Wildest Dreams

tw e n t y

When the morning alarm of my grandparents went off, I decided to prepare for the day as well. I had a quick shower, which mostly consisted of washing my hands thoroughly and repeatedly splashing warm water on my face. I wore a grey striped shirt over a dark long sleeve, paired it with denim and mismatched socks.

"You're awake early," Grandma noticed as I entered the kitchen. I sat quietly on the table as I helped myself to a plate of waffles and apple juice.

"Well, I didn't sleep at all," I replied. She and Grandpa looked at each other, concern written on their faces.

"Don't be afraid to talk to us about it, Maple," Grandpa told me, then returned to his daily newspaper.

"We definitely should talk." I cast another suspicious gaze at them before eating breakfast.

An hour later, they were sitting in the living room while I have the newspapers in my hands, ready to confront them about this life-wrecking mystery. I walked in without showing the nervousness and dropped the papers on the coffee table in front of them.

"Tell me who Fred Krueger is and why do you have news articles about him tucked away in the attic. I want an honest answer," I demanded without a quaver of uncertainty of what might happen next.

"These are from twenty years ago, nothing at all. This is none of your business, Maple," Grandma hissed, picking up the papers but my hand slammed on the table before she can take any.

"An honest answer. This is my business and you can't keep it from me anymore. You should've thrown these away twenty years ago if it's nothing at all," I answered back. I took another step forward and raised the newspapers to their faces.

"I need to know why you have these and the other papers in boxes. What do you have against Fred Krueger?!"

"Don't use that volume on us, Jess— Maple!" Grandpa stood up and warningly pointed a finger on me. I swat his hand away.

"You have his name and picture in the office, in the attic, and I'm pretty sure you have him in your past!"

"You're stepping out of the line, young lady."

"I'm not if I want to know the truth. Just tell me about Fred Krueger, the fire in the factory, and Mom's real reason to run away—"

Grandpa grabbed the collar of my shirt, making me stand on toes but I never let the fear come through. Grandma stood next to him, just watching.

"I'm warning you," he said through gritted his teeth. He snatched the papers from my hands, pushed me away, and I stumbled on my feet. I wasn't done yet with them.

"Where did you get those burns, Grandpa?"

The look on his face changed in a blink of an eye. He lost his intimidating, scornful façade and he became nervous.

"It's an accident," he replied after a beat.

"From around twenty years ago? Thought you could handle the heat of the devil?"

If glares could kill, I drew a bloodshed the moment I stepped into this room.

Grandpa sighed, running his hand on his face, then looking at its burns.

"Why do you want to know him so bad, Maple?" asked Grandma. "He's not someone that has connection to you."

"Well we're not sure about that yet, are we?" I countered, crossing my arms. "How about you guys tell me more and you can prove I'm just being a really bad granddaughter."

The two of them looked at each other then Grandpa motioned me to sit on the chair. I stayed standing in front of them.

"There was a man, a criminal who has been lurking in Springwood and kidnapping children and teenagers. Police found the kids dead with evidences of molestation. He became known as the Springwood Slasher. The town was in panic. Every parent worried for their child, they want them to safe 24/7," Grandpa started. He poured himself a glass of whiskey then continued to tell the story, roaming around.