Categories > Movies > Nightmare on Elm Street


by ccthomas2 0 reviews

A power far greater than Freddy takes Nancy in to continue her quest while giving Freddy his own nightmares in this reverse-horror story. Full story available at Archive of our Own.

Category: Nightmare on Elm Street - Rating: R - Genres: Fantasy,Horror,Sci-fi - Warnings: [!!!] [V] - Published: 2020-10-04 - Updated: 2020-12-30 - 25780 words - Complete

by Roger "Cobb" Trujillo

“…descending into the grave of darkness and sending forth the Sister Luminaries.”


“(Where am I?)”

Continuing forward. Following a silhouetted figure in the tinted light.

“(Where am I? Why am I following him? Is it… is it… Fr###y?” [pausing with relief] “No… no, it’s not that. It’s something else. It’s… it’s…)”

It’s all so smokey--the white mist all around--as the lavender finishes stretching and solidifies into the pleasant day.

“(I’m from…” [quick vision of a black car’s hood gleaming with white shine as it speeds through an empty region] “from …” [the car speeds up] “What happened!?” [quick flash of a car crash])”

A teenage girl gasps and stuns in the mist. The obscured leader stops and looks back. The teenager has something enter her mind. “(Nancy. My name is Nancy. I’m…” [she looks over as our view moves to focus on the other figure] “I’m following you, because…” [her mind has a brief flash of something in a darkened scene, something strangely serene] “because…)” She drops it and continues the path towards her guiding spirit.

“(I’m from… Spr… spr###w##d. And F#r##dy… F#r##dy (death) Kr##G#R. Fr#d. Fred?! (green and red). No. Defeated him (claws), we passed the ascent (razor claws, just a dream) … just a dream.)”

Nancy looks up. At first, she notices that the guide is holding her up with its embracing arms; then she remembers its face… as blurry as it is.

“You took” [seeing herself and her friends enter a red convertible] “me from” [the red and green cover beats down, the windows begin to roll up] “… out…”

The power of the embracer and his pale yellow-gold robe “(like some kind of monk)” builds her up. Builds her whole. Builds her to remember.

Her memory replays surreally. The windows go up all around her. The doors won’t open. The cover is locked down. The controls do nothing! “Glen, cut this out! Mother! Mother!!” Her heart races with a slight piece of serenity behind it all ‘(it’s all over).’ They can’t control it. Faster and faster. “No! STOP!!” Everything moves so quickly into the desert beyond, into…


A robed man’s palms authoritatively slam the hood. Time stops. Everything is dead still. All of reality is black and glinting white. The air, the scene, even the sound is incredibly dense (like the depths of the ocean), yet nothing moves. The worn, raggedy robe interrupts with color amidst it all. Quick images of his hands, his symbols, his face strike staccato with vague notions “(What is it?)” It has stopped everything and now stands yards away. Nancy follows behind him as he eagerly states, “I’ve been waiting for you.” Nancy catches up to him “(How did I get out?).” She looks back. The car is in the “(Sprigwood? Springwood? Yes, Springwood.)” neighborhood, severely crashed with no accomplice. Smoke from burning oil escapes in mounds. It’s crushed like a boulder smashed it. The doors won’t open, and the windows are nearly black “(Is anybody in there?).” “What does this mean?! That I’m dead?!” The face (a human face completed with gashes?) is too ambiguous to read. Then a concept enters her mind, an answer beyond the question: transcendence.

“Transcendence? I…” [quick visions of ascending the boiler room, ascending the basement, ascending the steps, ascending the second floor, ascending the sleeping mind] “I…” [weathered exhale] “I don’t… …”

The robed man--who always speaks in a rooted, profound whisper--tells her, “I know what you seek.”

“(Yes, there is something.)”

The warm, fatherly monk continues, “Come with me, child,” [opening his hand towards their path]. “It’s time to go.” As he leads, Nancy is drawn to follow. There is something she is moving towards “(completion?)”.

She hears a slow yet creepy piano in the back. The source of it is something she desires to confront, to defeat forever “(protect, nurture the vulnerable).”

“You will defeat him forever, but you will become something much, much more than that. You will have more life than you’ve ever had.”

They continue out of the neighbor directly into the adjacent wilderness, a desert thinly sprawled with palm trees and a lake. Walking and walking-- walking towards the lake “(Was it about here that I started to notice?).”

Nancy rises from the embrace. “Was it about here I started this story?” No answer is needed, and she realizes it was quite rhetorical.

The monk walks ahead of her. It’s then that she realizes there is something very strange about the way he walks. It’s not encumbered, but it’s odd. Almost slumping, but with purpose. Partly graceful, and partly rough. If anything, it’s partly worm-like and partly “(mechanical?).”

The monk stops at the lake, raises his hands, and intones a language that sounds more like successively-intermittent strokes of music than mere words. On each successive chant, a bronze brush stroke (almost like metal) appears and circles above him. By the fifth phrase, the swimming whirl of phenomena begin to fade out as the water changes through a spectrum of bright, aquatic colors and rises angularly away from the depression, presenting itself like a great mouth yawning towards them. The steps lead into a browning ground, which leads further into a shadowed (but non-threatening) lair.

Something about it strikes her. She remembers “(#r###y? #r#d#y)”. It’s coming to her. “(Fr#d#y, Freddy, Freddy!)” It strikes her central nerves. “(Freddy!)”

[flashback to an overhead view of her leaving the convertible, now encased in black with blunt strokes of white gleam]

As she approaches the monk, something else moves from the car towards her. It is dragging the vehicle’s darkness with it like a thick wrapping, until it starts peeling away from stretched distance. A leathery-brown spot appears first, then a smaller one near it. From further peeling, red and green strips follow behind.

[closeup view of Nancy on the right-middle side, and the mist-covered car on the left]

A rough, deep “Nancy!” stabs her from behind. There he is. The child murderer, come back to kill all of them “(Freddy!).” Extracting his (“finger-knives!”), his fingers spread wide as he draws his hand. Nancy prepares to fight, grabbing a loose steel pipe.

She strikes at Freddy’s glove first, then at his head. He starts to weaken as she takes out his knee, then his back. Freddy tries to stand up, until she bashes his head in repeatedly.

Nancy backs away to see what will happen, pipe in hand. Freddy laughs lowly and begins to rise. The monk steps forward and lightly waves his hand. Freddy’s blades melt and dissolve through the leather… and his fingers. The pink turns to red as the outer layers melt into a bubbling, white-and-red mucus. The gelatinous secretion hisses as it slowly melts through the bone. Freddy’s graveling roar is quickly cut to a fainting exhale, barely holding onto consciousness. The remaining leather liquefies and hardens over the dissolving nub.

“(Somehow… I don’t… remember how, he sent him… Freddy… back into the further recesses of the dream world. He said it would take him too long to get back in time (time needed for what?). What happens after? How--)” Her mind returns to her present vision. The path is opened; the monk leads the invitation. “(That’s how.)”


In the hidden cave, flaming torches lead through a perfectly-carved dirt hallway, something so clandestinely mystical and regal in its simplicity. The monk takes one of the torches from the wall. Another reappears in it’s place. The light reflects off his robe and vaguely-exposed skin as he leads them down the tunnel to a curtain.

He spreads both sides apart to reveal a polygonal chamber. The floor-rim is lined with cobalt lights tilting upwards, though they dim early in the ascent. The floor’s center is a gulf into the unknown, and a contraption hangs just above it. Standing like a primeval cage, its base is solid and made of sedimentary rock creased into tiles. It’s dark-metal bars begin with a small, angular jut, then extend straight up until they are lost in the shadows of the top. For lack of a better word, the closest thing we could call this is an elevator.

“(For what purpose?)”

The monk of the shadows fills the room with his whisper, “We must empty your cup so that we can fill it.”

Nancy notices that the front of the lift is a swirled opening. “(Was it always that way?)” Instinctively, they enter the device together. Nancy waits near the entrance, watching the unnamed monk take the center of the base, where the stone is carved into a polygon and two metal rods with handles extend. Though hard to see in the shadowed presence, something happens when he puts his hands on those rods. Nancy senses the opening shut. She turns to confirm her senses: the entrance has joined the uniform bars. She turns back to the leader.

He speaks again. “What people need is not 'happiness' as the world understands it. What people need is 'wholeness.' ”

The lift slowly descends, though it feels more like going into the depths of consciousness than a normal descent “(like the car crash?)”.

She stands next to the monk for comfort as they descend, and that’s when she notices his face as they pass through the remaining lights. Only glimpsed, it formed much like a ram’s head with deep crevices. She couldn’t see his eyes or other features, but the horns on his crown did not completely circle. Another pair of horns--ones barely curving--jutted out the back-corners of his cheeks. “(Did he only look like this here, or had he always looked this way?)”

“True spirituality is for those who have gone through the darkness and come out the other side.”

[long pause of silence]

His voice continues into the darkness as the tiny sight of the cave’s chamber fades away above. “Do you know what the great reason is for the moral wrongs of mankind? People are controlled by their pleasures and desires.”

_“It’s Only a Dream!”_

“Mommy! Mommy! Let me out, mommy!”

The words sound as the inside image of a closing mouth fades into a glass door and the earthen throat hardens into frozen boxes. “Please, Mommy! Please!” A small version of a burned hand and a metal fist (extending past red and green fabric) bang on the glass.

A fairly young mother with a denim dress and exposed calves walks from the cashier to the glass. Looking at us through her sunglasses and brushing aside her wavy blond hair, her stern face speaks, “Are you going to behave now?”

“I don’t want to, mommy! That’s! Not! Fun!’’

“Then you can just stay in the freezer until tomorrow.”

“No, mommy! No!” [throwing a fit] “OK! Fine! I’ll behave!”

“OK, you can come out.” Our perspective changes to see the woman open a door in the frozen foods section of a grocery store. She helps a 5-year-old version of Freddy Krueger out, who still bears his knives, clothes, and burned flesh. “Do you love your mommy?”

“No! I hate you, mommy! You’re stupid! You smell like poop!”

“OK then. You can go right back in the freezer.”

“No, mommy, no!”

“Do you still hate me?”

Trying not to throw a tantrum, he resigns, “… maybe I don’t hate you.”

“Well, maybe I’ll keep you in the freezer.”

“Noooooo! Fine! I don’t hate you!” [very forced and angry] “I love you, mommy.”


Freddy, now a young adolescent, sits in the back of the car with his siblings while his parents sit up front. He observes the scenery until they come to the bridge, the one that makes him cringe. It arches up and up until it’s nearly vertical. The father floors the gas to keep the car from sliding downhill. Every time is a test of luck. He feels the car sliding back on every try. It keeps sliding, then advancing, then sliding some more. With much anger and outburst, he makes it over the top, where the other side is nearly straight down. The car slams onto the road, potentially breaking the base and axles. It slides uncontrollably forward while the breaks do nothing. The dad swerves and swerves, side-swiping a few cars coming the opposite way. Finally, they are safe.

Until they get to the top of a giant staircase.

The steps are larger than the car, and on each one is an array of couches in staggered formation. They drive forward, bouncing off one couch to the next like springboards. After several levels, a giant, ravenous dog chases them, bouncing off the couches behind them. It begins biting at the car, tearing through the metal towards them.

“Dad, hurry up! Can’t you see the dog?!”

“There is no dog! Quite down! There is no dog! I know what I’m doing! Just… be quiet, Freddy!,” his father chides him.

“Can’t you see it! He’s coming at us! He’s going to eat us!”

His mother screams at him over the noise, “Didn’t you hear him?! There is no dog! Stop making things up! Why can’t we just have a nice day without your ruining it! Just be quite and behave for one day! Just one day!”

His brother and sister begin mocking him while the car makes it to the bottom. “(We’re almost there. Hurry up, dad!),” Freddy sweats as they proceed up the next staircase. The dog has already torn through trunk.

“What are you so nervous about?!,” his dad lashes out. “Just stop it! Just stop it, Freddy! Stop being so nervous!”

“Freddy! Listen to your father!”

His brother and sister feed the situation. “Dad, Freddy’s still scared.” “This is why you’re the trouble maker. Stop crying.”

“I can’t believe your son,” his mother tells his father. “He just can’t behave. No matter where we go.”

“That kid is about to get a belt to the face.”

“Well, I bet he deserves it. Then he can spend the rest of the night feeling sorry for himself like he is now.”

“(Wait! This isn’t my mother. I never had a family like this. I…)”

“Freddy, I am your mother. We are you parents.” She turns to her husband, “Can you believe that, Michael?! Freddy wants to disown us!”

“(No, what happened? Nancy!… and that… thing. The ground opened up around me and swall--)”

The dog’s jutting teeth slice Freddy’s arm and back.

“Put that kid on the street. Let’s see how long the boy lasts. Then he won’t feel so sorry for himself. Then he’ll see that we’re not that bad after all.”

“(This is not my fam… This is not… This…?)”

The car jumps onto their front yard with a bang. The underside feels all cracked. The parents go to the back of the car and see how torn up it is. “Freddy, come here!” Freddy comes around, relieved he wasn’t crazy.

“See! Look! I told you it was after us! I told you! I tried…”

“Did you do this, Freddy?!”

“No! I didn’t! Look! It was the dog! I told you!”

“Freddy! Let us finish!” Freddy tries to contain his anger and frustration. “Calm down, Freddy! Stop pouting! Stop seeing yourself as a martyr! Just stop it! Now!” Freddy tries very hard to contain himself.

“Well, we asked you a question. Answer us! Did you do this?!”

“No, it wasn’t me! It was the dog! I promise!”

“Freddy?,” his father says in disbelief.

“It was the dog!” [crying] “I told you it was the dog, and you didn’t believe me. You didn’t believe me. You just screamed at me.”

His mother pats him on the back, devoid of sympathy. “Freddy, that’s just the way we are. You’re just going to have to accept it.” The family goes into the house while his siblings make fun of him on the way. The parents join in.


“(Running. Running. There they are!)”

Between the round, stone monolith and the wooden wall encircling it, flying squares and polygons seek after all intruders. Freddy slashes at the first with his metal claw. It breaks with its green light minimizing into a singular beam, then disappears. Positioned cautiously, he reaches out and attacks the next one. Its green color turns purple and aggresses towards him. He slashes once, twice. It turns yellow and purple, angrier than the others. Freddy runs around the infinite circle coming towards more of the flying shapes. During his run, we see the laminated faux-wood tile.

“(I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to make it to my brother’s play.)” Freddy tries to slash another shape. It roars at him. He runs back the way he came and continues, nothing in sight. Something pulls him back. It’s Coach Schneider.

“Where do you think you’re going, dirtball?

“I’m just, I’m trying to make it to my brother’s play.”

“ ‘Revenge of the Nerds,’ right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Not looking like that you’re not.” Schneider grabs the back of his sweater, pulling his ear at the same time.”

The coach drags him to the gym, sits in a folding chair, and throws Freddy a bat. “You know what to do.” Freddy stands the bat on the floor and runs around it with his forehead pressed against the end. “Faster. Faster!” Schneider throws a few basketballs at Freddy. “I said faster!” Freddy huffs and puffs while trying to run as fast as he can. Schneider moves from basketballs to baseballs. Throws to the ribs, the IT band, the head, and the back knock Freddy close to falling, but he dare not, lest Schneider retaliate. Schneider gets up and pushes Freddy to the floor. “Hit the showers.”

The view tracks the steam-drenched walls to the shower room. Steaming water runs down Freddy’s closed eyes and grimaced face, through his sweater and pants, and into his overflowing shoes. “Hello, dirtball.” Freddy opens his eyes to see the Schneider, savoring his gum and carrying a handful of jump ropes. Freddy is too slow to move as the coach binds his hands and feet to the pipes.

Schneider still has one rope left, which he uses to whip Freddy continuously. Deep burn marks appear under the rending sweater. Schneider stops to throw an assortment of balls at Freddy’s face while laughing. He stops to chew his gum for a second and returns to the jump rope.

_Emptiness and Visions_

The darkness continues. The silence, stillness, and lack of stimulus brings cleansing and relief. Nancy feels so much better than she has for awhile. She realizes this must be what some call “emptiness.” A place of cleansing, a place to empty the excess waste within. It’s so purifying, so completing, that she embraces it wholeheartedly.

Passing through this phase, something else begins--detached voices from all sides, first from children, then from adults. She is stunned by how similar they are.

“I want it” - “I only wanted” - “I enjoy it” - “Give me what I want” - “I want” - “I like it” - “It feels good” - “That’s how you get what you want” - “But then I won’t get what I want” - “Just give me what I want” - “I enjoy it” - “But I like it” - “Because it’s fun” - “But if feels good” - “I just want” - “But that’s not fun” - “Because I wanted it” - “I don’t care. I want it” - “I want more” - “I just do what feels good” - “If it feels good, do it. If it feels bad, run away”

A question enters Nancy’s mind. One that seems simple, but its implication scares her. She automatically defends with the positive, but now an uncomfortable doubt has entered.

Then, she hears it. Freddy’s mind, in his evil pleasure, speaks aloud: ”When I was alive, I might have been a little naughty, but after they killed me, that's when the fun REALLY began! Haaaa hahahahaha!”

A moment of silence passes in the darkness, giving Nancy time to meditate before a series of visions appear.


Images of two brains appear in the darkness.

The brain on the left relies heavily on the middle of the brain (what scientists call the “old brain” and the “being” part of the brain), while the front of the brain (what scientists call the “new brain” and the “active” part of the brain) is barely used and very undeveloped. The brain on the right relies heavily on a well-developed and active frontal section.

The brain on the left is impulsive, pleasure-seeking, lazy in its duties, and complicit to any stimulus without discretion. It demands constant adrenaline, constant noise, excessive (often useless) talking, lust for more things, excessive self-esteem and grandiosity, and an endless search for more and greater highs. A constant addiction to more, more, more! It’s always running from what it needs to do to develop and reflect. It is terrified of silence and stillness, having to fill any quiet with sound to keep its dead state alive. The silence it fears is needed to break down the walls and tear out the floor to add depth to the soul.

And when it does use the front of the brain, it is minimally used, mainly just for rationalization and manipulation.

Ultimately, this is the brain of stimulus junkies, of overgrown preteens. Very few people here want to give it up for something that would make them whole.

The brain on the right is sated. Relying on the new brain, it is conscientious, responsible, and self-sacrificing to the higher cause. It is obedient to higher law, restraint, considerate, introspective, and contemplative (concerned with future consequences, deeply reflective of past actions and their effects, and searching for knowledge and truth). This brain needs seriousness, silence, and stillness to cleanse and grow.

The developed new brain makes the entire brain whole, bringing it to completion.

From the brains, the view follows the bridge of the mind to the soul.


Like before, there are two living images, but of the soul this time. The souls are depicted as vitreous blobs composed of a few outer layers around a large inner core. Floating around the souls are several particles like dust. Most are white, but a lesser number are larger and flashing red. The soul on the left gluts on every white particle in sight while refusing the reds. This only feeds the outer layers and neglects the inner core, which is dark and empty. No matter how stimulated the outer layers are, it never leaks into the inner core.

The soul on the right eats the red particles and takes the white ones rather selectively. The red particles feed the inner core directly, where it is vibrant and lively, spreading life throughout the outer layers. Though its diet of white particles is much more limited, the pathways created by the inner core allow them to connect to the core and the life of the soul.The white particles and the outer layers gain new meaning.

The soul on the left refuses to act rightly, believing that, if it just indulges the outer layers even more, it will reach the inner core. After years of failure, it either says 1) “The inner core can’t be filled, so we have to blind ourselves with excesses to the outer layers so we can obscure the pain” or 2) “There is no inner core. That’s just an imagined idea. There is nothing else, so we should just do whatever (moral or immoral) to please the outer layers, because there is nothing else. And it’s cruel and misleading to tell people otherwise.”


The souls turn into mists. Following below the mists are two groups of people. The group on the right eats the caked bread to fill themselves. Sometimes the bread has icing on top, and sometimes it doesn’t. They eat the bread regardless and remove the icing when there is too much. The group on the left eats only the icing and refuses the bread. Their hunger increases as they demand more. Eventually, they resort to stealing and any other means to gain more icing, though it’s never enough and never gives the body what it needs.


A closeup of the Mona Lisa passes our view through the metal bars. The details of the brush strokes are very clear, the propriety and controlled passion allow the painting to be perfection. Then, the passion of the strokes are gorged and reckless, destroying the once perfect image. The distorted, meaningless mess passes away above the lift as the descent continues.

An angelic voice echoes through the darkness: “Pleasure is a trap. Pleasure is a trap, and suffering sets us free.”

This prompts Nancy’s mind of her teacher’s lesson: “According to Shakespeare, there was something operating in nature, perhaps inside human nature itself, that was rotten.”

Rise and fall

A simple outline of societies appears, showing their rise and fall. A voice speaks from the darkness behind it: “There is a common trend throughout history. Societies develop and become prosperous. Then they become indulgent and decadent. And then they fall apart.”

A life of desire

A transparent image briefly shows of a group of children picking on another child because it’s fun. The more they do it, the more they enjoy it and follow the group.

The image winds and warps to that of a child, who is raised in a culture of “Indulge all your desires” and “Rebel against everything.” He is raised to get everything he wants, both physical things and permission. The parents’ belief is, “If you give people everything they want, they’ll get it out of their system and become responsible adults.” Along the way, he is lavished with self-esteem, where every effort is made to tell him how great and special he is (even when he’s only average) and he is shielded from anything that could lower his self-esteem. The child grows into a teenager, where he lives wildly to “get it out of his system.” His life includes impulsive sex, drugs, doing anything to be in the cool group, rebellion for rebellion’s sake, and general, wild, pleasure seeking--all the impulsive desires that “must be satisfied” and are “dangerous to suppress.”

He also joins the cool group to protest whatever the group is protesting. He enjoys the group mentality, feeling the pleasure as he yells with the group and chants mantras to “fight the establishment.” Greed is a common criticism, though he and his friends believe they should have whatever they want. He also demands that people recognize his great wisdom. Years later, he goes to work for a large corporation (one he protested with his peers) because they give the great pay and benefits he demands. Immediately, he challenges the authorities and “holds their feet to the fire.”

During his career, he focuses on making lots of money and having lots of power. The money can buy him more material possessions, wild living, the high life, and anything else he can buy. More money equals access to more pleasures. He will do whatever it takes to make the most money (no matter how immoral it is), whether it be embezzlement, scamming, extortion. Neglecting his family is an acceptable price for this worldly pursuit. He cheats on his wife, using employees and prostitutes as objects, all while congratulating himself on how slick he is to pull it off.

Power feeds the overblown self-esteem and another pleasure: dominance over others. This is not noble power to ensure people and systems follow the correct path; this is power for the mere sake of dominance, feeding the animal instinct. Whenever something goes wrong (even illegal), he passes the blame onto anyone else, even innocent employees. All the while, expects everyone to think highly of him in the name of “due respect.”

His drives increase over the years, where it can never be enough, just “more, more, more!” As the man ages greatly, he squanders everything for himself. Then he’s caught scamming and tries to place the blame on anyone else (even innocent employees) to save himself. He is eventually held to account and kills himself to escape the dreaded loss and displeasure he will face in prison.

A similar scenario plays, except the man goes into power for a Communist government, where he squanders all the nations treasures, robs the citizens and resources, and kills anyone who threatens his power or is an obstacle to something he wants, including non-threatening people. Torture, fear, and death against any inhabitant fuel the pleasure of dominance and sadism. He sits back in his high office, marveling at his treasures, the power he wields over others as cattle, and the nations he’s conquered. He marvels to himself “(You are so special. You are so amazing. You are a god.)” The pleasure centers of the brain are grossly engaged and feel amazing, but the inner core is dead.

A terrible thought occurs to Nancy. “(How many of us would give into these things if given the chance?)”

The angelic voice from before repeats: “Pleasure is a trap. Pleasure is a trap, and suffering sets us free.”

Slander (and benefits)

Different scenes throughout time show a rise in social consciousness about a moral injustice. People in the society rally together to identify and fight these injustices. Because of the power behind it, conniving people slander others as offenders for revenge, dominance, removing competition, attention, undue benefit, and other nefarious goals. The falsely accused are forever stigmatized and harmed throughout their life. Eventually, people recognize the culture of slander and the power that it exploits. The excess of “crying wolf” leads people to dismiss all cases as frauds, leaving true victims without justice. The people who started the slander don’t care about the damage they’ve caused to victims on both sides. All that they care about is that they got what they wanted and it feels great.


A young woman is wooed by a rich, handsome, married man. She is warmed that this man treasures her above everything, even his own family. She is thrilled that he leaves his family to marry her, placing her at the height above all others. Then he cheats on her, and she can’t believe what a terrible man he is to do something so horrible to her.

Nancy questions, “(But these are just the more extreme cases.)” Yet, something inside her says these greater situations are rooted in the basic areas of life.

Even in regular life

The studies of the Dunning-Kruger effect display in action. Nancy sees that many will blindly think of themselves as great, even when they’re not.

Next is a graduation ceremony at Wellesley High School. An English teacher gives a speech to the children that “You are not special. You are not exceptional.” The speech becomes famous as many tout that it’s about time that generation or those people hear this. Nancy is given an inside view of their minds, seeing that few to none of the cheerers think, “That’s a message I needed to hear. Maybe I’m not as really special as I think I am.” More so, Nancy sees that many of the celebrators think “Good! Now that they realize they’re not special, maybe they’ll recognize me for how special I am and appreciate me.” When the celebrators do hear that they aren’t special either, they steam, “How dare you be so disrespectful to me and not appreciate me!,” not considering that the disease of exaggerated self-worth isn’t just common in the younger generation, but in all generations.

Another vision takes her to different families where serious problems exist, and they continue throughout the generations. Often, there is a whistleblower who speaks up, and that person is shot down by everyone else so they can continue the corrupt ways because it’s easy and familiar. These problems are especially preserved by those who receive favor in the family. The constant barrages and invalidations cause years of psychological damage to the ones who stood alone.

A series of relationships displays, usually between loved ones, where people exploit others through false guilt-trips and shaming to get what they want. The users know the other person has a big conscience, and they know they can take advantage of it. The exploiters continue the trend of emotional blackmail as often as desired, psychologically wearing the other person down without concern. Why? “(Because they’ll get what they want… and because it feels good.)” The greater the conscience, the easier the target. If the targets ever speak up about what their loved ones are doing, they are shamed for “thinking such terrible, judgemental things about me!” and other manipulative denials. Often, the target will recoil with self-doubt, thinking they’re actually the bad one, while the exploiters congratulate themselves on how they tricked the other person again and got away with it.

At the disgusting pride, Nancy screams out, “Kill your desire!” She is surprised by her own words. As her tension relieves, she sees how often people take advantage of others who are passive or trusting.

Another series of vignettes displays various people who are stressed-out and either need to say something important or need to vent their frustration. As they try to speak, they trip over their words and misspeak. Everytime, someone interrupts them to imitate the mistake and laugh at it rather than let them finish and have empathy for how the they are hurting and struggling.

Nancy finds herself yelling at the images, “When someone makes a mistake, you do not laugh at them!”

The cage disappears, and Nancy finds herself standing in line at a store. The cashier is frustrated over something unseen. Two people in line laugh at his state and make not-so-clever jokes about him. Nancy tells them, “That’s enough!” The two people are taken aback and angry at Nancy, saying, “You need to mind your own business, and you need to enjoy life. Stop ruining our fun.”

The surrounding flashes into a street corner as a driver is in a hurry to get into the parking lot. The problem is a group of people are stopping in the entry as they laugh and enjoy themselves. The driver can’t get in as the pedestrians abuse their “right of way” privilege. The driver honks at them as they act offended, saying sarcastically “Well, excuse me!” When the driver parks and runs out of the car, one of the group yells at her, “You need to slow down and enjoy life!”

Nancy feels the anger building inside at their selfishness and notices she is in a retail store. An employee is struggling with a severe workload and an angry boss. As he is handling something heavy and dangerous, two customers come up, oblivious to his work, and interrupt him for something they could easily figure out themselves. Though he almost slips from the startle, they interrupt again for an immediate answer. Nancy barks at them, “Wait a second! Can’t you see what he’s doing?!” He finally settles the large product and answers their question. The customers walk away without a thought of his situation. Nancy realizes, “(So often, other people are just a means for us to get what we want. In our minds, they don’t really exist except for that brief moment to serve us. We do not consider what is happening with them before or after our demand. We are inconsiderate.)”

A series of flashes takes Nancy to many times and places where people interrupt serious conversations to ask something that should wait. The askers do not assess the situation. They act impulsively because they “just wanted” something.

The experiences continue into a house where two people are having a tense conversation. The first person has been misunderstood and is waiting patiently to explain herself. As she begins to speak, she is cut off by other people because the subject makes them uncomfortable.

“(People want immediate relief instead of enduring when necessary.).”

In the next room, a group goes after one person, mocking and manipulating anything he says or does. This is common practice. They interrupt every important thing he has to say with jokes and tell him he’s being too serious and, thus, too prideful for taking himself so seriously. Several members of the group know the accusations are wrong, but they imagine what would happen to them if they were to speak up. Plus, it’s a lot of fun to join in.

The walls reconstruct around Nancy until she finds herself in a hallway. At the opposite end is the darkness and the lift lowering. She runs through the hallway to the other side before it’s too late, but people clog the hallway in large bulks (it’s more desirable and natural than lining along the walls). She keeps trying to get through, but people don’t consider what’s around them. They are blinded by desire and don’t look beyond themselves. After squirming through the clogs, she sees half of the lift has already descended. She keeps running, but three women walk in front of her and occupy the passage as they continue leisurely, side-by-side, without a care beyond themselves. They stop and talk in place when they see another friend come. Nancy pushes her way through as the group scolds her for how “rude” she is. The top of the lift is about to pass the floor. Nancy makes it to the end, and the hallway narrows. A large man steps in front of her, walking casually. While he could walk to the side to allow others to pass, he prefers to walk in the middle and take his time. She yells for him to move, but he’s lost in his music and relaxation. He is blinded by desire. Nancy can’t get through! She can’t get through! It’s too late!

More flashings surround her. Nancy sees she is back in the barred cage with the monk. With the residual lights still lingering in her eyes, the phrase “blinded by desire” resonates in her mind.

Nancy sees the images all around her, beyond the bars. The vast darkness is filled with so many stories of what happens to children and adults alike when everything is permitted and they are left to their own devices.

The unspoken question from the beginning has been crawling deep inside her this entire time. Her thoughts war greatly as she reconsiders the “obvious” answer. One of the few remaining defenses asks: “(But isn’t this all just our natural instinct to survive? Isn’t that what we’ve needed to do to survive as a species?)”


A new vision appears, one concerning two tribes in early history. The tribe on the left does everything it can to gain for its survival: swindle, scam, pillage, plunder, backstab, anything. This way, it “ensures its survival.” It willingly sacrifices moral integrity. Eventually, it follows the natural trajectory, embracing anything that feels good, anything that is a gain, to “secure its survival.” The tribe continues its wrongful ways, using the “this is what we had to do to survive” excuse, even thought there is a surplus of benefits. Its actions are far beyond what it needs, though they miscontrue a want as a need. The tribe spreads across the lands and spreads their diseased ways and ideas.

On the right is a tribe that holds to its moral integrity, even risking death. Those who do survive spread their healthy ways and ideas throughout the lands. In another scenario, the tribe dies out completely, but they die with spiritual wholeness. Their great sacrifice spreads the powers of good through the world.

“(The soul is more than the body, and it must be fed. To go on living with corruption is not favorable to death. If that’s what we become, then we shouldn’t survive. Survival at any cost is not goodness. Self-sacrifice is.)”

Her mind is mostly at peace with the unspoken question, but there remains one more counter: “Most people aren’t murderers and rapists.”

Only the absence of?

On the right is a society of highly virtuous beings. A rich spirituality and goodness flows through them and their world in a colorful manifestation of glory. The people are rooted in a higher power that flows through them. In turn, they flow through it. All of the beautiful traits of goodness flow throughout the world in magnificent harmony. In people’s souls and connections, there is a blazing glow. The continuous goodness brings the society into eternal elevation.

On the left is a society, devoid of rape and unjust killing but bearing all the destructive marks of the previous visions. Society has not moved up, but down. It is not good. It is not even OK. It is fallen.

Nancy realizes, ”(If the side of good is only the absence of rape and murder, then the side of good is incredibly disappointing…)” Her head and chest cave a little. “(It’s despair.)” A peripheral thought abides: “(Mediocrity is not a virtue.)”


Two gates appear. The gate on the left leads people to immense power to do anything without any responsibility for their actions. The gate on the right, however, leads people to immense power to do anything but with responsibility for their actions.

The monk in darkness asks, “Which of these gates would most people choose?”

Nancy hesitates to answer, but she knows the truth. “They’d choose” [hesitant exhale] “the gate on the left.”

“And why is that?”

During the long descent, the answers plague her as she continues into the greater depths. Finally, she senses the intensity of the journey lessening.


Two wells appear. The well on the left is the Well of More. The well on the right is the Well of Enough. Those who drink from the Well of More continue to drink from it as much as possible. The more they drink from it, the thirstier they are, yet most refuse to drink from the Well of Enough. Those who do drink from the Well of Enough have their thirst filled and their need sated. The extra water is given to those in need. They are whole.

Two at rest

Two people sit at rest. The woman on the left is distracted every time she wants something. She must disturb her peace to chase after every whim and desire. Eventually, she demands others meet her desires, and she becomes angry when they don’t do so immediately or aren’t happy to do it.

The woman on the right can rest in peace, embracing wholeness and letting the intruding desires pass for a long time. Throughout the hours, she selectively picks a few that are acceptable, which she meets responsibly. Her soul is whole and rejuvenated.


Nancy passes the images of the brains followed by the images of the souls. Upon crossing the bridge, she notices something new. The mind of the left holds to an excuse: “After I satisfy my every whim and desire, I will then be sated and ready to pursue the right things.” However, after all desires are met, it doesn’t relent. It has to pursue more things to want for the sake of it. And when those superficial wants are met (usually with a post-life of mere minutes) it searches for more things to want. And on and on it continues.

Nancy has nothing left to say, only silent as the lift continues through the last.

“If it feels good, do it. If it feels bad, run away” - “I want more” - “I just do what feels good” - “But that’s not fun” - “Because I wanted it” - “I don’t care. I want it” - “But if feels good” - “I just want” - “I enjoy it” - “But I like it” - “Because it’s fun” - “But then I won’t get what I want” - “Just give me what I want” - “I like it” - “It feels good” - “That’s how you get what you want” - “Give me what I want” - “I want” - “I want it” - “I only wanted” - “I enjoy it” - “If it feels good, do it. If it feels bad, run away”

_“Were It Not That I Have Bad Dreams”_

Before us is an open dirt field with a few rocks and patches of grass.

“Help! Help!” We look up to see the tops of rock columns and a barely-visible shadow tripping over them. How did we not see them before? All around us in even spaces are columns made of rust-colored rock, dirt, and metal. All of the columns are the same size and compositions, standing at least 20 feet tall (though it’s hard to see with the sun glaring in our face).

“Help! Help me!”

[ground level POV] “I’m coming! Hold on!” The burned hand and metal claw swim through the columns, looking up repeatedly to follow the man still tumbling.

[overhead POV] A vague shadow, obscured by the sun, keeps tumbling over the flat column tops. “Help! Help me!”

[ground level POV] “I’m coming! I’m coming!” Only a few rows are left until the open field remains. The man is still tripping. We reach the end and raise our hand and finger-knives to catch him.

[overhead POV] The tripping man rolls off the edge of the columns. “Help!”

Freddy tries to catch, but the obscure figure falls beyond his reach. And in the ground is nothing more than an old man’s head with raggedly-torn neck flesh. The skin is white and red with rot. His eyes open with great, deadly whites seeking to haunt to the very core within. Freddy resists its gaze and runs back through the columns.

The next day, Freddy drives his truck by the same field and sees another person sifting through the columns, trying to catch that shadowed figure tumbling towards the end.

Freddy keeps driving to get away from it and remembers the old native’s warning: “Never come out here alone.”

Freddy speeds, undeterred, but then he starts to feel tired. His eyes shut for a few seconds to recover. “(There’s nothing else around. The roads clear. You can shut them longer.)” He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s so tired. A few more seconds. He opens, and it’s OK. “(You can close them for longer than that. Come on, nobody’s around.)” A little longer this time to drain the heavy eyes. “(You know this road…. No, I shouldn’t… but you know this road. No one else is here.)” The eyes close. And stay closed. “(You need to open them. Open them!)” But they can’t. “(I can’t… I… … …)” The great relief of slow breath. Not a thing to… Not a th…

After a long struggle, he gets them open, having forgotten that he slid to the backseat. He’s lying on the front seat as a leaning post while steering with coat hangers. He looks around in time to miss a car, swiping a large rock on the rebound. “(You have to get in the front seat! You’ve got to stop this! You’ve got to stop… after… … …so tired… …)”

Bang! Bang! CRASH!!


A stretch of blue-fanned shadows passes over the whisperer’s face. “If it was a choice between something that’s morally wrong but feels great and something that’s right but feels bad, which would most people choose?”

The same blue-fanned shadows pass over Nancy’s face as she exhales. “… the first one.”

In the silence and stillness, Nancy’s mind reflects:

“(It’s not in our nature to deny our desires. It’s not in our nature to let go of some of our wants. It’s not in our nature to think before we act. It’s not in our nature to look before we leap. It’s not in our nature to look beyond ourselves. It’s not in our nature to consider how our actions affect others and our surroundings. It’s in our nature to indulge every whim and impulse that sprouts from within and without. It’s not in our nature to be honest if dishonesty will benefit us enjoyment. It’s not in our nature to be good if it interferes with whatever we want. People often do what’s wrong, not because they are forced to, but because they choose to. It is our nature.

We have to be disciplined and reconstructed to become virtuous because it’s not our natural way.)”

Many thoughts storm in her mind up as she strives to keep pace:

“(Money and power aren’t inherently bad, it’s just the way we misuse them. It’s not only about satisfying the sensation of reward; money can be used to buy anything you want, and power can be used to demand it. Of course, power also has the pleasurable temptation of blind dominance without a deeper purpose.

If you have to lie to get what you want, that ‘makes it OK.’ ‘Do what you want,’ it doesn’t matter how it affects others or the world around you.

That excuse, ‘Everything works itself out in the end.’ To them, doing what’s right or wrong won’t change the outcome, so why should they care about their actions.

We don’t look beyond ourselves. Other people are only there temporarily to serve our immediate want. Once we get it, that person disappears from our world. We aren’t concerned about what that person is doing and how we’re interrupting or interfering. That person is just a quick stand-in to serve us. They are merely a means, nothing more.

So many people follow the group when they know what they’re doing is wrong, not because of some deep sense of loyalty, but because they fear being attacked and ostracized. It also feels good to belong.

Beautiful lies are empty, truth is real. It’s something real that fills.

How often will we use dishonest guilt trips on others if it will get us what we want?

We must live our lives according to principles and not by slavishly pursuing and indulging whatever feels good.

We want people to ‘respect’ us for our supposed merits because it feels good, but we don’t want to do the painful things necessary to acquire those merits because it feels bad.

We are not born great. We have to become great through blood, sacrifice, and discipline.

We believe in making self-esteem as high as possible (sky-high) instead of making it as accurate as possible. Honesty is the best policy.

Not everything you are and have to say is great or amazing. Learn to embrace silence.

Humility does not mean seeing yourself as less than you are. It means to see yourself wholly and honestly.

Philosophy is not supposed to be about making yourself look great and sophisticated. It’s supposed to be an honest search for the truth, even if you are on the wrong side of it.

How often will people debate by doing and saying and manipulating anything to be the champion winning the argument, rather than being concerned with finding the truth?

How often are our choices primarily based on what we think will be most enjoyable rather than on seeking what is connected to goodness?

How often, when buying something or taking something, do we see there is little of something left and think, “Great, I got the last one,” without also considering, “Does someone else need this more than I? Should I leave it?”

That’s why common sense is so lacking. It’s not that we don’t possess it. It’s that we can’t be bothered to remove all pleasant distractions to consider something for a whole minute.

How often do we hold to a wrong view simply because it’s a major foundation of who we are and it’s too scary to lose?

How often do we quickly accuse another of hypocrisy as a means of defense rather than honestly considering their point?

Having to stand alone, that is horrible. How many of us look the other way when someone is in need or trouble so we won’t endanger ourselves?

We deride ‘conformity,’ but conformity is not automatically bad. Conformity to bad things is bad. We should set out to conform to the higher good.

‘If you’re good all the time and don’t do anything bad, you’ll miss out.’ Which side says that? The side of good (which tells the truth), or the side of evil (which believes in lies)?

So many of us will usually do something that’s wrong if we believe there’s an extra benefit and if it’s allowed. ‘As long as it’s not rape or murder, it’s not a big deal.’ ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s wrong, God will just forgive me.’

‘It’s not hurting anyone.’? We must go beyond this. Are not the mind and soul more important and powerful and meaningful than the body? Harm to the content of the soul is harmful. Our soul characteristics govern our actions to people and the world around us. Who we are influences others. And what spiritual forces are we feeding? And do we only care about right and wrong if it involves harm? Shouldn’t we care simply because it’s right or wrong. These are #pi###ua# ##b##a###s.).”

Nancy tries to catch what she just thought, but it’s obscured in a glassy foggy. She strives, but it’s too veiled. Her thoughts return to…

“(There is a something out there, something far beyond pleasure, enjoyment, fun, whatever you want to call it. Something that sates. Something that fills: Wholeness. In sadness, in anger, in suffering, even in despair, wholeness still exists within. The ‘happiness’ most think of does not exist in these states, but wholeness does. This is true happiness, something deep and permanent.

Restraint of your desires is not repression. It’s not cruelty. It develops the mind. It’s fulfillment. Indulging all your desires won’t make you whole. Spoiled brats are never satisfied.

The central theme in life should not be ‘satisfy all of my desires and recognize how great I am.’

And what is the purpose of sacrifice? To do what is best for others, for society, and, yes, even our own development, sometimes we must lose some extra benefit for ourselves. Our own development… how often do we choose something of immediate, temporary pleasure over something that has a permanent, deeper fulfillment?).”

Nancy senses there is something past this next wall:

“(It’s not just greed for money… or materialism… or power lust. It’s excessiveness, lust for dominance, hedonism, rebellion for rebellion’s sake, hypersexuality, the joy of corrupting the innocent, impulsiveness, laughing at any expense, recreational meanness, unfaithfulness, pushing the limits of indecency, enforcing a culture of personality over a culture of character, and all these things! It’s…! It’s all of them!

We angrily accuse corporations of being greedy, yet how many of us demand we get enough money to purchase every pleasure and whim we desire? The common denominator that causes the greed and power lust of tyrannical dictators is the same one that causes a demand for immediacy and hypersexuality in our culture.” [Nancy’s face falls in realization] “Especially among the young. ‘If it feels good, do it.’ We really are slaves to our pleasures and desires.)”

One more time, that unspoken question gives its final breath. Her answer is not a verbal response, but of quiet acceptance.

The whisperer in the shadows asks, “Why do people say ‘yes’?”

Nancy, free of guilt and having made peace with it, answers, “Because believing it feels good and is easier. To say ‘no’ would feel bad and be too difficult.”

Birthed from the unspoken question, the daughter asks: “(How good are we really?)”

Slightly distracted, Nancy asides, “Demon forces, like seductive winds, are all around us, and people indulge them and enjoy them. They want it.”

Nancy returns, “Maybe… maybe we’re not as basically good as we think we are.”

She reflects in silence before speaking aloud.

“We want to evolve into higher beings, yet we are content to regress as slaves to our base, animal desires--our old nature. To be good, we must defy our nature.

To develop, to complete the brain and soul… Yes! Maturity! I see it now. It means to develop, to ripen… to be completed. That’s why immaturity--to be undeveloped--is always wanting. It is incomplete, always lagging behind and insatiable.

We must defy our nature to be… …” [a word enter her mind from an unseen source] “redeemed.”

The idea of redeeming the world grows in her mind.

“Redemption: to purge something of all its impurities and restore it to its original paradigm, and beyond. Then… perhaps true forgiveness is more than just pardoning; maybe it’s also purging. What else does forgiveness encompass? Either of itself or its interdependent family?


The terrible truth comes forward: “To be good, we must defy our nature. We have to be willing to feel bad.”

As her mind searches, she asides, “Pleasure is a trap…” and realizes, “To find the new nature, we must kill the old nature.”

“And how?,” follows the whisper, sounding richer than any before.

“Through suffering. (And through suffering, resurrection shall be pure. ?! Where did that come from?).” Time passes until it finally exhumes: “I will suffer, I will suffer the knife.” The words “will suffer, will suffer the knife” resonate throughout the darkness like a metallic reverberator.

Nancy spreads her arms apart in an angelic pose as she is lifted against the height of the bars. Appearing along a vertical line, translucent knives manifest. Each one stabs her through her centerline in sequential order. A phrase repeats in her mind during the process, growing more profound with each thrust: “Death to self.”

_The Underground Warehouse (It’s Not Over Yet)_

Restricted Area
Keep Out

“Do you always do what you’re told?,” Freddy hears as his nerves start.

“Well… no.”

“Then let’s do it.”


The glass rains to the floor as a teenage Freddy Krueger and several friends pass over it. The view rises to a huddled group: Freddy and teenage versions of Leatherface, Michael Myers, and Jason Voorhees.

Jason: “We gotta figure out what they’re making in this place.”

Michael: “Yeah, we gotta see how far down this thing goes.”

Leatherface: “Why would they build something like this here, anyway?”

Michael: “So no one suspects anything. Put it in a small town, it doesn’t make the news.”

Jason: “You coming or what?”

Freddy hardly noticed his friends are already at the elevator; he’s still examining the dark room with the office-style carpet and walls. He catches up to the group as the doors open. The inside ridging is like an elevator from the Killer Klowns space ship, complemented with industrial white lights. They proceed ten floors below.


The doors open to a hybrid of an office and a manufacturing plant. Under the soft-blue halogen lights, the rows of desks are overborne with machine parts and a half-dragon, half-transformer prototype. The intricate mechanics of its bare legs and lying base are too sophisticated to discern without long study. However, the neck segments are covered with capsuled brackets bearing broadly-curved ends. The heads for the necks are still under development.

Michael: “This is freaky, man. Really freaky.”

Jason: “Never trust anyone or anything.” He takes an aggressive posture that speaks, “except me.”

Freddy: “We gotta be careful. We don’t know what else is down here.”

Jason: “What are you, afraid?!”

Freddy: “… No! I’m just saying we gotta be careful.”

Jason: “Why? Because they might be armed?” He lifts his machete. “So are we.” The machete leans forward in the air, calling their assembly ritual.

Leatherface: “Yeah, we’re armed too.” He raises his chainsaw to the center, quickly followed by Michael’s knife. Freddy’s glove meets last.

After a moment of group confidence, they move along the floor towards the opening. The solid wall on the left becomes a waist-level rail with a concrete base below it.

Jason: “Get down!”

They hide below the railing, then slowly sneak up to see what’s going on. A large area, like an industrial hangar, gleams and grits with technicians and scientists. Something else directs them all, something enormous and inhuman. Something out of sight but reflecting a glaring, towering, surreal presence confirmed by a storming, robotic voice. A force beyond our world.

The group squat-walks to the next wall of the capillary hallway. Relieved to stand, they try opening all the doors. Locked. Locked. Open! The door leads to a shorter hallway, quite foreboding.

Jason: “Who’s first?” They all look at each other. “I don’t have time for this! Who’s first, or don’t you have the guts?”

Michael: Trying to act tough, he broadens his chest and stands tall. “I’ll go.” Not trusting the floor, he jumps from wall to wall and grabs the ceiling’s pipeline. His lithe body makes him ideal for such travel. About halfway through, the pipe ends, where he jumps from wall to wall and grabs the second pipeline. He reaches the end and opens the door.

Jason: Looking at the others, “What are you waiting for?”

They follow through the door, which leads to a staircase. Passing a few level, they reach the bottom.

Freddy: Looking out the door window, “It’s the base level. That’s where they’re making everything.” Not wanting to give himself away, “We should try one of the higher levels, so we can get a better view and know what we’re up against.”

Jason: “Fine. Since you’re all so chicken, let’s look above first.”

They go two levels above. The door opens to another room with several doors. Locked. Locked. Open! Here is another short hallway similar to the previous. Jason looks at each of them to see who’s next.

Michael: Turns to Leatherface. “I went last time. It’s your turn now.”

Leatherface slowly and clumsily walks onto the tile floor. There is a short cabinet where he leans, trying to pull himself atop.

Jason: “Today!”

Leatherface gets one leg on the counter. Squirming, he gets the second and rolls to a stand. There is a pipeline above. Slowly, his pudgy hands meet on the cold steel. The right one travels, the left hand meets, the right hand travels, the left meets, and so on towards the middle. Sweat marks develop under his arms while his hands bathe in their own excretion. Then, they hear it. Something small. Something fast. Something piercing.

The pipeline begins to sing. The crawler’s hands sweat immensely. He’s barely halfway when something small and mechanical shoots along the steal, sawing the fingers off the left hand. The arm drops to the side as Leatherface panics. Still holding on, another speeder runs through, leaving the remaining fingers to rain down. He runs back to the open door. Freddy and Michael reach out for him, but Jason blocks in front and kicks Leatherface back.

Jason: “Forget it! He’s dead!”

Leatherface stands after stumbling back. Two of those machines immediately slice off his feet. He falls back, terrified and crying. Several machines jump at different heights and slice him to pieces.

Jason: “I never liked him anyway.” Grabbing Michael, “You’re going next! You can do this stuff! You’re going next!”

Michael pleads not to, but Jason keeps fighting him to go until…

Freddy: “This one’s open.”

They look to see an open door leading to a broad room like the one bearing the prototype. It even contains a similar wall and rail.

They squat-walk and peer over the edge. The only thing visible is stacks and stacks of crates. They’re about two feet from each other and pile sky-high. The teen rebels can barely see anything through them except a blurry light, like one shining through a swimming pool at night. Jason grabs Michael.

Jason: “You know that par-crap.” Throwing Michael towards the crates, “Tell us what you see!”

Michael scurries up and around the stacks, almost seen by a forklift. He continues to hide until he can move freely.

Freddy: “I can’t believe you did that!”

“You’ve got the point.”


Jason points his finger towards the stairwell at the end. “Point! You’ve got the point! I’ll follow behind.” Freddy obeys, walking towards the front.


Michael clings to the crates, moving around them as the driver comes to inspect. Michael stays out of sight until he hears the forklift drive away.

Michael jumps into the ducts, spying through the vents. He tries to decipher the developing projects until the crew look ups. He inches through the vents, pressing against the walls to avoid the noisy bottom.

Crossing the corner, he makes his way to the duct’s end. Propelling himself between the duct and the wall, he opens the double-doors while staying hidden above. Peaking in, he glimpses a room with large assembly stations (often with circular rotators) lit in a neon, black-indigo light.


Jason and Freddy wait at the bottom of the stairwell, peering through the small glass to find Michael.


Michael returns to the main area from the double-doors. He avoids sight while ducking behind boxes, climbing under metals stairs, jumping off walls and stations, and doing whatever is necessary.

But through it all, there is one area he dares not look.


Freddy: “Maybe they got him.”

Jason: “Why? So you can run home?”

“I’m just being realistic.”

“Yeah, right. I bet you want to go look for him. Here!” Jason grabs Freddy. “Why don’t you go look?!”

Being forced through the door, Freddy screams “No!” while trying futily to brace the door frame. He’s almost beyond the door when--

Freddy: “Michael!”

Jason: “Shut up, idiot! You wanna get us all killed?!” He pulls both of them inside the stairwell.

Michael: “You can’t believe what they’re doing here! This is too dangerous. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Jason: “I can’t believe how weak you both are. If that’s the way you have to have it, then let’s just go. Try not to get us caught on the way out.”

They proceed up the stairs and to the wall. Jason peers over the rail in curiosity. Freddy and Michael look at each other. They’re afraid, but after exchanging glances, they stop resisting. Michael rolls out a few pipes (taken below) around Jason. As they get moving, Jason slips on one, then the other, until he’s standing against the wall’s opening. He reaches out for help. Michael instinctively reaches back, but Freddy pulls his arm away. Jason’s angry face falls below as his body rotates backwards.


Freddy and Michael return to the top floor, ready to escape through the broken window when--


The doors open to a torn and bloody Jason. He attacks Michael, chopping into his torso several times while Freddy flees for the stairs. “(No, idiot! Go out the top! It’s right there! Go out there!)” His body won’t obey. “(What are you doing?! Stop! Go up!)”

Jason chases him all the way to the furthest floor of the stairwell. What’s his choice? Stay here and fight Jason, or take his chances with the hangar?

The choice is made for him as the little machines slice through Jason’s feet and legs. Freddy runs out the door until he hears, “Help me!” He looks back as Jason reaches out a an arm and a grieved face.

Freddy: Imitating Jason from earlier, “Forget it! He’s dead!”

Several machines slice Jason’s arm apart, followed by his face peeling into diamonds.

Freddy runs into the main floor, aimless, until an invading squad in black leather breaks through the opposite double-doors. They’re machine guns are ready to fire until the commander stops them. “What are you doing in here, kid?! This ain’t no place for you! Get out!” They stop for a second to hear that high-speed sound all around them. “What’s that?” The machines speed and jump all over them, slicing their bodies to ribbons, which stand for a few seconds before breezing to the floor.

Freddy runs the other way, towards the crate stacks. In his peripheral vision is that glaring, monumental storm. He fears (he knows) it saw him. It pursues him, straight towards the crates. Freddy runs faster than he has in his life towards the back row. Almost. He feels the grand winds pull. Instantly, he wedges his back and feet between two stacks, continuing up the columns higher and higher. “(Am I safe?!)” That monstrous entity roars at him. Its body--a sideways tornado--trying to syphon him out of his shields. Freddy pushes and holds, feeling cold sweat all around.

“I know you’re in there.” That horrible, mechanical voice of the sentient cyclone; the glaring, great eye of the storm searching for him. “You cannot hide from me. I will take you. No one escapes me.” The visible, storming winds are a combination of air and light, augmented with scattered pieces of horrible machinery like an elemental cyborg.

It syphons again. Freddy braces so intensely, he feels his back could break.

“You will never escape me. RRRRWWWWOOOOAAAAHHHH--


Somehow, unknown to Freddy himself, he made it out alive. He recovers, fallen on the neighbor’s lawn. Opening his eyes and looking back, there is that terrible dome, not even a story tall, standing behind the houses with little question from anyone. They just accept it. Why ask?

Freddy knows it’s coming for him. It won’t let him go. So, he does the only thing he can. He takes a titanium chain used for a freighter’s anchor and secures it around his waist. He knows he can never take it off, no matter how old he gets, no matter how many years go by, or he will die.

Every few years (sometimes far less), that terrible dome opens and engulfs the air like a vengeful tornado. Freddy is stretched across the sky to the length of the chain. The storms last nearly an hour before relenting, and, each time, he knows it won’t be the last. And no one ever says anything about it. No one even notices. But they know he is afraid.

_Defy Your Nature_

The elevator reaches an area beyond the emptiness. The brown-green structure is made of meshed dirt, greenish fuzz, and high stone. It’s like a catacomb, except the walls and ceiling are vastly spread apart. A light of similar color (though with a pale-yellow tint) spreads throughout the terrain and seems to have no source.

The monk of the shadows exits the opened bars and waits. Nancy walks out solemnly. Her presence is that of someone who has emptied herself. Spanning open around her body is a husk of her old self, hardened and blackening. With its root still connected to her back, it drags on the floor as she walks. She is not miserable. She is in a state of cleansing and seriousness after awakening.

The whisperer addresses her, “We have reset much of your baseline, but there is still more to do.”

She follows him on his travel while the slit husk scrapes the ground.

A new lesson he gives her: “Emotions are important, they are not to be buried. They must be brought out. Emotions, especially the negative ones--hurt, fear, anger, sorrow, depression, loss, devastation--can be very good and essential.”

They travel to the path of stones. Before entering, the robed one precludes, “Now is the time for silence. Often, listening is wisdom.” They proceed through the path in silence as Nancy reads the stones.

[opening arch] Silence is a wise thing, but they who observe it are few

Silence is the sign of a wise person. A fool keeps his mouth wide open Silence is music to the wise God speaks in the silence of the heart Oft is long speech pretension while succinct is wisdom

The wiser a man is, the quieter will he be The wind howls and the seas roar, but the mountain remains forever silent God is the friend of silence Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing

Silence is a source of great strength Silence isn’t empty. It’s full of answers Silence is the sleep that nourishes wisdom Don’t talk unless you can improve the silence

Silence is a gift. Learn to value its essence Never assume loud is strong and quiet is weak Through the portals of silence, the healing sun of wisdom and peace will shine upon you Those who fear silence do not spend enough time in it

[middle arch] Understand the silence. It’s screaming a thousand emotions to be heard and understood

[middle arch] If you can’t understand someone’s silence, you won’t understand their words

Remember that you have two ears but only one mouth The word LISTEN contains the same letters as the word SILENT He who is wise listens No one is as deaf as one who will not listen

We do not listen to reply. We listen to listen The fool speaks. The wise man listens Listening is often the only thing needed to help someone We do not listen to reply. We listen to understand

[ending arch] The greatest sin against good listening is talking

The open pathway leads to an enclosure. Upon entering, we see that it is a series of ascending staircases set in an compact, square pattern. Each set (only about 10 steps) leads to a short platform with another set of stairs at the end. The structure is made of the same material, and the ever-present, softer light closely resembles it’s brown-green color. The ascent begins.

The innumerable levels create a repetition that drones into walking meditation. Nancy feels her mind cleansing, noticing that time moves very differently here than it does in her world.

The meditation continues, solemnifying her mind to the deepest levels. She feels her mind (and by extension, her soul) is swimming in an ocean of peace and lulling dreams. The road lasts for a long time until she comes to an opening. In the near distance, a woman lies on the floor.

The outward opening is similar to the first level, though the floor is short and narrows into a cliff. In the distant, peripheral air, something hangs sparsely throughout like stalactites or Spanish Moss. While captivated, Nancy is compelled to the fallen woman. She reaches down to help her.

“Her name is Katherine” [pause] “Katherine Krueger.” Nancy, kneeling down to the ground, stops for a second. Then her head looks at the monk. He continues, “That Krueger: his daughter.”

“Freddy’s daughter?!,” Nancy marvels, whispering in reflection.

Katherine opens her eyes, which ask for help and healing.

“She couldn’t make the descent. It was too much for her, but I know you can help her.”

Nancy holds Katherine up in support, who weakly embraces back.

Nancy looks back at the way she came. There are two exits. One is the ascent of stairs. The stairs lead to a faint light, where she will respond to Katherine with Corrective Listening. There will be self-relieving humor, easy platitudes, quick answers, corrections, admonitions to “be positive” and “get over it,” and anything else to force the sufferer to meet Nancy where she is. The other exit is far harder. It is a dark hole in the floor to Compassionate Listening, where there will be fear, darkness, suffering, and other unknown things that force Nancy to meet Katherine where she is.

Nancy secures Katherine in her arms, bearing the great weight within, and drags both of them across the floor into the darkness.


Nancy and Katherine fall through the ceiling onto the ground of a deeper level. “(Is this where we last started?).” Nancy looks over to see the lift, barely swaying from the drop. The monk is waiting within.

“I knew you’d make the right choice.”

Nancy helps Katherine stand, and they proceed to the transport. Written on a stone tablet at the path’s edge is the word “CONTRITUS”. Intuitively, Nancy sees the meaning: “To grind down to pieces.”

Before the bars swell open, Nancy can see it now. The top of the lift, previously wrapped in darkness, is readable in the surrounding light. Beneath the mammoth, dark chain-links, there is something engraved: “Expanding the soul through suffering and loss.”

Katherine leans on Nancy as she helps her inside. On the first steps, Katherine gains the strength to stand. The monk steps away from the metal rods of the center, allowing Nancy to take place. In the center is another message on the floor: “PASSION: to suffer intensely.” A wind blows the seamless dust away, revealing the entire message: “COMPASSION: to suffer intensely with another.”

Nancy steps on the center and turns forward, gripping the rods’ handles. Twisting razor wires enter her wrists through the skin. Continuing to slither underneath, they vine around her forearms--the wet, rusty blades feeding off her sinews.

Katherine collapses onto Nancy, weeping with unleashed intensity and holding tight. This trauma specialist of many years-- having seen the worst that children have gone through--is broken. What could have happened to cause such a thing?

Now, Nancy must see and feel all of it.

_Dreams Interrupted_

Freddy crawls through the mucky ground into his nightmare world. Whatever all that weirdness was, it’s gone now. His powers and awareness seem to have returned.

He flows through the familiarity of this blue-filtered night.

“Somebody there?”

“(Ah, yes. I know you)” He calls back to her, drawing her out. A teenage girl with short, blonde hair enters the walkway, her back towards him. “Tina,” he calls out, luring her petrified face. “Tina, hahahahahahahahahahaha.” His elongated arms reach the walls; the razors electrify as they scrape the metal.”

(Terrified) “Please, God.”

Bringing his razors to his face, Freddy savors, “This!-- is Dog.” Tina snorts as Freddy’s corneas grow. “God!… I mean…”

Tina laughs, “OK… ‘Freddy Got Fingered!’ ”


Jesse wanders downstairs sensing something terrible. From outside, he watches Freddy take his wrapped knives from the furnace. He checks inside the house to see Freddy’s shadow coming from the basement. He runs to his father’s room, only to be stopped by Freddy himself at the stairs. “Daddy can’t help you! Shhhh. We need you Jesse. We got special work to do here, you and me. You’ve got the body.” He takes his hat off, putting his burnt hand to his scalp. Pulling the flesh to the brain, he finishes, “I’ve got the brain. Haaa, hahahahahaha!”

“Noooohhhaaaahhhh--Wait!” [still crying] “I don’t get it.”


Freddy finds himself behind a TV screen. Another teenage girl with blonde hair struggles to stay awake. Unlike Tina, her face is fuller, and her hair is longer. She falls asleep and doesn’t notice. Freddy gives her a special screening of Zsa Zsa Gabor being hacked, followed by a TV malfunction. The teen walks up to fix it. “(Yes, come closer.)”

She bangs on the box til mechanical arms break out and grab her. Freddy’s head forms out of the top. “This is it, Jennifer, your big break in TV!”

“Welcome to prime time, bitch!” Max interrupts while casually leaning on the door with his arms crossed. He glibly smiles at Freddy.


Something is moving under the covers. Joey removes them to see a swimsuit model in his waterbed. Distracted, Freddy breaks through the mattress, making the bed a shallow pool. Freddy grabs Joey and says, “How’s this for a wet dream?” He thrusts him under. Joey comes up for a few seconds, resisting Freddy’s pull. He corrects Freddy, “That’s not what a wet dream is. It means…”

“Ah, shut up!” Freddy pulls him under again, only for Joey to escape and finish his explanation.


“Hey! You forgot the Power Glove!” The gate slams shut as John and Tracy are helpless to save Spencer now.

Freddy continues killing Spencer in the video game, except… “No, go right, not left. Go right! Go right! Stop jumping!” Freddy’s character keeps moving independently while slashing at nothing. The character finally goes right for a second before going left again. Freddy lays the Power Glove down, presses the Center button, turns it on and off, reprograms the code, but it just keeps messing up. He throws the glove into the TV, where it lands backwards in the corner . His Nintendo character starts jumping and slashing to the right until it falls into the pit of the father clones. “The Power Glove sucks!”


Dan races back to see Alice. The abandoned motorcycle works great, until it turns into Freddy. Krueger uses the motorcycle to turn Dan into a cyborg racer while interjecting, “This boy feels the need for speed,” “Fuel injection!, “Power drive!,” “Fast lane!,” and “Hey, Danny! Better not dream and drive.”

At the last one, Dan throws a fit, stops the bike, and says, “That does it! That one doesn’t even make sense!” He gets off the bike, now parked in front of Nancy’s house. “It’s don’t drink and drive! You can’t play off something if it’s not related. And the danger wouldn’t even be from dreaming. That would just be a symptom of sleeping while driving, which is much more dangerous than dreaming! Most people aren’t in danger from their dreams. At least say ‘Don’t sleep and drive.’ That wouldn’t be funny, but it would at least make sense. And why would you try to put someone’s life in danger by giving them a superhuman body with metal armor? Do you even think before you do anything?! You can’t just throw around lame jokes off the cuff that don’t make sense and expect everyone to be scared. Were you a pampered child? Did your parents tell you everything you did was great, so you expect…”

[wide view of Dan and the motorcycle surrounded by houses and the sky] Time speeds as the moon sets and the sun rises. Dan’s speech doesn’t stop the entire time.

“And he had sixteen nominations! Sixteen!” [takes a deep breath] “I gotta get out of here, man. I’m getting dumber by the minute just talking to you. Thanks for the new look. I won’t be coming back again. Thanks for wasting my time! Good day, sir!” Dan storms off fuming.

[closeup POV] Freddy’s motorcycle face is completely dumbfounded.

_Dark Night of the Soul_

Nancy senses her own Gom Jabbar as Katherine tells her everything: the trauma of seeing her mother killed in front of her, the terrible fear and guilt as she reported her father, the loss of family, that deadly look Freddy gave her when he was arrested, and a crushing revelation that he was a child killer. It was so traumatic that her mind locked it away and only acknowledged her adopted life. Yet, her subconscious was always there, begging to be heard by a mind that couldn’t, a child screaming to be cared for and healed.

Katherine didn’t know why, but she felt drawn to help other children with devastated lives. Some of the things she saw were unbelievable. What was worse was when they became common stories. She tried to remind herself that these were rare among people and that her joy was in healing others. Still, something about it stabbed deep inside.

When she discovered who she was, it was too much of a shock, a death to her foundation. Her grandmother, who was so excited as a young nun to serve others and the Lord, was raped by a hundred maniacs at 18 years old. The people she poured her heart out to in selfless services turned on her in the most disgusting and cruel way. There was no mercy. She gave birth to a child who became a child killer. After he was acquitted and set loose to continue his ways, she knew there was no way he’d be tried again unless another child died. So distraught, she killed herself.

The Gom Jabbar presses harder against Nancy as she so desires to give answers and insights to dull the pain and to fill the silent spaces. She’s tempted to share answers, advice, opinions, humor, and her own experiences, but she can’t. She has to solely listen, understand, and feel what Katherine feels; she has to listen and understand those long silences; she has to go into that terrible darkness with her. All the shock and heartache and loss, it’s all for Nancy to experience with her.

Katherine’s words collapse as she falls, holding onto Nancy for support. Nancy offers herself as a source of strength and kindness. All the pains and emotions absorb into Nancy.

Then Nancy sees it. All the children Freddy abducted, the intensity of their fear, and the horror of their murder. Freddy smiles gleefully as he relishes the ecstasy. What Nancy feels is something she has never felt before. She didn’t know such an emotion existed.

She sees the children’s faces in the boiler room. So many of them praying to God, begging God, “Please! Please!” The view transfers to the parents, doing the same for their missing children with such great worry and sorrow, begging that their child doesn’t die like the others. Their faces change to those of the parents who had to identify their child’s body, begging for healing and that the murders would stop. The children’s faces return, and Nancy’s vision is lead past them to the faces of Katherine’s clients. She sees their trauma in action. The vision continues around the world, seeing abductions, murders, and anything else imaginable. While there are moments of help and healing, so much is unserved. “(How many kill themselves because they can’t find the help they need?)” She sees so many calling out to God, yet how often is it unmet? She hears their laments: “Where is God in all this?!” “Where is God now!?” “Why have You forsaken us?!”

_Dream Patrol (part 1)_

The Freddy-cycle sits on Elm Street. It’s only been a few moments since Dan left.

“Yo! Freddy!”

“(That sounds familiar. Who is…)” A muscular man lifts him overhead. “(Kincaid!)”

Smash! Right into the tree. Now overhead again. Bahboom! Into the road.

Broken, Freddy tries to drive away. Phink, phink. Two long blades impale the tires to the ground. It’s Taryn, shooting two more knives into her hands from her jacket sleeves.


Joey’s voice exorcises Freddy from the cycle. His body is now in Kincaid’s hands as he slams him onto a car. Freddy now sees there’s a construction unit on the street.

Taryn throws a knife that slices through the cable suspending the road beam above. Kincaid catches it on his shoulders and throws it horizontally into Freddy, embedding him into the windshield. Kincaid swipes the car from under Freddy. Then he uses it as a slam mat to beat Freddy over and over.

“Get up, Freddy.” Joey’s voice commands Krueger’s body to obey. Taryn throws a knife on a chain into Freddy’s guts while Kincaid uses the car like a bat to knock him into the house.

Taryn pulls on the chain, bringing Freddy back to the street as Kincaid bats him into the next house. Taryn retracts the knife, and Joey shouts him into the following house. Kincaid laughs as he looks at all the machinery around. He gets an idea while espying the wrecking ball.

_Slaughter of the Soul_

“(I thought my death was satisfied after the first decent, but now my soul has been crucified.)”

The hardened wings of the old self break off Nancy as she nearly collapses out of the elevator, saved only by Katherine and the monk’s hold.

They huddle together on a stone floor. The structure beyond them is obscured in shadows.

Trying and failing to restrain herself, Nancy cries aloud, “I… I hate the light… and I… I… I hate God! I hate it all!” The emotional release alleviates some level of pain, but she fears the response of what she’s said.

The warm, grounded whisperer salves: ”That’s expected.”

Nancy is fully relieved as she goes into the darkest depths. “I, I hate God and everything He stands for!” Nancy cries aloud her wrath and devastation. “Children, adults… so many people cried out to God for help, put in situations way beyond their control, situations where only He could intervene… and He didn’t! They begged and begged, and there was nothing! How can we be expected to be critical of ourselves as imperfect for even the slightest imperfection, but when God does just the tiniest thing, something way below His full responsibilities, we’re supposed to appreciative of it?! I could never make a 30 on a test and expect it to be lauded because it’s more than zero. Why does God get a free pass?!”

Katherine, having absorbed the gift during her descent, can now share it with Nancy. From the warm embrace of Katherine and the monk, a warm feeling like a voice transfers into her heart: ”I accept you, and I understand.”

After some time, Nancy releases a little from her tight grip. “I’m not… I’m not sure whether I still actually hate God, but I definitely resent the hell out of Him.” Still holding her, Nancy slacks enough to reveal a face that reads: “I anger, I rage, I distrust, I resent. I hurt. Oh, God, how I hurt so deeply!” Nancy tries to speak aloud, but only tears and trembling follow as she holds again tightly.

Dream Patrol (part 2)

Joey’s voice propels Freddy through the front of the school. While still escaping the fallen debris, the patrol wanders inside. “(This can’t be! I’m more powerful than this, more powerful than them. They’re cheating! How?! Something else must be at play.)”

“Hey, Freddy! Stop hittin’ yourself, stop hittin’ yourself, stop…” Uncontrollable, Freddy keeps smashing his face on the lockers. After watching the show, Taryn ejects four knifes into Freddy’s limbs to pin him down. They start to huddle when Taryn looks back and says, “Sorry, girl talk.” The others give her a smirk.

“This is the place.”

“He said to bring him here.”

“Now what?”

“We just hold him here for a little while, and we’re done.”

“Sounds easy.”

“OK, you wanna do what we’ve been doin’ ”

“I’d like to have some time with him.”

“Sure, let’s do it.”



All together: “Break!”

Kincaid picks up Freddy. “Sorry.” He lifts him overhead. “We can’t have you escape.” He throws Freddy through a few rooms into a hallway, a natural bottleneck as Taryn steps in front and shrings her knives.

_Deconstruction into Reconstruction_

Because time moves so differently here, it’s hard to calculate how many years Nancy stood in the others’ embrace. Her body ages about 6 years, and she gains full knowledge of the teens in the Westin Institute. It’s as though she lived that separate life at the same time.

In the possible eons passed, the compassionate embrace has healed her greatly. Reflecting on the great presence of good and evil in reality and feeling good’s understanding embrace, Nancy states: “I sacrifice myself. I seek to be an instrument. I still have a lot of issues with God, but I want to fight against the powers of evil… I want to be a good person. Just because God can’t be bothered to do His own job doesn’t mean I can’t do mine.”

Nancy is able to slide away and stand on her on own. She continues, “I’ll do whatever it takes to destroy Krueger and care for the vulnerable. But after I have that ability, I’m through with God.”

The caring visage of such strange origin shows great empathy for Nancy’s deep sorrow and hurt. “I understand.”

“But I sacrifice myself. I want to be good. ”

“You have already begun.” Though not physically possible, the voice carries a smiling tone. “Now, we will complete the process. ‘Destroying Krueger and taking care of the vulnerable,’ you will become much more than that.


The three turn back towards the elevator. The structure is now lit, looking much like the previous level. When Nancy approaches the gates, she investigate the old husk out of instinct. While it flaps open like a stack of soggy papers, she sees the good elements left inside, good elements from her childhood and youth. These elements, touched by divinity through the years, should be collected and embraced. She sets them free from the old husk and grafts them inside herself where they belong, becoming more complete.

She steps inside the lift to see another teenage girl and a young boy waiting for her. Nancy’s eyebrows and mouth purse in confusion. She turns back to inquire the monk, but he has already entered and waiting behind her. “Yes, I know. They are waiting for you, the great guide… Yes, you.” Nancy feels confusion and purpose. “You are the one who went before them. You have been blessed to lead them with you into the light. Your new sisters,” opening his hands to Katherine and Alice. “And little brother too,” lowering an up-turned palm towards Jacob.

Nancy feels something mystical and peaceful as the air is thick with flowing, warm colors, dense as water but lifting like air. At the same time, there is still something pressing her. The monk knows it: “You are in a hurry to get to the children at the Westin Institute. And why is that? Why do you truly seek to help them?”

The answer makes Nancy feel guilt against the lessons she has learned “(but confession will be freeing and honest).” “Because I want to help them.”

“Oh, good. A holy desire.”

Nancy feels an “of course!” that she subconsciously hoped was true.

The robed one’s voice changes, having ascended from a whisper to medium timbre, eager but restrained to perfection. Rarely, there seems a second, hidden voice within.

“And, would you die for them?”


“I know you would. And why would you?”

“Because I care about them, and because I care, I want to do whatever is necessary.”

“Is it wrong to enjoy what is good?”

A little unsure but still emphatic, “No!”

“Exactly.” Vivid memories appear before her. Just minutes ago, she said, “I want to fight against the powers of evil. I want to be a good person.” The word “want” is emphasized in the soundwaves. The monk reveals, “That was godly desire. This is good want. This is good desire.” Nancy’s face warms and fills with color. “To want and be pleased with the well-being of others, the protection and healing of the vulnerable, the expanse of thriving goodness, the development of your own soul, to enjoy divine grace and the gift now given you. Embrace your Sabbatical. Embrace your gifts divinely appointed. These are not bad things. These are good. These are things God wants for you!… and I want for you. Want and enjoyment have their place in the entire system. They are elements of the machine. It’s that desire (especially blind, indiscriminate desire) must not be our master; it must not be our god.

And just as not all pleasure and desire is automatically wrong, so too is not all suffering right. What you saw with Katherine was proof of that. Some suffering is unrighteous and must be opposed. The pain of good surgery is different than burning your hand on a hot stove. With pain and pleasure, reject it when it’s bad, accept it with propriety when it’s good. I think you see the truth of it.”

Nancy smiles in bliss. “I do.”

The mystical monk offers his hands, which reveal so clearly to be a mix of rotten (yet resonating) rags of flesh around curious machinery. Nancy offers her hands to meet his. Something like nanomachines made of gold and silver migrate to her wounds, mending them with a semi-physical, golden light. They mass around the ravaged paths, then thin out in lines as they return to the monk. Her wounds are not removed, but completed with a mysterious, throbbing change. The filling of her scars is a combination of gold and orange, swollen with life from a rich fluid too thick to bleed from human harm. It doesn’t hurt or feel odd. It feels like… like… “(transcendence).”

The monk prepares himself. “There is something I must attend to.” The structure around them starts to rumble like a giant mechanism being activated. Large parts of the structure’s features open with gold and complimentary silver fashionings. The place continues to look more like a fabled temple of gold with internal devices. “You will complete the journey with (for) them. The one who lords over me will be with you.”

“When is he coming?”

“He’s already here. He’s always been here (with you).”

Nancy looks at her transcendent wounds. There are slivers of glistening shadows within that hold secrets to be revealed throughout time.

Completely unnoticed, the monk is already outside the closed bars. “As you sensed, good is about more than just the defeat of evil. That is extremely pertinent right now because of the situation in reality, and it needs high focus, but after evil has been defeated--the kernels redeemed and the chaff burned away--good will continue its eternal meaning. It will flow and blossom and live forever and ever.”

Through the bars, Nancy sees that X’s lower body has grown into a insect-like larva. The bulb is semi-flattened, being much wider than tall, and surrounding it are numerous, small, metal legs. The first sections are copper-yellow and thin with a tiny, gentle bulge at the root. The ending sections are elongated, platinum-silver blades resembling a scythe head. The larva’s outer layer is shaped in cubes with softly-rounded edges, as though a grate had been pressed around it. Though the bulb is organic, its texture and color are imitating and changing into the metal around it (though the bulb’s tone has a strong blood-bronze hue). The little legs work together as X crawls and twists up a column like a centipede while his arms envelop the circumference like an ape. He disappears into the distance above at great speed.

_Entry to Level 7_


Freddy’s vision is faint. Deep within the shadowed hallway, the glimpses of outside light are blocked by the knife-wielder. His knives rarely deflect the switchblades, and he never manages a strike. In luck, Freddy catches her weapons, but Taryn smiles as her knives become acidic and poison-laced, slicing through the melting defense into Freddy’s sides.

His vision becomes weaker, slower, dizzy. Which way is up? The spinning, swaying view dives side to side. He falls to his knees as the patrol keeps prying. They gang up on him, harm him, mock him--

Until a soft, mechanical pump engages clearly in the distance.

Freddy’s vision sobers immediately as the Dream Patrol freezes. Their is no humor or fun in their faces; only seriousness. They back away, out of sight. The soft mechanical pumping comes closer.

The hallway is so long and dark, except for the window and fading, glossy tiles. An eclipsed machine steps into the distant glare. Before he can recognize it, a massive, metallic assembly towers before him. He only glimpses the giant arm-cannons shooting triangular shivs (like harpoon tips) in rapid succession, turning his body into paste as he’s blasted through the wall.


Freddy’s shredded body breaks into the boiler room… and reassembles as one piece. He runs through the steam and hides between two metal units.

A horrible, clanking sound grows deafening. Then, he sees it. Passing through the red atmosphere is a Lovecraftian machine, a cluster of unnamable oddities. Over 10 feet tall is a blocky center, propelled by a nest of mechanical arms in various forms. They flow in waves, propelling the core forward. The machine is mostly an odd-yellow with silvery and ashen parts pulsating with it. Studying its movements, Freddy sees it is not a shapeless mass, but one that is constantly reassembling.

That terrible clanking begins to pass away. It eventually becomes faint enough for Freddy to breathe easily.


The metal unit hiding him erupts and melts from a laser blast. Freddy runs for the stairs and slows as his shoes keep sticking to the floor. He feels the room getting hotter. The heat is enough to choke his body, but the melting of his feet to the iron hurts worse. Freddy falls face-forward onto a red-glowing beam as his feet break out of the melting skin.

His whole body is stuck melting on a nearly-molten beam. The red areas around him become blue, then semi-white. Freddy’s left face melts enough for him move his head and look back.

That grandiose machinery is leaking a glowing, blue fluid from two arms into the core heaters. The heat melts Freddy’s exposed flesh into a sticky, hanging plaster. Four of the great arms reach out in an X formation, grabbing the air. The arms circle, rotating the room on its side.

The room cools, causing Freddy’s body to harden. He feels the wind of exhaust-valves nearly against him. Freddy dare not look back, but he stares at a spinning saw next to his face. He shuts his eye, shaking.

It begins. Freddy feels parts of his body being removed, one segment at a time. He finally looks over to see his parts being separated into vials lodged inside the mammoth core.

After several eternal minutes, it stops. He tilts his eye down in time to see the room rotate again. He feels the gravity pulling his weight against his brittle flesh. The heating centers below resume to the white-blue lava. The heat causes the once-ceiling to change into molten steel. He can’t hold to the ceiling forever.

Looking at his new ceiling, he sees the mechanical mass hanging there as it opens its core. A second, rounded core surrounded by a wheel of gripping arms disengages from inside. The entire thing is a glossy, dark-charcoal color, except for its eye: a red light in the center. The appendages proceed down the ceiling like monkey bars without any stopping or recoil. It jumps around Freddy. Some of its arms grab him, while the rest hold to the ceiling. The latter extend slackly, crating a massive sink that pulls Freddy out of his flesh into the lava below.

Final Descent (part 1) - Renaissance
Nancy finds herself standing on a giant blade of grass amidst a dreamy field, canvased with a celestial-blue night. Something “(not the sun?)” shines strongly in the welkin dome. “(Is it coming closer?)” She smoothly begins sinking below. The flow increases purposefully to a medium pace through the darkened brunette and cinnamon of the rock strata. Something “(hammers? wrenching shackles?)” attacks her body, which feels like a small house. She doesn’t feel hurt or sorrow, but a strong sense of loss. She breaks through the dirt ceiling into an earthen den. Burly workers stop in their work to help her.

The workers are like characters from a fantastic myth: extremely stout and squat with quasi-animal hide and bulky faces, which contain enormous lower jaws and protruding underbite fangs.

They rush towards her with wooden planks. She cannot see it, but she can feel herself rebuilding. She is not left to be destroyed. “(Divine providence?)” She ascends through a single layer of earth to the dreamy field. The canvased sky is much brighter with the shining satellite spreading its beams across it like angel wings.

Nancy’s eyes open pleasantly to see Katherine, Alice, and Jacob in the elevator around her while her body feels rebuild. If her first experience with emptiness was “(joyful?),” this one is glorious.

Like before, a painting moves close to the metal bars, but this time, it is forming in its infancy. The three brushes “(pleasure, emptiness, and suffering)” stroke in the right places, angles, depths, saturations, and releases. Some amount of variance is allowed within the appropriate margins. The painting forms fully as it was intended.

In further passing, Nancy sees a brain where the frontal lobes have disciplined the middle brain into a faithful servant. The emotional intelligence has developed to an exponential level. Outside, a mist approaches and seeps into the brain. It restructures the channels of understanding and expands the lobes. It grows a new ability to understand, where it forms to the content of new information to comprehend rather than forcing new information to adjust to its interpretation. But it still contains rooted sense to not be deceived. As the brain develops, so to does the soul.

Something odd happens, something that causes her heart to jump for a second. There is a glassy outline of a young woman with thick, brown, tressed hair. Going through her years of suffering, sometimes she is starved, and sometimes patches of light fly around her body and meld through the surface. She quickly ages a few years while going through this process. The years stop, and she is able to finally lie down. From another source and from herself, she can receive healing, blessing, listening, care, empathy, understanding, cleansing, acceptance of emotions, vulnerability, and genuine love. Having been healed, she is able to spread these gifts to others in the world.

The elevator continues far below, out of sight, as Nancy can embrace the power and purity of silence against the tyranny of noise.

_Level 6_

Clang, clang, cruhung

The trunk opens to the junkyard. “(This is where they buried me.)” He looks to ensure he has his glove, only to see that it is dressed over his bones. He searches his arms, his legs, his body. He’s a skeleton!

He looks around, not sure what to do. “(Is this still the dream world?)”

Rumble, rumble

The cars nearby are shaking. The shaking comes closer. He runs the other way only to see large, mechanical coils undulate through the ground in front. “(Does it see? Does it sense by sound?)” He tries standing still. Nothing. Nothing. “(Don’t get cocky. It could be testing you.)” Something explodes through the ground behind him, the metal edges scraping his bones.

He keeps running. The scene before him shakes. He hasn’t felt this since the town chased him down and burned him alive. Too many cars in the way. He jumps on top. Ascending the mound. Close in front is the fence. He can make it. He just has to jum…

Thin shafts like stabbing snakes impale all through his legs, dragging him below. Still grasping onto anything in reach, his fingers break off from the tremendous force and follow him into the devouring pit.

_Final Descent (part 2) - Differentiation_

“(Rest, self-care, meeting your needs, processing your emotions, satisfaction that justice is served… it’s not wrong to enjoy these things. They’re necessary.

Yes, it’s important to tell the difference between things, to tell the difference between a want and a need, between laziness and needed rest, between power lust merely to dominate others and power to enforce and embrace what is good, between what feels enjoyable and what feels right, between being enraptured in revelation and being high on yourself or a blind rush of dopamine, between sins against logic and that which is elusive or beyond logic (at least at our level)…

Even within the realms of pain and pleasure, there is a difference between right and wrong pleasure and suffering, knowing what to accept and what to refuse. There’s even a difference between a shallow desire of base impulse and a desire of noble intention from deep within. Similarly with needs, we have to know if it should be met immediately or soon or if it should wait. And aren’t needs sometimes the same thing we have a desire for? Aren’t they sometimes the same?

And how often is having to satisfy a need misconstrued as selfish (at least as we use the word)? How often do different things look the same?

We’re supposed to use our brains to discern good ideas from bad, to sense out manipulators and understand their tricks, to learn and make discoveries. It’s not wrong to recognize wrong for wrong and right for right. It’s not wrong to recognize the evil that people do, but how often do we misunderstand (and where should that line of discernment be?)? How often do we mistake shyness for arrogance, exhaustion for laziness, someone’s need to speak for pride, an explosion of repressed emotions for emotional immaturity.

There are also words and phrases that are the same but mean very different things: “emptiness” (cleansing of the soul versus a shallow soul), “self-love” (genuine love versus flattery and selfishness), “good” (righteous versus pleasure)… pride, broken, dark, darkness, deconstruction…

And what of the ‘self?’ Is there something there? Self-care, self-love, self-development, honest self-esteem, self-recognition, freeing of oneself… these aren’t bad. These are very good. It is not wrong to exist. It is not wrong to have a soul. It is not wrong to have an identity, so what is it? Is it the difference between the old and new natures versus the entirety or well-being of the soul?)”

A period of silence passes. “(What is the answer to this mystery?)” Nancy’s mind searches. “(And there is another mystery: what is the relationship between death to self, self-sacrifice, and self-care?)”

_Level 5_

Freddy explodes from Lisa Webber’s pool. There is no one around. Freddy feels himself. His body is intact, but it’s not truly solid. Sensing his lake of solidity, he tries something.

As feared, the machine comes seeking. It looks very different this time. A stout, bulging block with bulky, quasi tank-like legs. Freddy waits by the fence, himself a mere shadow within the shadows. The machine projects a vertical line of blue light, scanning everything around it. It passes him once, twice… but not a third time. The scan retracts.

Tubes unlatch from the top sides and expel a mist of particles all around. They adhere to everything. The scan starts again, stopping on Freddy and turning red. Freddy bolts for the exit as the machine’s peripheral light-panel illuminates with an alien pattern. The chemicals harden on Freddy as he falls to the ground. The light-panel engages another pattern. The particles infect the body, making it full of swelling, putrid tumors. The noxious colors and growing, leaking leprosy define his body. All the particles he breathes do the same to his insides. His body becomes a mess of flacid, diseased flesh.

Something from the machines lifts him in the air and smashes him on the ground. The revolting pus and other fluids splatter as most of the leprous tumors burst. The machine drops him again, releasing more of the throbbing pustules. It does it a third time. On the fourth raise, only glop peels off the ground before sliming back to the liquefied mess.

_Final Descent (part 3) - Balance_

Nancy’s redeemed wounds begin to activate.

“(The balance that must be restored is not the balance between good and evil. Evil is something that must be purged away. The real balance is the correct mixing and alignment of the different sides of good:

Self-sacrifice and self-care, feasting and fasting, hard work and rest, discipline and leisure, structure and flexibility, submission and standing up, patience and urgency, redemptive suffering and divine healing, certainty and mystery, logic and intuition and mysticism, art and mathematics, music and silence, emptying and filling, centrifuge and integration, preservation of the good and reformation of the bad, technology and nature, mechanical and organic, righteous anger and gentleness, bravery and smart fear, mercy and punishment.

When to engage and when to refrain. When to be blunt and when to be subtle and when to be silent. When to restrain emotions and when to let them out. When to need more, when to need less, and when it is sufficient. When to turn the other cheek and when to say ‘no.’ Embracing the past and the present and the future. Would a better word than ‘balance’ be ‘integration?’)”

Then Nancy sees it: “(Talking is like spending money. There are some things you need to spend money on, just as there are some things that must be said. In addition, there is some amount of leisurely spending to be used responsibly. Still, there needs to be a special focus of thrift and saving. This must also be true for desire. I wonder if humor is the same way.)”

_Level 4_

Lying below the foul water, Freddy feels his powers returning. Not much now, but growing each time. The unclean refuse splashes against the corroded walls of the condemned asylum’s basement.

Five feet wide and many more tall, an elongated block of metal, port slits, optics, and more rises from the depths. The optics begin scanning various areas with simultaneous laser sights.

The head of the Freddy snake twists around the shimmering block as it makes its way out of the basin. Suffocating the intruder, the snake begins swallowing the exposed spire.

The serpent continues down the block, sensing its dominance while unaware of the foreboding framework slowly rising around it. The filthy water regresses off the semi-circle of components: columns like square, grandiose organ pipes with fulcrums, port slits, and folded heads . The heads uncoil, injecting turgid syringes far beyond the thick scales. From the bulged cores, several minute, explosive pellets lodge throughout the reptilian segments.

The block disappears, manifesting again around the falling serpent. Several metallic latches (along with the components) secure the Freddy-snake. Spinning blades ready within the port slits.

Tiny domes uncover from the metal casing and spin into the grotesque skin, injecting it with acid. Freddy lets out a dull roar as various areas begin to liquefy and leak. The spinning blades emerge from the port slits, tearing the slushing flesh apart with ease.

The minute explosives detonate, blasting the remains into yawning slops. Bursting from their molten cocoons, the fires engulf the view.

_Final Descent (part 4) - Substances_

“(Substances!)” Nancy’s color grows as her scars continue to activate.

“(That’s what I couldn’t see before!)” Nancy realizes what she couldn’t unveil earlier. “(Good and evil are not just a set of ideas; they are spiritual substances. They exist; they are real! Goodness is a spiritual force we must connect to.)”

Nancy senses another concern.

“(Are there some matters that are simply trivial, and we can just disagree. Or does everything need to be defined? If we can disagree on some things, where is that line?)”

After considering this question, her transcendent scars open a library to her mind. Nancy sees X as one of several sources within. She also sees that his knowledge is finite, like the rest… except for something else beyond the library, a great source beyond that feeds them. She accesses X’s voice:

-“Yes, redemption is in process, but some things will take time. And there will be errors on the human side in getting there. Not everything can be rushed. Be patient with other people, and be patient with yourself.”-

Nancy feels at peace and senses there’s another part to it swelling forth.

-“But there is a difference between people who strive to be good and those who don’t really care, those who are stubbornly amoral or immoral.”-

“(‘If it’s not rape or murder, it’s not a big deal,’ and, ‘It doesn’t matter if what I do is wrong because God will just forgive me.’)”


“(And if they were in a situation of rape or unjust killing, they’d probably rationalize that too.)”

-“There is another reason people do bad things: They do what’s wrong because they think it’s right.”-

A sense of fear looms over Nancy. “(Oh the mistakes we will make in our endeavor, and the contentions we will have! And how much we will change as we learn new areas and new dimensions to goodness. Yet, there is an objective good that must be pursued, that must be found. We will have to have honesty in our mistakes and limitations. These should be lessons in caution and honesty, but these cannot be used as an excuse for amorality. We can’t fully grasp what is right on our own. We have to connect to something far beyond ourselves, the source of it all.)”

The knowledge ends there as the library scrolls roll shut, leaving the rest for her to ponder.

_Level 3_

The fires cease and the smoke subsides to reveal a devastated cavity within the next floor’s foundation of the asylum. Inside the cavity, the mechanical block remains, its rail components set and ready. It continues to wait patiently.

The slush remains of Freddy start forming into tiny versions of the child killer. The army of Freddys swarm the machine, infecting all exposed joints and openings. They starts slashing away until the port slits and other openings activate, creating an inescapable vacuum.

The circular openings draw the Freddys into aerial whirlpools. The covers to the openings shut as internal grinders activate. They stop long enough for the tiny men to slide through the cracks, begging X to stop. Their weak and ravaged bodies bleed over the surface until the grinders reactive. The tiny Freddy’s scream with a piercing high pitch as the covers fall around them. The muffled, gurgled screams disturb the air as their bodies are crushed and ripped apart. The covers excrete a smooth flow of graveled bones and churned flesh over the casing.

The remaining Freddys captivate towards the slit ports, which open into crushers. The tiny clones try desperately to push against the compression, only to fail miserably.

_Final Descent (part 5) - Last Thoughts of the Seeker_

“(The nature of evil, what is it? Is it the absence of good as others have suggested? Is it creation gone astray or in reverse? I sense that it can’t generate it’s own power from nothing, unlike the side of good, so it has to steal good elements and corrupt them, and sometimes it combines these blasphemes to make its own bastard ‘creation.')” X’s voice resonates again from her wounds:

-“Many bad things were originally good things that were misused, disordered, twisted somehow. A good element can be applied the wrong way, the wrong time, or even separated from a system of interdependent elements.”-

“(Horns, claws, the dark of the night, slimy and creeping things… they were originally made by God, and they’ve been misused.)” Something else comes to mind. “(One of Hell’s tricks is to misuse something that is good so people either use the corrupted version or reject the original source entirely. That truly is diabolical.)”

Nancy witnesses the last vision in the surrounding darkness, an example of a corrupted element: cruel kindness. After Freddy is arrested, people show him the greatest understanding and kindness while chiding the victim’s and their friends for still being angry, hurt, indicting, or anything related. They demand Freddy be released and unpunished for all offenses, that prison and punishment are cruel, inhumane, and hypocritical to those who oppose Freddy’s meanness and cruelty. All kindness, acceptance, and understanding is lavished on victimizers like Freddy, while all chiding, disapproval, and admonition is reserved for the victims who suffer.

A long time passes for Nancy to get through what she just saw. Her fuming eventually subsides.

In pondering the good, a final mystery enters her mind. “(What is love? It has to be more than just the blinding, euphoric veil over the eyes. Love doesn’t mean blindness to the truth. If so many concepts are misused, how so is the concept of love? What is it? Is it unity to all goodness? Is it the light? Is it unity to God?)” A little bothered by the touchy subject, she tries to refocus and finds another tough thought. “(Is it… is it possibly… at least at times… something that extends the olive branch with the right hand… and strikes the rod with the left? Is that actually true? Surely it’s more than just that.)” She recalls something X told her, something that might be akin to this mystery:

-“Good is about more than just the defeat of evil. That is extremely pertinent right now because of the situation in reality, and it needs high focus, but after evil has been defeated--the kernels redeemed and the chaff burned away--good will continue its eternal meaning. It will flow and blossom and live forever and ever."-

_Level 2_


Don’s Place: a hypnotic bar drenched in the mint and scarlet lights among funky patrons. We continue through the main floor to a hallway. A neon, electric-yellow substance (something between gas and wax) wanders through the air and fumes against the many mirrors, exposing images of Freddy hiding behind each glass.

[Freddy’s POV] Nancy and the children from the Westin institute appear, searching through the house. The claw brandishes before us, and we move through the barrier.

The Freddy clones reach through the mirrors and realize the illusion too late. Counter-grasped, they are faced with many weapon extending from a living monstrosity--a machine that stands on several rear limbs like a mantis, while its numerous, bulky limbs derive from a body shaped like a locust-larvae hybrid.

The captured prey die quickly:

[Freddy 1] Elongated scythe-blades pin Freddy’s limbs to the mirror frame. A circle of serrated scythe-blades dig into his torso and rip him apart.

[Freddy 2] A flamethrower engulfs Freddy’s body. As he thrashes in a lake of fire, the weapon jams into his mouth and fires again.

[Freddy 3] Nozzles extend and impale Freddy to the wall with minute blades. A series of spinning saws and electric knives dissect the body.

[Freddy 4] A robot arm breaks through Freddy’s teeth and grab the throat. The hand expands, breaking the jaw open. Grinding turbines extend and implode the body.

[Freddy 5] A set of clamping arms vise Freddy’s body in an ascending order, starting with his feet. The tissues accumulate to the head, where they burst everywhere from the final vise.

[Freddy 6] A cone of swirling blades grinds through the teeth into the mouth. The tongue flings out, hitting the machine with a wet, lax slap. The cyclone continues down the throat into the guts.

[Freddy 7] Two appendages separate, tightening three laser wires from the ends. They slowly proceed forward, slicing Freddy’s head into four slabs.

[Freddy 8] Metallic syphons shove into Freddy’s torso. A high sound emits. The syphons worm around different areas, vacuuming out his insides.

[Freddy 9] A simple, steel cone shoves into Freddy’s mouth. Something clicks, and 10-inch spikes eject. They begin twisting on separate rotors.

[Freddy 10] Two transmitters on a blocky device ignite a soft, purple glare. It projects an electrical surge, shocking Freddy’s body in panic and smoke until the husk breaks.

[Freddy 11] Needle-ended appendages stab into the roof and gums of Freddy’s mouth. They pump a corrosive fluid that begins eating through the tissues. Melting rivers form within as the poison moves down the throat to the stomach. Liquefied organs begin flowing through the growing, gloppy exits. The sludgy barriers loosen as a mudslide erupts.


The escaped Freddy clones take cover, except for one that jump on the machine’s back, stabbing away with effect. A fluid between blood and oil seeps from the deep wounds, especially when stabbed between the thin, overlapping plates of his shell. The machine hunches over, spreading the plates open. Then it convulses backwards, causing the plate-edges to slice Freddy into wedges.

As the other Freddys take cover, they realize that none of the bar patrons take notice. Even as a maze erects on the main floor (trapping all but one clone), no one pays attention.

The lone Freddy runs to the perimeter for the exit. Locked! Bang, bang. Nothing. Grabbing the bartender’s leather collar, Freddy demands the way out, but the bartender just waves him off as nothing. Looking around, the patrons just keep talking and talking without a care. Behind them, those electronic eyes fix and lock, tracking his every move.

Cornered, Freddy tries slashing at people to clear the way, but his swipes only annoy them as they slap and shove him around. As X chases Freddy into the corner, the patrons casually move aside to carve a path without breaking their original attention.

Freddy grows his claws several yards and strikes at the machine, tilting it sideways as sparks fly. He back-strikes, tilting the machine the other way with more sparks. Freddy keeps striking, unable to knock it down but enough to keep it stuck. “Haaa hahahahaha! You don’t look so hot. Looks like you could use a shot.” He strikes again, “and another.” He continues his assault. “Hey, this one’s on the house.” He readies his claw to pierce, “It’s OK. I’ll be the designated driver.” He drives his massive claws deep into the body as the blood-oil pours out. But the machine holds the knives in place while its exhaust valves emit a caustic gas.

Freddy’s body becomes infected. Some of the skin chars to the bone while the rest melts around it. The claw is too heavy, weighing Freddy to the ground. His melting skin sticks to the floor while the flowing muscles are of no use. He becomes a rotting pool as his bladed hand is ripped away and shoved through his body.


The three are separated, scurrying about. One rounds the corner, his eyes going first. There is a choice: left or right? He spies through each side. Best he can tell, he should go left.

It leads to a dead end, so he must retreat. Along the way, he hears those nerve-bending, mechanical noises separated by a wall. They are going the opposite direction, so he quietly returns to the previous choice.

Something about the area looks different, though the choice is the same. He takes the other side while hearing the machine on the opposite wall come towards him. Luckily, the hallway blocks that path.

Going down the new hall only leads to another dead end. Considering his choices, he doesn’t notice the maze reforming behind him, putting him in a closed quarter with the machine. The mechanical face adjusts, making a noise that alerts Krueger. Terrified, he slowly turns around.


Another Krueger is less cautious. He hears the noise on the other side. The maze realigns, making it impossible to retreat the way he came. He heads for the only way forward while that sound keeps steady with him. There’s only one exit, and he has to get there first. He keeps running and running while the other sound keeps up. He guns it as fast as he can. Almost to the exit. Almost. Almost.


The other Krueger runs into him at the point. “It was you!”

“I thought you were it!”

Relieved, they see the previous path closing as the maze’s exit widens. They take a second to recover. All other paths around them close, leaving only the exit. [Breathing heavily] “We’re gonna get out of here, and kill those kids. All of them.” [a huge breath] “then we’re gonna get Nancy, that Uberbi-”


The machine explodes through the wall, thrashing one Freddy apart. The remaining Freddy runs to the open exit, not wanting to know the aftermath.


No one else is in the bar. Everyone just disappeared. The door is wide open. Crossing the threshold, nothing in the way, Freddy reaches the outside and--

He can’t move any further. He tries every direction, but it’s like a glass shield. He strikes, he kicks, he screams. Nothing.

The view retracts. He screams through the wall silently until he is far away. A giant mouth--like a hydraulic press bordered with grizzly munitions--slams shut around him. A splash of blood flies through the crevices.

_Final Descent (part 6) - The Lake of Light_

-“Through this path you have taken, you have come to something far greater than either of us.”-

The transcended scars activate like never before. They are screaming out, ready to fulfill their purpose.

Nancy sees it in the distance. Far below them but fast approaching is a circle of light that breathes and writhes. It seems alive.

Coming closer, the color appears white with a glassy skin of flowing, warm colors. Radiance flows from it.

Nancy sees the questions within her, accompanied by mysteries. They are manifest as corded tethers, rooted deep within her soul. At their opposite ends are free roots like mechanical receivers.

The circular light is within clear vision. It’s like a lake of water, plasma, beams, and glare, yet not. It seems partly physical and partly “(what?)”. The writhing of the lake oft forms into gentle “(blades of grass?)” with creased bends. These blades form then blend back into the lake. She welcomes the lake of light with open arms.

Taking the cord-receivers (her questions, her mysteries, even her answers), she gives them to the lake.

-“There is a happy ending to this story, but it’s war getting there.”-

“Yes. Yes it was.”

She senses something deep beyond the transcendent phenomenon. She sees the faces of the victims, the ones she saw with Katherine, now whole and nurtured in the light. She realizes that God was in many experiences of her life, especially her spiritual quest to face Krueger and save the others “(transcendence?).” She recalls that final night before going to face Freddy one last time. Like rekindling an old love, she sees herself praying “Now I lay me down to sleep.” It wasn’t a contractual obligation. It was “(loving affection?)”

Nancy sees, “(It’s not a matter of a contract that must be collected. It’s far more than simply ‘If I die, take me to heaven.’ It’s about asking God to be with you and close to you in every place of existence, even in death. And not just physical death. In our doubt, in our hurt, in our loss. In our devastation.)”

“God, I still have a lot of issues with You. Sometimes I resent the hell out of You.” A sense of relief falls over her demeanor and breath as she continues. “But I still have feelings for you. Can we take it slowly, and, in reconnecting, can I relent at times when needed? I want to make this work.”

Because the mechanics of time operate so differently, a process of dual sequencing occurs. Through her external senses, the lake of light approaches quite rapidly. But in each space of that rapid succession, her soul spends eons in catharsis and mending.

Her mind reconnects to the prayer she embraced that night she crossed over.

“...I pray the Lord…

[the lake draws near]









_Level 1_

The view awakens from a daze to the surreal halls of the Westin institute. The hazy mist settles in the eerie calm. No one exists. Its ghostly serenity whispers to the future.




Brahmm... brahmm

Vhrooom-brahmm, vhrooom-brahmm

Vhrooom-brahmm! Vhrooom-brahmm!

It commands forward:

Form: A barely humanoid form, nearly as thick as it is tall, with a robust core and blocky legs. Its multiple arms, while quite girthy, are proportionally sleeker to allow accessible movement. The large form nearly swallows every area of the hallway.

Casing: Large segments of gold-bronze, structured with yawning cylinders and long, bloated squares (some appearing as if to burst). Several joints within the limbs allow individual segments to pivot. Running from its head, arms, and legs to its back are the auxiliary hoses--made of an unknown material between rubber and metal--that pulse and throb. Atop it all is what could be considered a head: another block of metal (like a trapezoid lain on its side) with a lateral dominance whose edges sleek back to the base. A visor of laser-light traces the upper surface and curves. It’s mostly red, but with a flow of other colors to accent it.

Vhrooom-brahmm! Vhrooom-brahmm!

Vhrooom-brahmm, vhrooom-brahmm

Brahmm... brahmm




A bulletin board in the passed hallway opens into a giant eye watching the machine. The dark center narrows with contempt.

The surface of the walls change like a flowing sea, then harden and break apart into blackened, decrepit flesh. Fires occupy the fields behind them.

The hallway is now a tunnel of Hell with rows upon rows of giant Freddy claws ready to strike the searching mech. At the far end, Freddy’s giant eye peers through the orifice while laughing at his prey. Surrounded, the machine’s head detaches and flies off. Spinning blades extend from its various slots while it hovers above. Another head protrudes from the machine, and it detaches to do the same. And another, and another, and another. The flying heads, well-defended and evasive, begin shooting rayed laserblasts at the claws from their visors. Extensions with laser nozzles unlock from the machine’s base, joining the assault with their spherical laserblasts.

The claws dwindle, revealing more and more of the fiery sky beyond them. Freddy witnesses the defeat and begins crushing the tunnel. Mechanical wings unfold from the machine. Along their perimeters are ten miniature jet engines that align and surge forward, blasting the machine out of the exit with an unexpected thrust.

The eye pulls away as the machine escapes to the courtyard of the Institute. Occupying the sky above the buildings is a massive Freddy Krueger. “King Kong? If they’d known me, it would have been King Dong. Haaa ha ha ha ha ha!”

Freddy grasps at the mech, only to be shocked by a full-body electric burst. The wing-engines reposition, trajecting X onto Freddy’s thigh. The arms (aided by unlocked appendages) cling beneath the skin and crawl upwards like some nightmarish insect. Freddy tries to strike and pry it again, only to be shocked everytime.

Reaching the sweater, it blasts off near Freddy’s face. Looking into Freddy’s dominant eye, the visor and laser nozzles take aim and fire as one, leaving a mysterious black and red cavern with yellow sludge dripping from its entrance.

Begging to be explored, the machine proceeds inside, despite the protests of the host. The bone structure is too tight and is restructured through force to accommodate the travel.

The throat enlarges horribly, causing great convulsions for the host until the transition is completed. The body can now rest… temporarily.

The host feels his lower body becoming heavy. When the lungs fall, he realizes his organs are accumulating in his lower guts after their severings. Enormous blades invade the structure, trying to amputate the intruder. The blades chase the parasite all over until the weak restraints of flesh cannot support the accumulated bulge.

The heft breaks the remaining tatters. Gravity gains the host’s lower body while the upper body holds to the sky. Then it fails in a separate descent.


[There is nothing.]

_Level 0_


“Ahhh, my old boiler room. Feels like home.” Freddy feels his powers nearing their full potential. This time, the boiler room feels right, though its red glow has changed into emerald waters. It doesn’t weaken him, but it feels… strange. The stairs aren’t far, and he must continue the ascent.

It comes again, that terrible clanking. It comes closer and closer and then stops. Behind him…


Knowing his powers, Freddy turns with sick gloating. “Faster than a bastard maniac!” The rapid shivs bounce off his massive chest. “More powerful than a loco-madman!” The tube grenades explode for nothing. “It’s--” [his knives chamber] “Super Freddy!” The blades launch, tearing huge shreds from the machine’s side. “Haaa hahahahaha!” The knife-shadows stretch the other way, shaving pieces of robot arms with another chunk of the machine’s side.

Freddy jumps on the boiler unit. “Come on!” Wings expand from his back: burnt flesh wedging between bladed trunks. “We’ll see who has the better imagination.” He dives in a downward arch, clawing through the headless mass. It falls a little. Before recovering, Freddy counter-strikes, tearing the auxiliary hoses.

Freddy disappears. “Oh, no! You ripped your hose! Now the boys won’t want to talk to you! Haaa hahahahaha!” He appears hanging from a pipe. “I think you need to shed a few pounds first. Let me help you with that.”

Freddy forms into a wrecking ball with a rotary saw in the center. He smashes the machine, knocking it to the ground. A huge crack forms down its center. Freddy grabs the machine and flies into the air. He returns, pile-driving it into the foundation. Freddy grabs it again for another move, but the torn hoses latch to him. The electric flow shocks him significantly, making it a wrestling match as Freddy forces his glove into the metal against the currents. Grinding his teeth away, Freddy strives while growing his blades longer. It’s close, but he’s winning… until the golden chains shoot out and capture him. They dig into his flesh and congest his body against escape. A large device assembles from the machine’s back: the Grind Saw.

Grind Saw: A massive saw (7 feet long and 3 feet wide) inspired by the rail gun. The central pistons augment the rotary grinders cycling the outer layer. The outer layer functions like a high-powered tank track. The overlapping, industrial plates slice through everything, gathering and constricting matter into the rotary grinders.

The Grind Saw lays over Freddy’s back, tearing out his wings and scouring his back to the bone. The bare strip continues towards the guts. Then it stops.


The last of Freddy’s weakness has been breached. Freddy looks around. The boiler room has merged with Nancy’s basement. “That’s all you got?” Freddy escapes, summoning metal from the merged furnace-boiler. It flows into his open wound and begins reconstructing.

The machine also reconstructs, magnetically drawing all of its scraps about it.

The door to the 1st floor opens. Something vaguely like Freddy appears. “Hey! Bitch! Are you coming or what?!”


Freddy has reached full power. He consolidates all of it (exactly as planned) to destroy that machine once and for all.

The machine breaks through the wall to witness… “Super-Mecha-Freddy-Plus. Haaa hahahahaha!”

His body has the athletic bulk of Super Freddy, but he is ultimately a cyborg. He bears the same face from the Freddy cycle and the TV arms that attacked Jennifer. Above those arms are another set; they are modeled after the one that attacked Sheila, but they end with Freddy’s knives. The rest of his body is a random assortment of other machine parts, finished with his Super Freddy cape.

“New and improved.” He smirks. Then drops it. “My dream, my rules.” X fires everything at him, but Freddy just laughs as it does nothing. “Ohhh, I don’t know… let’s try this!” He fires multiple rounds of his blades into X. The machine folds in weakness. Freddy waits for X to get up, tapping his finger impatiently on his leg.

“Finally.” Freddy turns invisible, attacking X from all sides, piling the floor with metallic casings, wires, and limbs. The attacks are too quick for X to decipher. After missed grasps, X opens his central shell. Several wires unwind. The stabbing wires and any remaining limbs strike in all directions, capturing Freddy. “Yeah, OK, now what?” X tries punching him. “Haaa hahahahaha!” Freddy starts imitating a weaving boxer, dodging every strike while acting surprised. “Stick and move. Stick and move. You know what they say, ‘float like Oprah and sting like OJ.’ Haaa hahahahaha!” Freddy raises his hands and brings them down as a joint hammer punch. The force recracks the mass, leaving a large blue-flickering deep inside.

We follow Freddy as he jumps straight through the ceiling into Nancy’s room. His arms stretch below, bringing the living room and X into it. Freddy makes taunting hand motions. “Come on. Hit me with you best shot. Why don’t you try your [sarcastic] ‘secret weapon.’” The Grind Saw comes forward as Freddy continues to wave it in. It connects.

The saw begins tearing Freddy apart and sucking him in. Freddy acts surprised. “Oh, no! Whatever you do, don’t use your ‘secret weapon.’ Haaa hahahahaha!” The pieces come alive, infecting the Grind Saw with red and green. The virus spreads down the machine, crippling it. The Freddy pieces leave and reform outside it. Wires shoot out of Freddy’s body, attaching to all of X’s limbs and both sides of the central mass. Freddy pulls them apart.

The limbless, broken mass worms about. All its appendages are broken off and added to the metallic landfill. In a low, dark rage, Freddy proclaims, “No one beats me in the bedroom.”

Freddy launches and stomp-dives onto X, over and over, as it breaks apart and flattens. The rumble doesn’t stop until there are no lights, no sparks, no flickers. No nothing.

The scrap is dead, the ruins of a lifeless, decimated machine. Freddy returns to his normal form as the room, penetrated by white mist, darkens. The walls fade into the outside of Elm Street.

_“A Healthy Person…”_

“... when they get forgiveness, say[s] ‘I am so lucky that I just got forgiven, and I need to change my behavior so I don’t hurt this person again.’ Do you know what a narcissist thinks about forgiveness? To them-Oh come on, you know!-to them, forgiveness is permission. ‘Oh, this is great. I can do all this terrible stuff, and they just say “I forgive you,” and I can do it again, and I get to do it again. Pshh, psych! This is great!’”

-- Dr. Ramani Durvasula (“What types of people attract narcissists?”)

"The way of God is mercy and pardon, but when these things are taken for not--after long patience--the Law of God is Divine Vengeance."

-- The Archives of The Unnamed One

_Reality: Death_


Baaaahm baaahm baahm! Ba-baaaahm baaahm baahm!

Baaaahm baaahm baahm! Ba-baaaahm baaahm baahm!

The tubular blasting of steel cylinders halts Freddy dead center. The symphony of epic doom is completed with the interjections of warm, metallic screeching--a beautifully macabre imitation of string instruments.

Freddy turns to witness the rise of the lifeform from the mechanical ruins.

Body: A gelatinous nucleus standing 15 feet tall on piked legs. It forms a dingy, rusty, dirty-brown enclosure around it, which bulges slightly on the top and bottom but is an even nonagon for its sides. Together, it is like some kind of foreboding chamber. Protruding from the nucleus is its monstrous head.

Head: The remnants of some featureless, rotting animal head. Only the previous hair and skin remain of a head still mutating into that of a Metroid queen. Small tears allow glimpses of alloy-fused bone. It has no eyes, no ears, no nose, just its enormous jaw of barbed-spear teeth.

Legs: Robust pikes sliding horizontally on elaborate devices. Connected to the flats of the chamber, these devices are organic pivots imbued with clamps that raise and lower the pikes as needed. The joint tissues run throughout the pikes.

Its grating, hydraulic roar shakes Freddy as the caustic fumes of salival acid escape its lungs. The sick but hypnotic sounds of wet mechanisms engulf the air as it moves with something akin to locomotion.

The atmosphere becomes thick like water. Drowned in this hypnotic world, Freddy can barely trudge through. Then it happens. The bottom of the lifeform’s chamber opens into several hexagonal plates, each emitting a garish color that draws him in. The reds, the blues, the greens, he’s drawn to them like a moth to the flames. Uncontrollably, his instincts are to strike at them with his knives. On each hit, poised attachments impale him with pikes. Cause and effect. Yet, he can’t stop. He is mesmerized by the surreal colors, his impulses beyond control. The primary colors, the new colors, the blended colors. Deeper into the spiral. Injures from all sides. Deeper into the nexus. “(I… can’t… stop.)”

Freddy never stops.

The images blur and cloud until all is indecipherable.


The plates recollect as the lifeform lowers and contracts before unleashing a satisfied exhaust. Near the downed Freddy is an opening locked with a mystical seal. The machine walks a little closer and psychically syphons a glowing gold substance through the seal's inscribed openings. The power accumulates in its head, then blasts Freddy against a tree-wall. We sense the overbearing, internal damage. The lifeform begins to call the source with a much greater draw. It continues, accumulating outside the body. The stream grows greater and greater until something magnificent bursts forth, absorbing the seal and stream together. Behold, the Sister Luminaries.

Sister Luminaries: Three flowing bodies made of a spiritual substance like molten gold or liquid fire. Their souls from the waist up are distinctly Nancy, Katherine, and Alice. Their details are like a masterful painting. Everything below is mystical, flowing robes. Alice bears a jade globe that orbits her.

Connected to each other by their glory, they capture and swirl around Freddy, draining all of his power. They flow away and observe. The child killer is conscious, but all other powers are permanently drained into them. Something flows through the sisters, deepening their color. Their transformations are complete.

The lower plates of the chamber reopen. The Sister Luminaries activate the colors with their glory, then flow through the plates in beautiful patterns. The traces of their paths slice through the view in saturation until all that is left is blinding light.


The light divides into horizontal streams of yellow. Then they develop red borders. The borders grow, and the centers recede. The remaining reds pixilate into a misty pattern that fades just enough for us to see Freddy sitting in the machine’s glassy nucleus:

-[psychedelic opera singing plays in the background as multiple visions happen at once]-

“You can’t, you’ve got to… you’ve… got… too…”

--Freddy’s brain screams at him, blares at him. At Lisa’s pool, he can’t concentrate with all the clamoring. He vices his skull, splintering the bone and splattering his brain to the floor.

(“Don’t stop”)

----The red in the walls covers his skin. “(It all must be torn away.)” Taking his razors, he begins to pare his arm.

(It’s not over. Keep going”)

“This can’t be re(al)! This… can’t-Stop! This can’t(!)… be re…This… can’t be re-this can’t be… this… this? Where…? What is? This, this li(fe)? Who? Who’s there? Is this…? Who? Where? Wh-?… ?… …”

(“Behold, death”)

--The remains keep screaming degradations and run away. “Shut up! Shut up!” but they won’t.

(“Don’t give up”)

----With the layers on the ground, he switches his glove to the sensitive pulp of his left and pares the right arm.

(“Never end”)

Bang, bang. A faded Krueger from outside bangs on the dirty, rusty wall of the chamber. “Wake up! You’ve got to wake up! You’re dying! You have to get out! Wake up!”

(“Can’t stop”)

--Freddy tries to chase them, but his second step sticks to the floor as he falls forward and splatters on the ground.

(“Never end”)

----The brain won’t shut up. It keeps lording over him. (The heat melts his tissues.) He opens his skull for the brain to jump out. It splatters as it lands. The destroyed tissues try to crawl away. “Just go away!” he screams. He struggles to rip handful of his chest. “And take your new boyfriend with you!” He throws the melted remains at the floor.

(“Can’t stop. Keep going. Can’t stop”)

The solid Freddy looks at him through the walls with fatigue and indifference. He returns his unattention to the chamber, not listening to the outside.

(“Never end”)

*Outside the chamber is the sentient tornado from the underground warehouse.
Walls of machinery surround the area.
The vials from Level 7 complete the ritual of the north wall.

----Freddy stands, pulling the melting flesh off his body.

(“You have to keep going”)

------The faces of the crying children appear, trapped in the boiler room.

(“Never end”)

The ghostly Freddy struggles as he’s absorbed into the enclosure.

(“Don’t stop”)

*“You cannot hide from me.”

----“I’m coming.” Freddy steps forward, his feet melting to his knee on the first step. His open mouth lands first, splitting open from his head to his remaining legs. His body melts through his mouth as his eyes look forward from the ground into the machine’s nucleus.

(“You are dying”)

------He sees from their minds, their fears, their screams. “Pleeeaase!”

(“You won’t survive. You can’t escape”)

Freddy disintegrates into particles flying in every direction, each one being conscious.

(“You are nothing”)

*The lifeform trapping him is just an organ of this terrible presence.

----The eyes continue to look forward as they liquefy. We see the red and black horizon become darker.

(It’s not over. Keep going”)

------The shock of one is beyond any terror imagined.
But it’s not just one. He must experience them all.

(“You have to keep going”)

The overwhelming multi-consciousness drives him to madness.

(“You are dying”)

*“No one escapes me.”

------“Stop! It’s too much! Stop! STOP!!”

(“Don’t! You have to… you have to… you have…”)

“Stop! Stop! AAAAAaaaaaahhhhhh!!” The voice fades into wind. Then there is nothing.


The Sister Luminaries wind down the machine. The captured souls from Freddy exit X’s mouth to the beyond. The dream demons, completely powerless, roam within. Nancy grabs the first. “See no evil.” She thrusts it into an abyss where it must watch Joel Schumacher’s “Batman and Robin” on autoplay.

Katherine grabs the second. “Hear no evil.” She sends it to an abyss to hear banjo songs that weren’t even good enough to get a recording.

Alice grabs the third. “Speak no evil.” She seals it into an abyss where it must speak like Pee-Wee Herman without rest.

Left inside the chamber, there are no particles, no flesh, no other spirits. There are only three belongings. Each sister claims one: Katherine the Fidora, Alice the sweater, and Nancy the glove.

They fly out of the chamber into the night sky, ascending in a beautiful spiral. We follow their soaring as the image becomes bordered by the tome’s edges.

_The Guardians_

The image solidifies, the Sister Luminaries ascending into the heavens. Below it, the three belongings flash onto the paper. The image fades over a holy wall hidden in low lighting. We come closer as we hear voices in the calm dark. A prophetic voice asks, "They will be afraid to go through the darkness. Will you go with them?” Nancy’s voice whispers, “Yes, I will go with them.”

The view rises to the top. Stained-glass windows tell a story, while the unknown language below them is intuitive to us.

First pane: “The 3 sisters, who sacrificed themselves to gain a new self, a special identity, one that is not exclusively their own but grafted into part of The Divine. Behold, 3 new priestesses added to heaven.”

Second pane: An image of Katherine, laying healing covers on people sleeping in cool dens. “Katherine (whom others called Maggie): The Healer of Sleep”

Third pane: An image of Alice, with Jacob by her side, carrying a traveler’s staff while leading others into natural labyrinths. “Alice (accompanied by her son): The Sage of Fantasy and Imagination”

Fourth pane: An image of Nancy, enveloped in a world of dreams, with keys in one hand and a soothing aura in the other. “Nancy (the pontiff who went before them): The Master of Dreams and The Midwife of Cathartic Doubt”

Fifth pane: A mass of people awake and asleep in the joyful fields bridging the dream world and the waking world as the sisters (connected by their glories) fly through the deep, celestial blue of the night.

[The full The Unnamed One story is available on the Archive Of Our Own website.]
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