(A/N just a list of the original characters and their purpose in the film
1. Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund)
- The film's primary antagonist, a disfigured killer who haunts and murders teenagers in their dreams.
2. Nancy Thompson (Heather Langenkamp)
- The protagonist, a high school student who realizes Freddy Krueger is terrorizing her and her friends in their dreams. She fights back against Freddy.
3. Glen Lantz (Johnny Depp)
- Nancy's boyfriend, who becomes one of Freddy's victims. This was Johnny Depp's film debut.
4. Marge Thompson (Ronee Blakley)
- Nancy's alcoholic mother, who hides a dark secret about Freddy's past.
5. Lt. Donald "Don" Thompson (John Saxon)
- Nancy's father, a police lieutenant investigating the murders in town. He is skeptical of Nancy's claims about Freddy.
6. Rod Lane (Jsu Garcia, credited as Nick Corri)
- Tina's boyfriend, who is initially blamed for her murder but later becomes another of Freddy's victims.
7. Tina Gray (Amanda Wyss)
- Nancy's best friend and the first person to fall victim to Freddy in the movie. Her death is one of the most iconic in the series.
8. Dr. King (Charles Fleischer)
- A doctor who attempts to explain Nancy's nightmares scientifically, attributing them to her stress.
These are the primary characters, with Freddy being the most iconic figure of the franchise.
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Shadows of Elm Street
Jeremy Larson sat at his desk, his head resting in his hands. It had been a long day at work, and the weight of exhaustion pressed down on him like a heavy blanket. The soft hum of his laptop screen provided some comfort, but it didn't dull the ache in his eyes from staring at it for hours. Papers scattered around the desk—reports he had to finish, emails he had to respond to—but none of it seemed urgent anymore. The weariness from the mundane routines of his life drained the energy out of him.
Living alone had its perks, Jeremy often reminded himself. Quiet nights. Space to think. But lately, the silence was getting to him, creeping in around the edges, seeping into his dreams. He glanced at the clock: 1:00 a.m. Too late to stay up, but too early to turn in. Sleep hadn't been kind to him these past few weeks. Every time he closed his eyes, something unsettling would greet him in the darkness of his mind. Images of twisted, burning faces. Children screaming in the distance. Clawed hands scraping at metal.
Jeremy sighed, closing the laptop with a soft click. He stretched, the tension in his neck and back briefly releasing, though it only made him more aware of how tired he was. He hadn't been sleeping well, and the lack of rest was beginning to show. Dark circles had taken residence under his eyes, and he felt like a zombie during the day. His dreams, or rather, nightmares, were getting worse. Every time he slept, the same figure appeared—distorted and menacing, a man dressed in a filthy red and green sweater with a fedora covering a face hidden by shadows. But it wasn't the man's appearance that disturbed Jeremy; it was the way the man moved, as though he thrived on the fear he caused.
The dream always started the same way—Jeremy in an unfamiliar place, usually somewhere dark and cold, a place that felt like it shouldn't exist. He would try to run, but no matter how fast he went, the man would always be behind him, walking at a slow, deliberate pace. The sound of metal scraping, a dull screech, would echo in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. And then, just as the man would be upon him, Jeremy would wake up, drenched in sweat, his heart racing.
Tonight, however, something felt different.
As Jeremy turned off the lights and made his way to his bed, he tried to shake off the sense of dread that had been growing inside him. His rational mind told him it was just a nightmare—nothing more. But a deeper, more primal part of him knew better. It felt real in a way he couldn't explain, as though the man in the dream wasn't just a figment of his imagination.
He slipped under the covers, the cool sheets momentarily soothing his nerves. His eyelids grew heavy, and soon, despite the unease gnawing at him, he drifted off to sleep.
The air was thick and oppressive, a fog that clung to his skin. Jeremy blinked, trying to clear his vision, but everything around him was blurry, like he was seeing through a film of dirt. He wasn't in his bedroom anymore. He stood in what appeared to be a long, decrepit hallway, the walls cracked and peeling, the floor beneath him creaking with each hesitant step.
"Hello?" Jeremy called out, his voice barely more than a whisper. The air seemed to swallow the sound, and no reply came.
He moved forward, the eerie quietness of the place making his skin crawl. The hallway stretched out before him, its end shrouded in darkness. His heart began to beat faster, the feeling of being watched gnawing at him. He glanced behind him. Nothing. Yet, the sensation didn't leave him.
The familiar screech of metal dragged across metal reached his ears—a sound he had heard before, in his nightmares. It echoed through the corridor, distant but unmistakable.
"No," Jeremy whispered, backing away instinctively. His pulse quickened, a cold sweat forming on his brow. He wasn't dreaming, was he? It felt so real.
He turned on his heel and ran, the panic taking over. The hallway seemed endless, stretching out into a void of darkness that swallowed his every step. The walls blurred, the air growing colder as he ran, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The screeching grew louder.
Suddenly, Jeremy was yanked backward by some unseen force. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him. Dazed, he struggled to push himself up, his hands slipping on the grimy floor. But before he could stand, he heard it—heavy, deliberate footsteps approaching, each step sending a tremor of fear through his body.
Jeremy scrambled to his feet, turning to face the source of the sound. Emerging from the shadows was the figure that had haunted his dreams. The man—if he could be called that—was tall, his face a grotesque patchwork of burns and scars, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic hunger. He wore a battered fedora and a torn sweater, its once vibrant stripes faded and dirty.
But it was his right hand that drew Jeremy's attention. The man held it up, revealing the blades. Four long, razor-sharp claws extended from his glove, glinting in the dim light. The metallic fingers flexed, and the sound of them scraping together sent a chill down Jeremy's spine.
"No… no, this isn't real," Jeremy muttered, backing away. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening, but there was no rational explanation. He had to wake up. This had to be a dream. It had to be.
Freddy tilted his head, grinning with a malevolent smile. "Oh, it's real, alright," he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. "You're in my world now."
Jeremy's legs gave way, and he stumbled back, crashing into the wall. The man—this thing—began to walk toward him, slow and methodical, as though savoring every second of Jeremy's terror.
"Please," Jeremy begged, his voice shaking. "I don't know who you are. I don't know what's happening!"
Freddy chuckled, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. "That's the fun part."
Jeremy tried to run, but his feet wouldn't move. It was as though the floor beneath him had turned to quicksand, dragging him down with each attempt to escape. He was stuck, and the nightmare was closing in around him.
"Come on, don't you want to play?" Freddy taunted, his voice a twisted mockery of normalcy. He raised his clawed hand, the blades catching the light as he approached. "I've got all night."
"No!" Jeremy screamed, the words tearing out of him. He lashed out, grabbing at anything he could use to defend himself, but there was nothing. He was helpless, trapped in a nightmare he didn't understand.
Freddy lunged, and Jeremy felt the sharp sting of the blades as they sliced across his chest. Pain exploded through him, raw and visceral, and he cried out. He fell to the ground, clutching at the wound, his vision blurring with tears.
"You can't run from me," Freddy growled, towering over him. "You're mine now."
Jeremy's body trembled as the pain intensified. He tried to crawl away, his hands slipping on the blood-slicked floor. But no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't escape. Freddy was always there, looming above him, the embodiment of every nightmare he had ever feared.
"Let me go," Jeremy whimpered, his voice barely audible. "Please…"
Freddy crouched down, his face inches from Jeremy's. "It's too late for that, kid. You're already dead."
With a swift motion, Freddy plunged his claws into Jeremy's chest. The world around him went black as the pain overwhelmed him, swallowing him whole. Jeremy's last thought before the darkness consumed him was the cold realization that he would never wake up again.
Jeremy's body was found in his apartment the next morning, sprawled on his bed with no visible signs of injury. To the outside world, it looked like he had died in his sleep, a sudden and inexplicable death that left no clues. The coroner would later rule it as cardiac arrest—his heart simply gave out in the middle of the night. But no one knew the truth of what had happened. No one knew that Jeremy Larson had fallen victim to a nightmare far worse than anything his waking life could have prepared him for.
The man with the claws was real. And in the world of dreams, there was no escaping him.
For Jeremy, it had been a fight for survival. A fight he was never meant to win.