WARNING: This is a Nightmare on Elm St. fanfic, it contains graphic Freddy
gore (no surprise) and some adult language and themes. If you are under 13
years old you probably shouldn't be reading it. And if you are the
squeamish type or are easily offended then the same goes for you too. This
story WILL have a happy ending. Of course my idea of a happy ending is
wholesale death and destruction..FREDDY RULES THE WORLD! Um, erm, did I
just say that out loud?
Everyone's Afraid of Something
Chapter One
**[The souls of the children make me strong]** Freddy Krueger
Springwood High School Cafeteria, October 2, 2003
"Richard Speck?"
Staci shook her head.
"John List?"
"Nope"
"Ok, what about Fred Krueger?" Mike pondered.
"John Wayne Gacy killed more than Krueger did."
"He had more "confirmed" kills you mean," Jason interjected. "We only know for sure that Krueger offed twenty-three. There were the disappearances."
"Yea, well, that's the way the rules work. No bodies, no credit applied," Staci stated emphatically. She leaned back tucking her long brown hair behind her ear.
"Yea, but I think he should get extra points for brutality. I mean he targeted children. Did some really sick shit, you know," Mike stated.
"That's just plain gross. I don't even wanna know," Annalee responded. Her normally perky features twisted in disgust. "Why I even hang out with you guys is beyond me."
"Well at least he didn't eat them," Jason teased, "I mean it could be worse." "Look at Hannibal Lector." "And," he said looking at Annalee, "You hang out with us because despite your cutie pie looks you're just as warped as the rest of us."
Annalee swatted at Jason playfully. "Ok, that's enough for me! "I don't want to know anymore about psycho serial killers," she stated.
"Yea but Krueger wasn't just a psycho killer. He keeps killing from beyond the grave. He's the boogeyman!" Mike grinned.
Staci lightly punched him in the arm. "Stick with the facts please."
"All the dead kids around here through the years aren't fact enough for you?" Jason questioned. "The suicide rate in Springwood is 5X the average, the rate of "accidental" death among teens/preteens is 12X the average. Springwood also has more mental illness per capita than any other city in the US."
"Its all bullshit," Mike said between bites of his sandwich. That part's nothing more than an urban legend. "He's dead, dead, dead." And when you're dead.. you're not coming back. Period.
**[I ..am.. eternal]**
"Come on Mr. Macho Jock, you saying you're not just a little creeped out by the whole Freddy Krueger legend?" Annalee teased.
"Hell no! Why should I be?" Mike challenged. "I mean if it were all true then why is this guy not killing everybody in their dreams? Why just a few every once in awhile?" He leaned back in the chair. A self satisfied grin on his face.
"Well," Jason began, "No one really knows for sure what Freddy is or how he chooses his victims. It's said that he went after the kids of the parents that burned him to death. "But there were others. A lot of others," he finished.
"Hm, every serial killer I've ever heard of follows a pattern of some sort," Staci offered. "Whether it's killing blondes or prostitutes or in Krueger's case, kids. They seldom deviate from that pattern."
"You're all forgetting one important thing!" Mike interjected. "Krueger's dead! Been dead for a long time. This dream boogeyman stuff is crap!"
"If you're so sure of that Mike, why don't you invite Krueger over for some one on one dream time," Staci taunted.
"Very funny," Mike scoffed.
"You know that could actually work," Jason responded.
"What?" Annalee questioned.
"Calling him out. We don't know how Krueger gets into your dreams," Jason stated. "I mean why some kids and not others." Why there are periods of time when he's inactive."
"This is the most lame ass discussion," Mike scoffed. "You're talking like the legend is real."
Annalee looked uncomfortable. "All this is going to do is give us self made nightmares, what do they call it? The power of suggestion."
"I guess there's really only one way to find out if he's real or not huh," Jason grinned.
"We extend an invitation."
*************************************************************
The boiler room rumbled. It's fires burned eternally hot. The pipes clanked and hissed as steam coursed their lengths. The air hung heavy with moisture. This was home. Home to a being that was not a man and yet not quite a demon. The truth lie somewhere in between.
The sound of footfalls came from the upper level. The Nightmare King was stalking his realm.
He paused at the top of the stairs to shift the small figure in his arms. Her long blonde curls were draped over his shoulder. The child he cradled was still. So very still.
He strode down the stairs towards the large boiler. There he lay her small body. She wore a frilly lace dress. At one time, it had been purest white. Now it was deep red. His expression was almost sad. It always came to this in the end. They all left him.
Pulling bloody ribbons from his pocket, he entwined them in the child's hair. It wasn't really fair. She was such a beautiful little thing. He had enjoyed tormenting her immensely. But sooner or later, they all succumbed. Leaving him alone and wanting.
He pulled the child into his arms, rocking her gently. Then he threw open the furnace door and tossed her inside. The flames shot up greedily. He really didn't know why he bothered with this inane ritual. After all, there wasn't really any corpse to dispose of. It was all symbolic. Something he clung to from his living days.
He cocked his head to the side. A deep purr rose from his chest. So, someone wanted to play. He was always amused when the piggies deliberately sought him out. They always seemed so surprised when he actually answered their calls.
He grinned. Time to play.
Not too graphic YET. I do want to get inside that twisted mind of his though. See what I can stir up.
Everyone's Afraid of Something
Chapter One
**[The souls of the children make me strong]** Freddy Krueger
Springwood High School Cafeteria, October 2, 2003
"Richard Speck?"
Staci shook her head.
"John List?"
"Nope"
"Ok, what about Fred Krueger?" Mike pondered.
"John Wayne Gacy killed more than Krueger did."
"He had more "confirmed" kills you mean," Jason interjected. "We only know for sure that Krueger offed twenty-three. There were the disappearances."
"Yea, well, that's the way the rules work. No bodies, no credit applied," Staci stated emphatically. She leaned back tucking her long brown hair behind her ear.
"Yea, but I think he should get extra points for brutality. I mean he targeted children. Did some really sick shit, you know," Mike stated.
"That's just plain gross. I don't even wanna know," Annalee responded. Her normally perky features twisted in disgust. "Why I even hang out with you guys is beyond me."
"Well at least he didn't eat them," Jason teased, "I mean it could be worse." "Look at Hannibal Lector." "And," he said looking at Annalee, "You hang out with us because despite your cutie pie looks you're just as warped as the rest of us."
Annalee swatted at Jason playfully. "Ok, that's enough for me! "I don't want to know anymore about psycho serial killers," she stated.
"Yea but Krueger wasn't just a psycho killer. He keeps killing from beyond the grave. He's the boogeyman!" Mike grinned.
Staci lightly punched him in the arm. "Stick with the facts please."
"All the dead kids around here through the years aren't fact enough for you?" Jason questioned. "The suicide rate in Springwood is 5X the average, the rate of "accidental" death among teens/preteens is 12X the average. Springwood also has more mental illness per capita than any other city in the US."
"Its all bullshit," Mike said between bites of his sandwich. That part's nothing more than an urban legend. "He's dead, dead, dead." And when you're dead.. you're not coming back. Period.
**[I ..am.. eternal]**
"Come on Mr. Macho Jock, you saying you're not just a little creeped out by the whole Freddy Krueger legend?" Annalee teased.
"Hell no! Why should I be?" Mike challenged. "I mean if it were all true then why is this guy not killing everybody in their dreams? Why just a few every once in awhile?" He leaned back in the chair. A self satisfied grin on his face.
"Well," Jason began, "No one really knows for sure what Freddy is or how he chooses his victims. It's said that he went after the kids of the parents that burned him to death. "But there were others. A lot of others," he finished.
"Hm, every serial killer I've ever heard of follows a pattern of some sort," Staci offered. "Whether it's killing blondes or prostitutes or in Krueger's case, kids. They seldom deviate from that pattern."
"You're all forgetting one important thing!" Mike interjected. "Krueger's dead! Been dead for a long time. This dream boogeyman stuff is crap!"
"If you're so sure of that Mike, why don't you invite Krueger over for some one on one dream time," Staci taunted.
"Very funny," Mike scoffed.
"You know that could actually work," Jason responded.
"What?" Annalee questioned.
"Calling him out. We don't know how Krueger gets into your dreams," Jason stated. "I mean why some kids and not others." Why there are periods of time when he's inactive."
"This is the most lame ass discussion," Mike scoffed. "You're talking like the legend is real."
Annalee looked uncomfortable. "All this is going to do is give us self made nightmares, what do they call it? The power of suggestion."
"I guess there's really only one way to find out if he's real or not huh," Jason grinned.
"We extend an invitation."
*************************************************************
The boiler room rumbled. It's fires burned eternally hot. The pipes clanked and hissed as steam coursed their lengths. The air hung heavy with moisture. This was home. Home to a being that was not a man and yet not quite a demon. The truth lie somewhere in between.
The sound of footfalls came from the upper level. The Nightmare King was stalking his realm.
He paused at the top of the stairs to shift the small figure in his arms. Her long blonde curls were draped over his shoulder. The child he cradled was still. So very still.
He strode down the stairs towards the large boiler. There he lay her small body. She wore a frilly lace dress. At one time, it had been purest white. Now it was deep red. His expression was almost sad. It always came to this in the end. They all left him.
Pulling bloody ribbons from his pocket, he entwined them in the child's hair. It wasn't really fair. She was such a beautiful little thing. He had enjoyed tormenting her immensely. But sooner or later, they all succumbed. Leaving him alone and wanting.
He pulled the child into his arms, rocking her gently. Then he threw open the furnace door and tossed her inside. The flames shot up greedily. He really didn't know why he bothered with this inane ritual. After all, there wasn't really any corpse to dispose of. It was all symbolic. Something he clung to from his living days.
He cocked his head to the side. A deep purr rose from his chest. So, someone wanted to play. He was always amused when the piggies deliberately sought him out. They always seemed so surprised when he actually answered their calls.
He grinned. Time to play.
Not too graphic YET. I do want to get inside that twisted mind of his though. See what I can stir up.