Wake Me Up

By , bridgewater, MA
Wind, I should not be feeling wind right now. I had shut and locked my window before I went to bed. As I lifted my lids, a black and gloomy sky stood overhead. That was not the ceiling in my bedroom, I knew. Sitting up, I realized my bed was outside. But how did it get out here, with me in it?
Tiny voices singing took me away from my previous thoughts, I kneeled on my bed. Gripping the headboard, I stared at the sight before me. A yard, as dead looking as can be, with tall tree’s surrounding. The shadows casted over the bed, engulfing me as they seemed to grow. Three girls stood in the center of the yard, jumping rope. Each wore an old fashioned white dress.
No one dresses like this anymore, I thought.
Slowly I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and hopped off. I started to walk up the walkway to the house. Mist began to enter the yard, the girls voices slowing down and becoming more demonic, their mouth’s never moving.
One, Two, He’s coming for you
I know this song, I had heard it before. No, not again, he isn’t real. A dream, that’s all this is, another one of those dreams. My fingers grazed over the scar that sat on my chest, over my heart.
Three, Four, he’s coming for more
More, of me, impossible! I had strived to take control of my mind, he was not in control. He thought he had bested me, but I proved him wrong.
Five, Six, where’s your crucifix?
The girls, they seemed to know. I had lost the crucifix years ago, after he had come. This dream, it needed to come to an end.
Seven, Eight, It’s the last play-date
No, the last “Play-Date” happened when I was 13. When I vanquished the demon inside my mind. Destroyed everything he had done-
Nine, Ten, Freddy’s back again
Gone, the girls were gone as the mist suddenly disappeared. The yard looked more and more like a graveyard each second. I was finally up, at the front porch of the house. 1428 stood out in black letters above the crimson door.
Turning, to run away, I stopped before I could even move a single leg. A figure, far across the yard, moving? No, nothing there, the figures gone. Am I losing my mind? No, there it is again, but closer. Dashing towards me with such speed and..anger. Gone again, what is happening? Back, I see a glimpse of red and green, and the shine of metal in the moonlight. He’s getting closer, do I run? Gone, for a third time he has disappeared. I freeze, wondering what will happen if I don’t take control.
He’s back, and he’s in my face. His lips turn into a sneer, his discolored teeth glimmer as his tongue moves back and forth. In his eye’s shines revenge and anticipation. The skin, burned and gashed surrounds his face, his fedora placed oh-so neatly on his head.
“Boo.” He mutters, smoke and blood is the scent of his words. I’m falling before I can even scream. Falling down and down, into his world. I land on top of a boiler, and let out a groan, before I fall off onto the cold metal floor. Pain shoots through my body, as I struggle to move an inch. Finally, I can get up, and I look around. Oh no, not this, the boiler room. I had been here before, I had seen this place before. It wasn’t just a movie, the movie’s were tame compared to the truth.
I remained calm, strolling down each hallway, as a new boiler would turn on. Flames shining new light onto me, so I picked up pace. Suddenly, darkness is all that there is. The fire’s have died and I don’t know where I am. Right in front of me, a new flame sparks as a single boiler turns on, lighting the entire area. It’s a dead end, and I immediately recognize where I am. To my right is an old bed, sheets bloody and grimy. With tears all up and down the mattress, handcuffs attached to the bed post. Shelves filled with torture devices, different weapons and gloves. But he already is wearing his favorite on his right hand, the one he used on me. Burned dolls and toys surround me, and I hear a loud screeching sound. His sharpening wheel, it’s turning. I look up to see thousands of strewn up bodies, guts spilling out, eye’s torn, faces slashed, all hanging from the ceiling. Victims of his deadly game he loves oh-so much.
“Freddy.” I whisper, as I turned to walk away. I see him, at the end of the hall. I’m trapped, I fell prey to his little game of cat and mouse. He seems proud as he slowly makes his way down the hall, scratching each razor on the metal pipes, the sound screeching, and pounding with intensity in my eardrums. The heat seems to grow stronger, as strong as his will. Nothing I can do now, except pray for my alarm clock to go off and wake me up.

“One two, Freddy’s coming for you,” It’s him singing now, as he gains in on me. My back presses against the wall, as I look back over to the bed. I had been on there once before, and refused to go on it again. “Three four better lock your door. Five six grab your crucifix, seven eight better stay up late.” Right in my face, he was right in my face. A smirk replaced the malicious grin I had once seen, as a single razor traced up my arm, before there were four. “Nine ten, never sleep again.” His lips move right in my ear, as the blades cut deeper into my skin. “Nice try, B****. But I always get what I want.” A dark chuckle echoes’ through my ear.
I sat up in bed, sweat dripping down my face. The clock reads, 6:03, my alarm still beeping like crazy. I jump up and shut it off, sighing with relief. Never again would I complain about waking up so early. Something warm trickles down my arm, and I reach for the light switch. Blood, the crimson goo slid down my arm, as I read the words he had carved into my arm.
Mine.
He had come back, I was foolish to think he wouldn’t. He always would come back, and now he wanted me for a reason stronger than for my soul. For revenge, all because I had escaped him. The movies, they make beating him look so easy. But then again, they were child’s play compared to what he really did. Rape, Take everything, and Maim. All for his sick pleasure, his demonic little hobby.
I was Freddy’s child now.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

ashleyX13 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 2, 2012 at 9:33 am
was good, didn't make much snese but hte writing itself was good.
 
AleixxxAa replied...
Feb. 12, 2012 at 8:26 am
I tried to write it like it was actually a dream, where things constantly seem blurred and a mess
 
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