Nightmare on Elm Street

NANCY slaps the phone down as if it were diseased — then, in pure rage, rips the thing’s cord from the wall.

Spent instantly, she puts the receiver back on the cradle and

lays it on her bed, chiding herself.

NANCY Brilliant. Now what if Glen calls?

She wraps the phone cord around the useless machine and puts it

on her bed, then sneaks back to the door. This time she gives an expression of relief, and opens the door. MARGE is gone.

Then the TELEPHONE RINGS again.

CAMERA MOVES IN ON NANCY as she turns slowly.

162. REVERSE IN HER POV. THE TELEPHONE RINGS again, despite the fact 162.

that the end of its janked-out cord is clearly visible. The NIGHTMARE MUSIC THEME slips right up our spines.

BACK ON NANCY. She starts to shake. She goes to the telephone as we WIDEN, unwraps it as it RINGS even louder. She’s shaking so hard by now she can barely manage to lift the receiver. MOVE IN CLOSE ON HER, so close we can HEAR her teeth chattering as she

brings the phone to her ear.

NANCY (CONTD) Hello?

The unmistakeable VOICE of FRED KRUEGER comes over the phone, garbled by time and unknown dimensions, but clear enough.

KRUEGER (FILTER) (triumphant) I’m your boyfriend now…

CLOSE ON THE MOUTHPIECE. It’s changed from a normal telephone

mouthpiece to an actual mouth — Fred Krueger’s mouth — and his

long, slick tongue flicks out and darts into the startled girl’s mouth!

WIDER — as NANCY explodes from her micro-dream — absolutely

mad. She jerks the telephone away from her and smashes it against her wall, then attacks it with her feet and hands, smashing it to smithereens.

ANGLE ON THE TELEPHONE PIECES. Normal pieces of a normal

telephone.

She pinches herself hard — until tears come and her flesh is nearly bleeding.

NANCY

I’m awake, I am awake. This is not a dream! I am —

She stops, realizing what Krueger meant.

NANCY (CONTD) My boyfriend…!

163. INT. NANCY’S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT. 163.

NANCY barrels down the stairs and across the darkened living room to the front door.

It takes her a moment of tugging and fumbling to realize the deadbolt is locked from inside. And there’s no key in it now.

She races to a porch window and throws it open, shaking and banging on the bars like a mad woman. But there’s no getting through. She staggers back, stymied and furious. Then somebody moves behind her in the dark.

VOICE (OS)

Locked.

NANCY jumps around in shock. Her mother has posted herself on the couch with her bottle.

NANCY (furious)

Give me the key, mother.

MARGE I don’t even have it on me, so forget it.

The word is final. NANCY runs past the woman to the back door,

to one window after the other, shaking bars and slamming locks and SCREAMING in teenage fury. But it’s no good. The house is her prison.

MARGE (CONTD) (drunk satisfaction) Paid the guy damn good to make

sure you stayed put. You ain’t goin’ nowhere, kid. You’re gonna sleep tonight if it kills me.

NANCY clenches her fists and screams at the top of her lungs, a heart-wrenching, eardrum-breaking cry of love in despair —

NANCY GLEEENNNNNN!

SMASH CUT TO:

164. INT. GLEN’S ROOM. NIGHT. 164.

CLOSE ON GLEN’S FROM DIRECTLY ABOVE. The MUSIC is tinny from the

earphones, the TV SOUND DISTANT AND ECHOED. The boy is breathing deeply now, slowly and gently. Then, unmistakeably, he begins to SNORE. Very faintly, far in the background, we can hear NANCY.

NANCY (OS) Glen!! Don’t fall asleeeeeep!

CAMERA PULLS BACK AND STRAIGHT UP as the SNORES merge with a weird, unsettling MUSIC CUE. The boy lies sprawled, still clothed, in the middle of his bed. Save for the bedside lamp, the room is dark.

FULL WIDE ANGLE FROM THIS HIGH SPOT looking down at him as from

the eyes of some great fly hung on the ceiling. THE MUSIC REACHES A TERRIFYING PITCH OF ANTICIPATION — THEN STOPS ABRUPTLY.

There’s a heartbeat’s pause. Then with tremendous force, two powerful arms shoot up beneath the red and yellow bedspread and grab GLEN around the waist!

Next moment the young man’s body is dragged straight down into the bed, as if some huge beast had grabbed him and heaved him down! His feet and his arms shoot up — there’s another hauling yank — and the boy disappears except for his hands and fingers — down into the pit in the middle of the bed! His hands are last to go, clawing for a hold. But soon they vanish as well,

dragging blankets and bedsheets, wires and stereo across the caved-in bed and into the abyss.

There’s HIDEOUS SCREECHING of MUSIC jamming in with GLEN’s ECHOING SCREAMS — then an unholy, sudden silence.

Next moment what’s left of GLEN is vomited up from the pit of the

nightmare bed…a horrible mess of blood and bone and hair and wires…streaming out and over the bed. Then the pit in the bed is gone as if it were never there.

Drawn by the terribly screams and struggle, GLEN’s mother bursts into the room. The women stares for one moment of horrified disbelief, then reels back and lets out the most god-awful SCREAM

imaginable. The cry splits the night.

165. EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT. 165.

The SOUND of the SCREAM CROSS-FADES WITH the WAIL of the AMBULANCE as it screeches to a halt at the curb, followed by two BLACK AND WHITES and an UNMARKED CAR. Uniformed POLICEMEN spill

out FOREGROUND.

LT THOMPSON and PARKER exit the unmarked car. By habit or by premonition THOMPSON glances at the house that was his home. His eye is caught by a movement; his daughter is at her upstairs window, white-haired, hollow-eyed, looking down on him through her bars. She gives a little wave.

Unnerved, THOMPSON waves back, then walks rapidly for GLEN’s home. MR LANTZ, pale as a ghost himself, waits on the porch; we can hear the mother’s WAILING inside.

166. INT. NANCY’S ROOM. NIGHT. 166.

CLOSE ON NANCY’S BIG OLD WINDUP ALARM CLOCK. Its big and little

hands sweep together at midnight.

BURN ON:

THE NINTH DAY

There’s a BABBLE of POLICE RADIOS, SIRENS WINDING DOWN, RUNNING FOOT-STEPS, SHOUTS, NEIGHBORHOOD KIDS and DOGS BARKING as CAMERA

LIFTS TO NANCY’S FACE. Set. Unafraid. Ruthless.

The girl pulls the window shade on it all, then looks at her bed.

NANCY Okay, Krueger, you bastard.

We play in your court.

167. INT. GLEN’S LIVING ROOM/NANCY’S KITCHEN — INTERCUT. NIGHT. 167.

168. LT THOMPSON is halfway across the living room when he stops. 168. Something dark and red is welling from a crack in the ceiling. One of his men is rigging a bucket beneah to catch the leaking. The telephone rings and PARKER picks it up.

PARKER Lieutenant. It’s your daughter. Says it’s urgent.

THOMPSON turns away from the dripping.

LT THOMPSON

(low) Tell her I’m not here, tell her…

PARKER Uh, she just saw you, sir…

THOMPSON nods, crosses and picks up the telephone. SCREEN SPLITS; we see both.

LT THOMPSON (CONTD) Hello Nancy.

NANCY

Hi daddy. I know what happened.

LT THOMPSON Then you know more than I do — I haven’t even been upstairs.

NANCY

(guessing) You know he’s dead though, right?