Hello! Anitras here with the introduction of my first fan fic ever! I've wanted to do this for weeks but I couldn't think of what to write until I was watching A Nightmare on Elm Street tonight. So what better is a better story to write than one based on my favorite killer and my favorite anime. If you review this please leave me constructive comments on how I can better my story and no flames please because I can give as good as I get and I don't like hurting people's feelings. Now, Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or A Nightmare on Elm Street. Kishimoto and Craven do.
Chapter One: What can you do?
How can you run from something you can't fight?
How do you feel safe, when at any moment you can be wiped out in the blink of an eye?
They say a dream is only a dream and that it is a reflection of your subconscious.
If that's true, then I am eternally cursed with a psychotic and murderous sub-being.
Not that I wasn't already, but Shukaku never tried to kill me, other people, but never me.
He also never plagued me with a ridiculous song over and over, night after night.
I would rather deal with his blood-thirsty ramblings than this song.
One, two, Freddy's coming for you….
Who. The. Fuck. Is. Freddy?
Is he that man that I've been seeing?
And why is he coming for me?
Now that I think about, everything started after that man stayed here for the night?
He kept mumbling about this Freddy character.
Also there was something about not sleeping because of some nightmares.
I was going to ask him what he meant, but then he started screaming about someone not being real and to leave him alone.
Then these four deep gashes appeared on his chest and a river of blood flowed out and around him.
With that much blood lost I already knew he was dead, so I moved on to how can this happen.
I didn't detect any nearby ninja so a jutsu was out.
For once I can say that I'm sure neither I nor Shukaku had a hand in this.
I figured the best thing to do was check the body itself.
With just looking at him it looked like a blade slashed him at least four times across his chest.
As I got closer I could see that the gashes were very deep and that the main veins and arteries were cut which explained the copious amounts of blood.
But when I went to touch he took in a deep breath and looked.
While I was not scared, I was a little shocked at that he was still breathing, wheezing, but breathing none the less.
"…me...ies." He was trying to say something. "O… mem…s"
I brought my ear closer to his blood covered lips. "Our…..memories..."
Memories? What does that have to do with anything? "Alive….they keep…him…a...live"
"Keeps who alive?" "Kru…ger. Freddy…Krueger."
Before I could ask anything he screamed loudly, as if he was in pain, and more blood leaked out of him, then he was silent.
This time I checked to see if he was really dead and there was no pulse.
In all of my life I can say that I had never been scared of anything, because most things could be explained and there is hardcore proof to prove it.
But there is no explaining how this man could have been killed in a room where he is completely by himself and he ends up dead in a pool of his own blood.
I have seen a lot of things, and I most definitely have done a lot of things.
But never have I ever seen something like that.
I was thinking on who this Freddy person was and what memories had to do with anything.
I was also thinking that for the first time in my life…
I was scared of someone.
And haven't even seen him yet.
Yet being the keyword.
