CH.6 - Dreaming?
(Thanks for the feedback! Since the last chapter was so short, I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter! Enjoy!)
I'm not sure which is more shocking: the fact the Chucky the evil doll and Freddy Krueger are asking for my help or the fact that I'm still alive at this point.
"Why would you two need my help?" I ask.
"Keep up with the freaking program, sweetheart," Chucky says. "We know you're a Good Girl now—the kinda chick that would survive one of our movies."
"That's pretty unbelievable," I note. "I've had this conversation with my friends before. We asked ourselves… 'how far do you think we'd survive in a horror movie?' And I'd always say not long because, let's face it, if the token black person doesn't die first in the movie, it's the perky blonde chick. Which would make my friend Beverly Hillshire next in line and—"
"Do you want to die?" Freddy snaps. Gosh, he's volatile. Still, I manage to shake my head and slam my mouth shut. Maybe the relief that these two might not kill me is going to my head and making me zany.
"Good. Now listen up, Rosey-gal," Freddy begins while popping his knuckles. "We're all tired of you Good Girls and Guys surviving our movies. It's getting old."
"Older than Jason and his countless sequels," Chucky adds.
"Exactly," Freddy agrees. "Now, we've tried our hardest to squish you annoying brats under our boots, but you're like freakin' roaches—you won't die. We need to figure out how to destroy one of you."
I remain silent. There's no need to inform them that I'm right here in front of them, a prone target. I clear my throat and shrug. "Have you ever actually sat down and watched one of your movies?"
Chucky grimaced. "Why the heck would we do that? Isn't it more fun to just go out there and keep killing?"
"Well…," I drag the word out. "Maybe if you did you would see what errors you made along the way."
Freddy scratches his chin. "Maybe you're right. But that doesn't solve our problem. You brats are smart. You change it up every movie like a creature that won't die."
I raise an eyebrow. These two were ones to talk. Like they didn't keep coming back after every movie. Heck, what were they on? Their seventh movie? Explosions and semi-trucks weren't enough to get rid of these two.
I shrug. "Well, I still don't know what you want me to do."
"Easy," Chucky states. "Just show us how to do it. How to get rid of a Good Person."
I'm pretty much floored by this time. "No!" I nearly yell. "I'm not going to show you how to kill an innocent person!"
"Look, it's really not a big deal, you big baby," Chucky breezes. "We just need to see the techniques, ya know? Show us how the Good Guy thinks."
I shake my head and scoot away from them. "That's still me showing you how to kill someone in a roundabout way! I'm not stupid!" This is immoral! Injustified… If that's a word! And completely and terribly wrong!
"Ugh, you really are a Good Girl," Chucky groans while face-palming. I bunch up my shoulders and refuse to look at them.
"Rosey-gal, be respectful of your elders," comes Freddy's scratchy throat. I wince when his needle-like blades twist my head to look at him. I glare into his dark eyes, refusing to relent.
"I'm not doing it. Now either kill me or…or… kill me." Seems like those are my only two options at this point. That sucks.
"Oh, Rose, Rose, Rooose!" Freddy says, drawing out his last word like he's yawning. "That's not how this works. You see, right now, you belong to us. We're holding your precious little life in our hands and you're gonna listen to us."
"Hah, no I won't, buster," I assure him. "I already told you to kill me. I'm not helping you."
Freddy's smile grows ten sizes that day. Erm. He latches onto my face even tighter, causing me to whimper when his blades draw blood out of my cheeks.
"How about this? You help us, we won't harm your family."
My vision turns double at the mention of my family. "You leave them out of this," I warn with narrowed eyes.
Freddy finally pulls away, laughing. "It's your choice, Rosey-gal. Help us or they suffer. Big time."
I chew on my lip and look down at the ground. There was no way I was going to let them hurt my family. That just wasn't going to happen. But I don't want to be the cause of other people getting hurt….
My shoulders slump. "Fine," I mumble. "I-I'll… do it."
Freddy's face lights up. "Wonderful! Well, that about covers things for tonight." He smiles. "See you in your nightmares, Rose McGee."
Suddenly, I feel my eyelids growing heavy. Freddy's and Chucky's faces turn distorted as I swim in an out of consciousness. It's not long before my eyes shut and…
I wake up.
Literally. I fall asleep only to wake up again. This time, I'm happy to report that I actually woke up in my very own room. No more Chucky, no more Freddy…. Just me and my bedroom.
I let out a few laughs of giddy relief. So, that really was a dream. I want to jump on my bed and scream "Hallelujah!" to the sky but I'm way too wiped out. It feels like I didn't get a wink of sleep last night, yet I already see the sun rising from my window. I shoot a glance over at my bedside table and see that my Chucky doll isn't there. Was getting him part of the dream, too?
I yawn and stretch my arms upwards, a huge grin on my face.
"No more cake before bed, Rose," I mumble sleepily as I climb out of my bed and head to my closet. I throw open the door to find a suitable outfit for school today. I spot a pair of skinny jeans and a black sweater that look perfect for a Monday. They have that certain "I-don't-wanna-go-to-school-today" feel about them.
After showering, brushing my teeth, and changing, I head downstairs to where the rest of my family are having a breakfast of cereal, bagels, and orange juice.
Arnold looks up from his game long enough to cringe at my face. "Ew. Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked.
I glare at him and snatch up a bagel already smeared with cream cheese. I stuff it in my mouth and grab a carton of orange juice from the fridge. I give my mom a kiss on the cheek, tell everyone good-bye, and head out of the house.
It's a beautiful day here in Springwood. The sky is a beautiful shade of pink, the air is tinted to a chilly but comfortable temperature, and boy, does it smell wonderful! It's a great day to be alive and not being harassed by two fictional horror movie characters, I'll tell ya!
I hop into my black Prius (don't judge) and start 'er up.
"It's my liiiiiiiife!" I sing along with the music that starts pouring out of my speakers. I swing my head from side to side, earning a few strange stares from passerbyers. Whatever. Let's see how they act when they figure out their worst nightmare is not coming true. I swing out of my driveway and head to Springwood High, singing the whole way.
"You look terrible."
Seriously, that's the first thing my best friend tells me when she sees me in first period History class. We're sitting at our adjacent desks, and I'm all ready to tell her about my dream when she says that.
Tabitha AKA Tacky chews on her gum and blows a huge bubble. She earned that nickname not because she dresses tacky (which she so doesn't; she puts Paris Hilton to shame) but because she shot a nailgun at a teacher who tried to send her to detention. Needless to say, after returning from her trip to the "happy doctor", no teacher ever pulled that stunt again.
She pops her gum with her tongue and pushes the wad back into her mouth. Suddenly, her mouth opens wide and she grabs my shoulders.
"You didn't have a party without me, did you?" Tacky cries.
I swat her hands away. "No, no, Tacky! You know I don't party!"
Tacky blinks and smiles. "Oh, right. Well, did you have a good birthday or did you scare everyone away with those suitcases you have under your eyes?"
"Ha," I laugh dryly. "Well, my birthday was good…I think." I slap my palms on my desk and lean towards her. "You will never guess what kind of dream I had last night."
"If it's another dream about Heath, I so don't want to hear it," Tacky begs while holding up her palm in my face. My face turns as hot as the sun at the mention of Heath's name.
Okay, Heath Monroe is this super cute guy in my Home Ec class. How cute is a guy that can cook? Anyway, he's a real gentleman and is nice to everyone that he comes across. Unfortunately, our paths never seem to cross, mostly due to me hiding behind trash cans and locker doors whenever he's within a ten foot radius of me.
I push away thoughts of Heath and shake my head. "No, it was about Freddy Krueger and Chucky," I tell her.
Tacky's brown eyes widen. "I haven't had a dream about those guys since middle school." She pauses to smile at a memory that only she can see. "I used to have the biggest crush on Chucky back then. He was so cute. I always thought he would marry me if we met."
Um, ew.
I can't help the unpleasant look that crosses over my face. Dream Chucky had been a big jerk. I tell Tacky every part of my dream, excluding the part where Freddy had clamped his burnt lips on my throat like he was trying out for a role in Twilight. My neck still felt raw and disgusting, even if it was only a dream.
Tacky listens like I'm telling her the best story in the world. When I finish, all she can say is, "Wow."
"I know," I said. "And get this. It felt so real. Like, I could feel everything that happened to me."
Tacky popped on her gum and nodded. "I hate those kind of dreams." A mischievous look crosses her eyes and she grins. "So, is that why you look so tired or is it because of that huge hickey on your neck?"
Wait, what?
My hand flies to my throat as my breathing comes to an abrupt halt. Hickey? Oh no, Rose McGee doesn't get hickeys, not even if she wanted one. I scramble to find my compact mirror in the jungle contained in my purse. Finding it next to my hand sanitizer, I pull it out and flip it open.
Oh. My. Gosh.
Sure enough, there's a mammoth-sized hickey right on the base of my throat. In fact, it's dangerously similar to the place that Freddy…
Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no.
"That was real? Freddy gave me a hickey?!" I screech at the top of my lungs.
You know those moments in class where everyone who was previously talking decides to get quiet right when you say something embarrassing? Yep, one of those moments happens right then. Every eye in the classroom falls on me, including our teacher's. He quirks an eyebrow at me in a look that says, "WTF?"
I laugh nervously while standing up from my seat. I pick up my backpack and race out of the classroom, shouting something about feminine products and cactuses.
I stumble down the empty hallway, feeling like a zombie. This can't be happening. The only way that I could have gotten this hickey would be if Freddy put it there when he stuck his gross mouth on my neck. But it was a dream! Dreams can't do that!
A scream tears out of my throat when something in my backpack jumps. I drop my backpack on the ground and scramble away from it. This is embarrassing, but my house has had rats in it before. I wouldn't be surprised if one of the little suckers crawled into my backpack while I was sleeping.
And learned how to unzip things?
I gape in horror as the zipper on my backpack starts to slowly unzip. I dig into my pocket, retrieving the last of my bagel that I shoved in there in case I got hungry later on. My shaking hand extends it towards the bag.
"I'm sorry we tried to catch you in that mouse trap!" I sob. "Take this as my peace offering!"
Suddenly, the bag pops open. I scream.
But, much to my surprise, it's not an angry rat that's stowed away in there. Not exactly. Chucky glares at me from my unzipped bag, waiting for me to stop screaming my head off.
My scream slowly dies away, only to pick right back up again. Chucky sighs and rests his chin in his hand. After another five seconds, my scream dissipates into a tiny squeak.
Chucky raises a painted brow. "You done?"
I open my mouth to scream again but Chucky throws one of my library books at my head. It hits my forehead sharply.
"Ouch," I wince while patting my raw forehead. I shake my head back and forth before pointing an accusing finger at Chucky. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to have been a dream!"
"Well, doll, this ain't a dream," Chucky assures me as he pulls himself out of my bag with a grunt. He grins and spreads his arms outwards. "I'm as real as real can get."
"N-No," I sputter while grabbing onto the sides of my head. "You can't be real. If you're real, then that means that our deal…"
"...Is still on and popping, sweetcheeks," Chucky finishes for me. "We still have some more explaining to do, so it's best if you come with me, back to the Dreamworld."
"No way!" I stand to my feet. "I'm not helping you guys!"
Chucky grins. "I think you remember what will happen to your family if you don't." His voice is cruel and uncaring. Jerk.
My head lowers. There's really no way out of this. I've got to help these freaks figure out how to get the Good Person or it's game over for everyone I love.
My hands clench into fists. "Fine," I spit. "Let's go."
Chucky snickers. "I thought you might say that." He toddles over to an unlocked locker and swings it open, revealing a shimmering pathway that I assumes leads to the Dreamworld. It's a spectrum of colors, glowing and twinkling like a funland, a funland where you get hickeys from charred freaks and get bullied by giant dolls.
Yay. So much fun.
"Let's move it, doll," Chucky urges. He points his knife at the locker, gesturing for me to go in.
With a huff, I pick up my backpack and squeeze into the locker. To my surprise, the locker doesn't have a back wall. It goes on and on. We walk for a long time in dreadful silence until the invisible platform we were on gives way.
"Ahhhhh!"
I scream as I plummet downwards into the shimmering colors. My arms and legs flail about like noodles as I continue to fall.
"Oof!" Suddenly, my bottom lands on something soft. I look down and realize that I've fallen right into a cushioned chair. I wriggle around in it a bit before surveying my surroundings.
It looks as if I've fallen right into some sort of meeting room. Dozens of other chairs surround the long table at the center of the room. An overhead projector dangles above me. It's projecting image after image of well known Good Guys and Girls.
Andy Barclay.
Click.
Nancy Thompson.
Click.
I watch as face after face is shown. I swallow down the rising bile in my throat, which is really gross. Am I really going to be forced to help cause these people's death? I don't know if I can do that.
I cover my face and try my hardest to not start crying. My ears prickle at the sound of footsteps entering the spacious room. I look up and find Freddy "The Perv" Krueger grinning at me from across the table.
"Welcome, Rosey-gal," he says with a smarmy grin. "We're happy to have ya back!"
Before I can stop myself, I reach over and slap the grin right off of his face.
Tacky doesn't know what's up with her best friend. Rose has always been a strange girl, always reading books and singing to inanimate objects, but she'd never pegged her to be the one to come back to school with a gargantuan hickey on her throat.
Seriously, that hickey was huge. Either that person had a mouth like a python or he bit her. If some creep had bit her best friend, Tacky was going to kill someone.
When Rose races out of the room like her butt is on fire, Tacky knows that something is up. And if something is up, Tacky is gonna be all over it. She stands up and races out of the room after her friend, ignoring her teacher's angry yells for her to stay seated and dodging the toupee he throws after her.
She wanders down the hallway, searching for her suddenly deranged best friend.
"Rose!" the brunette calls out. "Rose, what's going—"
Tacky's lips clamp shut when she finally spots Rose…who is currently climbing inside of a locker. Not only that, there's a giant doll that looks strikingly similar to Chucky climbing in after her. The doll shuts the door behind them and Tacky is left standing there in the empty hallway, her eyes permanently frozen in their widened state.
That was really, really weird.
Tacky creeps over to the locker and gently grabs the handle. She doesn't know why she's doing this. Something is telling her to just go back to the classroom and forget she saw anything. But her undying curiosity and desire to save her best friend gets the best of her. She yanks open the locker and stares inside.
A blank, metal wall stares back.
Next time: Slapping Freddy Krueger is probably the single most stupid thing I've ever done in my entire life. Well, besides that time I accidentally warmed up aluminum foil in the microwave and nearly burnt down our house.
