The Diary of Frederick Charles Krueger

Finally! Ya know, after writing this I can't stop but you know reality starts to kick in and pulls you away from your fantasies and sense of creativity. I have been working non-stop for the past couple of weeks that when a weekend does approach, it's catch-up-on-sleep day and clean-up-the-house day. Then the week starts over again. On top of that with the delay in cleaning my own home, I got sick for the first time in 2 years. I don't know what it was really, but I'm better now. Since I do have the time from all that crap, I'm gonna have this chapter be a little more...softer, in a way. Give it a break from the horror we all know and love of Freddy. BTW...I want to personally thank Lightning-Blue-Eyes for accepting my friend request on Facebook! :D. Now, that I can talk to you directly, I can get some other ideas with co-write, I don't know. But since it's been a while since I wrote and I know some of you like this idea (Darkness Takes Over, and Buffy Krueger), this chapter will be a little longer.



Keep dreaming and without further a due...



April 15, 1958



I know I said something about not writing in this filthy thing but you know, it's rather relaxing to me to figure out my battles and fights through here. No, I didn't get a chance to see Loretta but I did have a dream about her. We were sitting on a park bench watching the sun start to set. I remember holding her hand; so soft and gentle. Her skin reminded me of soft velvet and I felt her bones in her hands as she flexed her hand as she wrapped her fingers around mine. I smelled sandalwood and lavender from her perfume and it wasn't overbearing, just enough for a scent. She smiled at me with golden emerald eyes and I knew that she was falling in love. The glaze of water over her irises, almost a drunken feeling of lust. I could hear her talking but I couldn't make a sense of it. I just kept looking into her eyes; I was in a trance. I looked up at her and saw her began to fade, and she said my name so faintly, "...fred...", then I felt her hand disappear in my grasp. I looked up and saw that little girl again. She was smiling and giggling, "Play with me," she said and I saw her skirt ride up on her small thighs. I knew that this was trouble. I fought the urge but I still saw my hand reach between her legs as she opened them freely. I screamed and woke up. Sweat was drenched into my t-shirt. I gasped for air and came to my senses. I calmed myself and found yet again the devil staring at me between my legs. I just turned over and just laid there, hoping for a dream-less sleep.



Why is it that I can't get over that little girl? It's like a witch put a spell on me and when see a child, I get a woody. The funny thing is, I don't feel the same way when I look at an older woman. She could be the finest looking woman, with everything a guy would ever want and I wouldn't even look at her. But when I see a child, just some random child, my eyes are set on her or even him. This rage builds up and its accompanied by this feeling. You know how when you see a naked girl before you and she looks at you with that look, and you know it's the right time to feel that sensation? That's what I feel when I walk by a playground, a bus stop, school, grocery store. The little girl or boy holding their parent's hand. I just want to grab them, play with them and them send them on their way. An addictive feeling, I could say. I can't get enough. Since that girl walked pass me on the sidewalk, she awakened something in me and I know it can't be killed.



May 18, 1958



I hate the sign of spring. It's warm during the day and then it's cold at night. Like Mother Nature can't make up her fucking mind. Working a graveyard shift at that factory and coming home around 6, is possibly the coldest moment of the day. The day has started but night doesn't want to end. Like a mixing of 2 climates hitting each other at the same time, producing a colder wind, frost or dew on the green plants, budding as summer slowly approaches. When I do get home I just stay there. I don't dare to go out anymore with the fear of losing my mind. Yes, the voices have returned again and yes they pressure me to try and walkout the front door when I make lunch or just to take a piss.



"Why are you wasting this day? You do this every fucking time. One of these days I'm going to bug you enough to get your lazy-ass and enjoy the rapture of the outside, as well a few insides. We will nag you, haunt your dreams to the point where you blackout and we take over, fulfilling the desire and ecstasy of what you deny. Fuck what sin is. Sin is everywhere and you have already commited to it."



"I found peace within myself and was able to forgive myself for what I did to Underwood. It was out of blind rage"



"Blind rage? You call that blind rage? You know good and well that what you did, you had complete control over. We just watched from a far and admired you. Didn't you get a feeling of bliss when you sliced his neck, or watched his skin melt in the furnace? You can't tell me that was out of blind rage. You planned it, you carried it out; all on your own, with no help from us. Nothing can be forgiven for that. So think you're forgiveness is a way to deal with what you can..yet. One of these days, those urges will not be controlled. They will flow freely in your mind and you will start to like what you have done."



I can't stand it anymore. I feel like taking a ice pick and jamming it into my skull just to shut them up. But in a way they are right. At night I do find myself toying with the idea of how I can do this. What would take place? How would I execute? Who would be my first? What would I do with my first? When I do think of it, I get that urge and that feeling starts to tickle my lower stomach and it goes into something else. I keep wondering if I'm crazy or if I'm just normal. But do 18-year-old men have sexual urges and fantasies about 7-8 year-old girls and boys?



Sometimes, I wish I can just evade those feelings, those sudden urges...but I can't. I hope that I can get through this.



May 1958



Ok...I gave in and decided to go to the diner. I really didn't think much of it plus I was starving from not making anything for lunch. I walked into the diner and sat at my usual spot. The waitress came by and I ordered my black coffee. When she turned away, I got the faint smell of lavender..and sandalwood. Loretta! I looked up from my menu and saw her behind the counter with her hair pulled back, chewing gum as she reached for the coffee cups. I felt my eyes widen at her presence. My head was setting off fireworks in her honor that I actually got to see her! I couldn't help but chuckle at the fact. She came back and placed my coffee on the table.



"Hi Loretta. Long time no see." I said to her. She looked at me strangly at first and then it came together.



"Hi Fred. How have you been?"



We just talked briefly about the weather, changing seasons and how things were going on in our lives. I kept all the bad thoughts from interrupting my train of thought as I told her my past few months. I finally ordered my dinner and she wrote it down fast, with long strokes. She looked so determined as she wrote my order down, as if not to have the cook mess it up. It was only the special which was the Porterhouse Steak with Baked Potato, Green Beans and homemade roll. She could put down "Special" but I knew she was more complex than that.



"I'll get that in and I'll be back." She continued to write as she walked away from me. She was so cute in her peach skirt uniform with white shoes. She almost looked like a nurse with the get up but the apron gave it away as it said "Roadkill Cafe" on the front. I felt a half smile on my face as I continued to sip my coffee. It didn't really seem all that long when she returned and sat across from me.



"Ya know, I keep forgetting to ask you but I remember it now. Thanks for my purse. I had some important notes in there I had to have before I went home. Being in college it just seems only adequate if I kept a notebook and pen in there."

She told me she was a freshman at Springwood Community College, studying to be a journalist. I kinda put two and two together when she was ordering my dinner. She told me she grew up just outside of Springwood but she moved into town when she was 13. Her parents were re-located and her father started to work at the factory, the same one that I now work. I didn't realize how close I was to her. If I didn't screw around at home, I would have been able to see her out and about. She also told me that she was thinking about quitting college because she felt it wasn't getting her anywhere. She said when she wrote reports or essays she felt empty. She said it was like trying to fill up a person, capturing emotions, sight, sound, taste. How their hands felt when they rubbed dirt in between the ridges of their prints. I told her that with just that description, she could go and do so much with it. I told her to keep going with it, and make more of a hobby rather than an assignment. The more you work with what you have, the better you get at it. I loved how she smiled at me finally understanding what I was trying to say. She got up finally and went back to the order room, with my dinner in hand.



"Hey bobby! I'm taking my lunch break. Can you make me a grilled cheese and fries, please?" she asked out loud toward the back of the diner. I started to feel that I was actually on my first date..with a woman. I think I could get use to this.



We sat there, talked, ate and enjoyed each other's company. She talked a whole lot more than me. I just listed to stories when she was little, when she was in school. All I could do is just stare into her eyes and just admire how beautiful she was. It seemed only minutes since I had been talking to her, but it was for 2 hours.



"Well, I think I have to get back to work. Maybe you and I can talk again. Maybe somewhere else rather than my place of work," she said looking around her surroundings.



"You mean like a date?" I asked her, cautiously. I really didn't know how to ask a girl on a date; this fortunately was playing out like I wanted it to.



"Sure. A Date. How about Saturday Night? 7:00? bowling alley?"



"Ok. Bowling Alley it is, " I agreed.



She got up from the table and smiled as she grabbed the dishes in front of us. "Thanks for joining me for dinner. See you Saturday." She walked away with that confident stride you get when you have something go right.



I sighed a huge breath of anxiety. I got up, laid money on the table and strolled out of the diner. I walked in the morning dew and watched the water gather on my black boots. I looked around me and just observed the world before me. I kept thinking to myself, you know, Spring isn't all that bad. It's a season of growth.



June 1958



Oh my God. I really don't know how to go about this. It's more of a strange feeling and yet its comforting. For the past month I've been seeing Loretta, going out to the theatre, bowling, having dinner. It's so much fun. I don't think I've written for a couple weeks now. I'll tell you that girl can bowl. She made me out to be a fool on that alley. But when she would get ready to aim, her face was stone still, steady and absolutely in a trance. Her eyes were hard onto those pins, picking which ones would feel the hit of that 8 lb. ball. She would step cautiously with her right foot, picking up pace and then gracefully pulled her leg back in an arch, curling it under her left leg. The ball would spin and then turn right and catch the gap between the 1st and 3rd pin. POW! Strike. She would straighten up and spin around, gleaming her white teeth my way. I really didn't want to play bowling anymore. I just wanted to watch her, dancing up and down the alley, gracefully letting go of the ball and see her waiting impatiently for the impact of the pins. She would giggle at me when I would throw the ball down the gutter. Given, I was fuming on the inside but I had to be good in front of her. I didn't want her to know. Ever.



We must have played for hours as the minute hand circled around the numbers within the clock. We would go see movies, huddle in the darkness with the popcorn between us. She would scoot closer to me when we would watch scary movies. Her eyes would hide within my jacket, giving her shelter from the brief encounter of the antagonist. I would smile and smell her hair when she would dive below my chin. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the moment until she moved her head back up to the screen. I would catch her at times while she was trapped in the movie. She looked so innocent, so pure. I felt a relief when she would look at me and smile or even say my name. An absolute joy would fill me. I would forget my past, the hurt, the thoughts and it was like starting anew. It didn't matter anymore.



One night when we came back from the movie, I walked her home to her apartment. A little quaint place on the corner of Mulberry with pots full of daisies and carnations. She would reach into her purse, and jingle her keys as she searched for the key in the moonlight or within the glow of the street lights. Such a beauty when the light played off her features of her jaw, her cheekbones. It was looking into the eyes of the Holy Mother. A sense of calm would be felt and I wouldn't feel ashamed for being me. I would feel proud of who I am rather than hide in the shadows of the voices. While she fidgeted with the keys, I took the oppertunity and kissed her gently on the lips. I felt her soft lips mesh with mine and felt the wrinkled skin scrunch into a peck. My head spun and my heart skipped. She placed her arms around my neck and I weaved my fingers through her hair. It seemed like an eternity but we finallly broke. She blushed when she opened her eyes. I didn't want it to stop. I kissed her again and this time I opened my mouth. I invited her tongue, letting mine escape to her bottom lip. She reached out and I met hers with mine. Our tongues danced a wild tango within our mouths, widening to get a deep kiss. Finally, we broke and I smiled at her. It must have been a long time yet since I felt the urge to smile. She looked at me then finally opened her door. She leaned back gave me a kiss on the cheek and winked at me. She closed the door and I turned and walked down the dark sidewalk. I started to chuckle to myself and felt that I was finally knowing who I really was.



My name is Fred Krueger and I'm in love.



September 1958.



I don't know of how long I have been seeing Loretta but every day is like a new run in, a new embrace. The kiss that we have shared millions of times still felt like the first time in June. I would dream thoughts of her, running through wildflowers, waching her floral dress billiow in the breeze as lillacs would kiss her thighs. I felt like a new man when I was with her. I would always dread the times I would have to return to my home, lonely and miserable. Just when I thought that I would be ok, the voices would return. Provoking me to bad things. I didn't want to do these things, now that I have Loretta in my life. This was God's way of telling me I have a second chance a life; a way to the Kingdom of Heaven, to finally be with my mother. She would be so excited to hear that I'm seeing Loretta. I would imagine while I was roaming around the house, they would share stories about me when I was younger, how I would cause such a ruckuss and hear them giggle as they sipped iced tea. My dreams feel so real sometimes, that I start to think that it was my actual life. But...you and I both know that it was never that way. The beatings, bleeding and screaming was my childhood. The anger, the red sheen would always cover my young eyes whenever I would look at Underwood. These voices would talk to me, "get me away from the pain" as they would call it. It only fueled the rage that built within me after every slap, punch and kick. I do not wish to hear these voices. I want to be good. I don't want to have fantasies of little girls, skipping and lifting their dresses for me to play with their young, growing forbidden spots. I don't want my mouth to water when I would think and then find myself stroking my manhood wishing for the small hand to be replacing mine.



Loretta keeps me sane.



She holds me, comforts me when I feel that I am about to be bad. I don't want to be bad. I want to prove to the Lord, my mother and everyone else who hurt me that I can overcome anything. That I can be good. Still, I find myself int he middle of the night chuckling and moaning for that little girl to play with me. Feel her small fingers, rub up and down my manhood. I want to feel her small mouth on mine. I want to feel her insides and come within her, releasing what I have kept in me for the longest time. God, I have to stop talking about this. Loretta...you are my hope, my light within the darkness. Lend me your hand in this desperate time so that my bad thoughts and desires do not overtake my soul. I want you forever. I love you. I love you Loretta. I love you Loretta.



I love you forever, Loretta. My little bird, my sweet bird. My angel, my healer.



Sometimes I find myself forgetting her, like as if I have never met her. I say her name when I fall asleep in my cold bed, wishing for her to be next to me. Hearing her deep breaths when she would sleep upon my chest. Oh, God the sound of her heartbeat brings tears to my eyes now. This yearning for her touch intensifies with every breath I take. Every moment I'm not with her. I love to hold her hand and feel her lean fingers rub against mine as we walk down dim-lit streets. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing her and what I may become without her.



God cannot me comfort in this time of need.



She's the one that completes me.



Loretta...