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. 1000 words per drabble.

Disclaimer & Important Notes: Don't own Freddy; don't own the rhymes. You know the drill.

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Ferocious

(Night 88)

"What's your nightmare, Freddy?" she asked. Her eyes were wide and innocent, but he wasn't fooled for a minute. He didn't say flames, which he was sure was what she expected to hear. He didn't say his father, which might have been true too. He didn't say those twerps in grade school, either, though it had been so once—but he'd gotten his revenge, hadn't he? No. He didn't even say, going soft, which was probably the most ridiculous thing he could be afraid of, but also the most prominent in his mind when she looked at him with that wishy-washy expression of hers.

He inched away from her, clearly unsettled, and scowled ferociously at the ceiling. "Of all the dumb whores in the world, I get stuck with you?" he muttered to the sky of pipes and smoke. "I'm a dream demon, bitch. I don't get nightmares—I grant 'em. Hell, I don't even sleep."

"You know what I mean," she protested, and then launched into an explanation. Just in case, Freddy thought, wishing he could ram a q-tip into his own eardrums, I really didn't know what she meant.

"How's that boy?" he interrupted—anything to get her off the topic. "That one who wanted to fuck you." As an afterthought, he added, "Like a two-dollar whore."

Her face darkened—he saw it out of the corner of his eye. It brought his head down in surprise and a certain predatory awareness: she was almost scared. No, not even almost scared—but she was almost apprehensive, and it was enough to get his hopes up.

"He annoys me," she said icily. Her tone sent a chill even down his spine. He wasn't sure what it was, but it made his bones cold.

He laughed then, raspy and uneven. "He is sniffing after you, then," he jeered. "He wants to shove your knees up to your ears and make you scream—" He broke off unexpectedly, picturing it in his mind…but this time it was himself between her thighs, making her bleed. His voice went low and guttural: threatening. "If he touches you—"

"Too late," she interrupted, sounding both irritated and bored. "He thinks he's being sneaky; he's always around. And his hands—" Her lip curled in a delicate snarl of exasperation. "Somehow they always find my skin."

He studied her like a panther watching its food, then leaned back against the edge of the table and let his fedora tip low over his eyes, shrouding them from her vision. "Do you want me to kill him?" he offered, as silkily as his smoke-roughened voice would allow. It was a test. "Be your watchdog. A trained killer on a leash."

She eyed him. Her expression was utterly perplexed. "What?" she asked, baffled, but then answered her own question. "Don't be ridiculous. You don't belong to anyone."

The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown
The lion beat the unicorn all around the town.
Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum cake and drummed them out of town.

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This drabble is dedicated to darkness takes over for the prompt, "Ferocious."

It is 479 words long, and I have no idea whether or not I like it. I thought about doing away with the first paragraph or so, but I felt like I needed a lead-in. I'm not sure if I was successful. Anyway, here's the thing: when I think of the word "ferocious," I think of some huge rottweiler or pit-bull, with sharp shiny teeth and a viciously low growl. On the other hand, I really love rottweilers and pit-bulls, and I would love to have one someday.

And then I read a story where Freddy, incredibly OOC and very lovey-dovey-puke, volunteered to kill a character's abusive parent or boyfriend or something (I think this plot-point can be done very well…in this particular case, however, it wasn't). And all I could think is, Freddy is no-one's tame lapdog. He kills who he wants, when he wants. And if that just happens to be your enemy…well, I hope you don't feel too guilty about it.

So out of the sludge of my mixed-up and conflicted thoughts, this cute little wreck was born. Hope you enjoyed it! ;) Thanks again to darkness takes over, for such a very fierce word requiring some very fierce thought.