| The Biography [Rated R+] |
[Dec. 8th, 2009|03:26 am] |
(WARNING: The following is absolutely fictional. Although some concepts inspired by some real cases, this is entirely a work of fiction. Fred Krueger was created by Wes Craven. Some of the details that follow may be too graphic for some readers. This should be rated R - Mature. Proceed with your own caution.)
On the cold night of December 14th, 1946, a young woman found herself screaming in crucial pain, with such a sudden large amount of blood flowing from beneath her gown and all over the rusty shaped hanger she had wedged inside her pierced cunt... Yes, she'd come to the painful decision that it was tonight, that she'd be giving herself a long awaited abortion. It'd been months since Sister Amanda had encountered the deranged rapists that had no names, only pairs of evil eyes that peered out at her from the dark before lashing out and making her their own, and dragging her within the darkness that she would come to know as hell, forcing themselves inside her one after the other... Robbing her of whatever innocence she ever had left. The eyes were all she remembered, before several more of the men arrived and were long gone before she awoke on the dirt, bare skin covered only by ants crawling up her bloody freshly broken in and by now already used up snatch, leaking fluids of several crazed men. She accepted the fact that she'd been used and abused by who knows how many maniacs that night who had lost their minds one hundred years before. And now she lay on the cold marble floor of the basement of her church, having collapsed from sudden pain. The young nun's screams were never heard as new, tainted life was pushed forth and the bastard, birthed into this world. The nun grasped at the floor unable to take hold, and her body arched upward as her warm fluids painted the floor. She bit down on her tongue so hard that her teeth tore right through it with one defining chomp, her finger nails began to crack and break, snapping back as she clawed at the floor. Blood filling her mouth and soon her lungs, the young nun began to convulse where she lay, the last thing she heard aside from her own weakened whimpers were the cries of the prematurely born bastard of a child, conceived by sin and survivor of abortion, fathered by maniacs that the world would come to know as Fred
Young Fred Krueger was said to have killed his mother with his unexpected birth, whether she intentionally hid the pregnancy from her church or was she herself unknown to the greater evil growing within her womb until it was too late, it's just a wonder the little fiend survived at all. It was found next to it's mother's lifeless corpse, rolling around in her blood by several others the next morning. Many wanted the baby to be put out of it's misery, but this would not be allowed. As it grew, so did too the horrors of it's menacing ways. Fred lived in the orphanage with many other children coming from similar situations, but there would be nothing to relate Fred to the others. One such incident involved the children saving a duck that was drowning in an oil leak. The next day, it was found mangled, ultimately dying from a broken neck, work of Fred, however, it is apparent that this injury was only sustained afterward... Before he had some fun, dissecting the poor animal alive. Young Fred proudly admitted to this cruel act of torture, and took another whupin', like so many he had enjoyed before. His teachers had noted that Fred took the chance to kill bugs or other small animals any chance he could, often showing no kind of remorse, and if any feeling at all, as if he enjoyed their deaths. During his eighth year of life, Fred got into a discussion with another boy in his bunk, who claimed Fred described morbid acts of torture during what his idea of sexual intercourse was. When the boy threatened to tell on him, Fred lunged at him and bit into his cheek, ripping it off and gulping it down whole.
Several other signs that he may have been a sociopath in the works included his anti-social personality disorder, stalking or spying on some of the other kids, often displaying signs of masochism by seemingly smiling during his punishments. A six year old girl had to endure painful surgery to have her vagina repaired after an encounter with a young teenage Fred, who had been watching her urinate and accordingly presented himself to her, offering to show her something that "feels good," by rubbing on her "special place," and then using his fingers to claw at her, scratching her with his long dirty nails. By time she began to struggle, he held her down and proceeded by inserting a single finger. After a few moments, another finger slipped in, and followed by two more. Fred reportedly worked his entire fist into her and held her mouth shut as he raped her with his forearm. She may never be able to bare child as result of the injury. After this incident he was abandoned by the church, who although couldn't quite leave him homeless before the age of eighteen, sent him to the horrible foster father of Tyree Bailey, a drunken abusive schmuck who agreed to take Fred in for the checks. The man knew of Fred's mother, and described her as a slut who took on a bunch of escaped mental patients in a dirty old alley-way, resulting in Fred's birth. He would drink and starve young Fred, who would live in the basement and be fed a few bits of cold uncooked corn from a can rarely. Fred spent his time peering out from the windows within the basement, watching little girls run and play, pretty little girls with bows in their hair and white dresses, fantasizing about badly he could mutilate them and mess them up.
Fred was very deranged, he would often steal his foster father's tools and make creepy little inventions, toys, he called them, creative takes on knives and candy with razor blades hidden within that he planned to offer the helpless little children of Springwood. Fred often found himself being beat by his foster father, screaming at him to be normal and that he was a little freak. Several scars he found of Fred, he didn't even remember making. Maybe he was too drunk to remember, or else this little bastard was scarring himself up, burning himself, mutilating his body in ways he found soothing, grim rejoice in. Fred was found by his father doing just that one night, after he'd done some spying of his own, on his little bundle of fucked up joy. A little girl had been found raped and strangled just two blocks away. A single lock of hair of hers had been clipped off. He found the golden lock in Fred's room the night before. This bastard had to die. Bailey faced Fred with a knife, who could only smile at him and begin to snicker, his eyes locked on him. One of them was about to die, and Fred knew which one it was going to be. Bailey confronted Fred about the girl, who wasn't Fred's first victim. In a fit of rage, the drunken father lashed out at his son, who attacked back quite readily and broke his arm, before sliding the blade into his groin. Fred looked him in the eye then, and spoke these words: "Have you ever killed before? Have you ever helped to kill? To take the life of another living being... Heh, it's something. Life would be nothing without a little death. It wouldn't. And torture? That's the part of death that's fun." As he spoke, he began to disembowel him. When the police arrived, he acted in a state of total shock. The lock of hair was still on Bailey when his body was found. Fred was acquitted of the murder as it appeared to be the result of self defense, especially with Bailey seemingly being responsible for the murders of several young children.
He became owner of Bailey's property and even secured himself a job as janitor at the local elementary school, where he could admire the children from a far. Fred had become quite the insomniac, dedicating most his time to his secret obsession. Often, he was quiet and even seemingly shy towards other people, who felt sorry for him if anything at all. So foolish, they were. He'd often wave at little girls, or smile at them. One not so lucky one soon fell victim to him the day he motioned for her to follow him into the boiler room for a game of hide and go seek. Fred would hide and giggle, but the girl quickly got scared and began to scream, to shut her up in a hurry, he snapped her neck. Looking at her lifeless body on the ground, Fred decided it would be a few days before they found her. Plenty of time to have some fun. And by time they did find her... They wouldn't be able to recognize her anyway. Not after he was done with her. She wasn't the last, in fact, this was only the first of many. Fred was so slick, he believed he could get away with everything by this point. He began to experiment with cannibalism, some of the children looking so tasty that he couldn't resist tasting their sweet young flesh. After awhile he truly began to feel as if he wasn't just taking their bodies, he was collecting their souls. What utter bliss. But it couldn't last forever. There could only be so many missing children before the official's began to connect the dots.
Without a warrant, Officer Don Thompson followed his hunch and broke into Krueger's house. The place was unkept and disgusting, millions of flies and spiders occupied the rooms... But what he found in the kitchen would haunt him forever. The remains of a young boy, or perhaps it was a girl lay atop the kitchen counter on it's back, wearing a shredded, bloody white dress. The top off the corpses head was missing, severed just above the jawline, the long slashed up tongue hung dryly on the lower lip. The remainder of the bloody stump filled a soup bowel ridden with maggots and moldy old cornflakes. Fred Krueger was apprehended later that night, and held in jail over the weekend while his personal items were ceased from his home and collected as evidence. During this time, he underwent some psychiatric council, whom vomited and demanded to be escorted away from Krueger after only an hour of speaking with him. Fred Krueger was deemed a monster, a psychopath, a child murderer. He was the alleged Springwood Slasher that the police had been after for months, this much was obvious. But the case was faulted, as no warrant had ever been signed to allow the officer into Fred's home. The case was thereby dismissed, and a monster in a man-suit and red and striped sweater was set free. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would be taken in again, and he vowed to make his time free count.
Fred returned not to his home, but to his boiler room at school, and in his secret hiding place much like a child's, Fred revealed his newest twisted creation from his morbid dark mind. Dual gloves with razor sharp to the touch knives attached to each finger. And with them he had one other possession, a picture of his soon to be next victim, daughter of Officer Don Thompson, Nancy... He would caress her softly at first, holding her and telling her everything would be okay.. And then slip on his gloves and scratch her a little, and then a lot. That delicious, precious blood of hers would ooze out of her skin.. AND THEN HE WOULD TEAR THE LITTLE BITCH APART! SHE'D SCREAM AND CRY LIKE ALL THE OTHERS. LIKE ALL THE OTHERS... SUCH SWEET, PRECIOUS INNOCENCE.. ROBBED! TAKEN AWAY FROM HER LIKE HER LIFE WOULD BE IN A MATTER OF MOMENTS, LIKE HER FLESH WOULD SPILL AND SPLATTER ON THE FLOOR, SNIP-SNIP, HER VEINS WOULD SEPARATE AND HER BLOOD, YES, IT WOULD SPILL... IT WILL. WITH FEAR INCREASED... SHE WOULD SHIVER AND SHAKE ONE LAST TIME. DIE. DIE. DIE. Take her medicine, yeah, that's what she would do as Fred would dive head first into her blood. She would be his greatest kill, worth it all... worth....
With only one glove finished, Fred began to hear taunts and hollers being yelled from angry people, a mob of vengeful parents who had, he assumed, followed him to his final destination. He managed to lock the door to prevent them from breaking, or at least he thought as much. The parents bashed out the windows, threw bricks and anything they could at him. One of which knocked out the gas line. They yelled and screamed, and Fred was trapped. So this is it, he thought. This is my death. So be it. The gas alarm began screeching a loud, horrible sound, and just as he slid his right glove on, a bottle on fire came flying through the window. Fred watched it land, and had just enough time to kneel over his desk, to graze the picture of little Nancy Thompson with his thumb ... when the gas line erupted. Burning hot fire didn't give him the time to escape, the fire struck him on the throat, hollowing out his screams instantly, and melting off the lower have of his face and throat within moments. His voice struggled to make a hoarse sound of pain, as his room began a hellfire inferno which grabbed him hard and fast, burning away his skin. He made one last expression, furring his brow as his skin darkened and his sight went black as his eyes went blind with pure whiteness, before the skin of his eyelids welded itself together. The blades of Fred's glove burned bright red as his body twitched and convulsed, much like his mother's had during his birth and her death. The leather of the glove disintegrated first, the metal heating up considerably, began to blend itself into the disgusting burnt flesh of his hand, and into his burnt coal black skeleton, slowly becoming part of him as smoke took the room for its own and the flames welcomed Fred into death.
As Fred died then, Freddy Krueger was born.
Long since dead and the town's forgotten pain and fear of such horrid past occurrences, the parents of the murder never said a word, it was never discussed again. No remains of Fred could be found. Don Thompson was promoted and his daughter would grow up quite happily, and so would the other children, of would-be potential victims of Springwood. Thirteen years pass... Freddy would soon have his revenge on the unsuspecting little children who had since grown into neat and pleasant teenagers. He watched them, in a way. Waiting for his prey, the way a good hunter does. Stalking them, teasing them with his still long living morbid sense of humor. Freddy Krueger was back, and he was not your average serial killer. The few that saw him, before waking up in a pool of blood... They would see the true monster that always lived within Fred, which was now finally released. His eyes were pure white, which the skin looked as if it had been burnt and scarred over, now freed by jagged scars which he cut his eyelids open himself with his own homemade creation, now melted onto his right hand. Same with his mouth, though his nose was gone and his cheek bones were peering through the burnt flesh that barely remained on them now. The lower portion of his face was all skeletal, so was his throat, from which the horrible wheezing sound came forth and his vocal cords were visible when he would come out from the dark. Often making that horrible sound on the walls with his weapon.. Screeeeeeech....... He was too evil to stay dead for long. And now, he had a whole new playground, in their dreams. Everyone would sleep sometime, no matter how much they fought it, everyone would get tired and grow weak at some point, and at that time, Freddy would be waiting to play with them.. all...
"One, two, Freddy's coming for you.
Three, four, better lock your door.
Five, six, grab your crucifix.
Seven, eight, gonna stay up late.
Nine, ten, never sleep ....
...Again" |
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