Freddy in Christmasland

"A Nightmare on Elm Street" / "NOS4A2" Crossover.

Summary: Freddy Krueger died in 1968. So, why didn't he begin killing kids in their dreams until 1981? Alive, Freddy stalked and murdered children under 10. Why did he switch to preying on teenagers as an undead dream killer? And why the Christmas sweater? Could a visit to Christmasland have had something to do with it . . . ?

Disclaimer: "A Nightmare on Elm Street" was created and written by Wes Craven, and produced by New Line Cinema. The franchise is currently owned by Warner Brothers.

The novel "NOS4A2" was written by Joe Hill, and is published by William Morrow and Company.

The "NOS4A2" graphic novel prequel, "Wraith: Welcome to Christmasland," was also written by Joe Hill, and was illustrated by C. P. Wilson, III, and Jay Fotos, and is published by IDW Publishing.

The television series, "NOS4A2," based on the novel by Joe Hill, was created for AMC by Jami O'Brien of O'Brien Construction, and the Torante Company, for AMC Studios.

I do not own any of the characters from these two franchises. This FanFiction crossover is the product of a hobbyist having a bit of fun with some of his favorite fictional characters, situations and settings, and is not written for profit. I hope that this is a sufficient disclaimer.

Historian's Note: This story takes place in the summer of 1968, in the immediate aftermath of Freddy Krueger's death at the hand of the Springwood Vigilantes. Krueger has literally just started dream-stalking his first victims; one of them a 9 year-old-boy whose father was part of the mob of parents who killed Krueger shortly after he was released from custody on a "legal technicality."

Charles Talent Manx, III, on the other hand, has been running Christmasland for just over 30 years at the time of this story.

Though I do have some ideas for other "A Nightmare on Elm Street" fanfics, this story should be considered a "one-shot" that may or may not be part of the same "Storyverse" of any future stories I might write featuring Freddy Krueger.

Chapter 1: The Ones Who Got Away

With the death of serial child murderer Frederick Charles Krueger in the summer of 1968, the town of Springwood, Ohio, thought that their long, waking nightmare was over.

But they were only right about the "waking" part.

After the death of Krueger, previously known only as the Springwood Slasher - a faceless, illusive monster who claimed the lives of twenty children during his long reign of terror – the town breathed a collective sigh of relief, and hoped for the return of normalcy. But such hopes were soon shattered when the surviving children immediately began to dream about Freddy Krueger the night after their parents had sent him to Hell already burning in advance.

Once a nondescript family man with plain features and curly, blonde hair, (the perfect disguise for such a perverted monster,) the children of Springwood began to dream about Krueger in his new, terrifying form: A naked, man-shaped mass of horribly burned scar-tissue who wielded a fearsome glove fitted with four, homemade razor-sharp knives on the fingers.

For more than a week, the children of Springwood would wake up screaming, refusing to go back to sleep for fear that the bogeyman would finally catch them and kill them. And these fears were not unfounded as the children would wake up with scratches and even some deep cuts from Freddy's Glove.

"You can't run or hide from me forever, my little piggies!" the monster would taunt the children in his gravelly voice as he played his grim game of hide-and-seek with them in his nightmare boiler room dreamscape. "It's been fun chasing you all week long, scratching you a little bit with my blades. Your fear has whetted my appetite . . . .

"But now the time for fun and games has ended! The next time you little piggies fall asleep, you'll all wake up dead! AH, hahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaa!"

The children of Springwood told their parents that they were in very real danger from the bogeyman that haunted their sleep, but their parents just assured them that they were safe. "Fred Krueger is dead," they insisted. "He'll never be able to harm you, or any other child, ever again."

But as the children's nightmares persisted, pediatricians assured the parents of Springwood that their children were suffering from some kind of mass-hysteria that would subside if given time. Many doctors and psychiatrists opined that it was like a form of "Shell Shock" or "Battle Fatigue," manifesting in the children after so long a period of terror.

As for the scratches the children woke up with on their arms and legs; these were explained away as the children unknowingly scratching themselves in their restless sleep with their own fingernails, or scratching themselves on their metal bedframes.

The fact that these scratches always came in four, straight parallel lines didn't seem to raise any special alarms among the parents or medical experts of Springwood.

But all the kids knew better, and none of them allowed themselves to fall asleep after the burned bogeyman issued his baleful proclamation. Since then, every kid who dreamed about Freddy had managed to go for two whole nights without any sleep, until one just couldn't stay awake any longer . . . .

A girl named Katie Walton fell asleep on her couch while watching TV, early one afternoon. Her relieved parents decided to just let her be, grateful that their child finally fell asleep. But within moments of falling asleep, the poor girl woke up screaming, with four, deep parallel cuts on her stomach that could not have been explained away as scratches from the girl's own fingernails, (which her mom had trimmed that morning,) much less her bedframe.

Katie's parents rushed her to the hospital, where she was taken to the emergency room and sedated. Katie slipped into a coma when the sedative was administered, and was placed on life-support. An allergic reaction to the anesthesia, the doctors said.

Again, the children of Springwood knew better. Freddy Krueger had claimed his first victim as an undead dream stalker. The fact that Katie was still alive only meant that Krueger intended to 'have some fun' with her before he killed her at his leisure – just like he did to the other kids he killed when he was alive.

And every child in Springwood knew that the same would inevitably happen to them.

Nine-year-old Michael Joel Wasserman was determined to resist for as long as possible. He checked the clock on his nightstand. In less than half an hour, it would be his bedtime. He was afraid to lie down, knowing that he'd fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow. But even if he didn't, he knew about the tranquilizers that his doctor gave his mom and dad, "just in case." And if that happened, even the possibility of being able to wake up before Krueger struck would be off the table.

Michael shuddered at the thought of sleep. He might be able to stay awake for one – maybe two more - nights. But eventually, sleep – the "Gentle Tyrant" – would claim him. And Freddy Krueger would be there, waiting . . . .

But before Michael could gather his thoughts, he heard the telephones ringing in the living room and in his parents' bedroom. They rang and rang, but when he went to the living room to see who was calling, he was surprised to see that neither of his parents made any effort to answer it. After ringing about thirty times, the phone went silent.

Michael said, "M-mon? Dad? Who do you think was calling, just now?

"What are you talking about, son?" said his father.

"The phone rang, dad. Didn't you or mom hear it?"

"Honey," said his mother, "The phone wasn't ringing." She gave him a worried look. "I think you might be hearing things, Michael. Things like that happen to a person when they try to stay awake for too long."

"M-maybe I heard the phone on the TV, then . . . ?" said Mike hopefully.

His father smiled sympathetically, and shook his head. "Not too likely on "Gunsmoke," son." He then yawned, and added, "Now, I think it's time for you to get ready for bed."

"B-but dad, I can't sleep –"

"If you want, your doctor gave us something to help you sleep."

"NO!"

Michael's father got off the couch, and knelt in front of his son, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. "If you're afraid of the 'bogeyman,' you don't need to be. I can personally assure you that Fred Krueger really is dead. And he isn't coming back!

"I saw him die," said his father solemnly, and in a lower voice. "So did a bunch of other parents. I'll tell you more about it, when you're older. But for now, I promise you that you and the other kids in Springwood are absolutely safe in your own beds!"

Michael's mother added, "The doctor said that you need to get some sleep, son. Now, you need to dress for bed. We want you under the covers at your regular bedtime!"

"B-but I don't want the sleeping pills . . . ."

His father thought for a moment, nodded, and said, "That's up to you, son. If you can get to sleep on your own, we won't make you take the pills." Michael then looked to his mom, who also nodded in agreement.

"Now, get dressed for bed, and don't dawdle."

Before Michael could reply, the phone began to ring again. Michael was about to ask if his parents heard it. But noticed by the way they acted, that they didn't hear it this time, either.

Michael nodded, and mumbled a "yes, dad," before going back to his room. But first, he made a quick detour to his parents' bedroom, where the phone was still ringing. Michael picked it up. "H-hello . . . ?"

"Hey Mike! It's me, Travis!"

Michael nearly dropped the phone. He'd recognize Travis Cook's voice anywhere! But it couldn't be Travis; his best friend had been taken by the Springwood Slasher a few days before the police caught Krueger, and was widely believed to be the Slasher's twentieth and final victim.

But not everybody in town believed that. Of all the kids known to have been Krueger's victims, Travis was the only child whose body, (intact or otherwise,) was never found. What's more, the police reported that among Freddy Krueger's collection of his victims' "trophies" that he kept in a secret room in his house at 1428 Elm Street, that nothing positively identified as belonging to Travis was found. Not even so much as a newspaper clipping in his macabre scrapbook. This led to an even more chilling rumor that maybe, just maybe, nine-year-old Travis Cook was not one of the Slasher's victims.

And given the even older rumors of Travis' father being abusive to the boy and his mother; Mr. Cook was another possible suspect in Travis' "convenient" disappearance. Mike's grip tightened on the receiver as he tried to keep from hyperventilating. Though Travis' mom was always nice to him whenever he came over to play with Travis, Mr. Cook was another matter. Though he never laid a hand on him, he constantly called him "The Jewboy," and even sometimes, "Christ-Killer," after he had a drink or two in him. (The 'nicest' thing that he ever said to Michael was, "Boy, you Heebs sure have one hell of an Airforce . . . .")

But Travis had confided to Mike on numerous occasions that his father "took his belt" to him, often for trivial offenses; real and imagined. What's more, Travis showed Mike the bruises to prove it, but also swore him to secrecy as Blood Brothers.

Again, the unmistakable voice on the phone: "Mike! Are you there . . . ?"

There was no doubt about it. It was Travis Cook, calling from . . . where? Beyond the grave, likes something out of "The Twilight Zone?" Mike held the phone to his ear, and could also hear the muffled laughing of other kids in the background on the other end, as well as – oddly enough – kids singing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer;" never mind that it was the middle of summer . . . .

"T-Travis?"

"Yeah, Mike?"

"H-how are you . . . ?"

"Better than I've ever been, Mike!"

"Then, y-you're not . . . you're not . . . dead?"

Travis laughed. "Of course I'm not dead, silly! I'm talking to you on the phone, ain't I?" Again, Mike heard the giggling in the background. Before he could ask about it, he heard Travis saying, "Millie, do you mind . . . ? I'm trying to talk to my friend, Mike, here!

"Sorry about that, Mike. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, I understand that you're still having a problem with the Springwood Slasher, and even though a bunch of parents burned him to death about a week ago, that if you fall asleep, he can still kill you in your dreams, and you'll die then for real, right?"

"How did you –"

"My friends and I can help you, but you gotta do what we say, alright?"

"But . . . ."

"Listen, Mike: Just pretend to fall asleep, but stay awake! Then, when your mom and dad think you are asleep, slip out your window, and meet me at the Rexall where we buy our comic books and model kits. I'll meet you, there."

"Travis –"

"Look for me in the parking lot. I'll be sitting in the front seat of a really old Rolls-Royce! You can't miss it!"

An 'old, Rolls-Royce' thought Mike. "I – I must be dreaming!"

"No, you're not," insisted Travis, adding even more seriously, "I know you trust me, Mike. We're best buds and Blood Brothers. I'd never double-cross you!"

"Yeah, of course I trust you, Travis, but –"

"No 'buts,' Mike. If you trust me, you'll meet me at the Rexall. When you get there, climb into the Rolls-Royce in the front, passenger's seat. I'll be in the driver's seat, waiting for you."

"You're driving a car, now?" said Mike skeptically. He just knew he had to be dreaming . . . .

Again, Mike heard laughter on the phone, and again Travis told Millie – whoever she was - to be quiet. Travis has a friend named Millie? And Mike thought that Travis hated girls! Now the kids in the background were singing "Holly Jolly Christmas."

Travis said, "Of course not! Mr. Manx drives it! You'll meet him in a bit. But first you gotta come here after your parents think you're asleep, or it won't work!"

"What won't work, Travis?"

"We won't be able to catch Freddy Krueger once and for all, and take him with us, where he won't be able to hurt anyone, ever again! Mr. Manx said that he tried to bring Freddy Krueger here about 20 years ago, but failed. But he says that he won't fail, this time.

"The first time, Freddy was a child, and Mr. Manx refuses to hurt a kid. So he couldn't make Freddy come with him. But now that Freddy Krueger's an adult, Mr. Manx says he can be a bit more . . . persuasive . . . .

"Look, Mike, I know you must have a million-and-one questions. Just meet me at the Rexall and I'll answer them all for you while we lay our trap for Freddy Krueger."

"Alright . . . ," said Mike. "But tell me this: If you're not dead, then where are you?"

Mike could almost hear Travis' huge smile over the phone. "I'm with Mr. Manx and all his other kids, Mike! They're my new friends! And we're in a place called Christmasland!"