Title: Fearless
Rating: M for Language, Violence, Grotesquerie, and General Trippiness
Summary: A girl suffers trauma to her temporal lobe. The result: no fear. ~ Squint and turn the screen sideways for romantic subtext.
Disclaimer & Important Notes:
I don't own Freddy. I don't want to own Freddy. He's a bad, bad man. I do not own Elm Street, either, though once I stole a sign.
None of the poems in this piece are mine. They are a collection of Mother Goose nursery rhymes, poems from children's books and stories, and songs passed down through generations of children and parents to acquaintances who were kind enough to let me use them.
Entry Eight, Night Forty-Two: Freddy
Word Count: 428
.
.
.
.
Freddy
Night 42
He killed when she wasn't around, but most nights, her sleep brought her back to him—with more consistency than any of the other brats he spent so much time tormenting. She drifted back to his factory like a wraith, and he put up with it. Sometimes she was quiet, but mostly she chattered on and on, telling him things he swore he didn't care to know. A few times, just to try it, he had lunged and sliced her open, but it hadn't accomplished anything so far...and if he was honest, he'd be forced to say that he liked the background noise.
Even if screaming would have been preferable.
He bided his time, watching her pale legs swinging. He would get in her in the end, he decided. He'd figure out a way to make his dream powers work on her, to surpass her lack of fear and slaughter her properly. Unfortunately, in the meantime, he was beginning to get rather—well, accustomed to her presence.
Of course, the idea that he could cut her open from neck to navel only to have her return to him, whole and unharmed and ready to be wounded again, had its appeal too. She didn't feel the pain the way he wanted her too—simply because she wasn't scared, and that protected her—but there was still something satisfying about the whole cycle.
"There's a boy who wants to screw me," she said conversationally, and he almost choked.
"Don't let him," he advised coldly when he got his bearings back. He glared up at her from his workbench, eyes blazing.
She looked genuinely baffled. "Why not?"
His eyes grew narrower, but then he smirked. "I thought you couldn't feel it when you wanted cock, anyway."
"I can't feel butterflies," she corrected, seemingly unperturbed by his crudeness. After a month and a half, she should be. "I can still feel chemistry. Desire. I just don't get nervous about it. I'm not afraid of rejection. There's no reason to be, really."
His missing heart may have palpitated at her admission, once upon a time. "Don't do it," he repeated in a low growl. "You'll be single-handedly responsible for his death if you do."
She tilted her head, perplexed, but then her face cleared and she smiled kindly. "Don't worry," she offered. "He bores me."
Too late, he realized how she might have interpreted him. He almost sputtered a protest but managed to stop himself in time, turning back to the small mountain of scrap metal in front of him and thinking, Fuck.
Little girls, this seems to say,
Never stop upon your way.
Never trust a stranger-friend;
No one knows how it will end.
As you're pretty, so be wise;
Wolves may lurk in every guise.
Handsome they may be, and kind,
Gay, or charming: never mind!
Now, as then, 'tis simple truth—
Sweetest tongue hides sharpest tooth.
.
.
.
.
This marks the end of the Original Eightsome line-up.
Starting sometime this week, I will begin posting extra drabbles, mainly from prompts supplied by you, dear reviewers (submission rules outlined in Chapter 4).
There is a sketch of a plot running through these drabbles (or at least a running theme). At times they may seem disconnected--they aren't necessarily linear--but hopefully still consistent enough to be easily read, comprehended, and enjoyed. For now, I am still accepting new prompts, and would LOVE to get my hands on some more nursery rhymes or kids' songs. I have a nice pile, but will need more to make it all the way through the rest of the series of disconnected drabbles.
Thanks for your support and encouragement, and I am looking forward to continuing this trainwreck! ;)