Disclaimer- I don't own Freddy... pity... but I do own Peter who is then owned
by Freddy... yes... read
Major Pain
The sound of pumping blood spilled through his ears like a flowing stream of sickness. None of the red liquid was released, but at the rate it was pumping, it felt as though any minute all the veins in his head would burst and release the thundering "blood-horses". The sweat poured from his forehead at such a rate he felt like he would drown in it any minute. But he knew if he stopped to take a breather, it was all over.
The heat was exhausting and slowed his pace to a definitive stumble, as he passed and dodged huge boilers amongst the power plant room. The sky of the room was a heated up metallic rusted silver, and clouds of smoke danced along the ceiling, bouncing and bounding off the walls, migrating and mingling, reproduction evident of more smoke clouds that choked pure oxygen and the people inhaling it.
The heat and exhaustion was too much, and Peter collapsed in between two large burning boilers. The desperation to lean backwards and rest his weary head was at high peak, but he knew the boilers had been burning for quite some time with the bright red glow they let off, and if his skin was too make contact, the images of looking the same as the man chasing him seemed too familiar and obvious. The 13 year old boy huddled up into the fetal position, closing his eyes tight and holding his legs in a firm grip, protecting the vulnerable and soft flesh of his mid-section. The thought of the 4 long daggers piercing through his stomach and slicing up to his throat gave him hot and cold shivers amongst the steaming mess of a boiler room.
"Where is he, where is he?" Peter whispered to himself in a constant, yet calming motion. "He should have been here by now!"
Peter felt the tears swell up in his eyes and cascade down his cheeks, burning all the way down. A pulling at his heart told him that he wasn't going to survive this, but a voice in his head begged him to stay strong of hope. It wasn't his fault! He had never even heard of this burnt-faced man, why should he have to fall by his blades?
"Because it makes it all the more fun for me!" cackled a voice that whipped and thundered its way through the boilers.
Peter felt himself jump from his skin, as his legs gained a strength he had never felt before and found he was off and running again. If he was going to die, the least he could do was make the bastard work for his victim!
The fast and nimble body of Peter skipped down stairs, bounded down hallways and darted between boilers. If being chased in the real world, no one could ever have caught him. But he wasn't in the real world. He was stuck in this nightmare where no exit was evident. And all he could do was run, until he felt his legs hit something hard and sharp as they were lifted from the ground and the top of his body fell forward, crashing to the ground and winding the boy terribly. Peter screamed in agony. It wasn't the winding that had caused such a pain, but the object he had hit. A thin and superbly sharpened slice of metal was balanced on either side of the bottom railing of the bridge that Peter had been running through. Not seeing it, his shin had come into hard contact and the metal sliced through the front of his leg. Tripping over it and falling forward had only caused more trouble as he felt the metal follow his fall and cut out a chunk of his shin, now hanging off by barely a few layers of skin entangled with bucket loads of freshly squeezed blood.
Peter cried out in agony, his tears literally turning a shade of red.
"Help me!" he screamed through his sobs. "Please, somebody wake me up!"
"Wakey wakey..." came a soft echo from behind. Peter, through swollen and puffy eyes, looked behind him, only to turn away fast and sob harder and louder. The face of that man was so horrifying! It was just so foul!
"Hurt?" asked the burnt faced man as he leant in close to the side of the child's face. Peter sobbed loud.
"A lot?" asked the man again, the smell of burnt flesh terrorizing Peter's nostrils and forcing its way down his throat.
"You don't want to die, do you?" asked the man gently. Peter shook his head to agree. He was desperate, even if it meant biting down on his pride, just so he could reach his 14th birthday, then it had to be done.
"If you want to live, come with me." Said the man as he rose and stared down at the boy. Peter did nothing but cry harder.
"NOW!" he demanded, shaking Peter from his tearful trance as he reached over to grab the metal poles to the side of him as leverage to get up. His cut leg wobbled and the blood spilt on the ground made it no easier for him to rise, instead causing him to slip and fall back down.
Peter heard the man from behind grunt in annoyance at the pathetic attempts of the child trying to stand up. The man was almost ready to grab the kid himself and help him up just get the show on the road, but then again, that would just ruin his whole reputation as the cruel child murderer, better known as Freddy. His green and red sweater was definitely a give away, but still to Freddy's pleasure, there was always that odd kid or two who had never heard of him or known of him, and that would make the whole killing trip a hell of a lot more fun.
Peter was now up, struggling against the bars to stand, but Freddy was happy with the fact that the kid was finally up and ready to move.
"Get walking." Demanded Freddy sternly, poking the kid in the back with his blades. "I said MOVE!"
Peter began his stumbling limp down the bridge way, hoping that there really was a light at the end of the tunnel when he got out of this situation. The constant poking in the back wasn't exactly helpful, but if it kept the murderer occupied, then Peter's life was given extra minutes to live.
"So..." started Freddy. "Betchya' wondering where we're going eh?" Freddy chuckled to himself. "Don't you start worrying your tiny little mind off about this. I have my plans. You just focus on hurrying your useless ass up!"
Peter, tears still present in his eyes, growled. "If you stopped poking me, maybe I could move a lot faster!"
"Don't back talk to me asshole, didn't your mama ever teach you any manners?" said Freddy with a hidden smirk on his face. "Besides, I need to motivate your sorry ass! Now, one, two, three, four!"
Peter was shocked to hear as Freddy began a chant that sounded like something from the army when the men were marching. As Freddy shouted it, he continued to poke Peter in the back in beating time.
"I don't know, but I've been told!
(I don't know but I've been told!)
Raisin' kids is gettin' old!
(Raisin' kids is getting' old!)
Freddy's come to set them straight!
(Freddy's come to set them straight!)
Time for me to seal their fate!
(Time for me to seal their fate!)"
Peter tried to block out Freddy's out of tune singing, but was stopped in his tracks when he felt one of Freddy's knives split his skin in his back. He cried out in pain as he felt the warmth of blood drain from the wound and leak down his shirt.
"That's what you get for not repeating me maggot!" cried Freddy in a high authority voice like from those army movies. "Now repeat after me!"
"I've been bad to papa Fred!"
Freddy poked Peter harder in the back causing him to cry out again as another blood stream leaked down his shirt.
"Repeat bitch! Or I will cut out your tongue so you have an excuse not to speak!"
Peter shuddered and whimpered to himself as Freddy started back up again.
"I've been bad to papa Fred!"
Peter felt tears come to his eyes as he slowly whispered, "I've been bad to papa Fred..."
"I can't hear you!" cried Freddy.
"I'VE BEEN BAD TO PAPA FRED!" screamed Peter as his tears spilt fast. Freddy smiled.
"That's better... NOW!"
"I've been bad to papa Fred!
(I've been bad to papa Fred!)
Now its time to lose my head!
(Now its time to lose my head!)
I deserve nothing, you see!
(I deserve nothing, you see!)
Now Freddy's gonna' throw up on me!
(Now Freddy's gonna'....)
Peter cut the last part short as he turned around and screamed putting up his hands to cover his face as Freddy covered his mouth dramatically and began heaving in his chest. Suddenly a rotten jet of vomit shot from his mouth and spluttered all over Peter's face and body. Not only did the foul stench and odor hit Peter like a tornado, but the vomit felt like acid on his skin and began burning him. Peter screamed in pain and agony, whilst Freddy, now finished of his vomit, began his chant again that followed with his own attempt at a little contemporary jig.
"Sound off!
One, two!
I can't hear me!
Three, four!
One, two, three, four
One, two...
THREE, FOUR!"
As he finished his song, he jumped down to his knees, waving his hands about in the air to finish off his performance. Peter ignored, finding himself too busy cleaning away at the putrid vomit and crying his little heart out.
"Awww..." sighed Freddy, getting up off his knees. "You didn't like the dance? I swear it was something I saw off MTV!"
Peter growled through his tears. "I FUCKING HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! YOU CAN KILL ME IF YOU WANT, I DON'T CARE! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL!"
Freddy rolled his eyes. "Like I've never heard that before!" He sighed again.
"I thought I could take you along on this trip, but you've been nothing but a complete bore! All you do is whinge and whine, I'm sick of it! So ya' know what? I'm just going to put you out of your misery!"
Peter gasped in horror, scrambling backwards as fast as he could not dare to take his eyes off the burnt man.
"Please, no! Please! I'm sorry! I'll be good! I promise!" Peter was on his hands and knees, begging for any form of pity or remorse. But it seemed that only made things worse.
"You're not worth it kid. Sorry, but its time you got off Freddy's fun bus to hell..." And with that, Freddy rammed his 4 knives into the child's abdomen, and sliced upward to his throat, slicing it into 2. Peter gurgled unwillingly as his limp, bloodied and lifeless body dropped to the floor in a heap.
Freddy looked at his glove. "Little shit dirtied my blades." He then stepped over Peter's now forgotten body, triggering off a blue glow to shoot out from it and squeeze its way into Freddy's chest.
"Hrmm..." said Freddy with a wicked smile as he began marching the rest of the way down.
"I don't think those kids are cute!
(I don't think those kids are cute!)
Little shit just dirtied my boots!
(Little shit just dirtied my boots!)
Now I'm off to find a whore!
(Now I'm off to find a whore!)
I can feel one dreaming at number 4!
(I can feel one dreaming at number 4!)"
YAY! You reached the end again! Good on you!
Major Pain
The sound of pumping blood spilled through his ears like a flowing stream of sickness. None of the red liquid was released, but at the rate it was pumping, it felt as though any minute all the veins in his head would burst and release the thundering "blood-horses". The sweat poured from his forehead at such a rate he felt like he would drown in it any minute. But he knew if he stopped to take a breather, it was all over.
The heat was exhausting and slowed his pace to a definitive stumble, as he passed and dodged huge boilers amongst the power plant room. The sky of the room was a heated up metallic rusted silver, and clouds of smoke danced along the ceiling, bouncing and bounding off the walls, migrating and mingling, reproduction evident of more smoke clouds that choked pure oxygen and the people inhaling it.
The heat and exhaustion was too much, and Peter collapsed in between two large burning boilers. The desperation to lean backwards and rest his weary head was at high peak, but he knew the boilers had been burning for quite some time with the bright red glow they let off, and if his skin was too make contact, the images of looking the same as the man chasing him seemed too familiar and obvious. The 13 year old boy huddled up into the fetal position, closing his eyes tight and holding his legs in a firm grip, protecting the vulnerable and soft flesh of his mid-section. The thought of the 4 long daggers piercing through his stomach and slicing up to his throat gave him hot and cold shivers amongst the steaming mess of a boiler room.
"Where is he, where is he?" Peter whispered to himself in a constant, yet calming motion. "He should have been here by now!"
Peter felt the tears swell up in his eyes and cascade down his cheeks, burning all the way down. A pulling at his heart told him that he wasn't going to survive this, but a voice in his head begged him to stay strong of hope. It wasn't his fault! He had never even heard of this burnt-faced man, why should he have to fall by his blades?
"Because it makes it all the more fun for me!" cackled a voice that whipped and thundered its way through the boilers.
Peter felt himself jump from his skin, as his legs gained a strength he had never felt before and found he was off and running again. If he was going to die, the least he could do was make the bastard work for his victim!
The fast and nimble body of Peter skipped down stairs, bounded down hallways and darted between boilers. If being chased in the real world, no one could ever have caught him. But he wasn't in the real world. He was stuck in this nightmare where no exit was evident. And all he could do was run, until he felt his legs hit something hard and sharp as they were lifted from the ground and the top of his body fell forward, crashing to the ground and winding the boy terribly. Peter screamed in agony. It wasn't the winding that had caused such a pain, but the object he had hit. A thin and superbly sharpened slice of metal was balanced on either side of the bottom railing of the bridge that Peter had been running through. Not seeing it, his shin had come into hard contact and the metal sliced through the front of his leg. Tripping over it and falling forward had only caused more trouble as he felt the metal follow his fall and cut out a chunk of his shin, now hanging off by barely a few layers of skin entangled with bucket loads of freshly squeezed blood.
Peter cried out in agony, his tears literally turning a shade of red.
"Help me!" he screamed through his sobs. "Please, somebody wake me up!"
"Wakey wakey..." came a soft echo from behind. Peter, through swollen and puffy eyes, looked behind him, only to turn away fast and sob harder and louder. The face of that man was so horrifying! It was just so foul!
"Hurt?" asked the burnt faced man as he leant in close to the side of the child's face. Peter sobbed loud.
"A lot?" asked the man again, the smell of burnt flesh terrorizing Peter's nostrils and forcing its way down his throat.
"You don't want to die, do you?" asked the man gently. Peter shook his head to agree. He was desperate, even if it meant biting down on his pride, just so he could reach his 14th birthday, then it had to be done.
"If you want to live, come with me." Said the man as he rose and stared down at the boy. Peter did nothing but cry harder.
"NOW!" he demanded, shaking Peter from his tearful trance as he reached over to grab the metal poles to the side of him as leverage to get up. His cut leg wobbled and the blood spilt on the ground made it no easier for him to rise, instead causing him to slip and fall back down.
Peter heard the man from behind grunt in annoyance at the pathetic attempts of the child trying to stand up. The man was almost ready to grab the kid himself and help him up just get the show on the road, but then again, that would just ruin his whole reputation as the cruel child murderer, better known as Freddy. His green and red sweater was definitely a give away, but still to Freddy's pleasure, there was always that odd kid or two who had never heard of him or known of him, and that would make the whole killing trip a hell of a lot more fun.
Peter was now up, struggling against the bars to stand, but Freddy was happy with the fact that the kid was finally up and ready to move.
"Get walking." Demanded Freddy sternly, poking the kid in the back with his blades. "I said MOVE!"
Peter began his stumbling limp down the bridge way, hoping that there really was a light at the end of the tunnel when he got out of this situation. The constant poking in the back wasn't exactly helpful, but if it kept the murderer occupied, then Peter's life was given extra minutes to live.
"So..." started Freddy. "Betchya' wondering where we're going eh?" Freddy chuckled to himself. "Don't you start worrying your tiny little mind off about this. I have my plans. You just focus on hurrying your useless ass up!"
Peter, tears still present in his eyes, growled. "If you stopped poking me, maybe I could move a lot faster!"
"Don't back talk to me asshole, didn't your mama ever teach you any manners?" said Freddy with a hidden smirk on his face. "Besides, I need to motivate your sorry ass! Now, one, two, three, four!"
Peter was shocked to hear as Freddy began a chant that sounded like something from the army when the men were marching. As Freddy shouted it, he continued to poke Peter in the back in beating time.
"I don't know, but I've been told!
(I don't know but I've been told!)
Raisin' kids is gettin' old!
(Raisin' kids is getting' old!)
Freddy's come to set them straight!
(Freddy's come to set them straight!)
Time for me to seal their fate!
(Time for me to seal their fate!)"
Peter tried to block out Freddy's out of tune singing, but was stopped in his tracks when he felt one of Freddy's knives split his skin in his back. He cried out in pain as he felt the warmth of blood drain from the wound and leak down his shirt.
"That's what you get for not repeating me maggot!" cried Freddy in a high authority voice like from those army movies. "Now repeat after me!"
"I've been bad to papa Fred!"
Freddy poked Peter harder in the back causing him to cry out again as another blood stream leaked down his shirt.
"Repeat bitch! Or I will cut out your tongue so you have an excuse not to speak!"
Peter shuddered and whimpered to himself as Freddy started back up again.
"I've been bad to papa Fred!"
Peter felt tears come to his eyes as he slowly whispered, "I've been bad to papa Fred..."
"I can't hear you!" cried Freddy.
"I'VE BEEN BAD TO PAPA FRED!" screamed Peter as his tears spilt fast. Freddy smiled.
"That's better... NOW!"
"I've been bad to papa Fred!
(I've been bad to papa Fred!)
Now its time to lose my head!
(Now its time to lose my head!)
I deserve nothing, you see!
(I deserve nothing, you see!)
Now Freddy's gonna' throw up on me!
(Now Freddy's gonna'....)
Peter cut the last part short as he turned around and screamed putting up his hands to cover his face as Freddy covered his mouth dramatically and began heaving in his chest. Suddenly a rotten jet of vomit shot from his mouth and spluttered all over Peter's face and body. Not only did the foul stench and odor hit Peter like a tornado, but the vomit felt like acid on his skin and began burning him. Peter screamed in pain and agony, whilst Freddy, now finished of his vomit, began his chant again that followed with his own attempt at a little contemporary jig.
"Sound off!
One, two!
I can't hear me!
Three, four!
One, two, three, four
One, two...
THREE, FOUR!"
As he finished his song, he jumped down to his knees, waving his hands about in the air to finish off his performance. Peter ignored, finding himself too busy cleaning away at the putrid vomit and crying his little heart out.
"Awww..." sighed Freddy, getting up off his knees. "You didn't like the dance? I swear it was something I saw off MTV!"
Peter growled through his tears. "I FUCKING HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! YOU CAN KILL ME IF YOU WANT, I DON'T CARE! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL!"
Freddy rolled his eyes. "Like I've never heard that before!" He sighed again.
"I thought I could take you along on this trip, but you've been nothing but a complete bore! All you do is whinge and whine, I'm sick of it! So ya' know what? I'm just going to put you out of your misery!"
Peter gasped in horror, scrambling backwards as fast as he could not dare to take his eyes off the burnt man.
"Please, no! Please! I'm sorry! I'll be good! I promise!" Peter was on his hands and knees, begging for any form of pity or remorse. But it seemed that only made things worse.
"You're not worth it kid. Sorry, but its time you got off Freddy's fun bus to hell..." And with that, Freddy rammed his 4 knives into the child's abdomen, and sliced upward to his throat, slicing it into 2. Peter gurgled unwillingly as his limp, bloodied and lifeless body dropped to the floor in a heap.
Freddy looked at his glove. "Little shit dirtied my blades." He then stepped over Peter's now forgotten body, triggering off a blue glow to shoot out from it and squeeze its way into Freddy's chest.
"Hrmm..." said Freddy with a wicked smile as he began marching the rest of the way down.
"I don't think those kids are cute!
(I don't think those kids are cute!)
Little shit just dirtied my boots!
(Little shit just dirtied my boots!)
Now I'm off to find a whore!
(Now I'm off to find a whore!)
I can feel one dreaming at number 4!
(I can feel one dreaming at number 4!)"
YAY! You reached the end again! Good on you!