This is my second fanfic ever, let alone Nightmare on Elm Street so if you have any criticism, I'll accept it but make it nice okay? :) And I'd love any tips and comments that you can share. Thanks xx

Disclaimer: - Everything in this was created by Wes Craven and everyone who helped with N.O.E.S... except for the stuff I create of course, that's mine. ;)

He'd been there since she could remember.

It had started when she was only just born. One cold December evening and she was nestled in her mother's arms, just drifting off to sleep.

"Mrs. Saxon, how are you feeling?" Nurse May poked her head around the corner into the private room where Diana Saxon and her newborn baby were resting.

"She's doing just fine, thank you May." Diana gave a warm, weary smile, and her eyelids fluttered shut for a moment. She yawned as her child gurgled. "I might just have a little nap for a while, if that's okay. Could you take Daniella to the nursery please?"

"Of course, honey." She gently lifted the baby out of her mother's arms and walked out of the room down the adjacent corridor. She walked in and placed her into cot number 11 and walked out of the room for her 5 minute coffee break.

As the emotionless child lay there, barely moving, her mind slipped out of consciousness as she drifted off to sleep…


Meanwhile, in the dream realm, a cot lay amongst the labyrinth of chains and pipes. The boilers were cold and the atmosphere lay still. The form of a baby appeared in the cot, as she opened her eyes, and looked around. She squirmed, but did not cry. Footsteps, heavy and slow, echoed around the room as a tall, lanky figure approached the cot. He took slow strides as his thick brown working boots thumped against the floor.

His long shadow loomed over the child, as she wriggled and squirmed softly in her bed. Her big blue eyes stared up at him with wonderment as a large grin wiped across his face.

"Well, what do we have here?" He circled the baby with his knives outstretched. She kicked and wriggled, anxiety sinking in. Then she began to cry. Suddenly he walked straight up to the cot and stared her straight in the face, his expression blank.

"Don't cry baby, I'll be seeing you again very soon. Sooner than you think…" He reached out his burnt hand and stroked her face, wiping away her tears. Then he raised his hand and clicked his fingers, and her small, fragile form began to fade away.


Nurse May walked straight up to cot 11 and picked up the crying child, and headed towards the door. There was a gentle knock on the door, and Diana was awoken from her slumber. She opened her heavy eyes and a look of satisfaction etched across her face as she was handed her baby girl. Darren was slumped in the chair beside her bed, very much out for the count, as he'd been up since 4 am after being woken by a pool of liquid spread across their bed.

"Thank you," she said quietly. As May began to exit the room she was called back. "Um, May, could I ask a favour of you please?"

She smiled sweetly. "Of course, Miss, what would you like?"

"Could you phone my sister, please? Her number's on the computer."

"Sure, right away." She walked out of the door in the corridor.

Diana looked down at her baby and smiled. "I love you my darling." She leant down and inhaled her beautiful scent. Except… it was no longer there. Instead of a newborn baby fragrance that most people are born with, the scent of burnt flesh was settled in its place. Diana didn't scream, nor did she cry. She acted normally and lay her child down in her crib, her face expressionless.

Then she stared at the ceiling and spoke very softly. "You want her? I'd like to see you try to take her, you bastard."

She looked down to her once again sleeping baby, and shut her eyes, praying for her child to have a dreamless sleep.


Daniella was back in the place that had become so familiar to her now, surrounded by cold pipes and hanging chains. She would rarely end up in the same spot, as the place was like a giant maze. Even after 15 years, she still kept getting lost. Well, not that she could walk when she was a baby.

Almost every night, she'd dreamt about the same place, with the same silent atmosphere and heavy smell of rust. She knew what would happen. She would walk around for a few seconds, and then she'd hear the sound of heavy footsteps, and the shadow of a lanky figure from around the corner. Then fear would rise up in her – she never got used to the effect that he would bring to the dream – and she'd wake up screaming before she got a chance to see his face. She'd always known him as the "Nightmare man."

Her dreams as a small child were occasional, just once every month or so. But when she managed to speak in full sentences and walk properly, the dreams became more vivid and frequent. She'd have one every week.

When she turned 10, she had one every night. Sometimes, she would even hear his heavy, drawn out breaths. There were times during the school day where she could swear someone was breathing on her neck, even when there wasn't a breeze.

Her life was pretty normal during the day. Every morning, after she'd calmed down, she would get up, have a shower and get changed. She'd dry her hair, and then have breakfast. She'd get her stuff ready, kiss her mom goodbye and walk to the bench on the corner of the street where she met her friend Katie, and headed off to school.

School was an average waste of daily time. Class, recess, class, lunch, class then freedom. She never really much cared for the unimportant lessons of life and she found them to be a bore. But it was still a reason to leave the house, and in a way it kept her sane.

Then she'd walk home with Katie, she'd do her homework, watch whatever's on the TV and then go to bed for yet another night of torture. Great.

But although she always woke up terrified, in a way she enjoyed her dreams. She always kept the hope that, one night, she would find the identity of her "Nightmare man", but she was always pulled out of her dream too early. Whenever she saw that shadow from around the corner, her heart would beat ten times faster and she'd get such an adrenaline rush that it was almost addictive. She knew it wasn't real, so what was the point of getting scared?

These were the thoughts that were rushing through her mind now, as she took careful steps through the musty air of the boiler room. This room had become so stuck in her mind that she had drawn pictures of it, from memory. She'd known how to do that ever since she was 12. Her mother said she was a natural… but why the hell was she thinking of her artistic skills at a time like this?

Her breathing became heavier, and she began sweating… which was strange because, she wasn't running. Then she noticed something even more strange. The boilers, they… they began to rumble. And the pipes began to emit steam. The air became hotter, and the faint blue glow that surrounded the room became a bright shade of red and green. It was like… everything was being brought back to life.

Suddenly, a new kind of adrenaline rose up in the pit of Daniella's stomach; and not the normal kind. Her eyes widened and her body began to shake as the ever so familiar shadow appeared on the wall.

His breathing got louder and louder until finally, his face was shown to her for the very first time.