Dream Warriors on Elm Street|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 13 most recent journal entries recorded in
Dream Warriors on Elm Street's LiveJournal:
|Thursday, April 27th, 2006|
Amelia's House(Tag Freddy)
As Amelia approches her house she notices that there is only one car in the driveway. This means her father is not home from work yet and she will have to deal with her mother who has probably been sitting home drinking herself into a stupor all day.
Trying to avoid her Mother at all costs, Amelia sneaks around back and into the kitchen door. She notices her mother passed out on the couch with the TV blaring of the local news channel. Tiptoeing up the steps she can vaugly hear the newscaster talking about the occurance at Springwood High today.
Once at the top landing, she dashes to her room, throws her bag down and kicks off her flip flops. Fiddling with the TV she gets to channel 3. "The Police have interviewed several students at Springwood Highschcool, But still have no leads on this bizarre murder.""Back to you Ken."
Amelia grabs her backpack and takes the small pill vile out of her bag and pops another pill. She sits back on her bed remembering the events of today and finds herself slowly nodding off.
When her eyes open again she is infront of the highschool,only it is late in the evening. she looks around confused and notices Marcus and the boy she saw afterschool sitting on the stoop. She waves to them, but they ignore her. Almost as if she is invisable. Just then Amelia hears a loud scream, horrific and almost painful if you will. She looks up at the front doors to the school, then back tot he boys. The boys still sitting there seem to be unphased by the sound. Ameila runs up the steps and pushes the heavy school doors open.
Inside the corridor is dark and cold, the only light she sees is the moonlight coming in through the hallway windows. She hears the scream again. This time coming from an old metal door halfway down the hall. Amelia approches the door. Looking through, she sees steps leading to the downstairs basement. "Hello." she yells "Are you alright?" "Helllo?"
Not getting a response she starts to walk down the cold metal steps in her barefeet. Just then she hears a loud clank..and sees a glow of warm orange fire, like a heater has just kicked on. "Hello?" Amelia says again.
"He's back" says the voice "Who's back? Where are you?" Amelia answers.
She hears this terrible sound. Like the sound of one thousand nails being scratched down a chalkboard. She turns her head to the left,and down behind the equipment shelves she squints to see the silloutte of what looks like a man with a hat apon his head and a dirty and torn red and green sweater.
It looks as if he is holding sometype of weapon in his hand, but she cannot make out what it is. "Sir...Can you help me? I think someones in trouble down here?"
|Wednesday, April 12th, 2006|
After School (Tag > Any of the kids)
Marcus staggered from the school basement even as the bell went - hammering through his head with its sudden noise. His mind was still reeling with his sleep, if it could be called that.
After seeking somewhere quiet to relax, his dreams in the basement had instead been horrific and unsettling. Instead of recuperation, he only felt ten times more tired.
Marcus ran back over what he could recount from his dream. A man - at least, he thought it was a man - in a faded jersey with stripes? Did it have stripes? And a beaten hat. The man was scarred beyond recognition and taunted Marcus, pursued him with some kind of knives. And no matter how hard and fast Marcus ran through some kind of dilapidated basement that wasn't the school's, the man was always right behind him.
Students began filing out of classes, the loud chatter of the day's end filling the hallway. Marcus stopped at a drinking fountain and splashed some water on his face. God, he felt like crap. He hated nightmares like that - he'd had a couple recently...possibly even involving that same man, he wasn't sure.
This had been the worst, though. Exhausting and harrowing, an endless chase. Well, not totally endless; he had woken up when he had slipped and fallen at a metal stairway, smashing his legs against the unforgiving steel.
A realisation abruptly hit him, and he wiped the excess water from his lips as he processed it, his eyes wide. His legs still hurt
Tentatively, he dropped down and pretended to do up his shoelaces as various classmates filed past him. He slid up one of the legs of his jeans and his fears were confirmed. His right shin was swelling, the start of what would be an angry purple bruise already forming.
How could that happen? How could he hurt himself in his sleep? It was just like what happened to...Jezebel.
Marcus stood up sharply, ignoring the faint twinge of complaint from his legs. He had to find her.
|Wednesday, March 29th, 2006|
Sorry, I've been extremely busy with school lately. Is everyone still lingering among the community if we were to continue?
|Friday, March 3rd, 2006|
School Basement (Tag > Freddy)
The police interview was just about over before it began. The questions were quickfire and cursive; it was only too apparent to Marcus that the officials had little to no interest in him. In less than five minutes after being called in, he was out again, strolling the school hall.
He hadn't seen Jezebel since she ran off to the bathroom and he assumed Henry had returned to class. Which was precisely what he was supposed to be doing, but he was just so damn tired. The minor excitement of Jezebel's freak out and the interview had passed and a general malaise began settling over Marcus.
He wasn't even sure what class he had now. English had finished, that was for sure. Ah, who would miss him for another few minutes if he caught a nap somewhere? And he knew exactly where.
The school basement was pretty much ignored by everyone except the janitor who, to be blunt, had a worse work ethic than virtually any of students. Marcus guessed that a low-pay job cleaning up after kids was maybe not the easiest thing to get motivated about. As a result, anyone who managed to get into the basement could pretty much count on being completely undisturbed for hours. Combine that with the chimney flue for the furnace and the result is the best secret locale on campus for a quiet twenty past four.
Marcus settled down in an armchair in front of a crowded tool desk. It was set well back from the door, and out of sight. The chair itself had seen better days and had undoubtedly been thrown out from somewhere more luxurious, but nevertheless it felt perfectly plush and comfortable to someone in Marcus' state of exhaustion. He leaned right back, his head resting on the back of the chair, and let his eyes close.
Almost immediately he felt the black curtains of sleep closing around him, and welcomed them like a friend.
A faint scraping noise jarred him back awake and he lifted his head up. Groggy, it took him a moment to take in his surroundings. It was still the school basement and yet...different? He didn't remember quite so many pipes. And certainly there wasn't the hanging steam around the room. This was not so much familiar safe environs as it was some kind of industrialised vision of Hell.
What was going on?
|Thursday, March 2nd, 2006|
Outside Principal's Office (Tag > Marcus)
Henry stepped out of the interview room, his palms greasy with nervous sweat. He could hear the police murmuring even as he closed the door. Christ, did they think he did it? Surely they had no evidence - after all, he WAS innocent.
Still, since when had that been a guarantee of safety from the law?
As he ran a hand through his hair and let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes alighted on the teen sitting in the chair opposite the door. Allenby, was it? Used to be a bit of a popular kid, now something of a loner.
And then there was that goth girl, who was always off scho-
But the other chair was empty. Henry's eyes were drawn to the bright red droplets on the cool floor in front of the seat.
"Hey, where'd that chick go?" He said.
|Friday, February 24th, 2006|
Just so you know, other characters can begin threads to. Even if it's just saying what you're doing, such as eating in the cafe, or introducing a new character.
Girl's Bathroom (Tag: any of the girl characters)
She walked into the bathroom and held her arm over the sink. She looked down at the blood that had already dried in streaks of thick crimson. She turned the warm water on and began to wash it off. Whenever water would hit the actual cut it would sting.
"FUCK!" She said in pain, hitting the side of the sink with her good hand.
The water, now tinted red, trickled down the drain. She grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and began to clean around it. Did she need stitches? It was really deep, but what was she supposed to tell the doctor if she did go to the hospital? There were consequences for every action, and she did not want to go back down that road again. Maybe, if she was lucky, it would close and heal.
|Monday, February 13th, 2006|
To the Principle's Office (Tag: Marcus, Henry, Freddy)
She, Marcus, Henry, and a couple other kids were first in line to talk to the detectives.
She sat in the waiting area as she had many times before. Her eyes going from the secretary to the clock, to Marcus, to the clock again, then wandering over to the other guy... what was his name? Henry? Then back to the clock. The first interview took ten minutes, the second interview took about twenty. For this third interview, twenty minutes was already up three minutes ago. The second period bell was about to ring in three, two, one….
She sighed. It was so warm in here, there wasn’t any circulation through the vents, and it was too early for the air conditioners to be turned on. It was usually the last week of school when they were used. As she sat there listening to the drone of the radio in the secretary’s office next door she was beginning to drift off to sleep.
She wondered what they were going to ask her. There was the common line of questioning of course. Did you know the victim? Did you ever quarrel with the victim? When was the last time you saw him? Do you know anyone who would like to have hurt the victim?
She had only been here six months and she had already had her run ins with Springwood’s finest. Nothing major, usually just loitering, and a few other things she would rather not think about. She was sure they had already requested her old file from back home the first time they encountered her. That was a fucking laundry list of misdemeanors and other things she didn’t want to remember. Petty theft, assault, loitering…
Her eyes began to close.
… aggravated assault, shoplifting, vandalism…
Her head slowly drops.
… possession of alcohol, possession of a deadly weapon on school grounds…
|Friday, February 10th, 2006|
English Class (Tag: Jezebel, Henry)
The English class was already in progress by the time Marcus got to the door. Or so it seemed. The students were in their seats and he could see through the glass window in the door the wizened figure of Mrs. Fletcher at the head of the room, her black-rimmed glasses perched precariously on her prominent nose.
But as he pushed the portal open, Marcus realised things were slightly different to the day-to-day regimen. Next to Mrs. Fletcher, back against the whiteboard was Mr. McGregor, the barrel-chested school principal. He was mid-speech and didn't even pause to flick a glowering look at Marcus as the teen slipped in and around to his usual seat at the far side of the classroom.
Marcus always sat next to a window if he could manage it. It always gave him a point of distraction, a way to cast his mind adrift from the hum-drum of menial learning.
But today, his attention was securely on McGregor. Even more so as he passed a particular empty seat. Jackson's seat.
"I know this will be a trying time for some of you," McGregor was saying in his most sombre of tones, "He was well-loved not just by you, but by the faculty as well."
The realisation hit Marcus like a hammer in the chest. Alex Carruthers had been telling the truth.
Jackson O'Reilly was dead.
"If any of you feel you need someone to talk to," McGregor continued, "Which is a perfectly natural reaction, then the School Counsellor is available all day including two full hours after school."
Marcus was still reeling. Was the rest of the rumours true? Had he really died in a locked room? And - what had Alex said - cut to pieces?
|Wednesday, February 1st, 2006|
Getting Ready for School and On the Way to School (Tag: Ameila, Sage, and Marcus)
When she opened her eyes she was strapped down to a white stretcher, her arms and ankles pinned to the hard mattress with velcro straps that didn't give an inch. A fifth stretched across her middle securely, actually, it was more than secure, it was down right tight. Her fingertips felt cold which meant the circulation was being cut off from the squeezing of the cloth straps. Soon the cold numb feeling would move down her fingers and engulf her hands. Would an orderly come in and check by then? From experience, no, probably not.
No matter how she maneuvered her head and rolled her eyes, she couldn't see the room. She then realized there was an observation mirror in front of her. However, even though she could see the room fully, this meant someone could see her.
Her arms were tied down with her palms up, fresh and old scars ran along the length of them from elbow to wrist. Some were as fresh as last night. Others were ancient history.
This was more of a memory than a nightmare. In fact, it was the same nightmare she had almost every night for the past year when she was taken to an asylum for a two week stay. When she didn't have this specific nightmare she'd have one similar, also taking place in the asylum.
Suddenly there was a shriek of what sounded like metal on metal that made her grit her teeth. This was new to her nightmare.
"Hello?" She called. "Is someone there?"
She heard the creak of the door slowly opening and then the heavy slam of it. She looked in the mirror across from her but didn't see anything. Footsteps followed, and still there was no one in the mirror.
Anxiety twisted and turned knots in her stomach as an unfamiliar frightening feeling came over her. Why was she so scared? It was just a dream, just a nightmare. She tried to calm her beating heart, but it stopped cold in her chest when she heard the low cackling coming from behind her.
She woke up to the blaring sound of her alarm clock. Her heart began beating again. She held a hand over her chest, it hurt to breath, it felt as if someone had hit her in the chest. It was if her heart really did stop for a moment. She looked over at the time, it was 7 o'clock. Usually she'd hit the snooze button and roll back over to go to sleep for another fifteen minutes, but not after a nightmare like that. She turned it off and got out of bed, not even giving a second glance to the unmade sheets and blankets.
She wasn't one to dwell over nightmares, so instead she pushed the feeling it gave her to the back of her mind. She picked up a pair of black torn jeans from the floor that she wore earlier in the week and dug through her drawers for a clean t-shirt settling on a black halter top. After changing out of her pajamas and into her clothes she pulled a chain belt around her waist. Looking beneath her bed she found her black army boots and pulled them on as well. On the floor she found a red and black stripped arm warmer, the other she found across her room beneath a shirt. She used them to cover up the scars so she didn't have to see her mother's concern stare upon them, checking to see if there were any fresh ones. She wondered if her mother knew the exact number on each arm. She stopped cutting her arms six months ago, but it didn't mean she couldn't start somewhere new. She also wore them because she didn’t want to hear anything from the guidance counselors at school if she was called into the office today. She didn't want to give them any reason to send her back to the hospital for a weekend vacation of pokes and prods into her psyche.
She made her way downstairs with a nearly empty backpack and her pocketbook swung over her shoulder. She could hear the sounds of coffee being poured and the fridge being opened, probably to retrieve cream. She walked in as her mother was stirring sugar into her coffee. Her step father sat at the table reading the newspaper. If you were to freeze frame these few seconds of her life, it would appear to be a normal family setting. Too bad it wouldn't last.
Her step father, Harold, ruffled the newspaper a little as he turned to the next page. As she walked in he didn't give any acknowledging glance over the top of the pages, instead he just said "Two detentions in one week isn't acceptable, Jezebel."
She stayed on her path to the refrigerator. "Sorry, I'll try harder to get three next week."
"Jezebel!" Her mother snapped as her step father put down the paper to look at his uncontrollable step daughter.
She knew how to push his buttons, and it was worth it. She opened the refrigerator door and removed a can of soda. Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but definitely the breakfast of teenagers who couldn't stay awake through a morning Algebra class.
She walked out of the kitchen not saying another word. She heard her mother trying to quiet the angry rantings of her husband in the kitchen as he steamed about how out of line his step daughter was. When she closed the door behind her she expected it to erupt into a verbal dispute, but nothing more, not until he began drinking at 11 o'clock, and by then her mom would be at work.
She walked outside into the early morning brisk air. It was late spring, but only reached 65, maybe 70 degrees during the day if it was sunny, and the nights were cooler. She began her walk to school, occasionally sipping on her can of Coke. Springwood was small, too small, she thought to herself. She didn't need a car to get anywhere in town, but she needed one to get anywhere worth going to, which meant out of here. She tried her share of jobs back home, she even tried to save up some money, but usually ended up spending it before she had enough for a car, even a piece of crap one.
There wasn't anything special about this town, it was a dime a dozen, and very boring. She once went out of Springwood with a few kids from school to a club. They weren't friends because in the six months she was here she didn't have any friends.
She arrived at school early. Well, early for her. It was better than being at home with the parental figures, but not much. She leaned against the outside of the building in the back where the student parking lot was and lit up a cigarette.
((OOC: I hope you don't mind Freddy, but I had to incorporate a few actions from your character to give it a proper Elm Street opening sequence ;) and to get this RP on its way ))
Before we begin, I should mention what to put in the subject line. If you want to start a new location with other characters, start a new thread and put for example
"The Park (Tag: Ameila )"
So now the scene consists of whoever began it and Ameila at the park.
or if you want to change the location of where your character goes, start a new thread and put for example "Jezebel's House (Tag: Any of the characters)"
So now the scene consists of Jezebel at her house and if any of the other characters want to show up they can.
Or you can just simply have your character begin their own thread if they are alone and you don't have to tag anybody.
However, whenever you change the scene you it has to follow the plot. You can't just tag somebody to appear in a house if they are in the middle of class at school.
Does that make sense?
|Monday, January 16th, 2006|
To those of u lurking, who's joining and who's waiting to see if this is worth jumping into?
Let me know so we can get started :)
|Monday, January 2nd, 2006|
Please read the Community Info. before filling out a character form.
Please post your character's information in a format similar to:
Small history of their life before this story:
Other helpful information:
Also, if anyone is in any other Nightmare on Elm Street communities and you have some friends there, see if they're interested in RPing! The more victims, I mean, role players... the better!