so I gave up, letting him take me by the wrist. His sharp fingers dug into my flesh, causing me to flinch in pain.
He led me down the dark hall, pointing out certain things as we walked. He pointed out my best friend, Casey, who was hanging limply from the ceiling. I screamed, my voice echoing off of the walls in an eerie way. "Don't scream," he said, laughing, "you'll have a worse fate, just for being so calm."
He brought me to a room with only a large swimming pool in it. How did he know that I couldn't swim. I had never told anyone. "I know all about your past," he said, as if reading my mind, "I know about your brother, who drowned. I know that you always feared water. But, in case you miraculously learn to swim, I'm going to have to do something before throwing you in." He pulled a large chainsaw from the darkness, where I hadn't noticed it. Now I was frantic.
I screamed, as he brought the chainsaw closer to my knee. I tried to move it, but it was as if he anticipated my every move. I cried out in agony as the chain hit my flesh, digging deep, to the bone. The pain overcame me, and vomit filled my mouth when I saw blood oozing from my leg, which was now a stump. He repeated the process for my other leg, as well as both of my arms. My vision was clouded, and I was about to lose consiousness, due to lack of blood. It was a welcome sensation as I hit the freezing water of the pool. I opened my eyes, and all I could see was red. I closed them and all I could see was red.
I wriggled my nonexistant arms and legs, in a last attempt at saving myself. Nothing was working. The last thing I heard before my eyes closed forever was the song. Sung by little girls. My friends and I as little girls.
It was a quiet September night when I was murdered by the one and only, Freddy Krueger, emperor of dreams.