Author's Note: I'm back - I am so sorry it took me so long to update. Just been having personal problems and also just a basic lack of motivation, busy with life etc. But hopefully this is me back now lol
Thank you to BuffyKrueger for your help with this chapter :)
Also, to correct an error I made in a previous chapter. I had thought that Deeks was Krueger's lawyer, but he was the prosecutor. So, I have fixed this. Thanks BK for helping me with this.
Any reviews etc is more than welcomed. Thanks :)
Chapter 18: Little Pieces of the Past
Maggie's feet thudded along the asphalt as she rushed across the car park of the Springwood Public Library. She threw a cautious and nervous glance over her shoulder at the doors.
God, she felt like a fourteen-year-old all over again. Hurrying from the beauty stores in the mall with her stolen stash of makeup hidden in her bag. Back when shoplifting was a common occurrence to her. A bad habit.
But this time she had taken a simple scrapbook.
Contained in the pages were dozens of newspaper articles of Krueger's crimes when he was alive.
Something that in the wrong hands could cause numerous more deaths.
Especially to those kids in the town who had not dreamt of him yet, those who were not aware of this existence. Perhaps doing this was a positive move.
Unless the remaining kids and teenagers in the town found out another way….
Through word of mouth from their friends, from their fellow students in the town. The kids in Westin Hills had found out second hand through some of their friends, the stories they heard in school of the dreams people were having. There was more than one way Krueger was reaching the teenagers and children in the town.
Maggie knew that after reading and digesting the information contained in these pages, that she would destroy it. Burn it to ash, beyond recognition.
But what troubled her as she climbed into the car was who created this book? And why?
And why did Krueger help her find it? It was apparent that it was his spirit who had pushed that book from its hiding place. He seemed desperate to help her find out more about him and his heinous crimes from when he was alive.
It still unsettled her the immense interest he had in her.
There had to be more to it…
She let out a deep aggravated sigh as she yanked open the car door and tossed her backpack onto passenger seat, and she slammed her driver's door shut. Her eager eyes roved towards the bag, and she lightly patted it with her right hand. She had a busy afternoon ahead of her. There were at least thirty pages of articles to read and scrutinize. It would keep her busy, her thoughts would be consumed by the articles. Something to distract her from the last few days' events, particularly the deaths she had witnessed. A new notebook would be required to note down her findings. Plus, she needed a few more provisions for the motel room – red bull, coffee, some takeaway food, or ready meals to easily prepare.
Fishing out the car keys she stuck the key in the ignition and started the car, pulling away from the grounds of the library. Her eyes darted momentarily from the road to the backpack, then back again.
Rows of houses to her left and right zoomed past her as she journeyed down the road. Passing by the Elementary School and Kindergarten. She felt butterflies flutter in her stomach as the car drove by the entrance, and her eyes darted to the left. Focusing on the long concrete path that led to the small metal frame gate that led to the playground of the kindergarten. A strange feeling of awareness about the playground. She absently slowed down the speed of the car and again lingered her gaze on the dark grey building and the bright colored rainbow painted over the archway of the doorway.
Vivid colors such as pink, purple, yellow, orange, and green spelt out the name –
Springwood Kindergarten.
A knot formed in her throat as a distinct sense of déjà vu gripped her.
What was going on…?
She blinked rapidly and shook her head, craning her gaze back to the road and put her foot down on the gas.
The car weaved down the road, turning through various neighborhoods as she tried to make her way towards the main square of the town where she knew a grocery store was located. About a mile beyond the town square was the road leading to the edge of the town and where her motel was located. The sooner she was safely in the confines of her room the then her surging anxiety would start to settle.
That little reaction to the kindergarten disturbed her.
She glanced at her watch and groaned inwardly. It was noon, and she had forgot to phone Westin Hills, like she had promised Doc. He was always worried about her, even more so over the last few days. She gave another irritated groan, shaking her head slowly in dismay at his actions from the previous night. The danger he had put himself in had upset her. She knew it was out of his devotion to her, how much he cared for her. It had been this way for years.
But sometimes he had to take a step back and think of himself for once.
She would be having another stern word with him when he was discharged from the treatment room. He had to protect himself.
As for her little trip to the school and the library today, she had to keep it secret. Not just from Doc, but from Neil and Paul. Dr Gordon had warned her repeatedly not to investigate Krueger and his despicable crimes.
But to her this was the only way to find out about him, to try and discover a weakness.
There had to be…
She blinked quickly and glanced to her right as Springwood Central Park crept into her line of sight. The tall elm and oak trees were dotted about the large park. The large stone fountain located in the middle of the park quickly caught her eye and she slowly stopped the car at the sidewalk. Her deep brown eyes slowly scanned along the park, wandering over the winding gravel paths and the large playground to the far right about a hundred yards beyond the fountain. She had not noticed it before but hidden behind that playground was a smaller one, with a few smaller slides, swings, and see-saw. It was aimed at smaller children, young toddlers aged two or three years old.
Like the first time she saw the playground when she had her little jog about town, a feeling of familiarity washed over her. Though, this time it was more potent. She felt her stomach lurch into a knot of anxiety.
Why was she starting to remember this place…?
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and she shook her head, "It means nothing!" she hissed and drove away from the park.
She turned the car right at the end of the road. Trying to envision the way back to the main square from the park. It should not be long. She remembered the route from the other day. It had taken her a good half an hour when she was jogging, so it would only be a few minutes in the car. The car followed the road ahead, curving towards the left and then she flicked on the indicator as she neared a junction. There were two large estates to her left and right, numerous houses and apartment complexes aligning the sidewalks. Checking each way, she turned the car left and she drove on for another mile. She quickly switched on the radio and the somber voice of a male news broadcaster from the local Springwood Radio station droned through the speaker. They spoke warily about another three mysterious deaths that occurred overnight in the community. Two girls aged 10 and 12 years old, and a young boy aged 3 years old. All found dead in their beds, the causes of deaths were heart attacks.
A frown tugged at her lips at this piece of news.
How could a three-year-old boy dream of that bastard?
It was strange…
She knew from her studies in Child Psychology that young children, particularly toddlers ranging from two or three upwards, were very vigilant. They listened and watched the behaviors of the older children, the adults. It would help form their own little traits and mannerisms from observing their family members, parents, and older siblings. They could have easily overheard the conversations of their parents or other adults talking about the deaths in the town, the dreams, they could have even heard Krueger's name being mentioned…
A trickle of sweat rolled down her brow, an unsettling feeling consuming her.
"Sweet Jesus…" she whispered breathlessly. It was a strong possibility that the parents had unwittingly spread Krueger's name from their own talks in their households about the deaths in the town. Unaware their own children were eavesdropping.
Raising her right hand from the steering wheel she wiped away the sweat with the back of the sleeve from her hoodie. The car took a sharp left into another road and her jaw began to slacken, eyes widening in bewilderment at the sight before her.
She was back at Springwood Central Park.
Her fingers lightly drummed on the curve of the steering wheel, and she grumbled incoherently and sped up. Turning right again at the end of the park and followed the same route as before. She was positive, this was the way towards the town square. This town was small and would be easy to maneuver through the streets. It shouldn't be that difficult to get to her destination.
A sense of focus overtook her as her gaze was set on stone at the street signs and she faintly whispered to herself as she drove by them. "Haywood Avenue, Haywood Park…then next we go to Haywood Lane" she nodded quietly. This was right, the way she was going was correct.
Taking another turn to the left she saw a row of white and dark grey wooden houses to her left and then across the way to her right. Meticulously kept lawns with white picket fences. There was barely any sign of life from the street. Her eyes glimpsed at the sign as she neared the end of the road, and her jaw dropped opened in shock.
Oak Drive…
And directly across from the end of the street was the outline of the park.
She had come full circle, again.
The car chugged along until she parked it at the sidewalk and let out an irritably scowl, "Fuck!"
Her body sagged wearily against the seat, and she pondered her next move. Should she go another way? Perhaps turn left instead of right. Go down another street, another road…
Her chest heaved inwards as she took a deep breath and exhaled long and hard. Then put the car into drive, driving on…
This time she took a left instead of a right and continued for a mile, passing by more housing estates and a small park surrounding a small duck pond. She made a sharp turn to the right at intersection passing by a long wide road dotted with various convenience stores, hardware store, an arts and crafts shop, bakery and a few modest size restaurants and bars. This was a street that she knew she hadn't come across before, but like before when she was at kindergarten a sensation of perception weaved its way into her frantic and confused mind.
She swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat and pressed her foot lightly on the gas, picking up speed as the next intersection then slowed to a stop. Her eyes darted to the left, then right and after a few seconds of deliberation she took the left.
Minutes ticked by as she drove by several more streets and then a loud curse groaned from her throat, "For fuck's sake!"
Despite planning a different route, roving down various other streets she found to her disgust and anger back at the park on the other side of the area.
She rapidly made a three-point turn in the middle of the road, sparking furious beeps from a few cars behind her at the spontaneity of her actions. But she brushed off their infuriated stares and sped down the street mumbling and cursing quietly.
"This is bullshit…"
Her grip grew taut on the wheel.
She took another left, then a right at the next junction.
But soon the feeling of mystification crossed her face again as she closed in on the Springwood Central Park.
Was she losing her fucking mind?
Why was she consistently losing her sense of direction?
Why was she always coming back here?
A defeatist sigh floated from her lips, and she saw across from her was a small car park that was empty, and she parked in the closest space. As she switched off the engine, she angrily slammed her fists against the steering wheel. "What the fuck! What's going on?"
A sudden chill prickled her skin along the nape of her neck, and she shivered.
Lounging in the back of the car sprawled on the seats Kreuger materialized. Lazily raising his legs on the leather fabric of the seats and stretching his left arm along the back head rests. He tapped his claw on his chest as he stared over at her with a playful smirk, watching with a mischievous glint in his eyes at her expression of concern and bewilderment.
It had been entertaining fucking with her head over the last hour or so. Using his powers to manipulate and control her movements while she drove the car. Making her believe that she was driving away from the park, but all the while she was going around in circles….
His power had surpassed his expectations over the last four to five years, and he was enthralled to test out his supernatural ability a little more.
Affecting the waking world, particularly people's consciousness was extremely pleasurably.
He got a fucking kick out of screwing with people.
There was a low click as he flicked the blades again on his tattered sweater and saw her lean forward to rest her forearms on the steering wheel with a muffled curse. His smirk grew into a heinous smile and then he inclined his body forward and stretched out his left arm, to lightly tap her back with a scarred finger.
Maggie jolted around in her seat shrieking suddenly at the sharp pat to the middle of her spine. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the empty seats behind her. She clawed her right hand around her own headrest, again razing her gaze along the back seats. What was going on?
Nervously she swung around towards the window and twisted the key in the ignition. The engine spluttered, juddering then conked out. She tried again and the engine stalled once more.
Go for a little walk…
She flinched and jerked her head to the right, peering into the back seats.
Fuck, she was hearing his voice again…
Freddy chuckled darkly relishing the rising panic that emanated from her. "Go on, little wildcat. Take a little walk around the park."
She eased back into her seat, not taking her eyes from the back seats as her eyes stared intently into the rear-view mirror. His gravelly words lingered in her ears, and she took a quick glance at the park. Why did he want her to go into the park?
Krueger leaned further forward and gripped the other headrest, smiling fiendishly at her as her thoughts were exposed to him. He had a very good reason for wanting her to have a little wander about this park. It would help ignite some memories in her mind from when she was a child. It was about time she slowly discovered that she was from Springwood, which would eventually lead to her unearthing who she really was.
She let her eyes dart about the car, murmuring quietly to herself as she contemplated his command. Then with a grumble she took the keys from the ignition and exited the car. The air was chilly, overcast clouds rolling above her head. She locked the car and hesitantly stepped onto the sidewalk, taking slow prudent steps towards grey gravel path that curved around a large area of high elm and oak trees, with thick bushes and a small trail leading into the trees and shrubbery. Green grass grasslands were spread out beyond the path, as far as she could see. The path she walked stretched on for about fifty to sixty yards, passing by a few double swings and a few benches. This park was larger than she had originally thought.
Had this been his hunting ground?
Had he hidden amongst the trees for his prey?
How did he lure and capture his victims?
Was this why he was urging her to go for a little walk in the park? To flaunt where he hunted?
If that was the case, then it disgusted her.
The egotistical bastard.
She sighed and lazily looked around at the scenery and soon a point of interest caught her eye.
A large white stone circular birdbath, approximately four feet in height.
It was facing a small wooden bench, and a faint slither of water sloshed in the bath.
Maggie strolled over and lightly trailed her right palm over the edge of circular stone. Her fingers curled around the stone, and she closed her eyes, a faint recollection trying to break through into her subconscious. But she quickly shook her head, brushing the sentiment to the side.
She loosened her grip on the stone and walked away, keeping her eyes set ahead as she meandered along the paths. It was about ten minutes until she saw the outline of the small rectangular playground designed for younger toddlers. It was surrounded by thick black wired fence about four feet in height with a metal gate that was latched closed by a thin metal bar.
Her feet made a beeline for the gate, and she slid the bar across the latch and pushed the gate open. As she stepped into the boundary of the playground, she slowly ran her eyes over the small swings to her left. There were three sets of four swings perched underneath thick red metal frames. The chains jingled in the light wind as the seat swayed back and forth.
Taking a fleeting glance at them she bypassed them and slowly as in a trance walked towards a four-foot metal slide, the blue paint was starting to crust and peel from the frame of the slide. The slide was steep, angling at a forty-five-degree angle until it leveled out at the bottom. It was a little adventurous or dangerous for a toddler to attempt. But she knew somehow deep down that she had been down this slide numerous times.
Her lips curled down into a slight frown and she meandered past the slide and carefully walked amongst the other various slides, seesaws, wooden spring rockers carved out into animal shapes and the bright yellow metal roundabout. As she strolled past the roundabout, she lightly grasped one of the rails and playfully spun it watching as it spun, and a glimmer of a smile touched her lips.
After one last wander around the edge of the playground she exited through the gate and briskly made her way towards the larger one. Her brown eyes were directed towards the large metal monkey bars that were linked to a wooden jungle gym that had attachments such as gangways, wooden huts and a rope bridge that led to numerous slides that differed in heights and inclines. She walked over to the jungle gym and ducked underneath one of the bridges and eyed the bright colored metal and wooden frames.
Like in the previous playground she languidly weaved her way past the swings, metal climbing frames and other items of enjoyment designed for older kids. Most of them were beginning to rust, the paint flaking and cracking from exposure to rain or moisture throughout the years.
She slowed to a stop at the sandpit and knelt to graze her fingers through the rough sand. The grains slithered through her fingertips, and she sighed, feeling mystified by these growing feelings of recognition of this park.
But now just the park, the kindergarten was someplace she knew…
What was it that Doc had taught her before?
That in some cases with people with amnesia when they go to certain places, visit buildings, listening to songs or even a certain smell could spark or rekindle a memory in their subconscious. Leading them to regain or relive memories they believed were lost.
This could be happening to her…
She clenched her fists and let out a deep long sigh.
Was this park and the kindergarten kindling memories from her childhood? A childhood she had in Springwood…?
No, no, this was her overthinking.
It was an unhealthy pattern with her.
Overanalyzing. Overthinking. Letting her mind run amok.
She had to regain her serenity. Focus her mind.
This place…. She looked around the park casually, meant nothing to her.
She could easily have a feeling of recognition in another town if she had ventured to their park, or their kindergarten.
Coming here was a waste of fucking time.
It was Krueger screwing with her.
He had been forcing his spirit into the waking world to stalk her, monitor her every move. He could easily use his powers to influence her actions to direct her to drive to this park. Over and over…
Turning on her heel she marched with an aggravated scowl back towards the car. Hoping to get back to the motel and start her research without any more interruptions.
….
Thankfully, there were no more strange disturbances in her driving after she left the park. The journey back to her motel, with a slight detour to the grocery store, went smoothly.
It was past 2pm and after a quick bite to eat and filling a fresh pot of coffee she had settled in the kitchenette. Flicking through each page in the scrapbook she studiously read the various articles from Krueger's atrocious crimes. As she processed the editorials, she felt physically sick at the way he had ruthlessly slaughtered the children.
And it was just that…
A slaughter.
There were at least thirty pages in the scrapbook. Filled with small cut-out articles ranging from the first disappearance of Krueger's victim in 1962 to the strange deaths in the town in the late 1980s. Whoever had created this book was thorough in what editorials and pieces from the newspapers they believed would need to be placed inside these pages. Though she had discerned some of the pieces were cut off, a few paragraphs were missing. Cut away. The dates related to when he was arrested.
She clutched her third mug of coffee of the afternoon and strolled over to the double bed where her notebook and a few sticky notes, pens were littered on the bed. Kneeling on the bed she took a sip of her hot beverage and set it on the side table. Then settled in the middle of the bed, sitting cross-legged as she bowed over the book.
Her hand snatched a blue pen and quickly noted down on what she had discovered from the newspaper articles so far. Her mind has consumed so much over the last hour, the details running and whizzing through her mind. The information relating to the names and ages of the children he had slain….
The names were noted down on two pages that she had stapled together.
On the first page were the girls – their names, ages, dates they went missing and if available the date their bodies were found.
Then on the other part of the page were the specifics of the boys.
In total there were twenty-three victims.
Fifteen girls, eight boys.
Maggie involuntary shivered. Krueger had a sickening preference for the little girls. The sick bastard.
The tip of her pen shook as she noted down more of her observations as she flicked through the pages again, scanning the articles briskly. The ink scribbled across the page as she wrote down more sentences.
Out of the victims that were killed, 12 bodies were found, 7 girls and 5 girls. Most of their remains were mutilated beyond recognition, the only way the police or coroner could identify them was through their dental records.
The other eleven victims were never found.
The assumption from the police investigations and the court case is that their bodies were disposed of in the boiler room where Krueger had taken his victims too.
There was an intense search in the power plant after Krueger was arrested. But no evidence was found. It wasn't until after his release that they had followed Krueger back to a small, abandoned staff room that he had transformed into a torture chamber where he had tormented his victims. It was where they had burned him alive, tossing several Molotov bottles into the narrow window. The glass smashing onto the ground, the fire consuming him in seconds….
Maggie twisted around sharply to grab her coffee and took a long slug. Then she turned back to her notes.
Out of the seven girl's bodies that were discovered, five of them had suffered a sexual attack. Their genital area was littered with bruises and there were signs of rape…
She quickly read through some of the articles again and wrote down the numerous ways they were murdered.
Slit throats. Stab wounds. Their stomachs and chests were viciously gutted. Dismembered limbs, legs. Missing organs – tongues, intestines, lungs, hearts. Cracked necks. Broken spines. Strangulation.
Maggie frowned and flicked the pages back to the article of where the first body that was found. There was only one stab wound and a slit throat. She roved through the other newspaper pieces and found a common trait for the first four victims was just a singular stab wound or their throat was slit.
Had he not made his glove at that time? Was he just using one knife to murder the children? Or just using his hands to strangle them?
Why did he create his glove? What pushed him to fashion such a crude and sadistic tool to maim those children? And when?
Eagerly she read through the articles from early 1963 and saw that the victim of eight-year-old Emma Willams was found in a dumpster near the Elementary School on the 29th of January 1963. Their naked body was littered and marred with four parallel slash marks and four deep stab wounds. Across her face, back and chest.
A chill shivered up her spine as she released this was the first time he had used his bladed glove on a victim.
Despite the coldness that shattered her body, she felt her skin growing warm. Little beads of sweat started to slither down the base of her neck. Her body arched backwards as she laid her back against the thick headboard. Lightly she drummed her fingers along the edge of the pen, her eyelids growing heavy. Like a lead weight pressing down on them. She blinked and shot to her feet, tossing the pen on the mattress and discarded her hoodie to reveal a thin strapped white top. The fabric clung to her toned framed and she rolled her neck, rubbing her hands over the nape of her neck as more chills trickled along her skin.
Lifting the cup of coffee, she drained the lukewarm liquid and opened the fridge, taking out a small silver can of red bull and after cracking it open, she took a long slug of the caffeinated drink.
For a few minutes she paced back and forth in the kitchen, then walked back to the bed.
"Back to work", She muttered softly.
She grabbed both her notebook and the scrapbook, laying them on her outstretched legs and continued her reading. More blue ink was scrawled into words as she recorded her deliberations.
Places where the kids' bodies were found – in alleyways, found stuffed into dumpsters, in an abandoned industrial estate. On the grounds of Springwood Elementary School, the local Springwood Central Park, and a few other local parks. Two of the children's remains were found directly behind the Springwood Police Station.
Maggie grimly shook her head. "The bastard was playing mind games with the police."
She concluded that there was no pattern to where Krueger was kidnapping the children from. It wasn't a specific area. His kidnapping them from all other the neighborhood – Elm Street, Sycamore Drive, Oak Drive, the parks, some of the kids were walking home or to school.
It was always during the day.
But from what she could discern the children lived on the four to five block radius of Elm Street, Sycamore Drive, Oak Drive, and a few streets on either side.
The tip of her pen tapped repetitively against the page as she mused silently.
Was Krueger from that neighborhood? Was he watching them? Perhaps he knew them from the street and had struck up trust with them and when the time was perfect, he took them away?
She felt her stomach lurch unpleasantly at the idea. But from her own experiences dealing with teenagers who were going through trauma. Their own abusers were people they knew and had an unwavering trust in.
It could be the same with Krueger.
Just another friendly neighbor. Someone the kids believed they could trust…
Her teeth grounded in disgust at the notion. "Fucker"
There were a few articles focusing on the anger of the town, particularly from the parents of the children who had perished. They along with their neighbors and friends had organized a protest outside the police station in late 1964, around October. It was then that the Sheriff in charge of the investigation retired, pushed out by the pressure from the mayor and the citizens in the town by the lack of progress or evidence in the hunt for the Springwood Slasher as the media now named him.
The Sheriff's lead Lieutenant Donald Thompson took over charge of the Police force and created a new task force to aid him. With Lt Blocker, Officer James Garcia, and several other experienced officers.
As she turned the pages, she skimmed over the articles she had previously read until she stumbled upon the one that indicated the Springwood Slasher was caught in November 1967, he was only twenty-five years old.
How could someone so young be consumed by so much anger and evil, a depraved hunger for blood and death of such innocent children?
She sighed and roved her eyes over the article, understanding that there had been growing suspicions since late September 1967 regarding Fred Krueger. The police had set up a surveillance on him, monitoring his movements…
It was a week before his arrest that the police had applied for an arrest and search warrant on Krueger's home. Maggie felt a wave of disappointment sweep over her. There was no indication of where he lived. Not even the name of the street. Part of the page was torn away.
"Damn it!" she hissed with annoyance. She needed to know where the fucker lived. Or was it more of a want, a desire to know?
Directly behind her slack body a faint shimmering light began to sparkle out of nowhere, breaking out across the headboard. It crackled and formed into Freddy's body as he lazily laid on the bed. His legs adorned by the black blood-stained slacks were stretched out on either side of her slim-toned thighs draped in her causal grey jogging bottoms. His charred lips were curled into a devious grin as she sluggishly leaned back against his chest. Not knowing that she was laying sprawled on his grungy sweater as she scanned her eyes over the next article.
The blades on his claw clicked with delight as he curved his right arm around her mid-section.
His presence was oblivious to her.
Her powers were weakened so she had no idea she was asleep.
She wriggled slightly against what she believed was the soft plump pillows from the bed. Her neck was craned forward as her steely brown eyes darted from the article to her notebook as she turned the pages back to her previous notes.
Krueger inclined his charred face over the rim of her slender shoulder and glowered down at her neat handwriting. A dark rumble of sadistic laughter echoed in his chest as he read over her observations of the ways he had murdered the children when he was alive.
It brought back so many delicious, demented memories to him.
His bloodshot blue eyes glinted darkly as they skimmed over the notes, a depraved grin remaining on his face at the amount of information she had written down. There were at least four pages. All the pages detailed the names and ages of the children. His children. Where they were kidnapped, the areas where their bodies were found….
It gave him a feeling of sick satisfaction that his own child, born from his flesh and blood, were taking a keen interest in his crimes.
Despite not knowing she was his own daughter.
He could not wait until the moment she found out her identity. To see her world crumble around her.
The depraved grin grew wider, and he raised his bladed claw to lightly skim the underside of his index blade along her bare arm towards her elbow.
Maggie shifted her body weight on the bed and scratched her right arm with her left hand, over the area where Krueger had grazed her skin. She frowned and stifled a yawn as she turned over the page.
A light breeze fluttered over the right side of her throat, and she quickly rubbed the skin below her ear and dragged her fingers down the side of her neck. Scratching away the pricking sensation that was spreading across her skin.
Freddy chortled mischievously against her hair and then looked down as she swiftly turned the page to a blank page and started to note down new deliberations from the last article she read. The article was about three paragraphs long. Describing the events of the court case on the morning of the 15th of February 1968, how it fanned out. The administrative error that led to Krueger's release, the outcry from the public gallery and throughout the town when news broke out about the outcome of the court case. Then the events of later that evening. How a raging fire had broken out in an abandoned boiler room in the Springwood Power Plant on the edge of the town. The fire brigade was called but were not allowed into the building to extinguish the fire.
Maggie shook her head in disbelief. The police must have stopped the firefighters from entering the building.
The next editorial was dated two weeks later and noted the death of Lt Blocker who was involved in Krueger's arrest at his home. He had suffered a heart attack as he had undergone a routine dental appointment. Within two weeks after his death, one of his twin daughter's Lisa aged just thirteen was found dead in her bedroom. Her twin sister Merit was admitted to Westin Hills after her ludicrous claims that her sister was murdered in her dreams by the Springwood Slasher Freddy Krueger. That night after her admission to the hospital she was found dead in her bedroom, having hung herself with her bed sheets.
The color drained from Maggie's face as it dawned on her. "Tina Gray wasn't Krueger's first victim after his death."
Freddy lightly curled his claw around her right arm, squeezing lightly. But she was still oblivious as she scanned the next two articles. They related to the deaths in the space of a week in March 1968 of Law Attorney Deeks and Defense Attorney Saunders. Both men suffering from massive heart attacks in their sleep.
She frowned in confusion. It would be logical for Krueger to go after the prosecutor Deeks, but why would he go after his own defense lawyer? The man had the case against him dismissed. He helped him walk free….
It did not make any fucking sense.
"Steven Saunders lied to me, the cunt!" Krueger softly into her ear. A flutter of wind ghosted against a stray strand of her hair. "He promised me that he had submitted a request to have you put back into my custody after I was released. But he didn't! Two hours after I was released the social services had you removed from the town."
Those few days before the court case still lingered in his mind. He remembered Saunders presenting him with the copies of the search and arrest warrant from the night he was arrested. And Saunders had pointed out that they were not signed. The prosecutors may have had the evidence to charge him, but they had obtained it illegally. He had instantly put forward the proposal that his lawyer should apply for custody of Katherine and that when he freed that she would be placed back in his care.
But it was a lie.
The custody order was never submitted.
And his little girl was sent away.
He even contemplated going to the Orphanage to take her. But he knew that the police would have placed several of the officers at the Orphanage. To secure the area and keep her from him.
The fuckers.
Freddy unclasped his glove from her tender skin and dug the blades sharply into his leg in rage. Piercing through his trousers to stab into his scarred flesh of his thigh, drawing thick globs of gooey blood.
He let out a low snarl and yanked the blades from his leg and the wounds quicky healed over.
Maggie shivered and glanced over her shoulder at the headboard, feeling a little unnerved at the sudden chill that slithered along her skin. But she brushed it off and read the next few articles. It was the information that Neil had conveyed to herself and Doc when we discovered what they were dealing with last week.
The death of Tina Gray. The arrest of her boyfriend Rod Lane and his subsequent 'suicide' and the strange death of Glen Lantz, with Nancy Thompson being shipped off to Westin Hills. Then there were more articles about the murder of the local Football Coach Snyder from the High School in late Spring 1985. The deaths of several teenagers at a pool party hosted by Lisa Webber a few blocks from Elm Street. Witnesses claiming that the felon was a horribly burnt man dressed in a red and green sweater…
A young man, named Ron Grady being found slaughtered in his bedroom by his parents. His body gutted with four thick, deep lacerations down the front of his chest and stomach.
Though local police officials were quick to dismiss these reports and particularly the claim by Jesse Walsh and his girlfriend Lisa Webber that Fred Krueger was to blame for the murders….
She lightly scoffed as she murmured, "They didn't believe Jesse or Lisa. Just like they didn't believe Nancy."
The headline of the next article sent chills along her skin.
Bus Crash on Elm Street:
Claims lives of three local teenagers -Jesse Walsh, Lisa Webber, Kerry Hellman.
Various more articles were pinned to the next few pages. Providing information about a series of suicides that was gripping the local community of Elm Street. The deaths occurred from August 1985 to March 1986. The teenagers ages ranged from fourteen to seventeen.
"The Elm Street children. The kids of those who murdered him" Maggie breathed softly.
She quicky skimmed through the next newspaper pieces knowing that they were linked to the deaths of the remaining Elm Street kids that were admitted to Westin Hills. Then a small article that revealed the death of Sheriff Donald Thompson in an old junkyard where the remains of Freddy Krueger were hidden. His death was reported by Neil Gordon who refused to be interviewed by the press.
The rest of the articles were a little repetitive. Stating the strange deaths of three teenagers in the space of two nights – Roland Kincaid, Joey Crusel and Kristen Parker, all aged seventeen years old. Their deaths occurred in September 1988 in their Senior Year. There were a few more bizarre deaths of their friends, though things had settled down. Until May 1989 when in the space of a week three more young people had died in tragic and unusual circumstances.
Three months later in September 1989 two young women were found dead. One in the local swimming center and one in her home. She was six months pregnant. Her father Dennis Johnson was found hanging outside the top window of the local Springwood High School.
"It all went downhill after that" Maggie grumbled grimly. She nibbled thoughtfully on the top of her pen as her mind wandered back to what Neil had mentioned before. About the house on Elm Street. "1428 Elm Street. What is the big deal with that house?"
Freddy lightly kissed her right cheek in soft kiss. He smirked roguishly as she lightly scratched the area of skin he had kissed. "You'll find out Katherine."
She gently rubbed her forehead, and he lightly placed his index blade at the side of her temple about an inch from her skin.
It was time for her to go down memory lane….
He flicked the blade and soon she found herself plunged into darkness….
Maggie felt her heart sped up. A surge of anxiety swelling inside her.
How did she not know she was asleep?
Had her power been diminished so much that she lost that ability?
She sprang to her feet and staggered forward in the blackness that encircled her. Her bare feet prodded on hard granite ground, pressing hard against the soles of her feet. A wet substance coated the ground, and she grimaced in disgust at the squishy feeling that smudged in between her toes. She bent down and lightly touched the substance and withdrew her hand, rubbing her fingers together. A thin bloodied vein rolled between her fingers, and she flicked it away in revulsion.
Where was she?
She strained to concentrate, trying to focus on any presence.
On his presence.
But she was alone.
She took a few prudent steps forward through the darkness and then she saw it in the distance.
A faint white light in the shape of a square.
Like a doorway.
Her eyes narrowed as she clambered down the darkened passageway and with each step the light became brighter, a blinding white dazzling light starting to blind her vision as she neared it.
The edge of the doorway shimmering and beyond it she could hear voices, female and male voices, birds chirping, children's laughter, the rev of engines…
She took a deep breath and stepped through the light…
…
The hot white light faded around her giving away to a familiar place.
Springwood Central Park.
She stood on the edge of the grassy verge the morning dew marring her feet. Her astonished gaze scoured over the scene before her.
Dozens of people were congregated in the park as far as she could see. Young couples taking leisurely afternoon strolls, families enjoying their day out, teenagers laughing and joking as they had picnics, elderly couples sitting on the various benches along the gravel paths. There was a happy and pleasant atmosphere. The whole vibe of the area was a stark contrast from what she felt today.
Maggie took a slow turn and saw the car park from earlier that day behind her. But the cars were of a different era, the style was older. Her eyes roved over the brands and how old they appeared to be.
They were from the late 1950s, early 1960s.
Cars such as Chrysler 300F, Lincoln Continental 1962, 1961 Pontiac Tempest, Ford Torino's, Chevrolet Chevelle, and Ford Mustang. All in dark grey, light blue, red, white.
Her pensive gaze lingered on a red Chevy Impala parked a few cars down from her left and she frowned. Why was that car familiar to her? She shook her head in a dismissive gesture and spun back to the park, following a young teenaged couple as they held hands. The weather was warm, a muggy feeling washing over her as the sun beamed down on the town. The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight.
She pondered what year it was. What date?
And why was she here? Was this something that Krueger had conjured up?
Her steps were slow as she ventured down the gravel path and with a wary eye she inspected the people around her. Their clothing designs and style was old fashioned from the late 50's, early 60s. The women were dressed in either knee length pencil skirts, light blouses, slim bright trousers, cowl neck tops or skater dresses. Bright and vivid colors. The hair styles were from the 1960s such as beehives, pixie cuts, bobs to name a few.
The men were impeccably dressed in jeans, black or brown trousers, polo shirts, short sleeve shirts. The children that ran amok and played jovially in the park were dressed in frilly dresses, hair tied back in various colored ribbons, the boys were in jeans, short sleeve shirts.
It felt surreal to Maggie, like she was in a memory…
She froze and made a full turn to gaze at the park as her jaw slackened in realization.
Could this be her memory?
An irritable scowl crossed her face as she rejected this notion.
This was a distraction. Maybe it was Krueger creating this to sidetrack her….
Though, she felt an unwavering curiosity to stay, to watch what was going to unfold.
She zoned her eyes on the various adults and children then it occurred to her that their faces, the skin, and flesh on their bodies were blurred. Grainy and distorted. She could not distinguish their eye color or facial features such as the shape of their jaw or chin.
Her paced picked up as she meandered along the path passing by various groups of adults, children, teenagers. The voices and sounds around her were now distorted, muffled. Drowned out by some kind of force. She clenched her hands at her side, a little peeved that she could not discern more details of who these people were.
If she considered the possibility this was a memory, why were certain pieces of it blurred out?
A garbled chorus of laughter alerted her attention to her left where the small toddler's playground was located, and she slowly felt herself being drawn towards the gate. She rounded a few picnic benches where several families gathered keeping a close vigilant eye on their children as they gleefully played.
Maggie ignored the other adults and pushed open the gate to the playground as her bare feet landed on the thick rubber ground a thin mist formed around three figures at the far end of the playground.
She passed by other young families ignoring them as she had a deep, intense tug that was pulling her towards these blurred figures. They were congregated around a tall slide, seven or eight feet in height. Made of thick metal, painted in bright red and yellow paint. She could distinguish the clothing of the adults. The man was dressed in dark green khaki trousers and green polo shirt with dark brown shoes. The woman was dressed in a colorful light pink dress, which flowed around her dainty legs. Though to her disappointment, Maggie could not discern the appearance of the adults. Their faces were distorted and greyed out like a distortion was marring their skin.
Her lips curled downwards as she took a hesitant step forward. A muffled curse leaving her lips. "For fuck's sake…"
But when her eyes landed on the little child at the adults' feet her heart skipped a beat.
It was a little girl.
And she could distinctly see the girl's facial features.
Her eyes had pierced through the granularity that had tainted the other person's faces.
The vision of the little girl was as clear as day.
She was about three years old with her dark dirty blond hair tied back in two white ribbons. Her deep brown eyes darted from what Maggie believed were the little girl's parents to the thick metal steps of the slide. The man's hand lightly pressed against the back of her and guided her towards the bottom of the steps. While the woman walked briskly towards the bottom of the steep slide waiting patiently.
Maggie took a few more steps forward and saw the little girl carefully and with stern concentration begin to climb the steps of the slide. The man stepped up behind her and gently laid his hand on the arch of her back over her yellow plaid ruffle dress. It swung around her tiny legs as she climbed the steps. She glanced over her shoulder and Maggie could finally see her face.
Cute button nose, rounded chin. As she gave a nervous smile a small dimple appeared on each of her flushed cheeks.
There were a few muffled words of encouragement from the man that Maggie could not work out. But it egged the young toddler on, and she took four more strong steps up the ladder until she swung her legs over the edge of the slide.
The man rubbed the girl's back with a reassuring smile then walked around towards the end of the slide where his partner was waiting. Looking down from her vantage point the little girl gripped the top rail of the slide and then quickly released her right hand, waving nervously down at her parents.
"Hi, mommy! Hi, Daddy!"
The tone and softness of the girl's voice made Maggie gasp and jerk back in surprise.
It sounded like her voice when she was a little girl…
The little girl gripped the rail again with her right hand and her bottom lip quivered.
Garbled and muffled words floated in the air from the direction of the two adults towards the little girl at the top. But Maggie could clearly visualize the words in her mind.
Come on sweetheart.
You can do it!
Just give yourself a little push.
We are right here, honey!
The small girl steadied herself on the edge of the slide and loosened her grip on the red painted rail then with a deep breath she hauled herself forward, gliding down the smooth metal of the slide with a high pitch squeal of delight.
The squeal distorted into a laugh, soft and gentle as the man's strong lean arms wrapped around her as he caught her at the end. More giggles of amusement erupted from her as the woman and man praised her.
Like before the words flashed before Maggie's eyes.
Such a brave girl!
You were amazing!
I told you; you could do it, pumpkin!
The little girl beamed showing her toothy grin at her parents and the woman gently adjusted and fixed her pigtails. While the man cradled the girl in his arms, whispering more words of admiration. Her eyes widened in adulation staring up at the man, and she grinned opening her mouth to speak.
But as she uttered them Maggie whispered the exact same words.
"Can I go down the slide again?"
Maggie clutched the rim of her tank top in confusion and slight fear. Could this really be her as a young little girl? A tingle slithered over her skin and in a flash the scene changed…
This time she could only visualize the outline of the man and the little girl as they played outside the playground. It was another glorious sunny summer's day. Crystal blue skies, hot warm sun. The air was humid. Birds chirped and sang in the trees.
The small child was dressed in a dark purple checkered dress, with lace frills aligning their sleeves and the rim of the dress. Their hair was tied in a French plait bond by a matching purple ribbon. Knee-length socks and black Mary janes shoes adorning her legs and tiny feet. Again, Maggie's view of the man's face was blurred out, his clothing- dark denim jeans and short sleeved white shirt - only visible to her eyes. She slowly followed the duo as the man lightheartedly chased her around a tall oak tree. Her laughter echoing in the air as she smiled blissfully as she ran the fast her little legs could carry her.
"Catch me, daddy!"
The man picked up his pace and pursed her around the trunk of the tree and down a small grassy verge going pass a few young couples enjoying their picnics. The distance between them narrowed and before the little girl could run around the next tree the man teasingly lunged at her.
Her screams of surprise and amusement resonated in Maggie's ears as she watched wide-eyed as the man lightly grappled the girl to the floor. But the little girl twisted and jerked in his grasp, participating willingly in the play fight as he pushed her onto the grass. More shrieks and howls of laughter reverberated from her little chest, and she grinned madly at the man, her father, as he coyly tickled her sides.
Maggie took a few steps forward and peered down at the obscured vision of the man as he towered over the little girl. Faint low growls and snarling noises emanated from him as the girl continued to laugh and shriek.
"Stop d-daddy!" the little girl's voice strained to break through her giggles. "It tickles!"
A deep crimson blush flickered over Maggie's cheeks as she watched the man tickle the young child and she fought the urge to remember a dream from a few nights before.
Something that fucker did to her….
Her hands curled into tight fists, and she exhaled slowly.
There was no connection. It was her mind screwing with her.
This was a memory, this, and the previous vision. Had her little visit to this park earlier rekindled these recollections? But why now?
She had run past this park a few days ago and she didn't have any memories.
Today though, she had walked through the park. Past the benches, the playgrounds. Maybe it had propelled the memories from her subconscious to come to the surface.
It only made her anxiety spike. She was not sure how to take this or if she should trust herself to believe that these were HER memories.
Neil had told her on a few occasions that Krueger liked to fuck with people's mind whenever he found out about their past. And this could be a devious way that the bastard was doing it. Conjuring up these fake reminiscences while she slept. But she could not sense his presence. Either it was because her power had vanished or Krueger had no part to play in this.
Doc had told her before whenever they had discussed the concept of dreams and the mind, that sometimes people would think they were having dreams. But they were recalling their repressed memories.
Maybe that was it…
As much as she wanted to accept this. There was always an element of doubt in her mind. She had been through so much shit. She was wary to believe that her childhood was once full of joy and contentment. That just maybe she had a normal family life.
This little girl, this man and this woman could be her little family, her father and mother….
She swallowed thickly.
She wanted more evidence that these dreams or indeed these memories were related to her. It was imperative that she confirmed that this was not a trick by Krueger.
Maggie sighed and cautiously began to follow the little girl as she held the man's right-hand as they walked down a gravel path to a small ice-cream stand at an intersection of four paths. They stopped and she heard a garbled, low conversation striking up between the man and the vendor with the little girl chirping in with her order.
The ice-cream seller readily prepared the ice-cream cone, and the girl bounced merrily on the heels of her feet as her father paid for her ice-cream. She politely thanked the man and her father as he gifted her with the ice-cream cone.
Her nimble fingers curled around the wafer cone and eyed the ice-cream hungrily.
Maggie could not help but chuckle as her eyes roved over the chocolate ice cream that was slathered with chocolate sprinkles and dark brown chocolate syrup. How was this happening? She inhaled sharply as she thought back to her little routine that she had throughout the years from an unruly teenager to even now as an adult. She would regularly go for a little stroll on a Sunday to the local park. She would often stop at one of the ice-cream stalls and order this.
The exact same combination of a scoop of dark chocolate ice cream, chocolate sprinkles and syrup.
She always had a sweet tooth.
A little tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away, following the girl and man as they wandered over to a small picnic bench where the grainy image of the woman was waiting for them.
The feeling of realization was starting to embed in her mind, maybe this was really her. This man and woman could be her parents….
….
A low amused chortled echoed from Krueger's chest as he watched through a circular vortex into Maggie's memories. His scarred lips curled into a grin. He had no influence over this. This was all from her mind, the recollections from her past were pushing through the little cracks in her subconscious. And it was all because of her little stroll around the park. Something that he had instigated her to do. So, it was him manipulating matters.
Now, she would become curious about whatever other reminiscences she could remember. She was very meticulous and intelligent, so he was sure that within time she would discover the truth.
All the pieces of the puzzle were starting to slot into place.
And he would sit back and watch as her childhood when she was in his care slowly came back to her.
But for now, he had some special work to attend to.
Two sweet little souls were waiting for him to claim.
He swung around towards the darkness behind him that gradually twisted and morphed into one of the corridors of Westin Hills. His voice was low, gravelly, and full of malice as he whispered, "One, two Freddy's coming for you, little piggies!"