Nighthawk: A Nightmare in Bay City-pt. 2

After school the next day, I went to the public library and did some research on the Internet in hopes of finding some connection between the victims, but came up empty. After about thirty minutes of searching, I gave in and slid my laptop aside, resting my chin on my fist. There must be something! I know it! I pondered everything that I knew about the victims, but soon dozed off.

When I opened my eyes, the library was completely empty. The books that people had been reading now lay on the floor, their pages riffling, and the lights flickered as if the bulbs were going out. I looked out the nearest window to see nothing but a wall of thick, grayish-white fog. “Hello?” I called out, walking up to the front desk. Then, I heard a series of slightly echoing thumps, like someone lightly stomping their foot on the sidewalk. Mingling with them was a pair of voices, singing softly. “Is someone there?” I called nervously. The sounds grew louder as I approached the exit, and when I stepped outside, I found the source: three little blond-haired girls wearing frilly white dresses and playing jump-rope.

“One, two, Freddy’s coming for you…” they sang in perfect unison. “Three, four, better lock your door….”

Okay, I’m officially creeped out, I thought.

As I stepped into the street, the fog lifted, only to be replaced by pitch-black night; if not for the moonlight, I wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. Looking around, I saw that my surroundings had changed. Now, I was in the middle of a little suburban neighborhood, the sides of the road lined with trees.
“Where the hell am I?” I muttered, awestruck and annoyed at the same time. To my right stood a street sign that answered my question: ELM STREET. As I walked down the street, I heard the voices of the jump-rope girls, singing, “Five, six, grab a crucifix….”

After a few moments, I stopped dead in my tracks. A few yards ahead of me, silhouetted against the moonlight, stood a tall, lean man wearing a hat. The fingers on his right hand were long and pointed, almost like claws.

“Seven, eight, gonna stay up late....”

The man’s shadow on the pavement suddenly stretched towards me, rising up like a ghost. “Welcome to my world, bird boy,” he sneered in a deep, gravelly voice.

“Nine, ten, never sleep again....”

The man laughed as my face became stricken with fear. I turned to run, but the man was already there, clawed hand poised to strike. I raised a hand to defend myself as his claws came slicing down….

I jolted awake, barely suppressing a scream of pure terror. My heart was pounding like a bass drum in my chest, my breathing heavy. Feeling a warm wetness on my left arm, I realized that I had a bleeding gash in my hand.

I stared at the wound in wide-eyed disbelief. How is this possible?

Quickly wrapping the bottom of my shirt around my hand, I grabbed my phone and called Detective Ripken.

“Come on, pick up,” I muttered through clenched teeth as it rang.

After a moment, I heard Ripken’s voice: “This is Troy Ripken. You know what to do.”

I cursed under my breath. “It’s me. I think I know who our killer is. I’ll explain later.” With that, I hung up, and walked swiftly out of the library.