Alright. It's done. 2 chapters in one day. Not too bad for someone who takes a little more time to write one chapter. Thanks guys for your reviews and adding my story to your favorite's list. It's very flattering that you like my work. I appreciate it. To everyone that has written reviews, thank you for your thoughts and encouragement from day one. To DarknessTakesOver, thanks for your input. Without it, I think that this would be a failure before a success.
I dedicated this chapter to you!
Without Further Due...
March 1969
After hitting my 15th child, I got a call from the Sheriff's department. I was kind of skeptical about them calling me. Also I was scared shitless as to why they would call me and at a such late hour. Have they finally nailed their man? Have they figured out where all the bodies are? Did they search the boiler room?
"Can I speak with Fred Krueger, please?"
This is he.
"Mr. Krueger, I'm Lieutenant Thompson with the Springwood Police. The reason that I'm calling you at this time, and I do apologize for the lateness, but we have gotten some strange calls pertaining to you and some of the missing children. Would you be kind enough to come down to the station and answer some questions?"
What do I do? Oh God, they found me out. Play it cool. Don't make it seem you are so guilty. Don't say No, it will make it worse.
Sure, sir. What time would you like for me to come down?
"Well we would like if we came and picked you up. Save you the trouble and gas."
I was kind of hesitant of them picking me up in a patrol car. But I had to give the impression that there was nothing going on.
It's a scare tactic, Freddy. Don't let it get to you. They just want to answer some questions. You have put yourself in some situations that other parent's may have noticed. Just keep calm and just do you very best at lying.
"That's fine sir."
" Good. We will pick you up in 15 minutes."
Then he hung up the phone. Just a dry hang up.
What a scum bag, hanging up the phone without saying "good bye" or even "Ok. We will see you in 15." I think they already have made who the Springwood Slasher is; they just want to make sure they have the right guy.
Wait a minute….Thompson. Thompson. I recognize the last name. I think that the Lieutenant is the father of Nancy Thompson. She's a pretty little thing, Nancy. I've always liked her for some odd reason. I didn't see any reason to hurt her or even play with her pink subtleness. She's a very sweet girl. I use to see her playing with Joey, but now that he's dead, she doesn't come around much, at least when I notice. They came and picked me up but it was an eerie quietness in the car, like they already nabbed their man. The hell I wasn't going to go down without a fight. I play it nice, I played good.
The cops must have kept me for 3 hours questioning me about every child that has gone missing within the last few years. I of course played the shock card and "I've- seen- them playing- around- in- the- area- but- other- than- that- nothing- out- of- the- ordinary explanation. I didn't tell them that I grabbed them without them noticing; loaded them in the ice-cream truck that I had and took them to my boiler room at work and sometimes home in my cellar. I didn't tell them I lured the kids with candy and popsicles. I didn't tell them that I cut their stomachs and burned their bodies into the boiler. I didn't tell them that I watched their bodies shrivel up in black pieces. I didn't tell them that I played with them when they were sleeping off the chloroform. I didn't tell them I use to beat off while watching them moan in their sleep. When they decided to take a break, or in my terms come up with other ways to ask me questions to incriminate myself, I kept thinking about Laura, my next little piggy. She always wore pig-tales and a pink dress. She smelled like cotton candy too. I just wanted to eat her up she tasted so sweet. Even thinking about it is making my dick hard with pressure. I have to think of something else to get her off my mind. I need to concentrate. I thought about how to get her. I've tried popsicles, candy, and crayons. What can I think of next?
Jesus, Freddy. You are one twisted fuck.
Thanks!
No, I mean how can you think about Laura and what you plan on doing to her when you are sitting in an interrogation room with cold coffee? Cops are asking you questions; presenting photos of the ones you didn't dispose of correctly.
It's natural to me, I guess. The cops can't read my mind. If they ask I can just say "oh, I'm thinking about my daughter. How she looked so cute today in her blue overalls her mother bought her. (Fucking bitch put overalls on my daughter.)
Yeah. I guess it could work out that way since you have been smiling since they left the room.
Have I? Oh well, that little lie will go well with this one-of-a-kind smile.
Oh! To answer your own question of how to get Laura why not use cotton candy since she smells so much of it?
Hmm. Good idea! I just got to know how to make some. Wait! I could say I have a cotton candy machine in the cellar and want her to try some.
Always thinking on your feet, Freddy.
Finally the Lieutenant returned with his lower- ranked officer. Why do they have to bring in two officers? It's not like it bothers me that there are two now instead of one. It seemed like they kept asking the same questions but in different forms like they were trying to incriminate myself by saying something different. They did after all have a tape recorder in the room. I had to concentrate really hard when those questions came up. They asked the same question 4 or 5 times in different forms. It really got annoying and frustrating. I still kept calm. I did very well.
Finally they let me go home. It must have been around midnight when I came into the house. I think that Laura, my next little piggy, is going to have to wait. With the cops on my ass, there's no way I can get another kill in until everything calms down. Wow….I love how the cops are so on-top of things now that 15 children are dead by my own claws. I guess our tax money is now being used wisely.
No. It's just that you are so secretive of how you kill the children and it's not out of the blue. You picked them based on what you want out of them. If they were quiet, candy-driven, what made your pants bulge with them screaming.
I know. I can't wait to get Laura. Look at me; I'm squirming in my own chair. I think I need to head to the bathroom for a bit.
December 1969.
I don't know if the cops got the idea or not but I haven't been called back. I guess that I'm off the hook for now. The cops are starting to crack down though. They keep questioning the parents of the kids wondering why they would wonder off. The parents are going on and on about how they told them not to talk to strangers and if anyone was offering them something to turn and run. What they don't know is that sometimes if they do run, they don't scream. I can catch up to them and snatch them up quickly. Then the lessons their parents taught them would prove to be useless. I love proving parents wrong. They live in this so-called fantasy of oh my kid would never do that thoughts and think they are lawful and know when to run and when to stand up. What they don't know is that pressure to have something; the temptation is always there. Kids aren't strong enough to evade the temptation. I am the devil. I give them what they want and then in the end I get what I want. Their lives, then toss them into the fire so no one could ever find them.
Loretta is starting to become skittish around me. Ever since I slapped her last year, she's very distant to me. I asked her a couple of weeks ago to sit with me in the living room by the fire. She hesitated. Usually she would say "sure" or "ok" but she hesitated on her words. Part of me hurts that she would actually take the time to think about the question asked. Another part wants to hit her for even thinking about the question when she should do what she's told. Fucking bitch. She did come to sit with me but she was almost on the edge of the couch. So I went closer to her and put my arm around her. I could feel the fear coming off of her. She was shaking so bad but she clasped her hands together, trying to hide the fear. I could tell right away. Her eyes looked me over, seeing if she was really looking at her husband; the one man that she fell in love a long time ago at the diner. It was the same man, but she doesn't know the full me. She only sees what I want her to see. She's comfortable with it. Now that I've become more of myself over the past years, she's realizing that her idea of marrying me or even knowing me was an absolute mistake. Given, I do love her still but sometimes I just want to toss her out of the house and jsut deal without her for a while. She goes more to see her parents now and takes Katherine with her. I hate how she has to take Katherine everywhere. All she does is sits in a corner, playing with her dolls. Not a lot of attention from her own mother. Katherine cries now when she hears her mother saying we are goning to granny and grampys. She screams and sobs "I want to stay at home with Daddy." Her cry almost makes me want to hold her tight, letting her know it will be ok. But no...that fucking bitch keeps taking her away from me.
When ever I do get to play with Katherine we have a load of a time. She likes to run around the backyard playing tag with me. I love to see her giggle and smile wide when she tries to run away. When I catch her she giggles all the same. I can't help but giggle myself in the fun of it. I always tell her "I'm gonna get ya" and she just laughs histerically. When I do catch her, I tickle her belly and she kicks and screams and laughs. When it's time for dinner though, I gather her in my arms and she rests her head on my shoulder. She says "I love you, Daddy" when we know it's time to stop playing around. I can't feel any happier when I tell her "I love you too, Honey" and hugs me tigther around my neck. At those times I would rather die than never get to play with my own daughter. Her brown wavy hair flowing behind her when she would run. Her white baby teeth when she would giggle. She's everything to me. I would do anything for her to keep her mine. When I see Loretta standing at the door, telling us it's dinner time, my happiness turns to anger. Why did she have to ruin the time with her father? Why do I have to end this blissful joyful extention of what is called my life? I feel sometimes, that Katherine doesn't have a father and that makes me cry. I'm always working late. I'm off in the cellar or down at the boiler room at work. I don't ever spend time with her. I need to do that. I can't see her being brought up in this world without me. I don't want her to turn out the way I did. She's too pure to go through that. I love her so much. I can't wait everyday to see her wake up and have breakfast with me. I think that I'll make bacon and eggs tomorrow. She loves bacon.
January 1970.
Who would do such a thing? Who in their right mind would hurt her? I got a call from work today hearing Loretta talking, sounded like she was almost crying.
"What's wrong?"
"Fred, please come home. Your daughter-"
"What about Katherine? What's wrong with my daughter?" I could hear Katherine, crying in the background.
"She got bullied at the stop sign today. She got pushed and kicked. She keeps calling for you but I try to tell her you are at work."
"Tell her Daddy is coming home."
I slammed that phone and told the Manager I had to go home due to a family emergency. I rushed home, speeding down the road so I could get home sooner. I parked and ran into the house. "Katherine?". I saw her on the couch and she can running, with tears forming in her eyes. She cried hard on my shoulder and I just held her tight. God, I felt so awful that something happened like this. To her even. Loretta was in the kitchen cooking and she just held back the tears as she saw me embrace my daughter.
"What happened, honey? You can tell daddy." I asked Katherine, cooing her to calm down.
"Daddy. Mark hit me. He pushed me. Then he kicked. It hurt so bad, daddy." She started to cry again and buried her head into my shoulder. I looked at Loretta, who was stiring what was soup in a big steel pot.
"Did anything else happen?" I asked her, with worry in my voice.
"No. That's all she said. I saw her get pushed and the boy, Mark, just kicked her and ran away. I went to talk to his parents but all they did was say that their son wouldn't do such a thing." She looked down and began to stir the soup.
"Oh really? They think that their son didn't do that huh? Are you sure that was the boy and those were his parents?"
"Yes, Fred. I know Mark when I see him. Janice and Harry are with him all the time. I just put two and two together." She started moving around the kitchen, fixing the table for dinner. I was so mad. My face was burning. Katherine moved away to feel the cool of my jacket on her face from crying. I felt like hurting all three of them; Janice, Harry and Mark.
The fucking little prick hurt my daughter.
"Honey, I've gotta go talk to Mark's parents about what he did to you ok? I'll be back in a little bit. Go color and I'll be back before you are done." Katherine looked at me as she wiped the clear snot from her dripping nose. I grabbed my hankerchief and told her to blow. It was so warm and wet. I never knew how much this kid could cry.
"Fred. Please. Don't do anything too rational."
"Of course not, dear. What would give you that impression?" I threw her a glaring look and she shuttered and looked away. I zipped my coat and walked down the sidewalk. I was about unleash the beast within.
I pounded on the door and heard steps coming through. It was Janice who opened the door. Her grey hair pulled into a bun greeted me with a smile. "Hello, Fred. How can I help you tonight?"
"Janice. I just got a call from Loretta that told me that your son, pushed and kicked my daughter Katherine. Was this true?" I asked her trying to play the concerned roll. I saw her eyes go big. She knew I knew about it and I wasn't going to let it down unlike Loretta.
"MY son didn't do anything to your daughter." I peered into the house and saw Mark ont he couch, sucking away at a piece of candy. Half of it was on his face as the television lights glowed. Such a nasty little shit.
"Well..my wife saw your son kick Katherine."
"Well your wife likes to make up quite a lot when she sees something. For all we know she could have kicked Katherine."
My eyes went wild. I calmly asked her to step outside, which she did. I grabbed her by her blouse and spoke in a quiet tone.
"Listen Janice. I have no quarral with you. Whatever you have against my wife, that's between you and her. I want to know who hurt. my. child. She has a bruise on her side which you can see without looking very close to her skin. She has been crying ever since it happened. If I find out that your piece of shit son hurt my daughter, I will make sure that you will get what is coming to you."
"Fred, I demand you to leave my property. Now."
"Not until I know you understand what I've just told you."
"Your threats are nothing to me, Mr. Krueger."
"A threat Janice. That wasn't a threat, sugar. That was a fucking promise. Now I'm taking my daughter to the hospital as soon as I get back home. If I find she has even the slightest crack in her ribs or rupture in her body. I'm coming back for your son. I want him to see what he has done to my Katherine. Then I'll make sure that you and Harry will be notified by cops pounding on your front fucking door for neglect."
I shoved her back and she almost fell backwards into the rocking chair. She stood up and clasped her shirt where I held her. She shuttered and returned into her house franticaly. I walked down the steps and headed back to the house. I pounded my boots from the snow onto the porch and came through the door. Katherine was at the table, slurping up her soup. Loretta stood up and walked over to me. "Well?"
"They are made well aware that Katherine was hurt. The advised me to take her to the hospital just in case." I said cooly, not trying to raise panic in my wife's mind. I love trying to play the one that was more adult about situations. Ha ha. Loretta nodded her head. "but, let's wait until after dinner. I'm starved." I said approaching the table. Katherine's mouth was covered in rice and liquid tomatoes, stuck to her cheeks. I could see her eyes were a little red from crying but I knew she was getting better. I sat next to her, petting her head as she took in spoonfuls of soup.
I could feel Loretta's eyes watching us like a dog. I hate that she can't even trust me around my own daughter. It's not like I would hurt her like I'm about to with Mark.
January 1970.
Come to find out that Katherine didn't have any cracked ribs. Just some heavy bruising. Still it infurieated me to see that a little fucking twat of a child did something to my baby. We will have to keep her at home and let the pre-school know that she will not be coming for a couple of weeks. I felt so bad for her. When we did get home from the hospital, I just rocked her in the chair by the fire. No sooner that we got home, she was asleep in my arms. I played with her hair, combing it between my fingers. I kissed her lightly on the forehead before I got up and carried her upstairs. I placed her in her bed, tucking her in with pink blankets. She smiled softly and moaned a little, scurrying in her own bed for comfort. I smiled at her and watched her sleep in the moonlight in the window. As I looked out of the house. I could see Mark's bedroom. I thoughts of my loving daughter soon vanished and was replaced with the revenge of a mad man. I walked quietly out of the bed room and walked down the stairs. Loretta was sitting on the couch watching the news. "How is she doing?"
"She's fine. Sleeping in bed now. Why would anyone want to hurt her, Loretta?" I asked, sincerely.
"I have no idea, darling. Kids these days do not know discipline anymore. If it were you or me back when we were kids, our bottoms would be red and swollen. Now they just get sent to their room or put in a corner."
"No lack of discipline, huh? It will catch up to him one of these days." The thoughts of tearing his flesh grew vivid in my mind. The blood splattering on the walls, my face, my shirt. I cooed at the thought, hoping that it will bring me and my family peace. My sweet Katherine was hurt. I would do anything for that child and I meant it. Do unto others as they do unto you. Katherine is a part of me, so it's as if he kicked me. He should be kicked too.
Or hit, slammed, gutted, cut, shot, hung, strangled, burned. Yeah he should be "kicked".
She's only 3 years old. What evil could a child at that age do? Mark should have known better not to hurt someone that did nothing to him. I think I need to teach him a lesson. One lesson I know he will remember.
March 1970
Child found in Springwood Park.
By: Joe Brown
Tuesday- Police uncovered a grisley display at the Springwood Park earlier today. Police found the battered body of 6 year old Mark Hamberg, 1944 Juniper Ave, in the sandbox under the wooden playground. He was discovered with his hands bound with rope with his body displayed in a sacriligeous formation. Police were seen walking away from the child, covering their mouths with hankercheifs. The parents of Mark, Harry and Janice Hamberg were called to the scene. Mrs. Hamberg screamed loudly her son's name as she came upon the drastice image of her son.
"Why would someone do such a thing? He was a wonderful boy!" Mr. Hamberg stated as he tried to hide the tears in his eyes. The boy's body was carried off into an ambulance to St. Patricks Hospital where he was pronouced dead by cornors. Dr. Smith will be performing an autopsy to find out the main cause of death.
Police have been called into the investigation, trying to see Mark was apart of the Springwood Slasher killings that have been happening in this small town for the past 2 and a half years. No leads have been found to end these horrific murders. No information was found regarding the autopsy of the child when questioning Mr. Smith. This Article will be updated when other information is available.
AAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
gOOOOOOOOOOD BYYEEEEEEE YOU LITTLE SHIT! AHAHAHAHAHAHA LITTLE PIGGY WHEN TO THE SANDBOX AND FOUND SOME KNIVES TO PLAY. UNFORTUNATLY THEY WERE ATTACHED TO MY HAND. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HA. HA. HA. HA. HA. HA. ! ...HA. ...HE. ... ...
Rot in hell you little piggy! You'll be roasted and fed to the dogs, you little cumstain. This is for my daughter!
April 1970.
Ah...things are a lot quieter now around here. Ever since Mark decided to get in my way, and dealt with the little ugly little shit, things are a lot better. I realllllly haven't had the urge to hurt anyone. I'm doing a lot better with Loretta now. After what she saw with me and Katherine and how I reacted when she got hurt, she has put more trust into me. Me and Katherine go out side all the time now. Since her ribs are now pretty well healed, we run around the backyard, through the rose bushes and garden. I'm having a blast with her. She keeps giggling now, laughing histerically when I would chase her. She is like her father after all. Loves to laugh.
I guess we saw that a few months ago. I don't think we've seen you laugh so much in a long while.
Oh it has been so good now. I've cleaned up the cellar. I've hung up my blades for now, I don't feel like hurting anyone anymore. I think that the last time with Mark was really the last time. I don't have those urges. I've been cleansed. I smile now when ever I see the sky being all blue. The sun's shinning. I've read over the pages of this diary and I can't imagine the pain I've been through as I've described them here. So vivid; so laid out before me. I keep thinking if I read over the pages, would I be in the same mindset as I am in now? Nah, I couldn't have had the most incredible daughter. She's-
She keeps taking my pen away, telling me "I wanna play daddy. I wanna play tag." So I have to get up and run after her to get the pen back and hopefully can clear away my thoughts through another couple sentences before she runs and takes it from me again. Little sunshine, she is. I love her so much. She's all I ever talk about. I haven't had a drink in over a month and I don't need it anymore. She is the one that helps me through sobreity. My Katherine. My daughter. My baby girl. My honey of sunshine. She's everything to me. I love that little girl-
AAHHH!
What the? Loretta's screaming? I wonder what about?
You know why Fred. She's been down there again.
I look and find my loving wife, walking carefully up the stairs, out of the...cellar. Holding her mouth with hand. Walking out of the cellar?
She's in trouble now. You said it yourself, Fred.
"Fred..."
What's this rage I feel? It's burning my stomach. It's engulfing me. It's...
Oh.
Fucking.
Well...Lalalalalala de dah.
I turned to her and looked into her eyes, almost to her soul.
"We need to talk, Loretta."
UH OH!
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