Anger Management

            “And what exactly do you expect from me?!” The dream demon yelled at me.

“Well gee, I don’t know, maybe try NOT killing a bunch of girls at my school for once?!” I shot back. He laughed at me, a hearty, mockingly bitter laugh.

“Are you a little slow in the head there? That’s what I do for a living!”

“Well people are starting to really question what’s going on, and a few fingers are pointing at ME, Freddy, ME!”

“So?”

“SO?? They’re trying to blame me for MULTIPLE MURDERS! I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I actually have plans for myself while I’m still alive, and they don’t involve spending half of it in jail!”

“Not my fault the bitch woke up before I killed her! What were you doing in that dream anyways?? I thought I told you to stay out of MY dreams!”

“I can’t help it if you can’t block me from wandering into YOUR dreams well enough!”

“What, are you saying I can’t do my job right?!”

“Well it sure doesn’t look like it right now!”

Yes…I was really having an argument with Freddy Krueger, the dream demon of Elm Street, and an iconic horror star that millions knew of but never really KNEW of. Freddy cast a searing glare towards me.

“Take it back.” I recognized that tone in his voice…that dangerous tone that some get when they get really angry and really mean business. I just looked at him, watching him carefully to make sure he didn’t start at me- after all, I am only a weak human teenage girl that he could break just as easily as stepping on a cookie. As I watched him I noticed a slight movement on his right side; he was slowly running his clawed glove along the boring pasty white wall of my room. When he spoke again his voice was filled with a deep anger and shook slightly.

“Take. It. Back.” I wasn’t really sure what to do; I knew that he was starting one of his “madman” moments  and that anything sudden that I did that reminded him of the ones he hunted could make him easily think I was prey as well- I’d be dead before he realized what he’d done. I tried recalling what he had told me a few months ago about how his “prey” worked. He had said something about how he was like a vicious dog, and any little thing could set him off; running, screaming, begging, or just even the look of pure horror and dread in their eyes made him wild. I debated whether to apologize or not, but I realized I was too afraid to speak anyways, afraid that my voice might give way to how scared I really was. I stood perfectly still, waiting, watching and scrutinizing like a hawk on a plump and tender mouse. I tried concealing the fear in my eyes to the best I could- I must’ve done a good job since he didn’t seem to notice.

            He suddenly stabbed into my wall with his claw and began digging downwards, leaving a gaping four-slashed hole, white bits and chunks of the wall falling all around the deep and sharp wounds, the paint dust like snow and the chunks like curdled blood. I jumped a little bit, unintentionally, in shock as he forever vandalized my wall. Still yet, as he did this to my very own room, I held my tongue for fear of his returning reaction, whether it was to be verbal or physical. Even though a physical reaction could easily mean my death, the verbal reaction was no less desired, for his bitter words could sting just as much as hydrochloric acid on a fresh wound. When he was a good foot or two down my wall he stopped and slowly turned his head at me, staring at me with cold eyes, yet somehow they seemed ablaze with the fire that some called rage.

            The dream demon yanked his claw out of the now broken and rather violated wall and began charging towards me instead, walking at a fairly quick pace with an amazing fluidity. Still yet I stood there, perfectly immobile, because I knew that if I ran I’d be dead for sure- he was much faster than me anyways so running would be pointless. I gulped as he came at me, for he seemed to almost carry a thick and crushing aura of strength and horror with him. He ran into me, hard, hard enough to knock the breath out of me, catching me by my shoulders and pinning me tightly against the wall. He leaned his burnt face close to mine, so close that I could taste his foul and bitter breath on my tongue, and he stared searchingly into my eyes as I stared back into his, seeing a reflection of myself in his icy black pupils and molten blue irises. I could see so much…yet so little, all at the same time. I could see emotions, thoughts, wonderments, desires, wishes, yet nothing in detail or specific enough to truly know what thoughts or what desires he craved. I wondered briefly what he could see in mine right now….. pain, frustration, anger , and little twinge of fear and shock…..I snapped back to reality and steeled my eyes back to emotionless, hoping he didn’t catch me in my brief moment of weakness.