Chapter 15

The door, obviously needing oil, squeaked on it's hinges, swung forward, and with a snap, broke from it's fastenings and fell inward. With a loud crash that shattered the silence of the house, the door fell to the floor. A cloud of dust plumed up from the ground, and finally settled back down to it's original resting spot.

Peering forward into the dusty, dark room, Chris could see nothing of harmful intent. Motioning for Jessie to follow, Chris stepped into the room.

"Wish we brought a flashlight," Jessie whispered. She carefully steeped over the fallen door, like a soldier at war stepping over a fallen comrade.

Chris looked around again. In his situation, overly cautious was not something to shake a finger at. "I don't think anyone is in here. I guess it's ok to look around."

"What are we looking for?" Jessie questioned. She glanced over her shoulder. For some reason, she had the feeling she was being watched. Cliched, maybe, but nonetheless disturbing.

"I don't know yet. But if you find anything that you think would be important, show me." Chris stepped over to the mirror, which was now cracked and broken. Like anything else in the house, the items in Jack's room had aged also.

Jessie went to the dresser, and searched through the drawers. After a couple minutes of thorough searching and finding nothing, she moved on to the closet.

Chris brushed the mirror off with his hand, waving away the layers of dust that had seemed to cover the mirror in a record breaking time of six hours. As before, the mirror looked like a regular mirror, nothing strange or superstitious about it.

Now noticing it for real, the mirror looked old. Not because of the strange rapid againg of the house, but because it looked like it was at least a hundred years old. The border around the reflective glass was rusted, giving it the antique look, probably inherited from a great grandfather or a friend.

The border, though, displayed weird symbols, no written language that Chris had ever seen. Trying to discern what they meant would take years of practice and learning, and Chris didn't try to bullshit himself into thinking he knew what it meant.

Nothing was happening. Unlike last time, the mirror did not magically talk and give Chris secret, cryptic messages conveying the whereabouts of Freddy, or how to stop him. The mirror was just a regular old reflective surface.

"I don't think we'll find anything this time," Chris said solemnly mostly to himself. He glanced around the room one more time, making sure he didn't miss any details. But he must have missed a detail. Because on the wall, the plaster had been slashed, revealing in the patterns words.

YOU NEED TO GO BACK TO YOUR DREAM, the message read. The patterns in the wall revealed an urgency, scrawled hastily.

"What dream?"

Behind, Chris heard a scratching sound, against the wall. Another message.

THE DREAM IN WHICH I DIED

"This is Jack? How are you talking to me?" Chris's face showed puzzlement, the lines of his mouth in a tight grimace.

AGAIN, I CANNOT EXPLAIN. THE MAN IS COMING FOR YOU

"I guess that's all the messages that we are going to receive from Jack. We need to get out of here though. Jack's messages have been right, and if he says Freddy is coming, I would bet my money that he's very close."

Chris picked up Jessie again, and walked out the bedroom door. He looked back at the room, seeing the open doorway, a gaping hole in the giant's mouth.

Too late. From the stairway, Chris could see the evil man, his steel claws glinting in the light.

"You are doing a tango with Death, friends, and you won't win. Death has big feet, and he's sure to step on your toes. He'll crunch them, crush them, and then crush you with on swipe of His blade. Your god won't save you now." Freddy rushed for the stairs, the ratty sweater flapping with the rush of air.

"Jack's parent's room! Run for it, Chris! We need to get out the window!" Jessie yelled urgently.

Chris was frozen, and Jessie could see it. Dropping from his arms, she hooked her arms underneath his legs and lifted him over her shoulder, running through the hallway towards the parent's room.

Any other time would not be approriate to enter another family's bedroom, but this desperate situation called for desperate measures. Another cliche, but it worked.

Nearing the room, so close she could almost see the window, the door slammed shut. Locked, bolted, unable to get in. Beating on the door. Jessie was fucked.

(Fucked in a tango of death)

Pounding on the door...

(Fucked in a tango)

Pulling on the door...

(Fucked in a tango)

Freddy right behind...

(Fucked in a tango)

"I told you. You cannot get away. Start praying to your fucking god, because you're gonna need all the help you can get. Your god cannot save you now. You are about to meet Satan, The Dark Lord, the Devil himself. Go to hell, bitch!"

(Your god cannot save you now)