Dylan and I had finished up filming on 1428 Elm and gotten shots of the school as well as random other spots in the town. Since we hadn't done anything at the old power plant, we had extra time so we had made our way back to the museum and asked Henry if he'd be interested in showing off his emporium so that we could make it into a video. He gladly agreed, saying he liked the idea of going out with a bang.

Neither one of us could help but to become excited around the animated man as he shared his story, probably with greater grandeur than the reality. But hey- it would make our little film that much more enjoyable. According to Mr. Meyers, Henry's Hall of Hate had started as a vague idea when he was a teen. He had grown up on the other side of Ohio, relocating to Springwood for his venture after becoming enthralled in the legend of Freddy just as I had. Like I had guessed previously, there was a time even after the final death of the dream demon during which the town had been alive.

However, it was short lived in the grand scheme of things. Once he had to start digging into his savings simply to keep the museum doors open, he'd made the difficult decision to close, despite his still burning passion. He was apparently almost fifty and I had asked him what his plans were now. He answered by saying he wanted to travel. Not in any luxurious way, though, rather he wished to basically sell all he owned and backpack cross-country on his bicycle.

Henry had taken the time to show us a few of the items still left over after the day. There were mug shots, crime scene photos, and pictures of places and people related to other infamous killers and rapists. There were books written about or by these criminals as well as various possessions and weaponry from them. At one point, he steered us to the same machete that I had seen one of the customers mulling over earlier. It apparently belonged to another serial killer with paranormal myths tied to him. A man-child named Jason Voorhees. Perhaps another tale for us to look into in the future.

It was to my surprise that the man gave us this item upon our departure. His lease was out Tuesday and he said he doubted it should sell before then. I was speechless at first and Dylan even offered to pay him something for it though he admitted to not having much on him. Henry, however, insisted I take it as a parting gift to wish us luck on our endeavors as our visits with him had brightened his own aims. He made sure to wrap the weapon up and attach a note of authenticity just like with Freddy's glove. He also suggested we ride with both items locked in the trunk so that in case we were pulled over, there would be no suspicion concerning them.

We ended up making it home sometime around six and all in all, it had been an excellent day even if I was a bit peeved about not being able to explore the factory. When I had walked in the door of my own house, my mom was actually heading out. She beamed when she saw me, hurriedly pulling me inside and leading me to the kitchen where a cake was displayed with a card. She gave me a gentle hug and wished me happy birthday before immediately continuing on her way to work.

The card was simple, a small note saying she loved me and hoped I had fun. The cake was store-bought as evidenced by the clear plastic lid over it. I knew she didn't have the time to actually bake anything with how busy her schedule was. I looked it over, trying to determine what kind it was, but I came up dry as there was nothing on the sticker except the price, the barcode, an expiration date, and 'proudly baked at' with the store's name. I sat down and cut myself a slice, licking a bit of the frosting off before biting into the confection itself. Schrodinger's cake turned out to be vanilla...I think. It was pretty bland so it was hard to tell. Even so, I ate a few bites before dumping my plate and retreating to my room.

I hadn't been able to steal a moment to admire my new additions so I was greatly looking forward to some alone time to properly give my attention to Freddy's glove...my glove. I carefully placed the box onto my bed, leaning over to set the bubble wrapped machete aside on my dresser until later. Slowly, I lifted the cardboard lid and let it fall onto the mattress. Reaching inside, I pulled out what was to the naked eye, a wad of newspaper. Somehow, my desire to keep the item in its best condition outweighed how eager I was to try it on and I gingerly unwrapped the strips of black and white parchment, placing them atop the discarded top.

I inhaled sharply at the beauty of fully realizing the terrible weapon of the legendary Springwood Slasher was in my possession. Holy shit. I flipped the glove over in my hand, fingers gently trailing the fabric and then admiring each single blade. Rotating it again, I slipped it onto my primary hand, deliberately extending the digits individually, getting a feel for it before making a fist and then flinging the blades open rapidly. Fucking awesome.

I took the contraption off my hand, stepping on my feet in a circle to scan for the best place to display it. At first, I walked toward my dresser where the other piece of memorabilia lay, but suddenly halted, looking instead to my nightstand. At least for now, I wanted it close by. I wanted to gloat my ownership, even if just to myself. Stepping instead to the small table next o my bed, I rearranged the lamp and photo frame there so that I could place the glove front and center.

The next few hours were spent texting Dylan, dumping the files from his camera onto my computer, and beginning the task of creating the videos. Our channel had nothing on it yet except for a couple of playlists and our information. The channel art consisted of a 'shopped photograph of a haunted scene- an old house with fog surrounding it and a picture of Dylan and I in the center with somber demeanors. The profile pic was a logo that he had thought up for us to represent the channel name: Into the Abyss.

Although I typically stayed up late, I found myself fatigued after the day and went to bed around midnight. My last thoughts were a brief recap of the day and the last thing I saw was the glove proudly resting beside my mattress, the last bits of light when I clicked the lamp off glinting wonderfully off its steel...

I wasn't a heavy dreamer yet even so, I knew a nightmare when I saw one... All of this excitement must have put my mind into overdrive. Was this the boiler room? It was exactly as I imagined it... Duh. I mentally slapped myself at the stupidity. I'm in my head; I've never actually seen the inside of the power plant- of course it was going to appear as expected! Initially, the place felt like a vivid dream with no real sense of dread, but gradually...a feeling of uneasiness settled over me. I didn't know why, as there was literally nothing happening except my casual stroll through the dank and dimly lit metal environment.

I walked past chains hanging from the ceiling, seemingly there for absolutely no reason other than to add to the eeriness as they swayed back and forth in a breeze that I couldn't feel. Suddenly, a hissing sound caused me to jump, my attention shooting toward where it had come. In one of the pipes lining the wall, there was a a leak spewing an intense pressure of vapor. As I neared it with my eyes studying, I could actually feel the heat and moisture coming from it. I had to resist the urge to touch it and see if it hurt. Okay, this was way too realistic to be a dream...did I like, get kidnapped or something in my sleep?

A different possibility struck my mind then. What if...what if Lisa had been right... I know I had said I didn't discredit the possibility, but honestly I hadn't felt that it would be proven to me so clearly... In either case, I needed to figure out the truth. Had my imagination just gotten really expansive, was I still in the real world...or was I dangerously close to releasing a demon into his next feast?

"What's the matter, Princess?" a voice rasped behind me.

I spun around to face nothing...but I had felt his breath on my neck... Backing away, eyes darting back and forth across the room, I bumped into the chains which prompted me to flip my position again. Still empty. I took a deep breath, "Krueger?" I called, my tone beginning to show my nerves. "Freddy?" I asked, swishing around in circles, desperate not to be ambushed. The motion only proved to make me paranoid as I kept spinning and looking about, only to be greeted with the same scene over and over.

Finally, I stopped. My heart was beating rapidly and I was fighting with slow breaths to gain control of my body again. Alright,if I am being stalked by a murderous demon right now...there were ways to beat him. He had to be weak anyway because of being separated from his food source for so long... How had they done this before? Controlling the dream...calling on an angel...pulling him into the real world...

"Amanda?" my voice was a whisper at first, opting for what was potentially the easiest way and also should be the simplest to determine if I could even do without some sort of preparation. "Sister Mary Helen?" I called louder.

I had been carefully scanning the area as I spoke, gaze going upward and downward. After a moment, my eyes caught sight of a figure standing in the near distance, a man propped casually against the wall...Freddy Krueger. I gasped, swallowing hard as I backpedaled into the chains again. He chuckled upon my noticing him. Shit. Shitshitshitshit... My internal curses found their way from my brain for my mouth to emit, becoming a high-pitched yell upon feeling the cold, wet links hanging from above, curl around my arms and wrap themselves tightly around my body to keep me from moving...except to struggle enough that it frustrated me, and played into this psychopath's fantasy.

"SHIT!"

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" he bellowed, taking slow paces forward and coming into better view. He was as described by the other victims...horrendously scarred and deformed almost as if a vat of acid had been poured over him. His clothes, dirty, ragged, and ugly. And he was wearing the same glove that I had bought this morning...the same glove I had rightfully, yet stupidly denied to sell to his granddaughter... I realized then that I had said the other victims... No! I wouldn't become another statistic...

"It's been a while," he purred, vanishing into the air and then flashing back into view directly in front of me, "And you smell...sooo sweet."

I tugged on the chains holding me in place, "Leave me the fuck alone!"

My warning was unconvincing, instead sounding like a childish plea, making the sadist laugh once more, "Feisty too," he lifted his claw, trailing its blades upward from my thighs to my stomach, lingering on my chest momentarily before scratching at my neck. He grinned, "A beautiful little girl such as yourself must have equally delicious little friends."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:: Am I foreshadowing a Jason x Reader fanfiction in the future on this same timeline? Hm...
Fun fact: The police could still confiscate the weapons, even if legal to own, if the car was impounded or every passenger was arrested. This happened with my wife before.
Schrodinger's cake- a reference to Schrodinger's cat, meaning a scenario in which both possibilities are truth until it is proven that one is factual and the other is not. Haha #BadScienceJokes