A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master — Adaptation Excerpts
Adapted by Bob Italia
Transcribed by Rob Nimmo
The trees along Elm Street were bare. They swayed in the breeze that blew their dead leaves across the sidewalk. Kristen Parker, a beautiful but pensive-looking blonde teenager, walked slowly toward the Elm Street house. Although her face showed signs of fear, she moved with resolve. Kristen stopped and looked down at an angelic little girl who was drawing Freddy’s house on the sidewalk with a piece of chalk. Kneeling down, Kristen took a closer look at the chalk sketch. Although awkwardly drawn, the sketch made the house look new, and the yard well-tended. The illustration looked nothing like the subject, which had peeling paint, boarded-up windows, and was horribly run-down.
The little girl looked up at Kristen. “Hello.”
“Do you live here?” Kristen asked.
“Nobody lives here,” the little girl said sadly.
The little girl giggled strangely. “He’s not home.”
Then the little girl lifted her hand away from the drawing.
Kristen gasped. It was an image of Freddy Krueger, standing in a window.
Suddenly, there was a crack of thunder. Rain drops began sprinkling down on the girl and her drawing. Kristen looked up at the sky. Rain trickled onto her face. Then she looked back down. The little girl was gone. Kristen scanned the area, but the child was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, she heard a creaking noise coming from the house. Kristen turned and stared at the menacing structure. The front door slowly opened. With thunder crashing above her, Kristen walked deliberately toward the open door. As soon as Kristen entered the house, she heard voices behind her. It was children singing a strange nursery rhyme:
One, two, Freddy’s coming for you…
Kristen spun around and looked through the open door. She saw a group of young children standing in the front yard. They were dressed in their Sunday best, and staring at Kristen as they continued to sing:
Three, four, better lock your door…
The front door slammed shut with a bang. Kristen’s determined expression dissolved, and she reached for the doorknob. It turned without resistance and the door opened with ease. Kristen rushed through the doorway. But instead of finding herself outside, Kristen saw that she was in a dusty, decaying room. Before she could take another step, the door slammed shut again. When she tried to open it, the door remained locked. “Calm and cool,” Kristen muttered, “I’m calm and cool…”
Kristen moved down the hall. Finding an open door, she stepped through. The old floorboards creaked under her feet. She looked at the walls. They were lined with eerie paintings of children playing in graveyards. Rainwater dripped from the ceiling. A flash of lightning illuminated the room. Kristen caught a glimpse of an old and dusty couch in the corner—a couch with distinctive green and red striped lining. Another bolt of lightning lit the room. Kristen was horrified to see the shadow of a hand with long fingerknives on the wall. Barely able to breathe, Kristen turned to the large window across the room. Another flash revealed a tree branch outside. Kristen relaxed. Suddenly, there was a massive clap of thunder. The entire window exploded into the room. Then a huge gust of wind roared through the shattered glass, blowing Kristen off her feet.
Kristen tumbled down a set of metal stairs and landed on a concrete floor of a large, dark boiler room. She scrambled to her feet and looked around in terror. “He’s not here, he’s dead,” she muttered. “He’s not here, he’s dead, he’s—” Just then, Kristen heard the unmistakable sound of Freddy’s knives scraping against a nearby metal surface. “No!” she cried. “Kincaid! Joey! Help me!”
In his bedroom, Kincaid was sitting at his desk, his head drooped over an open copy of an illustrated sports magazine. His dog was curled at his feet, sleeping. Suddenly, Kincaid’s chair began to shake. He lifted his head in surprise. Instantly, Kincaid flew from his chair and sailed through the air toward a wall. But instead of piling into the solid surface, Kincaid sailed through right through the wall and fell into the boiler room, crashing through the rusty pipes and boilers. As soon as he caught his breath, Kincaid looked up and saw Kristen. He quickly jumped to his feet. “Aw, shoot, Kristen,” he complained, “not again.” Kristen motioned for Kincaid to listen as the screeching continued. Unimpressed, Kincaid showed Kristen that it was merely a metal armature of a boiler attachment scraping against a railing. “You are one spooked chick.” Before Kincaid could say another word, Kristen held up her hand. Footsteps echoed out of the shadows behind them. Kristen and Kincaid spun around. The figure lurched toward them. Kincaid gasped and Kristen screamed. But a moment later, they let out big sighs. It was Joey.
Kincaid covered his fear with cool nonchalance. “Joey!” he said with relief. “I thought—” “Thought what?” Joey said, looking at Kristen. “Of dragging us in here?” “Yeah, cut it out,” Kincaid said to her. “You’re puttin’ a dent in my beauty sleep.”
“Freddy’s here,” Kristen said defensively, “I swear! I heard him!” “Chill out, Kristen,” Kincaid said. “Freddy’s dead, buried, and consecrated. We won, remember?” Kristen shook her head. “He’s back…to get us.” “No way,” Joey said. “Kincaid’s right, Freddy Krueger is history. C’mere.” Joey led Kristen around the boiler room. He made her touch pipes, and then positioned her in front of the large furnace. “Look, the pipes are cold, the boiler is cold.” Joey swung open the iron door on the furnace. Kristen moved close to look into the black void. There wasn’t even a glowing ember inside. She turned away. All at once, a howling beast leaped out of the furnace. It was Kincaid’s dog. The terrified animal clamped its jaws around Kristen’s arm and knocked her to the floor.
Joey woke up with a start and tried to reorient himself. His sudden movements caused his waterbed to slosh back and forth. Meanwhile, in his bedroom, Kincaid jerked his head off his desk and glanced around with an expression of relief. Then he heard a whimpering sound and looked down. His dog was staring up at him in bewilderment. There was blood around the animal’s mouth. Back in her bedroom, Kristen threw her covers off and jumped out of bed. She was breathing hard and her arm was injured. Grabbing a T-shirt off a chair, Kristen wrapped it around the wound. Then she sat on her bed, looked scared.