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Nightmare on her street

Summary:
Just as she thought things couldn't get any stranger, Bella finds that vampires aren't the only thing to worry about in Forks.


Notes:


1. Prolouge

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1123   Review this Chapter

It wasn't until she heard a loud squealing noise emerging from the darkness that she really noticed the intensity of the night sky. Squinting, she tried to determine the whereabouts of the sound. Unable to see anything, and realizing that the noise was coming closer, she began to run. She had no idea who, or what, she was running from; she ran because her instincts told her to. The screeching droned out the sound of her footsteps; it seemed as though it was the only noise in existence at that moment.

It would be difficult, if not impossible, to describe the noise in words. It was like nails across a chalkboard, except a million times more intense. What would be more difficult to describe would be the person that was making the noise. He was a man, but could not be described as human. His skin was home to an array of boils and blisters. However, with his claw-like glove that bore a knife on each finger, his skin was not the most unnerving prospect of meeting the gentleman.

He loved the chase, almost as much as the slaughter. To hear his victim's hearts beating hard and panicked, knowing he was the cause. It was exhilarating. He also loved the screams. The screams of his victims were the essence of a soul he lost long ago, a soul he lost when he made the trade. An opportunity to live forever, to continue his work long after he had physically died. In the midnight hours, when innocent souls were in slumber, he came to them. Killed them, and took their souls from them. Souls that were pure and innocent, condemned to living in an eternal hell.

If it wasn't for those Elm Street bastards, as he so eloquently put it, that had tried to murder him all those years ago, he may have still been human. But humans can be locked away for their sins, left to rot in the hell on earth they call prison. Fred Kruger however, could not be locked away. Not for long, at least. He could only be kept at bay in the waking hours, and nobody could sleep forever.

Holly never stopped running. Not until the sound had completely subsided. She paused to catch her breath; whatever had been following her must have given up. The alley came out at a park she had not visited in years, in fact she didn't even remember that it was that near to her house. Then again, she thought, things always seem different when you get older. She took comfort in the streetlights that cast away the darkness.

As she wandered though the park, she heard a far less unnerving sound than the one she had heard last. It was the sound of children, singing in chorus. She was confused however, what kind of parents would let their children out at this time of night. Deciding to ask them what they were doing out so late, and to take them back home if they needed, she forgot completely about the noise that had scared her so much less than ten minutes ago. Wandering closer, she was able to make out the lyrics to their chant.

One, two, Freddy's coming for you
.

She found the words quite strange. It didn't sound like a song for young children.

Three, four, better lock your door.


As she followed the small voices she discovered a clearing. Three young girls, completely parentless, were playing some kind of skipping game.

Five, six, grab your crucifix.

"Excuse me, shouldn't you be at home? It's very late, you know."

Seven, Eight, better stay up late.


As she approached the children, they started to run. Struggling to keep up, she faintly saw them entering an old house. That surely couldn't be where they lived. She'd never seen anyone enter, or leave that house, ever since she had moved to Elm Street three years ago. The outside looked very unkempt, and the windows were covered in black bars. It didn't look like a place for children.

She followed the children into the house, catching eyes on one of the children from the clearing.

Nine, ten, never sleep again.

"Freddy's home."

And with that, the child skipped out of the house, closing the door behind. Holly took a look around. The house was definitely unlived in. There were stains everywhere, on the walls, floors, banisters. She needed to find the other two children, in case they got hurt. It was a large house, it could take hours to find them. That's when she heard it again, the squeal from the alleyway, and it was coming from upstairs. Glancing upwards, she saw a man, it was difficult to make out what he looked like but she noticed he was wearing a large dark colored hat. Shit, he had a knife. She was fucked.

Holly ran straight for the door, scrambling to open it. But it would not open, and the man was heading down the stairs. She screamed, running into a room that she soon discovered to be a basement. A large boiler lit the room up and she felt dread rise up when she realized that there was nowhere to hide, and the only exit had a large steel padlock on it. She squealing got closer again. He was coming down the stairs, coming ever so closer and there was no way out. Looking around she spotted an old, dust covered axe. It would have to do.

As the man came into Holly's vision she screamed again, frozen in terror. It was not a knife after all, it was several. And they were all attached to his hand by a brown glove. And his skin...he looked terribly burned. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. His grin at the sight of her in pure fear was enough to rid her of all pity for the man. He lunged at her, and she ducked out of the way, causing him to fall into a wooden table, smashing it. Taking the opportunity, she swung the axe into his back, using all her strength to kill the man before he killed her. He rose, however, seeming completely unphased. He seized her, using his steel fingers to play with her hair.

"Now that wasn't nice," he said playfully. "Time for you to be punished." And no sooner than he'd finished the words, he sliced his knife-fingers into the girl. Blood flooded from her chest, a dark red river that kept flowing and flowing until the girl was completely drained. The girl's screams of pain subsided slowly, and she used her last breath to sigh, "I'm sorry mom."

Somewhere in Forks, Washington, a woman screamed.