Nightmare on Elm Street

MUSIC sneaks in — the unmistakeable NIGHTMARE THEME, creeping over her. NANCY forces herself, by sheer will, to look.

90. Ahead of her perhaps twenty-five feet, covered with a thick 90. plastic body bag through which we can barely see her face, is

TINA. Standing square in the middle of the street. A dark ooze of BLACK EELS roil out of its bottom, and at its top, the zipper CHATTERS down and the greenish-white face of TINA lolls out. She gestures, supplicating, her watery eyes desperate to convey some desperate message.

The MUSIC FALLS TO A HUSH.

91. NANCY backs away, eyes streaming tears. 91.

NANCY Glen, where are you! Wake up! Glen!

DEEP RAGGED VOICE

I’m here.

NANCY twists around in horror at the same instant the KILLER grabs for her face with his knife-fingers! The girl intinctively pitches back, then scrambles up and runs like hell!

NANCY Glen! Glen!!!

92. EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT. 92.

MOVING WITH NANCY at full gallop, running blind. She crashes through a sawhorse into a new sidewalk, sinking into the wet

cement over her ankles. The stuff sticks to her legs in long gluey globs and she can barely pull her feet loose.

The KILLER looms nearby, mocking her — his scalpel claws gleaming in the streetlight. He just misses the girl as she wrenches free and flees again, now so winded she can only stagger.

MOVING WITH THEM. Time after time NANCY just barely manages to elude the shadowy form, leaping from his reach by inches and pouring on more steam. It’s too close to even bother screaming now; and besides, that would take breath she doesn’t have. The only SOUND is of RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, RASPING BREATH and the KNIFE-FINGERS WHISTLING through the air.

93. EXT. NANCY’S HOME. NIGHT. 93.

NANCY tears across her front lawn and into the open front door of her home, SLAMMING it with all her might. There’s a tremendously satisfying CONCUSSION of wood against doorframe, and the LOCKS fall shut.

94. INT. NANCY’S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT. 94.

NANCY Glennn!!!

But her voice is garbled as if she’s under water, and there’s no answer. The only clue to Glen being there at all is his distant

SNORING. Innocent. Persistent. Deep.

NANCY stops, breath in shreds, face smeared with dirt and tears. Something is clawing the window in the dark of the kitchen. NANCY looks and catches the MAN prying at the glass with his big knife-fingers, the sharp blades SIZZLING against the edges of the glass as they crack it away from the frame. NANCY runs upstairs

in blind panic.

95. INT. NANCY’S ROOM. NIGHT. 95.

NANCY darts into her unlit bedroom, slams the door and locks it.

Safe at last.

She listens at the door. Nothing. She crosses to her bed. Next

second the KILLER dives through her window and seizes her in a shower of shattered glass!

NANCY twists and manages to grab the wrist of his knife hand with both of hers, barely keeping the blades from her throat.

The two fall backwards in a terrible, gasping struggle, crashing

onto NANCY’s bed. Her grip is broken — the MAN stabs — NANCY twists away, backed into a corner of bed and walls. Defenseless, she snatches a pillow up; the KILLER lashes out — disemboweling the pilow and sending a great gush of feathers flying. NANCY dives for escape in a virtual blizzard.

The KILLER manages to snare her with his other hand, and the two

crash across the bedside table to the floor, the table and all its contents cascading around them in a whiteout of feathers.

ANGLE AT FLOOR LEVEL — CLOSE ON NANCY’S AND THE KILLER’S HEADS. The blades inch towards the girl’s face — the drool of the grizzled shadow with the horribly scarrred face spills into her eyes. Feathers are everywhere; MUSIC is absolutely insane!

But just when the points of steel are less than an inch from her eyes, the old fashioned alarm clock thrown to the floor next to NANCY’s head goes off with a jarring RINGGGGGGG!

96. Instantly the MUSIC STOPS. And a moment later the room is 96. light.

WIDER as NANCY reels up, blinded by the sudden light, SCREAMING

AND FIGHTING on her bed.

ANGLE ON GLEN, lurching from his own sleep at the frightening

noise. He discovers NANCY pressed in terror against her headboard, clutching a pillow like a drowning woman would a straw.

It’s an intact pillow, and there isn’t a feather in sight.

NANCY stares incredulously at GLEN, then around the room, untangling herself from her bedclothes. Wary and furious, her voice hoarse.

NANCY

Glen, you bastard…

The boy looks at his friend in groggy alarm. She’s absolutely livid, more angry than he’s ever seen her, and more strange.

GLEN What I do?

He reaches for her — she flattens against the wall, eyes hard, and terribly hurt, too.

NANCY (low) I asked you to do just one thing.

Just stay awake and watch me — Just wake me if it looked like I was having a bad dream. (eyes wild) But you. You shit — what do you do — you fall asleep!

She stops herself, wiping a bit of spittle off her lip, alarmed at how out of control she’s become. And suddenly she breaks, sinking into her torn bedclothes and rubbing her head.

NANCY (CONTD) (mostly to herself)

I must be going nuts…

MARGE (OS) Nancy?

Her mother’s door opens OS.

GLEN

Oh, shit.

NANCY composes her voice as best she can.

NANCY Yes, mother?

MARGE’s flip-flops approach outside the door. GLEN barrels out

the window — NANCY dives for the bed, jams off the light and disappears under the covers. MARGE, bleary eyed herself, opens the door and flicks on the light.

MARGE (beat) You okay?

NANCY (weakly) Yeah. Just had a little dream. I’m falling right back to sleep.

MARGE

(beat) Okay… You need anything, just call.

NANCY Okay.

MARGE closes the door. NANCY immediately sits up and looks at

the window. A single bone-white feather floats down in the moonlight. Then it’s sucked outside and is gone.

97. EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT. 97.

GLEN’s CADILLAC CONVERTABLE careens into the parking lot and SCREECHES to a stop. GLEN and NANCY jump out and head for the

station.

GLEN You mind telling me what’s going on?

NANCY’s races into the station without answering.