(Okay, so I have recently introduced myself to the A Nightmare on Elm Street series and oh my gosh, I fell in love with it! It's such a brilliant concept! I was flooded with ideas of my own and the only way they would leave me alone was if I wrote them down and so here we are. [Chapter One Song Suggestions:
To those of you who already follow me and are waiting for me to update my other stories, I'm sorry. But I just HAD to write this! I will be updating before the summer is up, I promise. I'm just having a bad case of writer's block but I will conquer it! I'm also in the process of moving again and all my notes for the Chaos series are in my desk which is still at my old house at the moment. But don't worry; I'll have my hands on it soon. )
Chapter One
Traces
"We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep."
~Prospero – The Tempest
"This is like- impossible!"
"Oh it's possible," Valerie Snider responded to her friend, Isabelle Dupree.
"But how can every single parking spot be taken!"
"Because," here Valerie put on a French accent, "as le French say, 'c'est la vie.'" She dropped the accent. "And as Frank Sinatra sang; 'That's Life.'"
"This sucks."
"Agreed."
Isabelle folded her arms over her chest as Valerie drove around the Springwood college campus' parking lot for the third time. Valerie sighed as they saw that there were still no spaces available in the first row. Well, there were but those were assigned to professors and anyone caught parking in them would get a ticket, which Valerie did not fancy getting presented with.
Isabelle glanced at her watch and groaned. "We're gonna be late for class."
Valerie checked the radio clock on her dashboard. Eight minutes until class started. If they did manage to find a place to park before class started then she and Isabelle would have to do some top notch power jogging to get to the psychology building.
She sighed, turning the steering wheel, bringing the Ford Explorer to the next row. "Mmmmmh, guuurl," Isabelle said. Valerie felt a grin on her face as she waited to hear what ridiculous thing her friend would say. "You work that steering wheel; mm-hm!"
"You're such a dork," Valerie laughed.
"Well you are too cause you befriended me."
"Fair enough."
They turned down the next row. Isabelle cleared her throat and began to talk like a tour guide. "And to our right we have more vehicles hogging parking spaces."
Valerie 'Oohed' and 'Aahed' like a tourist which encouraged Isabelle to go on.
"And to our left you'll see the most obnoxiously green car in all of Springwood. Notice how eye blindingly bright the shade of green in. And to our right once more, you see there are still no parking spaces. And to our left-." Isabelle let out a gasp and gave a strangled cry, causing Valerie to flinch and slam on brakes.
"Izzy, what-!"
"And to our left is an open parking space! Go, Valerie, go!"
Valerie whipped her head around to the left to see the spot and noticed another car coming from the opposite side of the row. The driver had spotted the space.
"Dibs!" Valerie shrieked, getting the car moving again. Her vehicle slid into the empty slot and Isabelle cheered, throwing her hands up in the air. Valerie put the car in park, turned in her seat to look at the other driver and raised a triumphant fist.
"I claim this parking space in the name of Justice!" she cried. Isabelle doubled over laughing in the passenger seat. The driver drove away, flipping them the bird. Valerie rolled her eyes. "Mature," she snorted.
"You weren't so mature looking yourself a moment ago," Isabelle reminded her with a grin.
Valerie sniffed with feigned haughtiness as she reached towards the back seat for her book bag. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Riiiight."
"Oh shut up and start running cause we've got five minutes to get to class!"
Isabelle swore and dove for her own bag. The two ran for all they were worth to the psychology building, Valerie slowly beginning to lag behind. "Come on, slow poke!" Isabelle encouraged. "I know you aren't slowing down cause you're tired. No, you must be trying to check me out from behind!"
"Izzy, we literally have no time for jokes!"
Isabelle gasped, nearly tripping over a tree root as they neared the psychology building. "There is always time for a joke," she insisted.
"I hope Prof. James agrees with you."
Isabelle reached the door first and swung it open for Valerie to run through. She squeezed herself close behind and both girls hurried down the nearly empty hallway. Valerie checked her watch. "One minute and counting." They still had a flight of stairs to climb.
"My thghs are going to hate me," she grunted as she and Isabelle tackled the steps.
"Less talk, more hassle!" Isabelle mimicked her gym coach.
They barged through the door just as the minute changed. Prof. James and the rest of the class applauded at their entrance.
"Congrats, girls. You made it."
Valerie's face went a little red with embarrassment but Isabelle milked the applause like the theatre major that she was; bowing and blowing kisses to the audience. "Oh thank you, thank you; oh you're too kind. Oh stop it."
Valerie gave Isabelle's butt a gentle nudge with her knee and they headed for their seats. "What was with the lagging behind, huh? You should be used to running by now. We run together every Wednesday," Isabelle whispered as they settled in their desks.
Valerie sniffed and pursed her lips. "It's too early to run." Isabelle muffled a snicker.
Valerie reached into the side zipper pocket of her bag and pulled out her glasses case. She put the black rimmed glasses on and turned her book to the chapter the rest of the class was studying.
"Okay, folks! Ladies, gentlemen…. Greg."
The class chuckled at Prof. James' joke while Greg shook his head good naturedly. Prof. James went to the white board and began to write down the day's agenda. It was when the words 'class paper' showed up that a few audible groans were heard.
Prof. James mimicked back the groans as he turned to face the students. "Come on, people; be excited!"
"Yippee," came a dead pan reply.
"That will do."
James stood in front of his desk and leaned back on it, arms folded. "We've been going over deviant behaviors and disorders. Now we're going to be talking about extreme versions of these mental disturbances by studying the mentally disturbed. And who is the best example of this?" No one answered. "Come on, people! I'm bored! Humor me!" That got everyone laughing and some raised their hands. "Okay! You; front row."
"My little brother."
"Okay, wise guy. Anyone else?" He met Valerie's green eyes. "How 'bout you?"
Valerie shrugged. "The only person I can think of is the Joker from Batman."
Prof. James pointed at her excitedly. "You're close. You're really close. What was the Joker?"
"A villain."
"Getting warmer."
"A murderer."
"Bingo!" Prof. James turned his attention to everyone else. "The Joker was a murderer, but not just any murderer; he was a serial killer. Which brings us to your paper's topic. Each of you is going to do a five page essay on a serial killer of your choosing. I want it to contain things about his or her life before, during, and after their killings. There are more details about the essay on the guide sheets at my desk.
'I'm going to cut class short today so that you can get a head start on finding out who you're going to choose. Don't forget to grab a guide sheet on your way out. The paper will be due on the final day of class when you come in for your Finals."
"That's a little over a month away," Valerie thought.
"I release you!" Prof. James announced dramatically. "Go forth and find yourself a serial killer!"
…
"Got anybody in mine yet?" Isabelle asked once they were in the hall.
"No."
"Just write about somebody really famous who got a lot of coverage for his crimes."
Valerie shook her head. "Nah. I know for certain that I don't want to do that."
"Why not?"
She and Isabelle headed for the snack bar and waited in line. "because it's been done and it's kinda the easy way out of the project. I don't want to be one of five who've picked the same guy. There's been so many books written and research done on guys like Jack the Ripper, H.H. Holmes, and the B.T.K Killer. I want to look up the ones who were," she paused to think of the right word, "forgotten."
"How could anyone forget a serial killer?" Isabelle asked.
"You'd be surprised. Some killers might not have had a large enough body count to catch the press' interest, or their killings were too tame to sir excitement, or they could have been covered up to not cause widespread panic if the killer was too extreme. The list goes on."
Both got a coffee, Isabelle ordered a warm muffin, Valerie ordered a hot cinnamon roll, and they took their purchases outside to a bench beside a water fountain. "How do you know stuff like that?" Isabelle asked after swallowing a bite of her whole wheat muffin.
"My mom was a reporter for a newspaper back in California before she died."
Valerie had been fourteen when her mom was diagnosed with cancer. She died two years later a few months after Valerie's seventeenth birthday. At age twenty-two, she still felt a slight nick of pain thinking about her mother's death. It wasn't long after that when Valerie's dad told her that work required him to move out of sunny California and to Springwood, Ohio. At first, Valerie had a hard time fitting in but once she found Isabelle the two had clicked and things became easier.
Coffee finished and muffin consumed, Isabelle glanced at her watch. "Welp, we've got about two hours before our next class. Wanna go to the library and try looking up some mentally disturbed guys?"
Valerie's mouth was full of cinnamon roll so she nodded her agreement. Isabelle laughed at her friend's puffed out cheeks. "Come on; let's get going."
Valerie swallowed her food as she gathered her things. "Remind me again why I agreed to register for a drama class?" she whined.
"Because, dear Valerie, not only is it a requirement for your Major in psychology, it is also fun."
"Oh is that it?" Valerie asked sarcastically. "I seem to recall a certain tall girl with her arms wrapped around my legs saying she wouldn't let go until I joined the class."
"Sounds like that girl had problems," Isabelle replied with a smirk.
"Major problems," Valerie agreed.
They walked to the library instead of taking Valerie's car. On foot it took them about eight minutes to reach the building. They had discussed ideas as they walked and by the time they arrived at the campus library, Isabelle had decided she wanted to do a report on a female serial killer.
"You might be the only one who writes about a female. A lot of people think women can't be serial killers," Valerie told her.
"Is it weird that I feel slightly offended by that?"
"Just a bit," Valerie laughed.
Isabelle shrugged. "Oh well."
…
Inside the computer room, they spent the past hour and a half doing research. Valerie was having some difficulty finding something that stuck out to her but Isabelle was being flooded with options.
"I had no idea there were so many female serial killers! Who ever said they were a rarity obviously didn't know what he was talking about." Isabelle scrunched up her face and peered at something on the computer screen then looked at Valerie across the table. "Hey, do you think there's a date limit? Like, can we only research killers who were active during certain years?"
"Guide sheet doesn't state any limits to years of activity," Valerie answered without looking away from her screen.
"Sweet! Then I have found my serial killer; Jane Toppan." Isabelle waited for her friend to respond but she didn't. Valerie's gaze was fixed on her screen. Isabelle cleared her throat. "Helloooo, Valerie?" Still no response.
Valerie clicked on the mouse and her expression turned to confusion. "That's so weird," she murmured.
"What is?"
"Why is it blacked out?"
"Why is what blacked out?"
"This doesn't make any sense."
"What doesn't make any sense?"
"And there's more than one."
"Valerie Loraine Snider, answer me!"
Valerie snapped out of her musings to see a very irritated Isabelle frowning at her. It took a moment for the situation to register.
"…I was thinking out loud again, wasn't I?"
"Yep. Now what's got you so confused?"
Valerie waved her over and waited til she was by her side before pointing at a black rectangle on the screen. "This obituary in the Springwood newspaper is blacked out. See, I had the idea to see if Springwood might have had its own resident serial killer and I've come across a lot of blacked out obituaries during the 1960s. This is the fifth one I've found so far."
Isabelle furrowed her brow. "Maybe the press doesn't want it to be known that murders happen in this quiet little town."
"If that were the case then all of the murders would have been blacked out. But they aren't. Look." Valerie brought up another obituary from the 1960s from a week before and pointed. "Clyde Manson; aged forty-five. Shot on his way home walking from work. Mugging gone wrong. It's only specific obituaries being blacked out."
"That's certainly odd." Isabelle looked at the clock on the wall the immediately checked her wrist watch for confirmation. "Whoa! We better get going! You know how Prof. Stiles can get when you're late for one of his classes."
Even though the mystery of the blacked out obituaries intrigued her, Valerie wasn't about to stay any longer to figure it out and risk Stiles' wrath. But she definitely would be coming back to investigate further.
…
Something unseen began to stir in Springwood. Something that hadn't seen any action in ten years. It was itching to be released. But not yet.
(I hope that was a good start for this fic. I'm really excited about this story and I hope you'll let me know your thoughts about it throughout my updates. Chapter two will be posted very soon. Freddy won't be making an appearance for three more chapters at most. …. Or will he?)