Warnings of brief child murder

Pride
. . .
"Pride, the first peer and president of hell."
-Daniel Defoe(1661-1731)

1970

Married, employed full time, and the eminent father of an infant daughter. What more could Fred Krueger possibly ask for?

He wasn't unappealing to the eye either. With fine blonde hair and clear gray eyes, he sometimes felt surely his childhood hadn't happened. Surely had had not grown up ridiculed for reasons beyond his control. Perhaps he was living another man's life, because the pleasurable life he was currently facing was not like the one he had dealt with for at least twenty years.

"Freeeeeeed." Loretta's delicate voice sang from the kitchen, which shone with Saturday morning sunshine. Normally it may have made him vomit, but today he was too chipper to care.

"I'm coming Loretta." He replied and followed the scent of apple cinnamon pie where Loretta enveloped him an tight squeeze.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" She beamed happily up at him. Standing at only 5'3, Loretta looked up to her husband. Freddy tucked Loretta's short bob behind her ear which had fallen out of place.

"Yes because I love you more."

He firmly planted his lips upon hers, which were coated in a rosy pink lipstick.

"No kissy!" Katherine's tiny voice came from below the couple, her hand clutching the pant leg of Freddy's trousers. "No kissy!"

He laughed and scooped her up. "Can I kiss you?"

The child pondered for a brief moment in definitive silence. "Yeah."

As if I wasn't, even if she had said no. he thought to himself.

So he softly kissed Katherine's cheek.

By the expression on Loretta's face, it was as if he had asked Katherine to strip herself of her garments. Rolling his eyes he set the girl down.

I have been a good father. Probably the best there is.

It had been like abstinence. He was suppose to give it all up, never succumb to the murders...But it was too late. As Freddy stared down at his blood soaked hands, and his gaze leveled with the child's corpse on the ground in front of him.

Since Loretta had given birth to Katherine he had been good. He really had. He had given up the white lies, given up sneaking behind Loretta's oblivious back. He had meant to stand his ground.

He had tried so hard to be a family man. Play the caring father, spoon feeding his child with 'the airplane game', being the bread winner and caring spouse. Looking in his newborn's eyes four years ago, he had really thought she would be the reason he would stop thinking about death. Stop thinking of anger and revenge to all that had ruined him. It had worked. For awhile. The killings had begun not even a year later. It was different. Much different.

As a boy, Freddy had slaughtered the class rodents and small animals. Humans. They were different. They screamed, cried and begged Freddy for mercy. When he snubbed their life out like a random candle, he could practically see their innocence snatched from their souls.

Thats why he went to the children. They were easier to lure, and trusted adults. He would never be capable of approaching an adult who would set their life upon his hands. The pleading way the victims gazed up at him their lip trembling and wailing for their parents as he sharpened his weapons.

And there was the glove of course. The parts he had purchased at a hardware store, and constructed the glove with the knives for fingers underneath Loretta's nose in the padlocked room in the basement. The knives maneuvered like authentic fingers.
This was how the night's events had occurred, why the corpse had ended up on the ground in front of him.

She was only five, her name Rosalie. Her nose ran, like a broken faucet. She sniveled over her lip, her tear stained face blotchy with rosy red patches.

Her crumpled body lay like a rag doll against the cement paved wall of the boiler room. Sweat glistened on the child's forehead as she sobbed. The boiler's were blazing, the furnace on maximum. Yet it wasn't just the sweltering heat which made this child perspire.

"I w-w-wanna go h-ome!" She wailed, tugging at the collared shirt of her denim overalls. "Where's m-my daddy?"
Krueger was aware that Rosalie had lost her mother due to birth complications, she was dependant on her father who cherished her every molecule.

"He's right here Rosy posy." Freddy laughed, chortling under his breath as he slowly ran his tongue along the blade on his middle finger, making sure Rosalee was in full view. "That's all you need to know."

He stalked towards her, unable to take his time. His heart thumping in heated anticipation, and his palms sweating.

Rosalie shrieked and buried her head in her hands, curling up like a blossoming cocoon.

"You're my Elm Street brat now." He hissed, lunging towards her.

He nonchalantly scrubbed the crimson blood from his red soaked hands in the suds he had prepared in the sink. Warm blood trailed down the drain in a circular motion, as Fred stared on with a coy smirk.
It struck him, as it always did when he tossed a limp child's body among the flames of a boiler when he was done with them. The warm feeling of pride in the pit of his stomach.
He continued to scrub, dismissing all blood on skin was a doozie.

He had killed again and he felt damn triumphant. Proud of himself for luring the child, murdering the child, and getting away with it; not caught once. And he would never find himself behind bars. It took the slippery allure of a sociopath to escape the law. Beaming vainly, Freddy recollected the night of pleading screams of Rosalie as her skin was infiltrated.

Her father would pace the interior of his bungalow, weeping with grief of the absence of his only child. Singing to himself a sonnet for comfort, the nursery he whispered to Rosy before bedtime on a regular basis.

Ring around the Rosy

Pocket full of Posy

Ashes, Ashes

We all Fall Down

He would then shakily dial the police and they would scour the scene for the missing person, as they did for all children immediately after reported. Only so they could have yet another cold case on their hands. The case of the Springwood Slasher.

But what could he say, the Springwood Slasher case was blazing hot. It was all that the drowsy town mused. 'Will my child be next?' The police had received enough complaints to last the station a lifetime.
"You did good." He told himself aloud arrogantly, examining his poised jaw in the mirror reflection. "You always do good."
Self confidence was important, and Fred was pompous.

"Rosalie wasn't at school today Daddy." Katherine jut a pouted lip out as she emptied her school bag out on the kitchen table, 'homework time'.

Krueger finished chewing the remains of his bran muffin.

"Oh. Who's this Rosalie?"

"I didn't really like her."

Freddy surged with pomposity. His most recent victim had turned out to be disliked by his own daughter. Another point for Freddy.
"Mrs.Kukwa says she's missing." Mrs.Kukwa was Katherine's pre-school teacher.
"Well that's a pity, hopefully she'll come home soon."

Author's Word: On March 10th I turn 16, so I updated in 'celebration'. Enjoy.