Wes Craven's

                      A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

1A.   INT.  (MONTAGE).                                                   1A.

      all CLOSE and teasing.

              -- A man's FEET, in shabby work shoes, stalking
                 through a junk bin in a dark, fire-lit, ash-
                 dusted place.  A huge BOILER ROOM is what it
                 is, although we only glimpse it piecemeal.
                 Then we SEE a MAN'S HAND, dirty and nail-bitten,
                 reach INTO FRAME and pick up a piece of METAL.

              -- ANOTHER ANGLE as the HAND grabs a grimey
                 WORKGLOVE and slashes at it with a straight
                 razor, until its fingertips are off.

              -- CLOSE ON SAME HANDS dumping four fishing knives
                 out of a filthy bag.  Their blades are thin,
                 curved, gleaming sharp.

              -- MORE ANGLES, EVEN CLOSER.  We can HEAR the MAN's
                 wheezing BREATHING, but we still haven't seen
                 his face.  We never will.  We just SEE more metal
                 being assembled with crude tools, into some sort
                 of linkage -- a splayed, spidery sort of apparatus,
                 against a background light of FIRE, and a deep
                 rushing of STEAM and HEAVY, DARK ENERGY.

              -- And then we see this linkage attached to the glove.

              -- Then the BLADES attached to all of it.

              -- Then the MAN'S HAND slips into this glove-like
                 apparatus, filling it out and transforming
                 it into an awesome, deadly claw-hand with
                 four razor/talons gleaming at its blackened
                 fingertips.  Suddenly the HAND arches and STRIKES
                 FORWARD, SLASHING THROUGH a DARK CANVAS, tearing
                 it to shreds.

1.    EXT.  LOS ANGELES.  NIGHT.  (2nd Unit)                             1.

      HIGH PANORAMA of the San Fernando Valley, its night sky lit from
      within by a strange GREENISH LIGHT.  TITLES BEGIN.

      CAMERA TILTS DOWN and ZOOMS SWIFTLY into the valley's web of

                                                CUT TO:

2.    INT.  CONCRETE PASSAGEWAY.                                         2.

      TITLES CONTINUE as TINA GRAY, a strong girl of fifteen in a thin
      night shift, moves towards us down a dark concrete corridor.  Her
      steps quicken as TITLES appear in the portion of frame she leaves

      A subliminal COLLAGE of SOUND threads in and out of the MUSIC.
      Distant insane LAUGHTER.  Slamming iron DOORS.  A bleating animal
      CRY.  A LAMB, white and blank-faced, skitters across her path and
      on into the dark.  No reason why it's there.

      Then another SOUND, much nearer -- the slithering SCRAPE of
      something like fingernails across slate.  It sets our teeth on
      edge, twists the MUSIC, and sends TINA running.

3.    INT.  BOILER ROOM.                                                 3.

      Suddenly TINA's a tiny figure running among huge boilers steam
      pipes and catwalks -- a shadowed forest of iron and stone.  She
      stops, listening intently as the SOUND of tiny hooves suddenly
      turns into the rattle of DISTANT RAIN.

      Then she hears RIPPING FABRIC.

      Someone is shouldering behind a ragged screen of dirty canvas,
      approaching TINA.

      CLOSER ON THE CANVAS.  The long curved fingerblades suddenly
      punch through, flashing in the firelight, and begin ripping
      through the thick fabric, as easily as scalpels through flesh.
      They make a hideous, extended RIPPING SOUND.

      TINA rushes away, hands over her ears.

      ANOTHER ANGLE -- as the blinded girl stumbles backwards.  Then
      the canvas flaps free.  The blades are gone.  The TITLES END, and
      everything goes silent.

      CAMERA CIRCLES until TINA's looking right into our eyes.  The
      light from a nearby boiler pours through her thin night dress,
      leaving her naked and vulnerable.  Then a deep, ragged VOICE
      whispers at her as CAMERA CLOSES IN ON HER FACE.

                                      VOICE (O.S.)
                      One two, Freddie's coming for

      TINA opens her mouth to scream but only a dry, yellow dust pours
      out.  And at that precise moment a huge shadowy MAN with a grimey
      red and yellow sweater and a weird hat pulled over his scarred
      face lunges at her.  And it's his fingers that are tipped with
      the long blades of steel, glinting in the boney light and giving
      the hulk the look of an otherworldly predator.

      TINA dodges away, her legs suddenly elephantine and slow.  The
      MAN seizes the trailing hem of her nightgown and hauls her back.

      The MUSIC shrieks as TINA manages to tear free -- the MAN lurches
      after her with a hoarse SHOUT as we --

                                              SMASH CUT TO:

4.    INT.  TINA'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                      4.

      TINA convulses in bed with a SCREAM, looking around wildly.
      Someone is KNOCKING on her door.

                                      WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
                      You okay, Tina?

      TINA'S MOTHER sticks her head in with a worried look.  TINA sits
      up and blows out a breath, groggy.

                      Just a dream, Ma...
                              (more to herself)
                      Damn dream, is all...

      The woman, once attractive, ventures a step into the room.  A MAN
      hovers BACKGROUND.  TINA'S mother waves him away without looking,
      shoving a strand of bleached hair from her eyes.  She appraises
      her daughter.

                                      TINA'S MOTHER
                      Some dream, judging from that.

      She nods at TINA's nightshift.

      TINA looks down at her nightgown, only now aware of the chill
      penetrating it from the room.  There are four long slashes up its
      middle, cleanly cut as if by scalpels.

                                      MAN (OS)
                              (distant, annoyed)
                      You coming back to the sack or

                                      TINA'S MOTHER
                      Hold your horses.
                              (lower, to Tina as she
                               stands to leave)
                      You gotta cut your nails or stop
                      that kind of dreaming, Tina.  One
                      or the other.

      The woman shuts the door behind her.  TINA looks back to her

                      Oh, shit.

      She suddenly snatches up the cross that hangs over her head, her
      face white as her sheet.

                                              FADE TO BLACK

                                              BURN ON

5.                            THE FIRST DAY                              5.

                                      CHILDREN (OS)
                      One two, Freddie's coming for you...
                      Three four better lock your door
                      Five six grab your crucifix...

6.    EXT.  HIGH SCHOOL.  DAY.                                           6.

      FADE UP ON SHOT OF this large highschool and its crowds of
      STUDENTS.  FOREGROUND, TINA climbs out of a cherry-red 1959
      Cadillac convertible with two other students, best friend NANCY
      WILSON, and Nancy's boyfriend and owner of the car, GLEN LANTZ.

      FOREGROUND several GRADESCHOOLERS are playing jump-rope, and the
      old ditty they sing continues unbroken from TINA's bedroom.

                                      ROPE JUMPERS
                      Seven eight, gonna stay up late!
                      Nine ten -- never sleep again!

7.    MOVING ANGLE FAVORING NANCY.  She's a pretty girl in a letter      7.
      sweater, with an easy, athletic stride and the look of a natural
      leader.  GLEN, holding her hand, wears one of the school's
      football jerseys; a good-natured, bright kid.  Tina's in

                              (referring to kids' song)
                      That's what it reminded me of --
                      that old jump rope song.
                      Worst nightmare I ever had.
                      You wouldn't believe it.

      Nancy nods.

                      Matter of fact I had a bad dream
                      last night myself...

      TINA turns to NANCY, but before either can say more, ROD LANE, a
      lean, Richard Gere sort in black leather and New Wave studs joins
      up with them and interupts.

                              (to Tina)
                      Had a hardon this morning when
                      I woke up, Tina.  Had your name
                      written all over it.

      Tina cracks her gum with a look of withering indifference.

                      There's four letters in my name,
                      Rod.  How could there be room
                      on your joint for four letters?

      The guy's stopped in his tracks.

                      Hey, up yours with a twirling lawn

      He cuts off across the lawn.

                      Rod says the sweetest things.

                      He's nuts about you.

                      Yeah, nuts.

      TINA makes a face and rakes her fingernails across a tree as she

                                      TINA (CONTD)
                      Anyway, I'm too tired to worry
                      about the creep.  Couldn't get
                      back to sleep at all.
                      So what you dream?

                      Forget it, the point is, every-
                      body has nightmares once in a while.
                      No biggy.

                      Next time you have one, just
                      tell yourself that's just all
                      it is, right while you're having
                      it, y'know?  That's the trick.
                      Once you do that, you wake right
                      up.  At least it works for me.

      TINA looks at GLEN sharply.  He kisses NANCY and darts off for

                      Hey!  You have a nightmare too?

      But GLEN's gone.

                                      TINA (CONTD)
                      Maybe we're gonna have the Big
                      Earthquake.  They say things get
                      weird just before that...

      BELLS ARE RINGING, and STUDENTS crowding; TINA and NANCY are
      drawn into the crush.

                                              FADE TO BLACK

8.    EXT.  A VALLEY STREET.  NIGHT.                                     8.

      ANGLE ON A MODEST HOME; no car, just a couple of BIKES in the
      drive.  Every light in the house and yard is turned on.  We HEAR
      the rock group MADNESS played at a 'No adults home' volume.

9.    INT.  TINA'S LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                  9.

      ON GLEN, dialing.  Nancy and TINA are watching, giggling.

                      I can't believe his mother let him
                      come over here.

                      Right.  Well, she didn't, exactly...

      GLEN shoves a cassette into TINA's Ghetto Blaster.

                              (to TINA)
                      See, I got this cousin who lives
                      near the airport, that it's okay
                      for me to stay with, right?  So I
                      found this sound effects tape at
                      Licorice Pizza, and...

      The phone is answered.  GLEN jerks the tone arm off the record
      with a SCRUUPT!!

                                      GLEN (CONTD)
                      Hello, Mom?
                              (pushes the 'play' button)
                      Yeah, out here at Barry's.

      A JET PLANE begins to make itself heard on the tape.  GLEN moves
      the machine closer to the phone.  It's a big plane -- sounds like
      a 747 coming in for a landing.

                                      GLEN (CONT)
                      Huh?  Yeah, noisy as usual.  Glad
                      we don't live here -- huh?  Yeah,
                      Aunt Eunice says hello.

      The Jet is SCREAMING IN now, full flaps and howling like a
      monstrous banshee.  NANCY and TINA dissolve into muffled

                                      GLEN (CONT)
                              (shouting over the din)
                      Right, right -- I'll call you in the
                      morning!  Right!  Huh?  Yeah, sure,
                      I, huh?...

      Suddenly the tape goes silent.  GLEN blanches.  Next moment
      another ENGINE is heard, but this one is a FORD LOTUS screaming
      by at 180 mph.

                                      GLEN (CONT)
                              (reacting to his mother's
                      Uh... some kid's drag racing
                      outside, I think...

      The sound effect changes abruptly to a SPEEDING SEDAN -- and the
      ages-old SCREECH of BRAKES, last-second SCREAM and horrible
      COLLISION.  NANCY gamely tries to find the right button to turn
      it off, but misses.  There's a loud SCREEK of fast-forward mayhem
      -- Glen improvises desperately.

                                      GLEN (CONT)
                      Listen, Mom, I got to go -- I
                      think there's been an accident out
                      front -- I --

      NANCY jumps back from the cassette player -- WORLD WAR II bursts
      and SHOUTS of charging Huns.  GLEN makes a last-ditch dive and
      flings the cassette out of the machine.

      Blessed silence at last.

                                      GLEN (CONT)
                      Right.  I'll call the police.  No,
                      just some neighbors having a fight,
                      I guess.  I'm fine, I'm fine!
                      Call you in the morning!

      He hangs up and sags back.

                      Worked like a charm.


      TINA shoves another cassette in, and MICHAEL JACKSON'S 'THRILLER'
      blasts from the STEREO.  The kids relax, the CAMERA GLIDES PAST

      The WIND is moving the bare TREE BRANCH outside.  CAMERA PANS
      BACK to the comfortably threadbare room, uneasy.  We see NANCY
      poking at a flame in the hearth as TINA comes FOREGROUND to draw
      the drapes.

                      Nice to have a fire.

                      Really.  Turn 'er up a little.

      NANCY turns a nearby valve handle, and the gas fire climbs
      brightly over its artificial log.  TINA joins her, heartened.

                      Maybe we should call Rod, have him
                      come over too.  He might get jealous.

                      Rod and I are done.  He's too much
                      of a maniac.

                      He should join the Marines, they
                      could make something out of him.
                      Like a hand grenade.

      TINA laughs despite herself.  NANCY brightens.

                      See?  You've forgotten the bad
                      dream.  Didn't I tell you?

      TINA shakes her head, wishing she had forgotten.

                      All day long I been seeing that
                      guy's weird face, and hearing
                      those fingernails...

      NANCY looks up with a flinch.

                              (blinks, laughing)
                      That's amazing, you saying that.
                      It made me remember the dream I
                      had last night.

      TINA looks up.

                      What you dream?

                      I dreamed about this guy in a
                      dirty red and yellow sweater;
                      I dream in color, y'know; he
                      walked into the room I was in,
                      right, right through the wall,
                      like it was smoke or something,
                      and just stared at me.  Sort of
                      ...obscenely.  Then he walked
                      out through the wall on the
                      other side.  Like he'd just
                      come to check me out...

      The story has left the room deathly quiet.  Especially TINA seems

                      So what about the fingernails?

      NANCY remembers, imitating the frightful coincidence.

                      He scraped his fingernails
                      along things -- actually, they
                      were more like fingerknives or
                      something, like he'd made them
                      himself?  Anyway, they made
                      this horrible nose --

      TINA pales.

                      Nancy.  You dreamed about the
                      same creep I did, Nancy...

      The girls stare at each other.

                      That's impossible.

      They look at him.  He looks away, as if suddenly listening.



                      There's somebody out there,
                      isn't there...

                      I didn't hear anything...

      Then there's an unmistakeable SOUND.  A distinct SCRAPING against
      the house, just outside the window.  Something multiple, thin and
      sharp.  Something like metal fingernails.  NANCY's mouth opens a
      fraction of an inch.

10.   EXT.  FRONT OF HOUSE.  NIGHT.                                      10.

      REMOVED.  At last the door swings open and GLEN swaggers out.

                      I'm gonna punch out your ugly
                      lights, whoever you are.

      No answer but a slight RUSTLE in the bushes.  GLEN does a 180 and
      walks right back inside.  The girls prod him right back out,
      giddy with giggling fear.

                      It's just a stupid cat.

                      Then bring us back its tail
                      and whiskers.

      The girls push him farther.  GLEN edges towards the shadows.
      Then the SCRITCHING again.  GLEN stops; TINA edges back into the

                      Anyway, I don't have a cat...

      ANGLE INTO THE SHADOWS.  Turned from the girls, GLEN sobers,
      listening.  IN HIS POV we see the street.  Silent houses.
      Motionless trees on empty lawns.

                      Kitty-kitty?  Chow chow chow?

      Not a living, or dead, soul.  GLEN turns back to the girls with a
      shrug.  Instantly, a large FIGURE pounces and throws him to the
      ground with a shout.

      The girls SCREAM in panic and run for the house.

11.   REVERSE -- ROD leaps up and shouts like a sportscaster --          11.

                      And it's number thirty-six, Rod
                      Lane, bringing Lantz down just
                      three yards from the goal with a
                      brilliant tackle!  And the fans
                      go wild!

      ROD dances into the light, flashing a wild gypsy's grin at TINA.
      The girl's relieved and frightened at the same time.

                      What the hell you doing here?

                      Came to make up, no big deal.
                      Your ma home?

                      Of course.  What's that?

      ROD takes the spindly hand rake he's found and scraps the house's
      wall.  It makes a terrible SCRIIITCHING SOUND.  He grins and
      tosses it aside.

                      Intense, huh?
                              (sizes up the three)
                      So what's happening, an orgy or

                      Maybe a funeral, you dickhead.

      ROD wheels, a knife suddenly in his hand, as if ready to take
      Glen's throat out.  NANCY breaks between --

                      -- Just a sleep-over date, Rod.
                      Just Tina and me.  Glen was just

      ROD eyes GLEN, laughs and flips the knife closed and away,
      putting his arm around TINA's shoulder and laughing as if it's
      all a great joke.

                      You see his face?
                      Your ma ain't home, is she?
                              (to Nancy & Glen)
                      Me and Tina got stuff to discuss.

      He pulls TINA inside without further ceremony.


      But ROD's already got himself and TINA halfway through the living
      room, heading into the darker part of the house.

                      We got her mother's bed.
                      You two got the rest.


                      We should get her out of here...

      TINA darts to the front door, her blouse half out.

                      Hey -- you guys're hanging around --
                              (fake laughing/whine)
                      Don't leave me alone with this
                      lunatic -- Pleeeeze, NANCY!

      She disappears.  GLEN looks at NANCY.  Too innocent.

                      So we'll guard her together.
                      Through the night.
                              (moving closer)
                      In each others' arms like
                      we always said.

                      Glen.  Not now.  I mean,
                      we're here for Tina now,
                      not for ourselves.

      She kisses him lightly, then pushes him back.

                      Why's she so bothered by a
                      stupid nightmare, anyway?

                      Because he was scary, that's

                      Who was scary?

      NANCY turns and looks at him.

                      Don't you think it's weird, her
                      and me dreaming about the same
                              (GLEN looks away;
                               NANCY stares closer)
                      You didn't have a bad dream
                      last night, did you?

      GLEN gives her a funny look.

                      Me?  I don't dream.

      He takes her inside.  Over the SOUNDS of locks falling shut we

                                              FADE TO BLACK

13.   INT.  TINA'S LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                  13.

      FADE UP ON an old 50's CLOCK, one of those set into the black
      plaster body of a stalking panther.  It's just past 2 AM.

      PAN the cold hearth and darkened living room to REVEAL GLEN on
      the couch, cacooned in sheets.  He's listening miserably to the
      SOUNDS OF LOVEMAKING coming from the next room.  TINA peaks, ROD
      howls.  Then silence.

                      Morality sucks.

                                                      CUT TO:

14.   INT.  TINA'S MOTHER'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                             14.

      This is a slightly larger room than TINA's.  Adult.  Female.
      Spare in its appointments.  The streetlight throws the narrow bed
      into broken shadow and light.  TINA AND ROD lie in each other's
      arms in the middle of the big bed.  Satiated.

                      I knew there was sometihng
                      about you I liked...

      ROD yawns into the pillows, happy.

                      You feel better now, right?

                      Jungle man fix Jane.

                      No more fights?

                      No more fights.

                      Good.  No more nightmares for
                      either of us then.

      He pulls the covers over his head.  He's almost out already.

                      When did you have a nightmare?

                              (under the blankets)
                      Guys can have nightmares too,
                      y'know.  You ain't got a corner
                      on the fucking market or something.

      He rolls over, practically snoring, and pulls another cover over
      his head.  A dirty red and yellow cover.

                      Where'd you get this snotty old

      SNORES from ROD.  TINA yawns, turns off the light and snuggles
      against ROD, pulling the cover gingerly over herself, too.

15.   INT.  TINA'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT                                       15.

      CAMERA MOVES across the room of the original nightmare to find
      NANCY alone in TINA's bed, staring at the slanting ceiling above
      the bed.  Thinking.  We can just hear her HEART beating.  She
      sighs and turns on her side.

      Immediately the wall above her head turns a faint reddish hue,
      with a broad yellow smear across its center.  All unseen by
      NANCY, the wall begins to pulse in exact time with her heart's

      CLOSE ON NANCY'S FACE.  She closes her eyes.

      presses against the surface from the inside.  The plaster buldges
      out as if suddenly elastic, taking the shape of the thing
      pressing from inside -- taking the shape of a man's face.  The
      face opens its mouth.  The knives rake through the surface.

      ANGLE ON NANCY -- as plaster dust snows down on her.

      She jerks awake, sitting bolt upright.  The face retracts
      suddenly -- the wall is normal.

      ANGLE DOWN ON NANCY as she looks up to the ceiling, touching her
      hair and feeling the plaster dust.

      REVERSE IN HER POV TO THE CEILING.  There are three parallel cuts
      in the plaster there.  About eight inches long.  As if cut by
      sharp knives.  Nothing else.

      Back on NANCY.  She draws the covers around her and shivers.
      Eyes wide open.

16.   EXT.  TINA'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.                                        16.

      Not a car or person in sight.  A stricken breeze dies in the

17.   ZOOM IN on the window of the room where TINA sleeps.  By the time  17.
      we're FULL IN CLOSE on it, the air is again still as death.  A
      moment later a PEBBLE bounces off the pane.  The NIGHTMARE THEME
      appears in the lower registers and holds its breath.

      Another PEBBLE strikes, with a sharper RAP.

18.   INT.  TINA'S MOTHER'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                             18.

      CLOSE ON TINA'S FACE as her eyes open.

19.   REVERSE IN HER POV.  Another PEBBLE clatters off the glass.        19.

20.   TINA raises slowly.                                                20.


      SNORES FROM ROD.  TINA sits up.

      PAST HER TO THE WINDOW.  The WIND MOVES AGAIN; the trees brush
      the window with their shadows.  Then another pebble.  RAP!  TINA
      slips to the window.

21.   EXT.  TINA'S BACKYARD.  NIGHT.                                     21.

      She looks out on an old yard with a patch of bananna trees
      rattling in the Santa Ana winds.  It seems deserted, though the
      welling dark won't let her be sure.  Then another pebble -- PAP!

      -- hitting with a sharp RACK FOCUS.

22.   A LOW ANGLE TO WINDOW as TINA jumps back, startled.  She hadn't    22.
      seen that one coming.  But she's drawn back to the glass out of
      curiousity, straining to see in the dark.  It's as if the stones
      are materializing out of thin air.

23.   INT.  TINA'S MOTHER'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                23.

      WHAP!  This time a heavier stone, and a thin crack bristles
      across the glass.

                      Who the fuck you think you are,
                      whoever you are?

24.   EXT.  TINA'S BACK YARD.  NIGHT.                                    24.

      appears in the doorway.

                      Somebody there?

      She can see through the backward to a yawning gate and the back
      alley.  No one there.  But a word is spoken, as if by wind.


      TINA straightens, unable to swallow.  There's a ragged, obscene
      GIGGLE.  Deep in the throat.  Phlegmy.

                      Who the hell is that?

      TINA charges across the yard and through the gate, the MUSIC
      chasing after.

25.   EXT.  A SERVICE ALLEY.  NIGHT.                                     25.

      She brakes in the middle of the alley and whirls around.
      Listening.  Shivering in the same thin slashed nightgown.

      A sharp crank of METAL, and fifty feet down the alley the lid of
      an ash can rolls from the dark like a huge tin coin and spirals
      noisily down.

26.   LOW REVERSE ACROSS LID TO TINA.  Despite herself she comes over    26.
      and touches it.  She comes up with long worms on her fingers.

      Next moment the exact same shambling MAN from her nightmare
      staggers into view fifty feet behind her.  TINA falls back into
      the shadows, shaking the worms off her fingers in repulsion.  The
      MAN turns and starts directly for her, something shining on his
      right hand as he spreads his arms wide.  He starts scraping the
      steel FINGERNAILS along a cinderblock wall.  Orange sparks spurt
      out -- his arms elongate until they reach from one side of the
      alley to the other -- and TINA is cut off from her home!

      CLOSE ON HER as the SCRAPING of the blades gets louder and
      closer.  She begins to shake uncontrollably.

                      Oh, shit, please God...

                              (softly, approaching)
                      This is God...

      He holds up his steel-tipped hand like a surgical-steel spider.
      TINA runs for her life.

27.   WIDER ANGLE IN THE ALLEY -- a terrifying, all-out footrace         27.
      between the girl and her pursuer.  The MAN is fast; the distance
      between them closes with each heartbeat.  TINA overturns ashcans
      -- claws her way through a rotten back fence, hammers against a
      window.  Ashen FACES appear, recoil, pull curtains closed and
      disappear in fright.

28.   EXT.  TINA'S STREET.  NIGHT.                                       28.

      TINA runs out onto front lawns, SCREAMING for help.  No help
      comes.  In fact, the only response is for all the porch lights on
      the block to be turned off.  The MAN roars out from behind a tree
      -- a tree too narrow to have hidden him -- nearly upon the girl!
      TINA runs in panic -- at last making her own home, only to be
      trapped against its locked front door.

      She hammers against its thick wood.

                      Nancy!  Open the door -- Nancy!

      The MAN slows.  He has TINA now and knows it.

                      She's still awake.  Nancy can't
                      hear you.

      TINA turns and looks full at the approaching MAN.  Smudged by
      deep shadow, he's big and hideous.  He wears the same dirty
      yellow sweater from the first nightmare -- from the wall-hanging
      and blanket too -- and has the same sagging hat and leering grin
      over his misshapen face.  And on his fingers are the steel

29.   CLOSE ON HIM as he takes the blade on the end of his right index   29.
      finger and lopes off one of the fingers of his left hand.  Then
      another.  We SEE the PIECES OF FINGERS fall past TINA'S face in

      ANGLE ON THE GROUND of the FINGERS squirming on the ground, one
      flopping onto TINA's naked foot.

      TINA leaps back, sickened, and begins stamping on then as if they
      were huge bugs.

      The MAN snaps up his arm and the FINGERS fly back into place on
      his hand.  He leers at TINA -- then suddenly lunges at her,
      sweeping with his cutting hand!

      TINA's no weak sister -- blocks his arm, deflecting the spines,
      and grabs the MAN's ugly face with her other hand.  But the face
      only slides off to the bone.  The MAN presses in, and TINA
      contorts in horror as the knives slash across her shoulder --
      cutting her deeply.

29A.  TINA staggers backward, GROANING, her foot now inexplicably        29A.
      caught in bedclothes!  She falls over her bed's conformter, twists
      away from the man and, like a child, pulls the cover over her!
      The skull-faced MAN crushes down, and there's a fierce grappling
      -- punctuated by his GRUNTS and the girl's DEAFENING SCREAMS --
      and they both become totally wrapped in the comforter -- until
      they're beneath it, fighting for life and death.

30.   INT.  TINA'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                      30.

      ROD lurches up into CLOSE UP in the lightless bedroom,
      half-awakened by the tremendous struggle somewhere, somehow
      inside the dark bed.  ROD grabs groggily, lifting the blanket.

30A.  IN HIS POV we glimpse the dark underside of the blanket -- see     30A.
      TWO SHADOWY FIGURES flailing and clawing under the bedspread --
      TINA and the MAN -- or a shape that could be a man -- raging
      against each other.

      ROD drops the blanket and leaps from the bed, scared full awake
      and terrified.  Then the horrible TINA's GASPS change to the
      CRIES of a terribly wounded victim.  ROD instantly jerks back the

      IN HIS POV we SEE TINA struggling and flailing along on the
      sheets, the MAN nowhere in sight.


      Suddenly TINA -- eyes turned inward to her tormentor -- give an
      awful jolt -- her arms and legs are spraddled as if by
      overwhelming force and pinned to the bed.  Next instant, her
      nightgown flies apart and four long gashes chase across her
      torso.  From no visible instruments!  A huge irrigation of blood
      floods the bed.

      Terrified, ROD dives for the light -- but at the same moment
      something invisible grabs TINA, wielding her body in the air and
      bringing it around in a swift blow that knocks ROD crashing into
      the light -- smashing it to bits.

31.   CLOSER ON HIM as he struggles around.  In the blue FLASHES OF      31.
      ELECTRICITY ROD sees TINA sliding up the bedroom wall in a dark
      smear, dragged feet first!

      ANGLE ON ROD -- paralized by terror!

      ANGLE ON TINA'S DYING EYES -- moving with her up the wall and
      bumping around the corner onto the ceiling.  She's just looking
      at who's dragging her, eyes glazing.

      REVERSE IN HER POV -- to the shadowy, horrendously ugly MAN,
      dragging her with fierce glee across the ceiling, literally
      swabbing the ceiling with her bloody body.  SEEN in FORCED
      PERSPECTIVE, the SHOT carries her across a great distance without
      seeming to get anywhere -- as if the ceiling is an endless

      ANGLE DOWN ON ROD -- on his hands and knees -- the lamp next to
      him blurting blue SPARKS and STROBING the nightmare room.  ROD'S
      screaming up at TINA'S invisible tormentor.

                      What the hell's going ON here!

      ANGLE ON TINA -- upside down, clawing at the hanging swag lamp
      above her mother's dressing table -- desperate for some anchor.
      But she's dragged away from it.  The lamp swings back, it's wires
      gushing more SPARKS.

      CLOSER along the ceiling as TINA rakes a long furrow in the
      ceiling with her fingernails.  But her eyes are glazing,
      glazing.  And then they fall closed.

      WIDE, UP ON THE CEILING, as her body suddenly flops loose,
      hanging for an awful moment by the feet over the bed.

      REVERSE ON ROD -- staring like a terrified child.

                      Tina --

      REVERSE IN HIS POV -- as the body falls like a sack of rocks onto
      the devastated bed, in SLOW MOTION, striking with a huge splash
      of blood.  A sick, awful GIGGLE floats around the room, then
      ECHOES off into infinity.  ROD staggers up, staring around as if
      hoping to see this phantom.

                      You motherfucker!  I'll kill you
                      for that!

32.   INT.  TINA'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                      32.

      NANCY is sitting straight up in bed, terrified.  The CRIES of ROD
      are ringing through the whole house.  She forces herself to move
      -- bolting from the bed despite her terror and sense of dread.

33.   INT.  HALLWAY.  NIGHT.                                             33.

      NANCY flies into the dark hall -- crashing directly into SOMEONE
      who lurches out of the dark before her.  She SCREAMS and jumps
      back --

                      What the hell's going on!?

                      Oh -- jeez -- Glen!  Rod's
                      gone ape!

                                      ROD (OS)
                      I'll kill you!

      NANCY grabs the door; it's locked; she pounds on it.  BAM! BAM!

      Things fall into sudden, awful silence on the other side.  GLEN's
      voice cracks with fear.

                      Rod, you better not hurt Tina...

      ROD erupts into terrible HOARSE LAUGHTER AND SOBBING.  Then they
      hear BREAKING GLASS.

      GLEN barrels into the door like the football player he is.  The
      frame splinters and they're in.

34.   INT.  TINA'S MOTHER'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                             34.

      Just inside the door NANCY slips and goes down hard.  GLEN finds
      her in the dark more by touch than sight.

                      You okay?

                      Yeah.  Something slippering all
                      over here...

      No answer.  The room is quiet as a tomb.  Except for a stead
      DRIPPING, from all over.  Then GLEN finds a LIGHT SWITCH.

      On the CLICK the devastation is revealed.  There's BLOOD
      everywhere: up the walls, over the clawed ceiling, soaking the
      killing floor of the bed, and pooling in the dark red puddle
      where NANCY has slipped and fallen.

                      Oh, shit...

      NANCY wobbles up and sees TINA in the center of the ravaged bed.
      Unmistakeably and utterly dead.  NANCY presses against the wall,
      then contorts and chokes.

                                      GLEN (CONTD)
                      I...I'm gonna call the cops --

      He bursts from the room.

35.   TIGHT ON NANCY.  She turns away from the body in repulsion,        35.
      sticking her head through the shattered window ROD LANE used for
      his escape, sucking in the cold night air and moaning.

                                              FADE TO BLACK

36.   EXT/INT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                  36.

      FADE UP ON RED LIGHTS and SIREN as an unmarked POLICE CAR speeds
      to the curb.

      LT DON THOMPSON, a decent-looking man in his mid-40's, exits and
      punches a cigarette from his pack.  His shaken aide, a uniformed
      patrolman named PARKER, greets him.  (CAMERA FOLLOWS them from
      the car straight into the station and eventually to THOMPSON'S

                      Lieutenant Thompson.  Sorry to
                      wake you, but --

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      I'd've canned your ass if you
                      hadn't.  What you got?

      PARKER stumbles to open the door for THOMPSON as the man bulls
      into the station at a furious pace.

                      Her name was Tina Gray.  It
                      was her home.  Father abandoned
                      ten years ago, mother's in
                      Vegas with a boyfriend.  We're
                      trying to reach her now.

      LT THOMPSON grimaces as if he knows the story.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      What's the Coroner got to say?

                      Something like a razor was
                      the weapon, but nothing
                      found on the scene.

      THOMPSON is already to the desk officer SERGEANT GARCIA.  The big
      MAN shoves him a sheaf of papers --

                                      SERGEANT GARCIA
                      Leautenant.  You know who --

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Where is she?

                                      SERGEANT GARCIA
                      I put her in your office...

      PARKER scurries after.

                      Looks like her boyfriend did
                      it.  Rod Lane.  Musician type,
                      arrests for brawling, dope --

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Terrific.  What the hell was
                      she doing there?

                      She lived there.

                                      LT THOMPSON
OMIT 37.              I don't mean her --                           OMIT 37.

38.   INT.  INTERROGATION ROOM.  NIGHT.                                  38.

      THOMPSON enters his office and confronts NANCY and her mother,

                                      LT THOMPSON (CONTD)
                      I mean you.
                              (accusingly, to Marge)
                      What the hell was she doing there?

      MARGE SIMSON is in her middle thirties; a good-looking woman
      despite the hour and circumstances.

                      Hello to you, too, Donald.

      THOMPSON stops, the steam suddenly out of him.  The girl is a
      wreck and he winces to see it.

                                      LT THOMPSON

      THOMPSON glances at PARKER and the other UNIFORMED COPS who are
      in the room.  As a man they head for the door.  There's no
      question who the boss is here.  THOMPSON turns to NANCY.  She
      fumbles a smile.

                                      LT THOMPSON (CONTD)
                      How you doing, pal?

                      Okay.  Hi, dad.

      NANCY's dress is dark with dried blood, her skin clammy and the
      color of paste.  MARGE shoots her ex-husband a worried glance.
      THOMPSON pulls a chair close to NANCY.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      I don't want to get into this now,
                      god knows you need time.
                      But I'd sure would like to know
                      what the hell you were doing
                      shacked up with three other kids
                      in the middle of the night --
                      especially a delinquent lunatic
                      like Lane.

      NANCY weaves.

                      Rod's not a lunatic.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      You got a sane explanation for
                      what he did?

      The girl is shredding a Kleenex, staring off.

                      Apparantly he was crazy jealous.
                      Nancy said they'd had a fight,
                      Rod and Tina.

                      It wasn't that serious...

                      Maybe you don't think murder's
                      serious --

      NANCY sits bolt upright in her chair, her eyes flashing.

                      She was my best friend!  Don't
                      you dare say I don't take her
                      death seriously!
                              (lower, near tears)
                      I just meant their fights
                      weren't that serious.

      The girl holds the woman's eyes a moment, then looks away.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                              (to herself)
                      She dreamed this would happen...

                                      LT THOMPSON

                      She had a nightmare about somebody
                      trying to kill her, last night.
                      That's why we were there; she was
                      afraid to sleep alone.

      A tear splashes off the arm of her chair.

                      She's been through enough for one
                      night.  You have her statement.

      The mother and daughter rise; THOMPSON raps on the door and
      PARKER opens it.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                              (to MARGE)
                      I suggest you keep a little better
                      track on her -- she's still a kid,

      MARGE wheels on him.

                      You think I knew there were boys
                      there!?  You try raising a
                      teenager alone.

      Then she and the girl are gone.  THOMPSON glares at PARKER.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                               (low to PARKER)
                      See they get home okay.

      PARKER shoves his hands in his pockets.  ON HIS FACE we

                                              FADE TO BLACK

39.   INT.  NANCY'S KITCHEN.  MORNING.                                   39.

                                              BURN ON

                              THE SECOND DAY

      FADE UP ON MARGE SIMSON opening a new bottle of gin, pouring
      herself a careful shot, drinking it, then chasing it with
      coffee.  Nearby a TV drones the morning news.  We can't yet see
      the SCREEN.

                                      TV NEWSCASTER (OS/FILTER)
                      In the headlines this morning --
                      a local teenage girl was brutally
                      murdered during an all-night party.

      MARGE TURNS, startled, seeing NANCY coming downstairs.

      The girl looks a little better than she did in the Police
      Station, but her eyes are still red-rimmed, and a vacant stress
      masks her face.  She looks to the TV.  Stops.

                                      TV NEWSCASTER (CONTD)
                      Police say the victim, fifteen-year
                      -old Christina Grey, had quarrelled
                      earlier with her boyfriend, Rod
                      Lane, a punk rocker with a history
                      of delinquency.  Lane is now the
                      subject of a city-wide manhunt.
                      According to --

39A.  The TV PICTURE has begun featuring a HANDHELD NEWSREEL SHOT of a
      dark rubber BODY BAG being carried to a CORONER'S VAN.  Just
      before the thing is lifted inside, TINA'S bloodied, white ARM
      slips from its zippered side and lolls into the dark night air.
      A man rudely shoves it back inside and pulls the zipper up the
      rest of the way.

39B.  WIDER -- as NANCY pales visible.  MARGE darts to the TV and slaps
      it off, then turning to NANCY.  She looks at the girl a moment,
      then goes to her and hugs her.

                      Where you think you're going?


                      I could hear you tossing and
                      turning all night, kiddo.  You've
                      no business going to school.

      NANCY pulls away, determined.

                      I gotta go to school, Mom.
                      Please.  Otherwise I'll just
                      sit up there and go crazy
                      or something.

      MARGE studies her face a moment.

                      Did you sleep?

                      I'll sleep in study hall, promise.
                      I'd rather keep busy, you know?

      She absently drains the woman's coffee cup -- then pecks her

                      Right home after.

                                      NANCY (cont'd)
                      Right home after.  See you.

      MARGE watches the girl disappear outside, then lights a cigarette
      from the one already burning in her fingers.

40.   EXT.  STREET.  DAY.                                                40.

      MUSIC slips back in, subtle but tense as we TRACK with NANCY as
      she walks alone down a sidewalk edged with thick flowering
      Oleander.  She cocks her head, puzzled, as if sensing something.
      MUSIC mounts.  NANCY looks across the street.

40A.  REVERSE IN HER POV.  A MAN is over there in dark clothes, reading  40A.
      a newspaper, but really watching her.

40B.  NANCY shrugs and continues on, then stops and looks back again.    40B.

40C.  IN HER POV we SEE the MAN is gone.                                 40C.

40D.  Next moment -- with a MUSIC STING -- a BLOODIED HAND jumps out     40D.
      from the opposite direction, clamps over NANCY'S mouth and drags
      her into the bushes.

41.   EXT.  BUSHES.  DAY.                                                41.

      NANCY struggles, twisting against the powerful assailant.

      A WIDER ANGLE REVEALS ROD LANE -- barefoot, clad only in jeans
      and leather jacket, still caked with dark blood.  The rest of his
      skin is pale as a ghost's.

                      I'm not gonna hurt you.

      He releases her warily.  NANCY makes no move to run or scream,
      even though several STUDENTS pass on the nearby sidewalk.  This
      reassures ROD just a little.

                      Your old man thinks I did it,
                      don't he?

                      He doesn't know you.
                              (eyeing the blood)
                      Couldn't you change?

                      The cops were all over my house.
                      They'll kill me for sure.

                      Nobody's gonna kill you.

      He runs his hands down his face, trying to believe that.  The two
      study each other.

                      I never touched her.

                      You were screaming like crazy.

      NANCY says this without accusation, just cool observation.

                      Someone else was there.

                      The door was locked from your

      ROD grabs her hard.  His muscular body tenses.

                      Don't look at me like I'm some
                      kind of fucking fruitcake or
                      something, I'm warning you.

                                      VOICE (O.S.)
                      Morning, Mr. Lane.

42.   The boy jerks around.  NANCY's father, his .38 leveled right at    42.
      ROD's belly, eases out of the bushes.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Now just step away from her, son.
                      Like your ass depended on it.
                      I'm warning you.

      ROD backs away, looking once at NANCY with a look of terrible
      sadness.  Then he dives out of the bushes and runs like hell.

      THOMPSON snaps his revolver to fire -- but instinctively NANCY
      jumps between --


      THOMPSON jerks his gun into the air, furious.

                      Jesus -- are you crazy!?

      He plunges past the girl.

42A.  EXT.  STREET.  DAY.                                                42A.

      ROD races like a frightened animal across the lawns -- but is
      soon cut off by the PLANECLOTHESMAN NANCY saw watching her before
      -- and then TWO UNIFORMED POLICEMAN, who close from another
      angle.  The chase is short and pitifully off-balance, and ROD is
      soon wrestled to the ground.  Next moment one of the cops is
      holding ROD'S knife into the air for THOMPSON to see.  THOMPSON
      looks at NANCY, as if to say 'I told you.' Background, ROD'S
      SHOUTS can be heard as he's shoved into a SQUAD CAR.

                                      ROD (O.S.)
                      I didn't do it -- !
                      I didn't kill her, Nancy!

      The car's door slams and ROD is gone.  NANCY turns to her father,

                      You used me, daddy!

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      What the hell you doing going to
                      school today, anyway -- your
                      mother told me you didn't even
                      sleep last night!

      NANCY spins angrily and walks away.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Nancy!  Hey!

      But she just keeps going.

                                              FADE TO BLACK

43.   INT.  CLASSROOM.  DAY.                                             43.

      FADE UP ON an ENGLISH TEACHER and CLASS, NANCY among the kids,
      trying to concentrate.

                      According to Shakespeare, there
                      was something operating in Nature,
                      perhaps inside human nature itself,
                      that was rotten -- a canker, as
                      he put it.

      The TEACHER'S eyes glance across the room.  ANGLE ON NANCY;
      yawning but listening.

                                      TEACHER (CONTD)
                      Of course Hamlet's response to
                      this, and to his mother's lies,
                      was to continually probe and
                      dig -- just like the gravediggers --
                      always trying to get beneath the
                      surface.  The same was true in a
                      different way in Julius Caesar.
                      Jon, go ahead...

      She nods to a SURFER who's been waiting uncomfortably in front of
      the class.  He squints at his book and begins, the recitation a
      struggle between baked and salted brain and the poetry of the

                              (reading aloud)
                      Uh, In the most high and palmy
                      state of Rome...

                                      WISEGUY STUDENT (O.S.)
                      California's the most high and
                      palmy state, man.

      The SURFER halts with a grin; KIDS snicker.

                                      ENGLISH TEACHER
                      Can it.

      She glares them back into silence.  The SURFER starts over, as we

      She's nodding off now, barely able to keep her eyes open in the
      warm, close boredom of the classroom.

                                      SURFER (O.S.)
                      In the most high and palmy state
                      of Rome, a little ere the mightiest
                      Julius fell...
                              (NANCY's head pitches
                               forward; she jerks it
                               back up, barely awake)
                      The graves stood tenantless, and
                      the sheeted dead did squeak and
                      gibber in the Roman street...

44.   NANCY's head has sunk again, eyelids drawn as if by enormous       44.
      weight.  By the time her cheek's against the desk, the SURFER'S
      VOICE is ECHOED and DISTANT.  But another voice, TINA'S, is very
      near, very much present.  A sad, thin plaint.

                                      TINA (O.S.)

      NANCY gives a start.  Her eyes lock onto something.

45.   REVERSE.  TILTED SIDEWAYS, IN HER HEAD'S POV, we look straight     45.
      out through the open doorway of the classroom into the hall.
      There, standing in a black pool of fluid, is a full-sized rubber
      body bag.  Dark red and yellow.  Weaving slightly, the merest
      suggesting of movement within it.

46.   BACK ON NANCY, sitting upright, wiping the sleep from her eyes,    46.
      shaking her head like a punchy prozefighter.  She looks back out
      the door.

47.   REVERSE IN 'NORMAL' POV -- the hallway is empty.  But there's a    47.
      dark smear on its floor tiles.

48.   NANCY looks nervously towards the rest of the class.  No one else  48.
      has noticed a thing outside the door.  All are dumbly spellbound
      by the SURFER, who now recites like a deep-voiced robot, his face
      wreathed by white hair.

                      O God, I could be bounded in a
                      nutshell and count myself a king
                      of infinite space, were it not
                      that I have bad dreams...

49.   ANGLE BACK ON NANCY.  She slips from her seat, eye warily on the   49.
      teacher and class.  But no one turns as she disappears through
      the doorway.

50.   INT.  SCHOOL HALLWAY.  DAY.                                        50.

      NANCY turns and looks both directions.  No sign of anybody.

                                      TINA (O.S.)

      NANCY wheels and sees the bag, prone on the tiles at the far end
      of the hall, at the end of a long snail's trail of slime.  A pale
      hand thrusts out of it.  A moment later, as if pulled by
      invisible gravity, the bag slides out of sight into an
      intersecting corridor.


      NANCY starts running for it.

51.   ANGLE AT THE CORNER as NANCY races blindly around the turn and     51.
      smashes straight into a BODY lunging at her from the opposite
      direction!  Both go down.

52.   ANGLE AT THE FLOOR.  A dazed freshman HALLGUARD cranks herself up  52.
      on one elbow.  She wears a plastic plaque on her red and yellow
      sweater that reads 'Hall Guard'.  Her nose is bleeding from the

                      Y-you're not supposed to run.
                      W-where's your pass -- you got a

      NANCY leaps up --

                      Screw your stupid pass!

53.   She turns -- sees the body bag halfway down this darker, narrower  53.
      hall, upright again.  But just as she sees it, it tips and
      pitches headlong through a doorway -- like some godawful rotten
      tree finally timbering down.  She can hear the sickening
      CRUNCHING of it falling down a long flight of stairs.

      NANCY runs for it again.  The HALLGUARD staggers up FOREGROUND,
      bleeding profusely from her eyes and ears.

                      Hey, no running in the halls!

      The HALLGUARD raises her hand and we see it's tipped with long
      metal spikes.

      REVERSE ANGLE AT THE DOOR as NANCY runs up.  NANCY turns to check
      out the HALLGUARD.  She's vanished.  NANCY turns and looks down
      through the open door.  The MUSIC sweeps through a strange,
      brooding movement of strings, mounting towards the NIGHTMARE

54.   INT.  A STAIRWELL.                                                 54.

      NANCY edges into the stairwell and looks down.  Looks like
      there's a fire somewhere down there, from the way the orange
      light dances.  But there's only a low WHITE NOISE.


      No answer.  NANCY starts down the stairs.

55.   INT.  BOILER ROOM.  DAY.                                           55.

      NANCY comes off the stairs into a dank boiler room.  The smear
      trail is there.  It runs behind a cracking, red-hot boiler the
      size of a diesel locomotive.  Everything about the place feels
      dreadfully wrong, and the MUSIC is deep into the NIGHTMARE THEME
      when it pauses.

      TIGHT ON NANCY.  Slow terror moves into her face.  There's a low,
      sinister GIGGLE.

56.   REVERSE IN HER POV -- we see a tangle of pipes, shadows, and the   56.
      tainted fire of the huge boiler.  Then from behind this, deeply
      shadowed but still identifiable, steps TINA's KILLER.  The same
      filthy red and yellow sweater and slouch hat, the same melted
      face twisting into a smile, the same GARBLED LAUGH as he slides
      the long blades from beneath his shirt and fans them on the ends
      of his bony fingers.

                      Who are you?

                      Gonna get you.

57.   The leering MAN brings the bloodied scalpel-fingernails across     57.
      his own chest, splitting a nipple.  Yellow fluid pours out.
      MAGGOTS and WORMS.

      NANCY forgets the question -- jerks around and flees in blind
      panic into the first opening she sees -- a dark pipe tunnel.

58.   INT.  PIPE TUNNEL.                                                 58.

      shambles towards her; FOREGROUND NANCY breaks into a run.

      The killer sprints -- NANCY tears ahead into darkness.

      She flees deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of steaming,
      SIZZLING pipes, squeezing through smaller and smaller openings.
      The killer is just yards behind her, and soon she's trapped, just
      as TINA was before her.

      She presses her back to the wet bricks.  There's no hope of
      fighting him off, for NANCY is not as strong as TINA.  But she is
      smart as hell, and thinking even in this nightmare.  So by the
      time the creep has raised his knives to strike, NANCY has
      realized something.  She wheels and shoves her arm against one of
      the scalding steam pipes.  In the sme split second we HEAR her
      flesh scald, we

                                                      CUT TO:

59.   INT.  ENGLISH CLASS.  DAY.                                         59.

      NANCY lurches up SCREAMING, arm raised to ward off the invisible
      blow, books clattering to the floor -- other GIRLS nearby SCREAM
      in surprise as she stumbles over them.  Then she stops, confused
      and groggy from the nightmare.

      WIDER ANGLE.  EVERYBODY is staring at NANCY as if she's gone
      mad.  The ENGLISH TEACHER rushes over, herself frightened by the
      terror in the girl's eyes.

                      Okay -- Okay, Thompson!  Every-
                      thing's all right now -- Nancy!.

60.   NANCY jerks around with panicked eyes, expecting the killer to     60.
      leap from any direction.  But there's only the sea of staring

      NANCY begins methodically picking up her books.

                      I'll call your mother.

                      No!  No, really, I'm fine.  I'll go
                      straight home.  I'm okay.

      She marches for the door.

                      You'll need a hall pass!

      But the girl's gone.

61.   EXT.  THE SCHOOL.  DAY.                                            61.

      NANCY walks out of the building, shaken.  Then she pauses at one
      of the big pine trees out front, stops and rests her head against
      its bark, teeth set.  NANCY starts to shake, and next second
      she's sobbing like a broken-hearted, frightened child.        OMIT 61A.
62.   But she shakes herself silent.  Wipes the tears away with a slash  62.
      of sleeve.  She rubs her arm absently, lost in thought, then
      reacts in surprise and pain.  She lifts her arm and stares at the
      spot she's touched.

      INSERT ON HER ARM and the BURN there; about the size and shape of
      a half-dollar.

      WIDER ON NANCY.  Utterly, chillingly confused.

62A.  TINA, against the tree inches from NANCY, (SC 7) -- turns to her and
      says --

                      Couldn't get back to sleep
                      at all.
                      What you dream?

63.   EXT.  A BUSY STREET.  DAY.                                         63.

      NANCY is walking quickly, head erect, jaw set.  Then she enters
      her father's Police Station.

64.   INT.  VAN NUYS POLICE STATION.  DAY.                               64.

      NANCY crosses directly to the GARCIA.

                      My dad here?

      GARCIA looks up from his paperwork.

                                      SERGEANT GARCIA

      LT THOMPSON emerges from another room, uneasy to see NANCY.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Decide to take a day off after

                      Dad, I want to see Rod Lane.

      THOMPSON doesn't miss a beat.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Only family allowed, Nancy.  You
                      know the drill.

                      Just want to talk to him a second.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      He's dangerous.

                      You don't know he did it.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      No, I know, thanks to your
                      own testimony, that he was
                      locked in a room with a girl
                      who went in alive and came
                      out in a rubber bag.

      NANCY flinches; her father shows the first signs of color in his

                      I just want to talk to him.
                              (beat, lower)
                      Please, Dad.

      THOMPSON shifts almost imperceptibly towards GARCIA, then turns
      back to NANCY.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Make it fast.

                                                      DISSOLVE TO:

65.   INT.  CELL AREA.  DAY.                                             65.

      A GUARD exits pushing a cart of food trays.  NANCY waits warily
      until he's gone, then looks back to ROD LANE.  ROD looks more
      like a captured coyote than a human; haggard, ribbed, expecting
      poisoned bait.  His hair is wet, his clothes are borrowed jeans
      and work shirt.

                      And then what happened?

                      I told you.
                      It was dark, but I'm sure there
                      was someone else IN there, under
                      the covers with her.

      NANCY reacts.

                      How could somebody get under
                      the covers with you guys
                      without you knowing it?

                      How the fuck do I know?
                      I don't expect you to believe

      NANCY studies his encrypted eyes.  Surprisingly, she looks like
      she just might believe him.  She leans closer with a new

                      What he look like?  You get
                      a look at him?

      He looks away.


                      Well then how can you say
                      somebody else was there?

                      Because somebody cut her.  While
                      I watched.

      Now the place is so quiet you can hear heartbeats.

                      Somebody cut her while you watched
                      and you don't know what he looked

      ROD smiles an insane smile, stuck with a reality no one will

                      You couldn't see the fucker.
                      You could just see the cuts
                      happening, all at once.

      NANCY gives a twitch.

                      What you mean 'all at once'?

                      I mean, it was as if there were
                      four razors cutting her at the
                      same time.  But invisible razors.
                      She just... opened up...

      By now he's picking at a clot of dark blood on his jacket, as if
      it was a scab on his own body.  Then he catches NANCY watching
      and turns away to the back of the cell.  He smashes his fist into
      the wall -- bone-crushing blows that scare the wits out of


      He stops, and his fist is dripping blood as he says in a small,
      sad voice.

                      I probably could've saved her
                      if I'd moved sooner...  But I
                      thought it was just another
                      nightmare, like the one I had
                      the night before.
                      There... was this guy who had
                      knives for fingers...

      CLOSE ON NANCY, unable to swallow the gorge rising in her
      throat.  ROD turns to her, and to his surprise she's ashen.

                                      ROD (CONTD)
                      Do you think I did it?


                                                FADE TO BLACK

66.   EXT.  ELM STREET / NANCY'S HOME.  NIGHT.                           66.

      down the block.  A CAR goes by, then this pleasant residential
      street falls into silence.  CAMERA has MOVED IN on NANCY's
      well-tended two-story home.

67.   INT.  NANCY'S KITCHEN.  NIGHT.                                     67.

      The house is in shadow.  Alone, MARGE scrapes the last of the
      evening's dishes and slips them into the dishwasher.  Neither she
      nor her daughter has touched the food.  But MARGE is well into a
      bottle of gin; her appetite for that is growing, right along with
      her dread.  She turns and looks up the stairs, calling.

                      Nancy, don't fall asleep in

                                      NANCY (OS)
                      I won't.

                      Get into bed.

68.   INT.  UPSTAIRS BATHROOM.  NIGHT.                                   68.

                      I will.

      NANCY'S in the tub, so drowsy she can hardly rinse without
      falling asleep.  The water in the tub is opaque with suds.

      CLOSER ANGLE, AT WATER LEVEL ON NANCY.  Her eyes droop.  She
      slides closer to the surface of the water, letting its heat sooth
      her nerves.  Her eyes stare straight up, glazed; her breathing

      REVERSE, across to her legs, crooked, one knee on each side of
      the tub.  There's a ripple in the water between.  Then something
      tiny and shiny breaks the surface between them.  It pops up with
      a slithering MUSIC CUE and catches a sliver of light.  Then it
      begins to rise.

      Higher and higher it rises, soon accompanied by another, then two
      more shining, gleaming blades, and then the full glove and dark
      hairy hand and then the wrist and arm, straight up light an evil
      sapling between the girl's knees, the knives bloosoming into a
      bright flower of razor sharp steel in the air, moving over the
      girl's belly.  The hand rears back, the claws arch to strike.

                                      MARGE (OS/APPROACHING)

      MARGE raps on the door.  The instant she does NANCY jerks up,
      opening her eyes groggily.  The dark wet arm, hand and knifes are


                                      MARGE (OS)
                              (through the door)
                      You're not falling asleep,
                      are you?  You could drown,
                      you know.

                      Mother, for petesakes.

                                      MARGE (OS)
                      It happens all the time.
                      I've got some warm milk all
                      ready for you.  Why don't you
                      jump into bed?
                      I'm gonna turn on your electric
                      blanket, too.  C'mon, now.
                              (then she's gone into
                               another room)

                      Warm milk.  Gross.

      She slides down to water level again, and sings softly,
      thoughtfully to herself.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                      One, two, Freddie's coming for
                      you, three four, better lock
                      your door, five six, grab your
                      crucifix, seven eight gonna
                      stay up late, nine ten, never
                      sleep again...

      The next instant she's jerked with incredible violence straight
      down beneath the surface of the tub -- as if the bottom had
      suddenly dropped out and she was in a bottomless well!

68A.  EXT.  UNDERWATER SHOT.  NIGHT.                                     68A.

      LOOKING UP PAST HER ANKLES we SEE NANCY pulled sharply down into
      really deep water, the dim light of the surface and bathroom
      beyond receding with each yank.  And yet she somehow flails and
      gasps and struggles back towards the surface, managing by pure
      panic to break the surface with her hands!

68B.  INT.  HALLWAY OUTSIDE BATHROOM.                                    68B.

      MARGE rushes to the door and listens, alarmed at the wild
      SPLASHING audible through the locked door.

                      Nancy!  NANCY!

68C.  EXT.  UNDERWATER SHOT.  NIGHT.                                     68C.

      MARGE'S VOICE reaches to the girl, who thrusts up through main
      force and breaks the surface with her head and shoulders.

68D.  INT.  BATHTUB.                                                     68D.

      Gasping and choking, NANCY breaks the surface of her bathwater,
      like a drowning sailer getting one last chance.  Her mother's
      VOICE booms over her, ECHOED and frantic -- and the loud BANGING
      on the door finally opens her eyes.  She turns and calls gasping
      to her mother --


      REVERSE ON THE DOOR -- as MARGE, using the old hangar through the
      doorhandle truck, makes it into the room.  She rushes across to
      the tub.  NANCY is staggering up in the bathwater, again with
      solid porcelain beneath her feet.

                      I told you!  Hundreds of people
                      a year drown like that!

      The mother throws a towel around the gasping girl, helps her from
      the tub and begins drying her like a child.  NANCY looks like
      she's likes paralized with some sort of weird dread.

                      You okay?


                              (not believing it for
                               a minute)
                      To bed with you, c'mon.

      MARGE rushes out to get the room ready.  NANCY turns and looks at
      herself in the cabinet mirror, then opens the medicine chest and
      begins a quick, furtive search.

      CLOSER as she takes out the box of No Doz and slips it into her

OMIT SCS. 69 & 70-------------------------------          OMIT SCS. 69 & 70

71.   INT.  HALLWAY.  NIGHT.                                             71.

      NANCY emerges from the bathroom yawning.  MARGE follows as the
      girl plods obediently to her room.

                      No television, forget the
                      homework, no phone calls.

                      No, Mother.  Yes, Mother.
                      No, Mother.

72.   INT.  NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        72.

                      And no school tomorrow, either.
                      you take a little vacation, relax
                      and rest for a change.

                      Yes, Mother.  G'night.

      MARGE offers a smile, and a little yellow pill.

                      Take this, it'll help you sleep.


      NANCY pops it in her mouth and swallows obediently.  MARGE leans
      to her with a kiss.

                      Sleep tight, don't let the
                      bedbugs bite.

      MARGE goes out, relieved.  NANCY closes the door, leans against
      it and spits the pill into her hand.  She tosses it straight out
      her window and takes a NoDoz.

                                              FADE TO BLACK

73.   OMIT                                                          OMIT 73.

74.   FADE UP ON INSERT OF TELEVISION SCREEN.                            74.


75.   PULL BACK to REVEAL NANCY propped up in bed, furtively watching.  Or  75.
      is she just thinking?  A bedside CLOCK reads 12:45 pm.

      The girl YAWNS.  She shakes herself violently and sits up
      straighter, forcing herself to concentrate on the movie.

75A.  ON THE TELEVISION SCREEN.  A DIVER struggles to keep facing a      75A.
      large circling shark.

75B.  ON NANCY.  Her eyes droop shut -- then she jerks awake, rattling   75B.
      her head as if it were a radio drifting off station.  She tumbles
      out of bed, throws open the window and takes a deep breath of the
      cool night air.

76.   EXT.  NANCY'S HOUSE AND STREET.  NIGHT.                            76.

      HIGH ANGLE, AT SECOND-STORY LEVEL.  NANCY looks directly across
      the street to a lighted, open window.  Its curtains, sucked out
      and waving in the night breeze, give the only motion to the
      deserted street.

      Then someone pitches out of the dark at her.  NANCY gives a YELP
      -- then clamps her hand over her mouth as she recognizes GLEN,
      balanced precariously on the rose trellis outside her window.

                      Sorry!  Saw your light on.
                      Thought I'd see how you were.

      She gets herself together, barely.

                      Sometimes I wish you didn't live
                      right across the street.

                      Shut up and let me in.  You ever
                      stand on a rose trellis in your
                      bare feet?

76A.  INT.  NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        76A.

      NANCY looks over her shoulder to make sure her mother hasn't
      heard.  GLEN's already through her window and planted on her
      bed.  NANCY points to a chair.

                      If you don't mind.

      GLEN crosses to the chair and plops down.

                      So.  I heard you freaked out
                      in English class today.

      There's no maliciousness in his voice, and the familiar frankness
      is actually comforting to NANCY.

                      Guess I did.

                      Haven't slept, have you?

                      Not really.

      NANCY tries to smile, but can't fake it very well.  GLEN looks
      her over.

                      You look dead and rained on, if
                      you want the ugly truth.  And
                      what you do to your arm?

      She shrugs, trying to keep it casual.

                      Burned myself in Englsh class.

      She hazards a look in the mirror, and her jaw drops.

                      M'god, I look twenty years old.
                              (turning back to him)
                      You have any weird dreams last

                      Slept like a rock.

                      Well at least I have an objective
                      wall to bounce this off.
                      You believe it's possible to dream
                      about what's going to happen?


                      You believe in the Boogey Man?

                      One two, Freddie's coming
                      for you?  No.  Rod killed Tina.
                      he's a fruitcake and you know it.

                      You believe in anything?

                      I believe in you, me, and
                      Rock and Roll.  And I'm not
                      too sure about you lately.

      NANCY thinks.

                      Listen, I got a crazy favor
                      to ask.


                      It's nothing too hard or anything.
                      I'm just going to... LOOK
                      for someone, and... I want
                      you to be sort of a ...guard.

      GLEN makes the Twilight Zone sound.


                      Okay, okay.
                      I think.

      She comes very close to him.

                      You won't screw up, right?  I
                      mean, a whole lot might depend
                      on it.

      The way she's looking at him gives him the creeps.

                      Okay, I won't screw up.

77.   Nancy takes a deep breath.  Then without another word turns off    77.
      the TV and the light.

                                      GLEN (IN DARK)
                      Jesus, it's dark in here.

                      Shhh.  Now listen, here's what
                      we're gonna do...

78.   EXT.  ELM STREET.  NIGHT.                                          78.

      FADE UP ON NANCY, still in her pajamas, walking through the
      shadowy streets near her home, listening for the slightest
      sound.  We MOVE with her.  But nothing, not even the dog barking
      earlier, is there now.  NANCY peers into the darkness of lawns
      and trees behind her.

                              (stage whisper)
                      You still there?

      Across the street and a distance away, GLEN steps from behind a

                      Yeah.  So?

                      Just checking -- keep out of

      GLEN throws up his hands in exasperation and walks back out of
      sight.  NANCY turns and looks down between the houses, deep into
      a dark alleyway.  Then she forces herself to walk into it.

79.   EXT.  ALLEY.  NIGHT.                                               79.

      MOVING WITH HER as she makes herself go deeper and deeper into
      shadows.  Each time she pauses and waits, the MUSIC grows more
      threatening and expectant.  The feeling is of immense tension --
      we're sure the killer will come screaming out on her at any

      But he doesn't.  In fact absolutely nothing happens, and NANCY
      emerges from the far end of the alley unscathed.  The only thing
      strange is that she now finds her self looking across the mall to

80.   EXT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                      80.

      The Police Station.  It takes her a little by surprise, it just
      seems to have appeared.

      MUSIC creeps into the NIGHTMARE THEME as NANCY whispers hoarsely
      back down the dark alley.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                      Still there?

81.   EXT.  ALLEY.  NIGHT.                                               81.

      We only HEAR the DISTANT VOICE, slightly ECHOED.

                                      GLEN'S VOICE (OS)
                      Still here!

                      On your toes, right?

      NANCY stares into the dark trying to see him, but she can't.  She
      turns back and makes up her mind to move without him in sight.

82.   EXT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                      82.

      MUSIC MOUNTS as we MOVE WITH NANCY across the lawns to the police
      station, creeping to the first lighted window she sees.  It's a
      low, barred basement window, and NANCY reacts as soon as she
      looks through it.

83.   INT.  ROD'S CELL.  NIGHT.                                          83.

      NANCY'S POV down into ROD LANE's cell.  The boy is on his rough
      cot, twitching in disturbed sleep.  And a long SHADOW is sliding
      across the wall.

      A big SHAPE appears in the shadowed corridor outside the boy's
      cell, and as IT walks closer NANCY can barely see it's the
      shambling, grimly scarred man with the filthy red and yellow
      sweater and strange slouch hat pulled across his brow.  The
      KILLER from all of their nightmares.

      And this giant shadow of a man passes through the bars of the
      cell, like so much evil Jello.  Halfway through he pauses,
      turning to check over his shoulder.  We see the bars clearly
      penetrating his body, going in his head, passing out his ankles.
      Then he turns back to ROD and moves forward, and within another
      heartbeat is beside the boy.

84.   EXT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                      84.

      NANCY draws back sharply, swallowing in terror.  She looks behind
      her for help.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)

      No answer.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)

      The street is absolutely deserted.  There is no motion, and no
      sound save one: the distant but unmistakeable sound of GLEN

                                      NANCY (CONTD)

      A beat of silence after the shout's echoes die, then the steady,
      boyish SNORES again.  NANCY swears under her breath and jerks
      back around, forcing herself to look again into ROD's cell.

85.   INT.  ROD'S CELL.                                                  85.

      IN HER POV -- the killer picks up ROD's bedsheet and tests it
      between his powerful hands.  Without thinking, NANCY bangs
      against the glass.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                      Rod!  Look out!

      The KILLER wheels around, locking eyes with NANCY.  The girl goes
      white.  The man's face is in the light, and it's horrible --
      seething with hatred and a twisted, insane intelligence.

      The hold of those eyes is only broken when ROD rolls up on an
      elbow with a deep, troubled GROAN.  The instant ROD does this,
      the KILLER fades into the shadows in the cell.  But even then his
      eyes hold on NANCY's until the last second he's visible.

      ROD looks around the cell groggily, runs his fingers through his
      matted hair, then collapses back on his pillow.  No matter how
      hard NANCY screams, ROD never once looks at the window.  He just
      pulls the twisted covers about his shoulders and succumbs once
      more to sleep.

	And now the bed sheet is no longer on the bed.  The KILLER,
      materializing out of the shadow again, is holding it between his
      hands like a garrote.  He looks up and leers at NANCY, then moves
      for ROD.

86.   EXT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                      86.

	ANGLE BACK ON NANCY.  She pounds on the window, then turns in
      frustration and yells into the night.


      She turns back to the cell in desperation.

87.   OMIT                                                          OMIT 87.

88.   INT.  ROD'S CELL.                                                  88.

	IN NANCY'S POV we look into a cell that is quite deserted save
      for ROD.  Sleeping peacefully.

89.   EXT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                      89.

	NANCY pulls back from the window, stunned.

                      I swear...

      Suddenly NANCY feels utterly exposed.  She shivers, chilled and
      vulnerable to the bone in her thin night clothes.  She can't
      move.  It's as if some great nerve between her instincts and body
      had been severed.  And she hears the SOUND behind her.  A sort of
      filling-vibrating Scrriiitchh.

      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.


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

                      Glen, where are you!  Wake up!

                                      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

                      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
      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.


      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.

      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.

      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

      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.

                      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.

                      What I do?

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

                      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)

      Her mother's door opens OS.

                      Oh, shit.

      NANCY composes her voice as best she can.

                      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.

                      You okay?

                      Yeah.  Just had a little dream.
                      I'm falling right back to sleep.

                      Okay... You need anything, just call.


      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

                      You mind telling me what's 
                      going on?

      NANCY's races into the station without answering.

                                      GLEN (CONTD)
                      Oh, I see.  That makes it all 
                      perfectly clear.

98.   INT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                      98.

      NANCY goes straight to the SERGEANT's desk.

                      Garcia, I want to see Rod
                      Lane again.

      GARCIA winces.

                                      SGT GARCIA
                      I thought when I took the
                      night shift I'd have peace
                      and quiet for a change.

                      It's urgent, we've gotta see Rod.

                                      SGT GARCIA
                      It's three in the morning.
                      Your mother know you're out this 

                              (faking it)
                      Of course -- look, at least go
                      back and look at him.  Just see
                      if he's okay.

      GARCIA glances at GLEN.

                              (faking it)
                      We have reason to think there
                      might be something weird going 

                                      LT THOMPSON (OS)
                      Oh, no argument on that.

      NANCY jumps around at the sound of her father's voice.  LT
      THOMPSON emerges from his office, rumpled and yawning.

                      Dad -- what you doing here?

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      It so happens I work here, and
                      there's an unsolved murder.  I
                      don't like unsolved murders, 
                      especially ones my daughter's
                      mixed up in -- what are you
                      doing here at this hour?  You're
                      supposed to be getting some 

                      Listen, sir, this is serious.
                      Nancy had a nightmare about Rod
                      being in danger, or something,
                      and so she thinks...

      He trails off, loosing it under LT THOMPSON's glare.  Besides, he
      doesn't know exactly what the hell's really going on himself.
      GARCIA puts his beefy hand on NANCY's shoulder.

                      I just want to see if he's okay!

                                      SGT GARCIA
                      Take my word for it, Nancy.  The
                      guy's sleeping like a baby.  He's
                      not going anywhere.

99.   INT.  CELL BLOCK.  NIGHT.                                          99.

      ANGLE ON ROD in his cell.  He's asleep, all right, but not safely
      so.  His bedsheet has come alive.  It twitches, pulsates, then
      snakes towards his throat.

      ROD stirs, the sheet falls still; ROD slips into deeper sleep,
      and the sheet moves again, completing the noose around his neck!

100.  INT.  BOOKING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        100.

      NANCY makes a move for the cell block --

                      This isn't your average nightmare,
                      Daddy -- damn it!

      The door's locked; she hauls on it in desperation.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Now look, Nancy, don't push
                      it.  You've already rubbed my nose
                      in sex, drugs and violence -- don't
                      start throwing in insanity!

      NANCY takes that one to heart.  She wheels on him and pleads, her
      intensity sobering even to him.

                      Just go back and check -- please!

      The man takes a beat, then shrugs and nods towards SGT GARCIA.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Okay, Garcia.  What the hell.

                                      SGT GARCIA
                              (feeling in his pockets)
                      Now where'd I put the key...

      He mumbles backs towards his desk.  MUSIC BUILDS as we HOLD ON

101.  INT.  ROD'S CELL.  NIGHT.                                          101.

      With a terrible SNAP ROD's sheet jerks tight around his neck.
      The startled teenager is hauled upright -- eyes popping, face
      purple.  He claws at the sheet, but despite his strength he can't
      get his fingers between the noose and his windpipe.  He's dragged
      backwards across the cot.

102.  INT.  BOOKING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        102.

      GARCIA finally has the keys.  Urged on by NANCY he fumbles with
      the lock.

103.  INT.  ROD'S CELL.  NIGHT.                                          103.

      ROD'S being dragged backwards, gasping and struggling in vain
      against the powerful pull -- right across his cell and up the
      wall, too.  He clutches blindly at his throat at the far end of
      the sheet coils around the bars of the high window.  Then there's
      a powerful wrench of the sheet, and ROD'S neck SNAPS.  The kid's
      body sags lifeless.

      appear in the corridor outside, the girl sprinting ahead.


      But it's too late; NANCY sinks back in horror as her father and
      GARCIA rush into the cell.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Gimme a hand, dammit!

      GLEN, pale as the sheet that's killed ROD, climbs to the bars and
      unties the knot.  ROD slides down over the SERGEANT'S shoulders,
      limp as a marrionette with its strings slashed.

                                      SGT GARCIA
                      Goddamn loco kid -- he didn't
                      have t'do that -- Madre dios!

      They lay ROD at NANCY's feet; a strange Pieta.  NANCY's father
      looks at her in spooked suspicion.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      How'd you know he was gonna do

      NANCY says nothing.

                                              FADE TO BLACK

105.  EXT.  FOREST LAWN CEMETERY.  DAY.                                  105.

                                              BURN ON:

                              THE FOURTH DAY

      FADE UP ON a stark afternoon.  On a hill of sere grass
      overlooking the valley, the casket of ROD LANE is lowered into
      its grave.

      A small group of FAMILY and FRIENDS watches soberly as the
      MINISTER raises his hand in benediction.

                      Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
                      May God be with this young man's

      PARENTS.  Just for a second or two, in looks too rapid for an
      outsider to even notice, these adults exchange looks.  Furtive,
      quick glances that suggest an immense something that they all
      share, something beyond even this second death among their
      children.  Then they are all staring ahead again, as if the
      others weren't even there.

                                      MINISTER (CONTD OS)
                      His life and his death attest to
                      the Scripture's warning that he who
                      lives by the sword shall die by
                      the sword.

      ANGLE ON GLEN, watching --

      NANCY, standing alone, not believing it for a minute.

                                      MINISTER (CONTD OS)
                      But let us recall also our Lord's
                      admonition that we 'Judge not,
                      lest we be judged.'  Let us
                      attempt only to love.  And may
                      Rod Lane rest in peace.

                      Amen to that much.

      The mourners walk away from the grave, MARGE among them.  She
      pauses near a MAN and two WOMEN in black -- TINA'S MOTHER, ROD'S
      PARENTS.  They almost, it seems, speak.  Then MARGE hurries on.

      WE MOVE WITH HER as she's joined by LT THOMPSON.  Both are worn
      and on edge.  THOMPSON absently lights another cigarette,
      offering one to MARGE.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      How's Nancy doing?

                      I don't think she's slept since
                      Tina died.
                              (shakes her head)
                      She's always been a delicate

      THOMPSON lights her cigarette, attempting some sort of

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      She's tougher than you think.
                      Any idea how she knew Rod was
                      gonna kill himself?

                      No.  All I know is, this reminds
                      me too much of ten years ago.

      THOMPSON blows a plume of smoke against the hard sky and looks

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Yeah.  Well... Let's not start
                      digging up bodies just because 
                      we're in a cemetery.

      He gives her a look that could cut stone.  MARGE toses down her
      cigarete and crosses to NANCY.  The girl is simply staring off
      over the valley.

                              (very gently)
                      Time to go home, baby.

      She moves her away from the brink of the hill.

106.  EXT.  CEMETERY PARKING AREA.  DAY.                                 106.

      MARGE opens the door of the station wagon for NANCY.  NANCY turns
      to them both, speaking in a still, small voice.

                      The killer's still loose,
                      you know.

      She has a wild, Cassandra aspect that sends a chill right up
      MARGE'S spine.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      You saying somebody else killed
                      Tina?  Who?

      NANCY smiles a weird sort of smile.

                      I don't know who he is.  But he's
                      burned, he wears a weird hat, a
                      red and yellow sweater, real
                      dirty, and he uses some sort of
                      knifes he's got made into a sort
                      of... glove.  Like giant finger-

      As NANCY has described this monster from her dream, unseen by
      her, 	the faces of MARGE LT and THOMPSON have drained completely
      of color.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                              (low, even, to MARGE)
                      I think you should keep Nancy
                      at home a few days.  'Til she's
                      really over the shock.

                      I got something better...
                              (to NANCY)
                      I'm gonna get you help, baby.
                      So no one will threaten you
                      any more.

      She takes the girl by the arm and guides her into the car,
      locking the door from outside.  NANCY never taking her eyes from
      her father's as the car bears her away.

                                              FADE TO BLACK

                                              BURN ON:

                              THE FIFTH DAY

107.  EXT.  UCLA SCHOOL OF MEDICINE.  DAY.                               107.


                              UCLA SCHOOL OF MEDICINE
                                 INSTITUTE FOR THE
                             STUDY OF SLEEP DISORDERS

108.  INT.  A LABORATORY SLEEPING CHAMBER.                               108.

      A NURSE applies sencors to the head, breast, arms, and fingers of
      NANCY THOMPSON.  The girl is lying on a simple broad cot, in her
      pajamas.  The room is subdued in color and holds only this single
      bed.  A large mirror set into one wall hides an observation room

                      But I just don't feel... ready
                      to sleep yet.  Please, do I
                      have to?

109.  WIDER, REVEALING DR SAMUEL KING, a young, curly-haired internist;  109.
      intelligent and wry.  He treats NANCY at all times like a young
      adult, never patronizing.  He winks as the NURSE finishes.

                                      DR KING
                      Don't worry, you're not gonna
                      change into Bride of Frankenstein
                      or anything.

      NANCY manages a smile, but she's haggard and visibly thinner.
      MARGE, background, looks downright distraught.

                                      DR KING (CONTD)
                      Nancy have any severe childhood
                      illnesses?  Scarlet Fever?
                      High temperatures -- concussions?

                      No, nothing.

                      He means, did you ever drop me
                      on my head.

      The doctor and girl share a nervous laugh; MARGE doesn't even

                                      DR KING
                      Nightmares are expected after
                      psychological trauma.  Don't
                      worry, they go away.

                      I sure as hell hope so.

                      I don't see why you couldn't
                      just give me a pill to keep me
                      from dreaming...

                                      DR KING
                      Everyone's got to dream.  
                      If you don't dream, you go...
                              (he drills his finger
                               at his temple)
                      All set?


                      They're just simple tests, 
                      Nan.  We'll both be right

                                      DR KING
                      Look, I know it's been fright-
                      ening, I know your dreams have
                      seemed real.  But... it's 
                      okay.  Okay?

                      Please, Nancy.  Trust us.

      The girls gauges her mother, the doctor, the situation very
      carefully.  Then lowers her eyes.

                      It's not you I don't trust.
                              (gives up)
                      Okay.  Let's do it.

      Greatly relieved, MARGE gives NANCY a goodnight kiss, then
      follows the doctor through a doorway near the mirror.  As soon as
      her mother is out of sight, NANCY'S eyes drift to the mirror
      itself.  In its reflection she sees herself looking back, alone
      on the bed.

                                              DISSOLVE TO:

110.  INT.  THE OBSERVATION ROOM.                                        110.

      MARGE and DR KING overlook NANCY's sleeping chamber through the
      one-way mirror.  And KING monitors the girl even more closely
      with a bank of instruments -- a mass of glowing dials, graphs and
      meters.  His manner with MARGE is slightly more sober.

                                      DR KING
                      How long's this been going on?

                      Since the murder.  She was fine
                      before that.

                                      DR KING
                      Not to worry.  No signs of path-
                      ology in Nancy's EEG or pulse
                      rate.  I'd guess what we've got
                      is a normal young girl who just
                      happens to have gone through
                      two days of hell.

                      It's just made her think...
                      her dreams are real...

      KING adjusts a dial, watching the EKG like a hawk.

                                      DR KING
                      Ever hear the old Buddhist tale
                      about the King who dreamed he 
                      was a beggar who dreamed he 
                      was a king?

      MARGE twitches.  Then there's a slight alteration in the sound of
      the EKG.  KING nods in satisfaction.

                                      DR KING (CONTD)
                      Okay, good.  She's asleep.

                              (immensely relieved)
                      Thank God.

      MUSIC RISES SOLEMNLY, MAJESTICALLY into a haunting transition as

                                              DISSOLVE TO

111.  A MONTAGE OF SHOTS, of the EKG GRAPH, its inky needles calming,    111.
      of a METER tracing the quieting of NANCY's pulse, and of OTHER
      INSTRUMENTS, indicating life processes we can only guess.  All
      smoothing out.

112.  CLOSE ON NANCY on TV MONITOR, asleep like the child she is.        112.

      MARGE lights a cigarette, angry at her helplessness.

                      What the hell are dreams, anyway?

                                      DR KING
                      Mysteries.  Incredible body
                      hookus pokus.  Truth is we
                      still don't know what they
                      are or where they come from.
                      As for nightmares...
                              (leans closer)
                      Did you know that in the last 
                      three years twenty Philipino
                      refugees in California died
                      in the middle of nightmares?
                      Not from heart attacks, either.
                      They just died.

      He gives a "Ah don' know" shrug.  MARGE looks out into the
      sleeping room.  NANCY is a motionless bundle in the middle of the

113.  ANGLE ON A NEEDLE on an EKG dipping to a lower reading.            113.

114.  WIDER ANGLE -- the mother and DOCTOR watching.                     114.

                      What happened?  That needle
                      sank like a rock.

                                      DR KING
                      She's entering deep sleep now.
                      Heart rate's a little high due
                      to anxiety, but otherwise she's
                      nicely relaxed.  All normal.
                      She could dream at any time now.
                      Right now she's like a diver
                      on the bottom of an ocean no
                      one's mapped yet.  Waiting to	
                      see what shows up.

115.  INT.  THE SLEEPING ROOM.                                           115.

      We can see NANCY drift from the initial stage, over the
      brink into deep sleep.  Her hair falls into her eyes; her face
      relaxes; her shoulders curl round her like comforters.  THE MUSIC
      DEEPENS, and begins to hint at the tones of the NIGHTMARE THEME.

116.  INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.                                          116.

      DR KING and MARGE watch the instruments' every move.

      One of the machines begins a slight CHIRPING.  KING scans it,
      liking what he sees.

                                      DR KING
                      Okay, she's started to dream.

      He leans forward in his chair, like a pilot starting an
      instrument approach.  MARGE THOMPSON licks her dry lips, fighting
      a turn of nausea.

                      How can you tell?

                                      DR KING
                      R.E.M.'s.  Rapid eye movements.
                      The eyes follow the
                      dream -- their movement picks
                      up on this --

      He prods a dial with his pencil and scribbles the time on a note

                                      DR KING (CONTD)
                      Beta Waves are slowing, too.
                      She's dreaming, all right.
                      A good one, too.

      MARGE watches the TV MONITOR.  It's in extra-close on NANCY's
      eyes -- and they're darting beneath the lids, reacting to events
      lost behind a skein of flesh and neurons.

      KING points to a moving graph.  A needle's begun waving lazily
      between plus and minus three.  The DOCTOR nods, assured.

                                      DR KING (CONTD)
                      Typical dream parameter.  A
                      nightmare, now, would be plus or
                      minus five or six; she's just 
                      around three point --

      He stops.  Outside, visible through the glass, NANCY twists
      around.  Eyes still closed, she's nevertheless holding her head
      in the attitude of prey listening to the first faint sound of the
      predator's approach.

      MARGE looks from her daughter to the DOCTOR, color draining from
      her face.

                      What the hell's this?  She
                      awake or asleep?

      The needle of the graph gives a jagged pitch up, plunges, then
      surges well above the eight mark.  A strange MUSIC CUE --
      disonant and threatening, creeps in -- the NIGHTMARE THEME
      slurred into awful minors and weird disonance.  KING stares at
      the gauge in disbelief, rapping his finger on its glass.

                                      DR KING
                      Can't be.  It never gets
                      this high...

      The needle swings even higher, benind.

                                      DR KING (CONTD)
                      Jesus H. Christ.

      He's cut off by the high-pitched KEENING of the girl, the SOUND
      cutting through the double thickness of the glass like a lasar.
      A warning BEEPER has begun, the instruments light up like a
      Christmas tree -- and outside in the sleeping room, NANCY is
      contorting as if shot through with a thousand volts.  KING knocks
      over his chair in his sprint for the door.

117.  INT.  SLEEPING ROOM.                                               117.

      The DOCTOR and MARGE come in on the run -- NANCY's flailing and
      screaming as if the devil himself were after her.  KING grabs her
      to shake her awake;

      ANGLE ON NANCY (eyes open) -- looking in terror -- SOUND ECHOED

      IN HER POV -- dressed in KING'S clothes -- the horribly scarred
      MAN reaches out.

      WIDER -- (NANCY'S eyes closed in sleep) as the girl's fist shoots
      out with incredible force and knocks DR KING flying!

      The NURSE and MARGE both descend on her --

      and again in her SLEEPING POV we see the MAN stagger for her.

      WIDER ON NANCY -- (still in her nightmare) -- fighting like a
      tiger with both MARGE and the NURSE -- sending the NURSE
      sprawling -- leaving MARGE hanging on for dear life.

      ANGLE on the stunned DOCTOR fumbling with a hyperdermic needle,
      spilling most of the stuff on himself with his shaking hands --
      the SCREAMS AND CURSES of NANCY are deafening and worthy of a
      stevador fighting off his worst enemy.  Stranger still, her hair
      is electrified, standing on end and greying before their very

      MARGE screams at the top of her lungs.

                      NANCY!!!  IT'S MOM -- NANCY!!!!

      Some deep bolt of psychic power smacks through the girl, and her
      eyes flap open -- they're glazed with terror and fury, but open.
      NANCY's awake.

      She stares around like a cornered animal in the middle of the
      bed, her purple face gasping out gut-wrenching SOBS.  The NURSE
      and MARGE dare to go back in and hold the sweat-drenched girl as
      DR KING comes for her with the needle.

                                      DR KING
                      Now, this is just going to let
                      you relax and sleep, Nan --

      With incredible swiftness, NANCY backhands the hypodermic into a
      far wall, shattering it into a million pieces.

                      No.  That's enough sleep.

      Her eyes are windows straight into white fire as she locks into
      KING'S face.  He dabs his split lip, swallowing painfully.

                                      DR KING
                      Okay, kid.  Okay.  Fair enough.

      He holds out his hand.  NANCY at last takes it, and sags back
      into her pillow, exhausted.  Then KING comes up with blood on his

      He stares at it, dumbfounded, then at the girl.  Across her left
      forearm, a deep gash is bleeding freely, as if made by a very
      sharp instrument.

                      Oh my god, oh my god...

                                      DR KING
                              (to the NURSE)
                      Get the kit!

      The NURSE scrambles away as the DOCTOR claps his hand over the
      wounds.  He looks into NANCY's face.  What he sees frightens him
      even more: NANCY'S haunted, ghost-like eyes turn from him to her
      mother, and a terrible, chilling smile opens across NANCY's white

                      You believe this?

      She pulls her free arm from beneath the sheets and reveals a
      strange hat, filthy and worn -- the KILLER'S hat.  The sight of
      it frightens MARGE more than anything that's come before.

                              (deathly pale)
                      Where the hell did you get that?

      NANCY fixes her with Xray eyes.

                      I grabbed it off his head.

      MARGE stares at the hat as if it held her whole future, and her
      future was a horror.

                                              FADE TO BLACK

118.  EXT.  NANCY'S HOUSE.  DAY.                                         118.

                                                      BURN ON

                              THE SIXTH DAY

      FADE UP ON NANCY'S HOUSE, early morning.

119.  INT.  NANCY'S KITCHEN.  DAY.                                       119.

      MARGE is on the telephone, the dirty hat in her hand.  Nearby is
      a nearly empty bottle of gin.

                      She said she snatched it off
                      his head in a dream.
                      No, I'm not crazy, I've got
                      the damn thing in my hand!
                      I know we did, we all...
                              (hears NANCY 
                      Gotta go.

      She hangs up and stuffs the hat and bottle into a drawer,
      screening the action with her body.  NANCY enters.

      By now the girl has an extraordinary look.  Her hair is ashen,
      her skin transluscent, and eyes dark-ringed.  Her right forearm
      is heavily bandaged over the slashes.  In short, instead of the
      girl next door, we now could be looking at the lunatic from the
      next cell.  MARGE, though she does her best to hide it, is
      downright frightened of her.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      You didn't sleep, did you?
                      The doctor says you have to 
                      sleep or you'll --

      NANCY pours herself a cup of black coffee.

                      Go even crazier?

                      I don't think you're going
                      crazy -- and stop drinking
                      that damn coffee!

                      Did you ask Daddy to have the 
                      hat examined?

                      I threw that filthy thing away --
                      I don't know what you're trying 
                      to prove with it, but --

      NANCY comes closer, her eyes shining with a new sureness.

                      What I learned at the dream
                      clinic, that's what I'm trying
                      to prove.  Rod didn't kill Tina, 
                      and he didn't hang himself.
                      It's this guy -- he's after
                      us in our dreams.

                      But that's just not reality,

120.  Furious, NANCY janks open the drawer before MARGE can stop her     120.
      and spills the bottle and hat onto the counter.

      MARGE grabs away the bottle protectively -- but it's the hat
      NANCY goes for.  She waves it triumphantly -- demonically. 

                      It's real, Mamma.  Feel it.

                      Put that damned thing down!

      MARGE lunges for it -- NANCY leaps out of reach --

                      His name is even in it -- written 
                      right in here -- Fred Krueger --
                      Fred Krueger!  You know who that
                      is, Mamma?  You better tell me,
                      cause now he's after me!

      MARGE swallows, then persists in the lie.

                      Nancy, trust your mother for 
                      once -- you'll feel better as 
                      soon as you sleep!

      NANCY shoots a hard humorless laugh, holding up her slashed arm.

                      You call this feeling better?
                      Or should I grab a bottle and
                      veg out with you -- avoid 
                      everything happening to me
                      by just getting good and loaded --

      MARGE slaps her hard.

                              (losing it)
                      Fred Krueger can't be after you,
                      Nancy -- he's dead!

      The room falls silent, both women staring at the other.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                              (low, raw)
                      Fred Krueger is dead.  Dead and
                      gone.  Believe me, I know.  Now
                      go to bed.  I order you, go to 

      MARGE snatches the hat away.  NANCY is furious, betrayed.

                      You knew about him all
                      this time, and you've been acting
                      like he was someone I made up!

      MARGE pulls away.

                      You're sick, Nancy.  Imagining 
                      things.  You need to sleep,
                      it's as simple as that.

      NANCY wheels and smashes MARGE'S bottle of gin in the sink.

                      Screw sleep!

                                      MARGE (CONTD)

      But NANCY runs past her mother for the front door.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      Nancy -- it's only a nightmare!

      NANCY turns in the doorway.

                      That's enough!

      On the door SLAM, we

                                              CUT TO

121.  EXT.  SHAKESPEARE BRIDGE.  DAY.                                    121.

      to REVEAL NANCY and GLEN high above, two tiny figures walking
      across this strange white bridge in old Los Angeles.  CAMERA

                      Whenever I get nervous I eat.

                      And if you can't do that, you

                      Used to.  Not anymore.

      GLEN jams more Big Mack into his face.  By now our ZOOM reveals
      he's attacking a huge bag of Big Macks, and furtively eyeing
      NANCY.  The girl's hair is startlingly white in the sunlight.
      She's reading a book, hardly paying attention.

                                      GLEN (CONTD)
                      You ever read about the Balinese
                      way of dreaming?


                      They got a whole system they
                      call 'dream skills'.  So, if
                      you have a nightmare, for 
                      instance like falling, right?


                      Instead of screaming and getting 
                      nuts, you say, okay, I'm gonna
                      make up my mind that I fall
                      into a magic world where I can
                      get something special, like a 
                      poem or song.
                              (grins hopefully)
                      They get all their art literature
                      from dreams.  Just wake up and 
                      write it down.  Dreamskills.

      He stops, seeing the look on NANCY's face.  Our ZOOM is much
      closer now, a wide medium, and still coming in on the kids.

                      And what if they meet a monster
                      in their dream?  Then what?

                      They turn their back on it.
                              (grins hopefully)
                      Takes away its energy, and
                      it disappears.

                      What happens if they don't do

                      I guess those people don't
                      wake up to tell what happens.


      She leans over the railing, poking her face back into her book.
      GLEN tips its cover and reads its title.  OUR ZOOM IS STILL
                      'Booby Traps and Improvised 
                      Anti-personel Devices'!

                      I found it at this neat
                      survivalist bookstore on

                      Well what you reading it for?


                      I'm into survival.

      She walks away, OUT OF FRAME, leaving GLEN watching after her in

                      She's starting to scare the
                      living shit out of me.

122.  EXT. ELM STREET/NANCY'S HOME/EVENING                               122.

      ANGLE ACROSS NANCY'S "TREE LAWN", the grass between
      the sidewalk and the street, in the general direction
      of GLEN's home.  This ANGLE doesn't quite reveal
      Nancy's house.

      FOREGROUND is a utility truck in which a half dozen
      Hispanic WORKERS are loading tools, extension cords
      and hardware.  They
      look like they've put in one hell of a hard day's work.

      MARGE appears and hands a check to the FOREMAN of the crew, a
      white guy in clean coveralls and a gold chain.  He scrutinizes

                      And the other...

      MARGE forks over a wad of cash, hands trembling in her
      half-drunk, helpless rage.

                      Where's your mask and gun?

      The FOREMAN counts the money swiftly.

                      Don't bust my chops, lady.
                      If the city found out I put
                      'em in without inside releases
                      I'd loose my license.

      He shoves the money in his pocket and climbs in his truck.  MARGE
      EXITS FRAME for her house.

      PAN WITH THE TRUCK as it pulls away, THEN PICK UP NANCY, walking
      across the street from the corner.  Alone.  Dispirited.  She
      lifts her eyes to her home and stops in her tracks.

                      Oh gross...

123.  WIDENING TO REVEAL THE HOUSE as NANCY walks across her front       123.
      yard.  Every single window has been covered with brand-new
      ornamental iron bars, bolted deeply into their frames.

      CLOSER, AT A WINDOW.  NANCY gives a set of bars a powerful
      shake.  They don't budge.  Then girl looks up and sees even the
      window to her second floor bedroom is barred.  And the rose
      trellis has been ripped down and heaped at the foundation in a
      tangle of wood, thorns and broken flowers.

124.  INT.  MARGE'S ROOM.  EVENING.                                      124.

      ANGLE ON THE DOORWAY INTO THE HALL.  Easy listening MUSIC wafts
      through the air.  NANCY appears in the doorway.

                                      NANCY (OS)
                      Mom, what's with the bars!?

125.  REVERSE to MARGE, propped against the headboard of her bed, a      125.
      crooked shadow in the gloom.  A fresh bottle of Gin glints in her

                      Oh, Mom...

      The girl crosses and reaches gently for the bottle.  MARGE
      snatches it away.


      She rocks the bottle in her arms.

                      What's with the bars?


      NANCY sits on the bed, a surprising compassion entering her

                      Mom, I want to know what you
                      know about Fred Krueger.

                      Dead and gone.

                      I want to know how, where --
                      if you don't tell me, I'm going
                      to call daddy.

      MARGE gives a laugh -- a rasping chachination from deep in her

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      Your father the cop.  That's a
                      good one.
                      Forget Fred Krueger.  You don't
                      want to know, believe me.

                      I do want to know.  He's not
                      dead and gone -- he's after me
                      and if I sleep he'll get me!
                      I've got to know!

      MARGE blinks at her a moment, then cracks a terrible, crooked

                      All right.

126.  INT. NANCY'S CELLAR/NIGHT                                          126.

      MARGE drags NANCY headlong down the cellar stairs and across the
      room with a crazy fury, twisting her down near the foundation.
      And she thrusts her face so close to her daughter's that NANCY
      reels from the alcohol.

                      You want to know who Fred
                      Krueger was?  He was a filthy
                      child killer who got at least
                      twenty kids, kids from our
                      area, kids we all knew.  It
                      drove us all crazy when we
                      didn't know who was doing it --
                      but it was even worse when
                      they caught him.

      MARGE draws herself up with a shake.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      Oh lawyers got fat and the judge
                      got famous, but someone forgot to
                      sign the search warrant in the 
                      right place, and Fred Krueger
                      was free, just like that.

                      So he's alive?

      MARGE smiles grimly.

                      He wouldn've stopped.  The 
                      bastard would've got more
                      kids first chance he got --
                      they found nearly ten bodies
                      in his boiler room as it
                      was.  But the law couldn't
                      touch him.

      At the mention of "boiler room", NANCY gives a shake.  MARGE
      misses this, too busy taking a pull on the bottle that's never
      left her hand.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      What was needed were some private
                      citizens willing to do what had
                      to be done.

      She reels slowly, looking at NANCY is defiance.

                      What did you do, mother?

      MARGE cradles the bottle.

                      Bunch of us parents tracked him
                      down after they let him go.  Found
                      him in an old boiler room, just
                      like before.  Saw him lying there
                      in that caked red and yellow sweater
                      he always wore, drunk an' asleep
                      with his weird knives by his side...

                              (dreading it)
                      Go on...

      MARGE reaches over and taps a dusty two-gallon jug of gasoline
      near the lawn mower.

                      We poured gasoline all around
                      the place, left a trail out the 
                      door, locked the door, then...

      She mimes striking a match --

                                      MARGE (CONTD)

      Her arms shoot up and her eyes go wide with the light of that
      fire.  There's awe in her voice.  Then she drops her arms.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                              (hushed, remembering)
                      But just when it seemed not
                      even the devil could live
                      in there any more -- he crashed
                      out like a banshee, all on fire
                      -- swinging those fingerknives
                      every which direction and 
                      screaming he... he was going
                      to get us by killing all our

      She stops with a sudden quake and drinks for a long moment.  But
      the intake doesn't hide the image.  Her face bathed in tears, she
      looks at her daughter and shakes her head.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      There were all those men, Nancy,
                      even your father, oh yes, even
                      him.  But none could do what
                      had to be done -- Krueger rolling 
                      and screaming so loud the whole
                      state could hear -- no one could
                      take your father's gun and kill 
                      him good and proper except me.

      She sweeps her hand across the air in a terrific slash, then
      stops, her hand shaking, her voice hoarse and terrified.  She
      looks at her daughter, begging.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      So he's dead Nan.  He can't
                      get you.  Mommy killed him.

	For someone who started this film at a very young seventeen,
      NANCY's now the battle-tempered veteran as she takes her mother
      in her arms and rocks her.

                      Who was there?  Were Tina's 
                      parents there?  Were Rod's?

      MARGE sags back.

                      Sure, and Glen's.  All of us.
                      But that's in the past now,
                      baby.  Really.  It's over.
                      We even took his knives.

      The woman twists around and opens the door on an old furnace -- a
      furnace unused since the newer gas one nearby was put in.  She
      fishes inside the cavity -- as then we hear a touch of the
      familiar 'SCRRIITCH'.  Next moment she pulls out an object
      wrapped in rags, opens it and displays the long, rusted blades
      and their glove-like apparatus.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)

      NANCY stares at the damn things, chilled.

                      All these years you've kept those
                      things buried down here?  In our
                      own house?

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      Proof he's declawed.  As for him,
                      we buried him good and deep.

      MARGE shoves the knives into their hiding place, closes the
      little iron door.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      So's okay, you can sleep.

      She lurches up and staggers upstairs.

      NANCY shivers and looks down at her arm.  The cut beneath her
      bandage has begun to bleed again.  And from inside the furnace,
      as if from deep below, the PULSING of the boundless
      nightmare-boiler room can be faintly heard.

127.  EXT.  ELM STREET.  NIGHT.                                          127.


128.  INT.  GLEN'S & NANCY'S BEDROOMS - INTERCUT.  NIGHT.                128.

129.  GLEN, yawning, crosses and picks up his telephone.                 129.


                                      NANCY (telephone)

                      Oh.  Hi, how y'doing?

      NANCY looks out the window and touches her hair.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                      Fine.  Stand by your window
                      so I can see you.  You sound
                      a million miles away.

      In the lighted window across the way, she can SEE GLEN move into
      sight.  In his shot, we can SEE NANCY step into her window behind
      the bars.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                      Much better.

                      I heard your ma went ape at the 
                      security store today.  You look
                      like the Prisoner of Zenda or
                      something.  How long's it been 
                      since you slept?

                      Coming up on the seventh day.  It's
                      okay, I checked Guiness.  The 
                      record's eleven, and I'll beat 
                      that if I have to.
                      Listen, I... I know who he is.


                      The killer.

                      You do?

                      Yeah, and if he gets me, I'm
                      pretty sure you're next.

      GLEN is appalled.

                      Me!?  Why would anyone want to
                      kill me?!

                      Don't ask -- just give me some
                      help nailing this guy when I
                      bring him out.

      GLEN pales.

                      Bring him out of what?

                      My dream.

                      How you plan to do that?

                      Just like I did the hat.  Have
                      a hold of the sucker when you
                      wake me up.

                              (switching back to a more
                               comfortable reality)
                      Wait a minute, you can't bring
                      someone out of a dream!

                      If I can't, then you all can
                      relax, because it'll just be a
                      simple case of me being nuts.

                      I can save you the trouble.
                      You're nutty as a fruitcake.
                      I love you anyway.

                      Good, then you won't mind cold-cocking
                      this guy when I bring him out.


                              (simplicity itself)
                      You heard me.  I grab him in the
                      dream -- you see me struggling 
                      so you wake me up.  We both come
                      out, you cold cock the fucker,
                      and we got him.  Clever, huh?

                      You crazy?  Hit him with what?

                      You're a jock.  You must have
                      a baseball bat or something.
                      Come to my window at midnight.
                      And meanwhile...


                      Meanwhile whatever you do
                      don't fall asleep.  Midnight.

      She hangs up.  GLEN's eyes bug out.

                      Holy shit!  Midnight.  Baseball
                      bats and boogemen.  Unfucking

130.  OMIT                                                          OMIT 130.

131.  EXT.  THE VALLEY AND HILLS.  NIGHT.                                131.

      HIGH, WIDE SHOT.  The moon is above the horizon.  A cool wind
      slides a bank of white fog inland.  The valley and its lights
      stretch forever, an endless net of illumination and darkness.  A
      coyote HOWLS on the dark hill.

132.  EXT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                      132.

      A palm frond scuttles across the center of the parking lot.  LT
      THOMPSON arrives in an unmarked car.

                                      COP (passing)
                      Lieutenant Thompson -- what
                      you doing in at this time?

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Can't sleep, thought I'd come
                      break up the poker game.

      The COP laughs and goes his way.  THOMPSON's smile evaporates.

133.  INT.  POLICE STATION.  NIGHT.                                      133.

      THOMPSON enters and checks the log.  Nearby, SGT GARCIA pours

                                      SERGEANT GARCIA
                      If it was any more quiet we
                      could hear owls farting.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Is quiet, isn't it?

                                      SERGEANT GARCIA
                              (too casually)
                      How's your girl?

      THOMPSON looks at the Desk sergeant a moment, then tosses down
      the log.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      She's sensible.  She'll sleep
                      sooner or later.

134.  EXT.  ELM STREET.  NIGHT.                                          134.

      The neighborhood is utterly still, most of the homes already
      dark.  But not NANCY's.  Or GLEN's.


135.  INT.  GLEN'S LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                  135.

      GLEN's father watches eleven o'clocks news, a dreary FILM CLIP
      (STOCK) of war and refugees in a far-away land.

      MR LANTZ takes a pull on his Bud.

                                      MR LANTZ
                      You'd think they'd have some-
                      thing 'bout the Lane kid hanging

      MRS LANTZ walks through the room, drying her hands on a

                                      MRS LANTZ
                      Maybe we're all making more out
                      of it than we should.

      She heads upstairs.  MR LANTZ pops the automatic tuner.  CARSON
      blinks ON.

                                      CARSON (TV)
                      I wouldn't touch that line with
                      a ten foot pole.

      ED MCMAHON and the AUDIENCE laugh in delight.

136.  INT.  GLEN'S HOUSE/UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR.  NIGHT.                      136.

      MRS LANTZ comes along the upstairs hall and knocks gently at a
      closed door.

                                      MRS LANTZ
                      Glen?  you all right?

      She puts her ear to the door and listens.

                                      MRS LANTZ (CONTD)
                      Glen honey?

      No answer.

137.  INT.  GLEN'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                         137.

      GLEN lies sprawled across the bed, long legs flung over the end,
      head not visible.

      His mother enters.  She looks at the boy, turns off the TV.
                                                   Looks at him again.
      From this angle she can see his head, earphones crammed over it
      rasping their tinny noise.  But no movement from the kid at all.
      MRS LANTZ crosses and pokes him in the ribs.  GLEN lurches up,
      arms windmilling.


      He refocuses his eyes, takes off his earphones.

                                      MRS LANTZ
                      How can you listen to Carson and
                      a record at the same time?

      GLEN swings his legs over the edge of the bed and shakes his head
      to clear the cobwebs.

                      Wasn't listening to the tube,
                      just watching.  Miss Nude
                      America's supposed to be on

                                      MRS LANTZ
                      Well how you gonna hear what
                      she says?

                      Who cares what she says?

      The mother gives up.

                                      MRS LANTZ
                      You should get to sleep soon, 
                      Glen.  It's almost midnight.
                      Goodness knows we've all had
                      enough of a time the last few

                      I will, Mom...in a while.
                      You guys turning in?

                                      MRS LANTZ
                      Pretty soon.

      His MOTHER sighs and goes out, closing the door behind her.  GLEN
      flips the TV back on and glances at the clock.

138.  INSERT OF CLOCK.  It's 11:42.                                      138.

139.  TIGHT ON GLEN's face.  He clamps the earphones back on, and turns  139.
      the volume up high.  The MUSIC is so loud we can hear it
      resonating inside his skull.

      CAMERA MOVES PAST GLEN to his window, then ZOOMS through to:

140.  EXT.  ELM STREET / NANCY'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.                          140.

      CONTINUE ZOOMING into the LIGHTED window of NANCY's barred second
      floor bedroom and

                                                      CUT TO:

141.  INT.  NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT                                         141.

      CLOSE ON MARGE, weaving on the edge of NANCY's bed, stroking
      the girl's hair.  NANCY's still something of a wreck, but less
      than 	MARGE.

                      We'll go away, take a vacation.
                      Get your hair colored nice, the
                      way it was.  No one will ever
                      This whole room smells of coffee,

      She gathers up NANCY's coffee cups and empty NoDoz boxes, leans
      down and kisses her.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      It's all over now, baby.  The
                      nightmare's over.  Please.

      NANCY nods her head, half stubborn, half sadly.  She can barely
      keep her eyes open now.


      She scrunches into her pillow.  MARGE smiles haggardly and shuts
      off the light, taking the coffee pot with her as she leaves.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)

      MARGE smiles, relieved.  The girl pulls the blanket around her
      shoulders.  Her eyes flutter closed, her breathing becomes regular
      and deep.  Once again she's the litle girl MARGE fantasizes she

      The mother tiptoes out of the room, closing the door behind her.
      HOLD ON NANCY's sleeping face as the DOOR CLOSES.  Her eyes
      remain closed another beat, then open wide.

      She quietly jumps out of bed and shakes herself savagely to
      scatter the sleep settling so quickly.

      Still in the dark, she fishes a full electric coffepot from under
      her bed and pours herself a fresh fix into a mug she digs from
      beneath her pillow.  The face illuminated by the neon light on the
      pot is set in absolute determination.

      NANCY drains the cup, then crosses to her closet, retrieves a
      pitcher of ice water from behind a heap of clothes and splashes
      her eyes and the back of her neck.  That done she eases open her
      window and presses her face to the bars, sucking in cool night
      air until every shred of sleep is gone from her brain.

      Then she starts pulling on clothes.

142.  INT.  NANCY'S HOUSE/DOWNSTAIRS.  NIGHT.                            142.

      ANGLE ON MARGE as she checks the lock on the backdoor.  Firm.

143.  ANGLE IN THE LIVING ROOM as she pads through the darkened house,   143.
      feels her way to a wall of shelves and takes down a book.  Then
      another, and a third.  Then reaches in and fishes out a bottle of

144.  EXT.  NANCY'S HOUSE AND ELM STREET.  NIGHT.                        144.

      The sky has gathered in greater darkness.  LOW, DISTANT THUNDER
      rolls around the horizon like a great drum.

      ANGLE ON NANCY'S HOUSE from across the street.  The moon glints
      off the barred windows. CAMERA ZOOMS to NANCY's window.  The
      imprisoned girl hovers in the darkness behind the grill like a
      ghost, her eyes turned towards GLEN's.  Then she switches to
      something much CLOSER TO CAMERA ANGLE, and she draws back.

145.  REVERSE ON GLEN's father, standing on the front porch of his       145.
      home, also in the shadows, looking straight across and up at
      NANCY.  He 	draws on his cigarette; his face glows red.

146.  NANCY pulls down the shade.                                        146.

147.  GLEN's father grinds the cigarette beneath his shoe.               147.

                                      MRS LANTZ
                      Shouldn't stare.

      As the man turns our SHOT WIDENS TO REVEAL MRS LANTZ.

                                      MR LANTZ
                      Know what I think?  I think 
                      that kid's some kinda lunatic.

      The woman spoons more sweetness into her mouth and rubs her

                                      MRS LANTZ
                      Shouldn't say such a thing about
                      the poor child.  If you mean the 
                      bars, Marge's just being cautious,
                      her being alone and Nancy acting
                      so nervous lately.

      The woman rises and pulls him gently towards the living room.  As
      he goes inside he takes one last look.

                                      MR LANTZ (CONTD)
                      Well, she ain't gonna hang around
                      our boy no more.

      Once the two are inside, the door is locked.

148.  INT.  NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        148.

      CLOSE ON NANCY's face.  VERY CLOSE.  Her eyes stare ahead,
      red-rimmed, anxious.  She picks absently at the thick bandage
      covering her forearm.  The long cuts from Fred Krueger's fingers
      are bleeding again, but she doesn't even care anymore.  Too late
      to sweat the small stuff.  She crosses the room.

      On the bedside table with the nearly empty Pyrex coffee maker,
      the empty cup and the empty box of No-Doz, is her old fashioned
      alarm clock, and a phone.

      NANCY pours herself the last of the coffee and drinks it to the
      dregs, then looks to the clock.

      INSERT CLOCK -- ten minutes to midnight.

      NANCY'S eyes go to the door.

      WIDER.  Fully clothed and in a jacket now, she creeps to the door
      and cracks it, just to make sure.  Then freezes.

149.  INT.  HALLWAY OUTSIDE NANCY'S DOOR.                                149.

      IN NANCY'S POV through the door we see MARGE, rummaging around in
      the linen closet not fifteen feet away.  There's no way NANCY can
      get past her.  The woman pulls out a full bottle of gin in
      satisfaction and begins fumbling with its cap.

150.  INT.  NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        150.

      NANCY eases the door closed again and sinks to the key hole,
      watching through it with a sinking heart.

                              (very quiet, very intense)
                      Hang on GLEN...

151.  INT.  GLEN'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                         151.

      GLEN, coat now on, goes to his window, checking.

152.  INT.  ELM STREET.  NIGHT.                                          152.

      GLEN'S POV -- NANCY'S porch is deserted; front door closed,
      lights out.  No sign of NANCY.

153.  INT.  GLEN'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                         153.

      GLEN shrugs, takes off his jacket and plops back onto his bed.

                      Well, I'm not gonna risk
                      sneaking out until she does.

      He puts the earphones back on.

154.  INT.  NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        154.

      Absolutely frustrated, NANCY turns from the keyhole to the
      window. She opens the blind and eases back the curtain.


      IN NANCY'S POV THROUGH THE BARS we ZOOM directly across to GLEN's

156.  INT.  GLEN'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                         156.

      GLEN lies on his bed, fully clothed, earphones over his ears,
      CARSON droning from the TV.  And the boy's eyes begin to droop.

157.  INT.  NANCY'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                     157.

      NANCY picks up her phone, bites her lip, then begins dialing.

158.  INT.  GLEN'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                         158.

      TIGHT ON PHONE as it begins RINGING loudly.

      WIDER SHOT, revealing GLEN asleep BACKGROUND, the MUSIC still
      LOUD in his earphones.

159.  INT.  GLEN'S LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                  159.

      RINGING here, too, just as MR LANTZ is turning out the lights for
      bed.  He stops in the dark, scowling.

                                      MR LANTZ
                      Who at this hour?

      He refuses to turn the light back on.  His wife picks her way to
      the telephone.

                                      MRS LANTZ
                              (listens, frowns
                      Oh... Hold on.
                              (covers the mouthpiece)
                      It's her.  She wants to talk to

      The father crosses to the telephone, suspicious.

                                      MR LANTZ
                      About what?

                                      MRS LANTZ
                              (into phone)
                      What's this about, Nancy?

      She listens, covers up again.

                                      MRS LANTZ (CONTD)
                      She says it's private.  Very 
                      private and very important.

      MR LANTZ grabs the telephone from his wife and barks into it.

                                      MR LANTZ
                      Glen's asleep.  Talk to him

      He SLAMS down the telephone with a grunt of satisfaction to his

                                      MR LANTZ (CONTD)
                      Just got to be firm with kids,
                      is all.

      Then as a refinement he takes the phone off the hook and lays it
      on the table.

160.  INT.  NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        160.

      NANCY dials again.  This time she gets a BUSY SIGNAL.  She slams
      the phone down in frustration and looks out the window.

                      Glen.  Don't fall asleep...

      She goes and sits on the bed, propping her chin on her fists.
161.  Yawns.  The TELEPHONE RINGS.                                       161.

      NANCY snatches it up.



      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.

                      Brilliant.  Now what if Glen

      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)

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

                                      KRUEGER (FILTER)
                      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

      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

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

                      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)

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

                      Give me the key, mother.

                      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

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


                                                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!

      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

      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.

      hands sweep together at midnight.

                                              BURN ON:

                              THE NINTH DAY

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

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

                      Okay, Krueger, you bastard.
                      We play in your court.


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.

                      Lieutenant.  It's your daughter.
                      Says it's urgent.

      THOMPSON turns away from the dripping.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Tell her I'm not here, tell

                      Uh, she just saw you, sir...

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

                                      LT THOMPSON (CONTD)
                      Hello Nancy.

                      Hi daddy.  I know what happened.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Then you know more than I do --
                      I haven't even been upstairs.

                      You know he's dead though, right?

      THOMPSON debates, then admits it.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Yeah, apparantly he's dead.
                      How the hell'd you know?

      A tear coarses down NANCY's cheek, but her voice remains firm.

                      I've got a proposition for
                      you.  Listen very carefully,

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Nan, I --

                      Please.  I'm gonna go get
                      the guy who did it and bring
                      him to you.  I just need you
                      be right there to arrest him.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Just tell me who did it and
                      I'll go get him, baby.

                      Fred Krueger did it, Daddy,
                      and only I can get him.  It's
                      my nightmare he comes to.

      The detective flinches at the name.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Where'd you hear about Krueger --

      NANCY presses, very firm, very rational.

                      -- I want you to come over here
                      and break the door down exactly
                      twenty minutes from now -- can 
                      you do that?

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Sure, but...

                      That'll be exactly half past 
                      midnight.  Time for me to fall
                      asleep and find him.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Sure, sure, honey.  You just 
                      do that -- get yourself some 
                      sleep -- that's what I've been
                      saying all along.

                      And you'll be here to catch
                      him, right?

                      Lieutenant -- they're waiting

      THOMPSON waves curtly, still speaking to NANCY.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Sure, okay, I'll be there.
                      Now you just turn in and get
                      some rest, sweetheart.  Please.


      NANCY hangs up.  LT THOMPSON starts upstairs.  But then he stops,
      and as an afterthought he could never really explain, turns to

                                      LT THOMPSON (CONTD)
                      Get outside and watch her house.
                      If you see anything funny call

                      'Anything funny' like what?

      THOMPSON shakes his head, embarassed.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      I don't know -- but one thing
                      for sure, I don't want her 
                      coming over here.  She's way 
                      too far gone to be able to
                      to handle this.

      As PARKER exits, ANGLE CUTS TO NANCY'S KITCHEN as the girl hangs
      up and sinks back agiainst the wall, trapped by her own
      resolution.  She looks at her watch.

169.  INSERT -- five past midnight.  NANCY switches modes to stopwatch   169.
      and sets the COUNTDOWN going at twenty-five minutes.

170.  INT.  GLEN'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                      170.

      LT THOMPSON steps into GLEN's room, anxious to be done with it.
      He hits a wall of stench and horror even before he takes it in
      with his eyes, and as soon as he sees the bed he claps his hand
      over his mouth, pivots and walks right back into the hallway.

171.  INT.  HALLWAY.  NIGHT.                                             171.

      He sags against the wall, unable to look at the COPS who hover

                      What the hell did that,
                      Lieutenant?  There ain't even
                      a head left.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Goddamed if I know.
                              (tries to straighten)
                      What's the Coronor say?

                      He's in the john puking since 
                      he saw it.

172.  INT.  CELLAR.  NIGHT.                                              172.

      NANCY pulls tools and hardware out with grim resolution.  Hammer,
      nails, spools of wire, an old square of heavy fishneting, some
      old shot gun shells, a file -- referring only once to the booklet
      in her hand.

173.  INT.  NANCY'S LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                 173.

      Barely able to control her shaking hands, NANCY starts stringing
      off the spool of wire across the living room, crying and swearing
      at the same time.

      DISSOLVE TO HER HANDS wrapping bare lamp wire around two
      thumbtacks stuck into the insides of the pinchers of a common
      wooden clothespin.  The wire goes OFF SCREEN.

      ANOTHER ANGLE as she inserts a Lifesaver between the two prongs.
      One end of the fishline is tied to the lifesaver.  The whole now
      is stretched taut about three inches off the living room carpet.

      ON NANCY carefully filing a hole in a LIGHTBULB.

      OH HER pouring powder and shot from shotgun shells into the
      opening in the bulb until it's full, then sealing it with tape.

      DISSOLVE TO HER screwing the bulb back into the floor lamp, and
      placing the thing near the foot of the stairs.

      SC 174 (DELETE)

175.  INT.  NANCY'S UPSTAIRS HALLWAY.  NIGHT.                            175.

      -- NANCY completes installing a sturdy sliding bolt to the
      outside of her own bedroom door.

      -- NANCY screws a hinge into the wall directly above her door.
      Attached to the hinge is the shank of something -- some kind of
      tool.  We can't see what it is because CAMERA never quite frames
      the whole thing.

      -- NANCY tiptoes to her mother's door and peeks in.

176.  INT.  MARGE'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                     176.

      MARGE lies propped in her bed looking back at NANCY.  Her
      drunkeness has been altered by the SIRENS and BABBLE outside into
      a sort of comatose clarity.

                      Guess I should'n'a done it.

                      Just sleep now, Mom.

                      Just wanted to protect you,
                      Nan.  Just wanted to protect

      MARGE slides over on her side.  NANCY smooths her hair, covers her
      as she would a child, then exits the room.

      DELETE SC 177

178.  INT.  NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT.                                        178.

      The girl enters, turns out her bedside light, slips out of her
      dress and puts on her nightgown.  Then she kneels by her bed.

                                      NANCY (quietly)
                      Now I lay me down to sleep,
                      I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
                      If I should die before I wake,
                      I pray the Lord my soul to take.

      She gets into bed and pulls the blankets to her chin.

      CLOSE ON NANCY's face.  She stares straight up at the ceiling for
      a long moment, then closes her eyes.

                                                 CUT TO:

179.  INT.  GLEN'S LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                  179.

      LT THOMPSON trudges down the stais and confronts GLEN'S FATHER.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      I know it's hard to think at
                      a time like this, Walter, but
                      can you think of anyone who
                      could've done such a thing?

      The father stares away, his voice low and dull.

                                      MR LANTZ
                      He done it.

      THOMPSON looks at the man, baffled.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Who?  Who did that?

                                      MR LANTZ

                                      LT THOMPSON

      The father gives him the strangest look.

                                      MR LANTZ
                      Had to've done it.  No one
                      else was in there.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      How you know that?

                                      MR LANTZ
                      Cause I thought Glen was 
                      gonna sneak out to see your
                      lunatic daughter, that's why.
                      So I locked him in his room!
                              (getting control)
                      Sorry.  Anyways, the door was
                      still locked when we heard the

      He blinks.

                                      MR LANTZ (CONTD)
                      Maybe god's punishing us all...

                                      LT THOMPSON
                              (much lower and hard)
                      Keep your head -- this is a
                      fucking flesh and blood killer
                      we're talking about.

                                      MR LANTZ
                      Like Rod Lane?

      A voice calls down from upstairs.

                                      COP (OS)
                      Lieutenant Thompson.  Coronor
                      wants to show you something.

      THOMPSON gives MR LANTZ one final look, then heads upstairs.

                                              CUT TO:

      NOTE: These rewrites of scenes 180 and 180 A replace NANCY
      walking through the 'dream streets' at night, and NANCY
      approaching the huge deserted building at night, prior to her
      entering the Boiler Room the final time.

180.  INT.  DOWNSTAIRS, NANCY'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.                           180.

      LOW ANGLE UP STAIRS as NANCY appears at head.  As she comes
      downstairs, CAMERA MOVES WITH HER through the hallway to the
      cellar door.  She opens the door.

180A. INT.  NANCY'S CELLAR.  NIGHT.                                      180A.

      NANCY appears at top of these stairs, hesitates, then comes down.

      WIDER as NANCY approaches center of room, stops in CU, then turns
      eyes.  We HEAR the distant SOUND of the boiler room now, faint
      but unmistakeable.  NANCY MOVES, and CAMERA PANS HER to the
      cellar's side WALL, where another, new doorway is REVEALED.
      NANCY opens this door and looks down.  FIRELIGHT is on NANCY'S
      face now, and the SOUND of the Boiler Room is very clear.  NANCY
      goes through the door.

180B. INT.  BOILER ROOM.                                                 180B.

      NANCY decends like Orpheus into hell, but without weapon save her

      She decends a steel stair to the lowest level, then hears the
      SOUND of the knives from down another shaft.  She sees there's an
      even deeper place down there.  She starts down.

      Again, and then again, NANCY decends, each ladder narrower or
      more twisting, each level deeper, wetter, darker, more airless.
      Soon she's gasping for air, but still she pushes herself on. She
      doesn't stop until she breaks out at last at the very bottom of
      the place, a wet, firelit sump deep in the bowels of the place.

      CAMERA NOW PANS AROUND WITH HER, and for the first time we SEE
      the vast maul of the empty boiler behind her.

      She stares at it.  It's seething with some dark WIND that soughs
      and whines like a huge dying dog.

      NANCY crosses to it, touching the pile of old, coal-dusted dirt
      at its base.  It looks almost like an old grave.

      She turns suddenly, listening.  Then, hearing nothing, she looks

      NANCY'S POV as she picks up GLEN's earphones.

      WIDER as she suddenly drops them, staring at her fingers.
      They're dripping blood.

      There's another BEEP.

180C. INSERT ON NANCY'S WATCH -- the COUNT-DOWN a blur of black digits   180C.
      counting down to zero.  They've just crossed the ten minute

180D. CLOSE ON NANCY'S FACE.  She speaks into the night.                 180D.

                      Come out and show yourself,
                      you bastard.

      No sooner are these words off her lips than the huge bulk of FRED
      KRUEGER lurches up behind her!  The man is even more hideous
      hatless, his bald head and tormented face veiled in skeins of
      ruined flesh, his ragged teeth barred, the great spider of
      razor-blades flashing from his fingertips.

      He leaps, but the girl leaps just as fast, a fierce jump,
      that sends her out over black space and down into a huge, dark
      sump of blackness.

180E. EXT.  THE HEAVENS.  NIGHT.                                         180E.

      CLOSE ANGLE ON NANCY as she curves like a swan though her
      apogee, and begins falling, diving, planing through black air,
      the wind ripping at her hair and eyes.  Suddenly the complex,
      glittering skein of light that is the San Fernando Valley seen
      from the air slides INTO FRAME, and we see she's falling from
      high, high over the earth.

      NANCY falls, falls in slow motion against the spinning lights,
      free as a sky diver freefalling -- a giddy, acrophobic plunge.

181,182,183,184 OMIT                                    OMIT 181,182,183,184

185.  EXT.  ELM STREET/NANCY'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.                            185.

      NANCY crashes suddenly out of the night and into a hedge just
      outside her own front door, rolling out at its bottom scratched
      and bloodied.  If she were in any normal reality she'd be a mass
      of broken bones -- but somehow she's able to claw her way up and
      look at her watch once more.

      INSERT.  Just a few seconds from zero.

      She staggers for her house's front door -- but a moment later
      KRUEGER crashes down atop her!  NANCY struggles to her knees just
      as the man lunges with that godawful handful of blades.  But
      instead of running, she ducks inside the deadly grab and seizes
      him in a desperate bearhug!

      The surprise move sends him pitching backwards, her still on him
      --and they fall into the jumble of torn-down trellis of roses
      beneath her window.  Almost at that very second we HEAR the
      jarring, deafening RINGING of NANCY's alarm clock!

                                              SMASH CUT TO:

186.  INT.  NANCY'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                     186.

      NANCY sprawls out of her bed onto the floor, twisting from the
      jabs of the already vanished thorns, briars and brush.  Gasping,
      she takes a second to get her bearings

      ANGLE ON THE BED as she recovers quick as she can, snatching up
      the net, ready for an assault from any direction.

      But the room is empty.

      Hardly able to catch her breath, her hair tangled, her nightgown
      torn, she drops the net.  She sits on the bed, turns on the
      bedside lamp and re-examines her room.  No one there but herself.

      It's a terrible blow, despite the fact that she's safe.  Her face
      is covered with tears, she's shaking and breathless.  She rattles
      her head in confusion and despair, realizing her own madness.

                      I'm crazy after all...

      At that very instant FRED KRUEGER leaps up from the far side of
      the bed with an EXPLOSIVE SHOUT of rage!

      He lunges across the table for her, missing by inches as NANCY
      pitches backwards and scrambles for the window.  But she's
      stopped by the bars.

      KRUEGER, incredibly fast, regains his feet and leaps again -- the
      girl wheels and shatters the coffeepot over his head.  As he
      crashes backwards NANCY flings open the door of her room and
      dives through -- only to rebound off someone on the other side --

187.  INT.  HALLWAY.  NIGHT.                                             187.

      MARGE, knocked flying by NANCY'S charge, hits the floor hard,
      knocking the wind out of herself.  NANCY sees what she's done,
      jumps over the body and slams the door and throws the new bolt
      home.  Next instant she gingerly ties a string to the door's
      knob, a string that trails down from the ceiling, attached to
      something up there that's still just barely out of sight.

      Next instant she's dragging her MOTHER towards the woman's
      bedroom as fast as she can.

      KRUEGER is already splintering the doorway behind her as NANCY
      dips and makes it into MARGE's room, SLAMMING the DOOR behind her
      and locking it in a flash.

      The MANIAC breaks the bolt and rips open the door.

      But the in the very act of doing this he of course unknowingly
      pulls the string attached to the outside doorknob with terrific

      CLOSE ANGLE ON THE CEILING.  The string jerks against a
      single-edged razor, which in turn cuts a tight wind of cord
      holding a heavy wedge of steel to the ceiling.

      WIDER as the thing falls free, pivoting at the hinge at the far
      end of its handle, and drives straight into KRUEGER'S groin with
      a terrific blow.  As he catapaults backwards with an incredulous
      shriek, the twenty pound sledge hammer swings back and reveals to
      camera just what it is!

      ANGLE DOWN ON KRUEGER, clawwing his way up despite his agony,
      lurching and cursing forward like an enraged bull.

      WIDER ANGLE IN THE HALLWAY as KRUEGER roars out -- only to
      immediately strike the length of WIRE strung across the hallway,
      catching it just above the thigh.  He cartwheels head-over-heels
      and lands flat on his back!

      Instantly the DOOR to NANCY's MOTHER's bedroom flies open and
      NANCY brings a brass lamp down over KRUEGER's head with all her
      might!  It sounds like a line-drive caroming off a metal

      NANCY SLAMS the DOOR as KRUEGER struggles up, clutching his

      Enraged, the huge man CRASHES against the door with terrific
      force, and rears back and starts smashing against the door like
      the utter homicidal lunatic that he is.

                                                   CUT TO:

188.  EXT.  ELM STREET/NANCY'S HOME.  NIGHT.                             188.

      HIGH ANGLE at the second floor level.  NANCY jerks open the
      window to her MOTHER's bedroom and jams her face to the bars.
      The AMBULANCE is pulling away with a tremendous WAIL of its SIREN
      as NANCY SCREAMS down, trying to make herself heard.

                      Help!  Hey -- Daddy -- I got
                      him trapped!  Where are you!?

189.  ANGLE ON the street.  PARKER, assigned to guard the house, sees    189.
      NANCY -- hair white, eyes wide -- pounding on the bars and
      screaming like a lunatic.  But her meaning is utterly lost in the
      noise of the ambulance next to him.

                              (yelling up at her)
                      Everything's going to be all
                      right!  Everything's under

      ANGLE at the window.  Close on NANCY's face, incredulous at his

                      Get my father, you asshole!

      PARKER does a little take.  That almost sounded sane.

                                      PARKER (OS)
                      You heard what I said!  Now get
                      back inside or I'll tell your

191.  Behind her the DOOR SPLINTERS.  NANCY whirls around just in time   191.
      to see KRUEGER bull in!  NANCY's eyes go wide -- she's trapped
      against the bars and has nowhere to go.  The man bunches his
      knives into a single thick blade and rushes her, stabbing.  NANCY
      closes her eyes --

      Then from OUT OF FRAME Marge leaps between the two.


      She blocks the charge perfectly -- blocking the knives.
      Both she and NANCY are slammed backwards against the bars
      Drunk though she is, is hanging onto KRUEGER'S weapon hand,
      keeping the knives inside herself, away from her daughter!

                      Nancy -- for god's sake's run!

      But NANCY turns to the window instead, screaming for her father.

                      Daddy!  Where are you!

192.  EXT.  ELM STREET.  NIGHT.                                          192.

      PARKER, just about to turn back to the business at GLEN's house,
      sees NANCY and SOMEONE else fall just inside the window.
      Something begins to dawn on the man.  Just a little.

                      Poor woman's got her hands full 
                      with that kid.  Maybe I better 
                      tell the lieutenant.

      He turns and jogs towards GLEN's house.

193.  INT.  MARGE'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                     193.

      ANGLE ON KRUEGER, hauling MARGE up in rage, knocking her
      senseless across her bed and climbing after her with his knives
      raised.  NANCY wheels behind him and whams him in the kidneys
      with her fists, spilling him back off the bed, then running past
      him for the door.  She makes it to safety,
      then turning back.  She flips the monster the bird, her eyes wild
      with pain and fury.

                      Hey fuckface -- can't catch me!

      The bait works -- KRUEGER leaves MARGE and howls after NANCY.

194.  INT.  UPSTAIRS HALLWAY.  NIGHT.                                    194.

      As NANCY clears the hall and makes the stairs, KRUEGER lurches
      through the shattered doorway after her.

195.  INT.  LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                         195.

      The girl careens down the stairs, across the room and to the
      front door, banging against it with terrified fury.

                      Come on -- he's in here!
                      Daddy!  Don't let him kill
                      me too!

      Behind her the huge MAN is thumping down the stairs, KNOCKING
      with a horrible sound!

      NANCY flings a heavy ash tray through the porch window and
      screams through the bars.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                      HEELLLPPP!!!  Daddyyyyyyy!!!!

      KRUEGER, bloody and spewwing threats, staggers for her -- NANCY
      dives behind the couch.

      CLOSE ON KRUEGER'S FEET as they hit another wire.

      CLOSE ON the Lifesaver jerking out -- the clothespin snapping
      together, completing the circuit with a CRACKLING SPARK.

      WIDER ON THE EXPLOSION that rips out of the floor lamp next to
      KRUEGER and knocks him sprawling across the room.

      NANCY peeks out from behind the couch.  The man lies in a smoking
      heap.  NANCY runs to the windows and screams out again.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                      Hey -- Daddy!  Hey!  I got the

      KRUEGER roars up behind her -- she throws herself sideways -- he
      crashes into the window frame, smashing glass and wood to bits.

      NANCY turns SCREAMING and runs deeper into the house.

196.  OMIT                                                               196.

197.  INT.  CELLAR.  NIGHT.                                              197.

      She careens down the stairs, throwing on the lights, the man
      thundering after her.

      ANGLE AT THE FAR END OF THE CELLAR.  NANCY brakes at the wall.
      Nowhere left to hide.

      THE SCRAPPING of the blades against brick turns her to see the
      huge killer holding his knife-laden fingers up for her.

                      Ready for these?

198.  ON NANCY -- she ducks behind the furnace -- comes out the other    198.
      side with the big jug of gasoline and lets KRUEGER have it
      straight over the head.  The heavy container shatters, showering
      its contents over every square inch of the man.

      He staggers backwards with a ROAR of fury, NANCY screaming after
      him with a box of kitchen matches.  Before the man can realize
      what she's up to, she ignites the whole box and throws it in
      KRUEGER's face.

      There's a blinding WHOOSH -- and KRUEGER goes up in a terrific
      BALL OF FIRE.  Faster than a flash the girl runs past the howling
      maniac and makes for the stairs, KRUEGER after her in full
      pyrrhic rage.

199.  INT.  NANCY'S KITCHEN.  NIGHT.                                     199.

      NANCY holds the heavy door until the precisely right moment.
      Just as the burning, blind monster tops the stairs, NANCY brings
      the heavy oak door round with all her might and catches him in a
      great RINGING CONCUSSION.  It sends him windmilling backwards and
      down the stairs in an ass-over-teakettle sprawl of sparks and

      NANCY slams the door and throws the deadbolt home.

      No sooner does she accomplish this than the man is SLAMMING again
      and again against the door from the cellar.
                           The terrible SCREAMS and CURSES PEAK,
      THEN GROW WEAKER AND MORE GARBLED.  Then there's just silence.

      NANCY staggers, half blind, from the kitchen.

      As the room begins seething SMOKE from every pore, we

                                              CUT TO:

200.  INT.  GLEN'S UPSTAIRS HALLWAY.  NIGHT.                             200.

      The CORONER steps out of the bathroom peeling bloody rubber
      gloves.  Pale and sweating.

                      Found you something, Donald.
                      Should remind you of something...

      The man shoves out his hand to LT THOMPSON.  THOMPSON stares at
      it without touching it.  A long, thin steel blade, razor sharp,
      attached to some sort of ring and armature -- broken off...

	The CORONER gives a sweaty, grim smile.

                                      CORONER (CONTD)
                      Only place I ever heard of such
                      a thing before was ten years
                      ago.  Remember that fucker
                      Fred Krueger?

      LT THOMPSON has just knocked PARKER sprawling in his race to the

                      Hey -- your daughter's acting 
                      kinda -- !
                              (THOMPSON'S gone)

201.  EXT.  NANCY'S HOME.  NIGHT.                                        201.

      CRASH as NANCY breaks another window and presses against the
      bars.  The house shudders and glows orange behind her.  She sees
      her father bursting out the front door of Glen's house!

                      DAD!  GET US OUTTA HERE!

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      Oh, Jesus -- Nancy!
                              (to his men)
                      Hey!  We got a fire!

202.  ANGLE ON NANCY'S FRONT DOOR.  Many MEN batter the door down as     202.
      black smoke pours from the windows and NANCY's SCREAMS and SHOUTS
      fill the air.  Within moments they've destroyed the door and LT
      THOMPSON has pulled his daughter into the safety of his arms.
      But NANCY immediately fights free and darts right back to the
      front door -- beckoning him to follow -- gesturing like a wild

                      I got him -- I got Fred Krueger!

      THOMPSON stares at his wild little girl in astonishment, then
      runs in after her.  The others follow, coughing and choking.

203.  INT.  LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.                                         203.

      THOMPSON collides with NANCY as she brakes, frozen.  THE SMOKE IS
      BELCHING OUT OF THE CELLAR, but whoever was locked in there
      certainly isn't now.  The door is flat on the kitchen floor.

                                      LT THOMPSON
                      What the hell are you talking about,

      NANCY wheels without answering.  A series of tiny, isolated fires
      burn across the living room and up the stairs.  Firesteps.

                                      NANCY (CONTD)
                      He's after Mom!  Come on!

      She darts across the living room, following the flaming
      footprints of FRED KRUEGER up the stairs before THOMPSON can stop

                                      LT THOMPSON

204.  INT.  MARGE'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.                                     204.

      NANCY STOPS IN THE SPLINTERED DOORWAY -- a ragged gold-red light
      splashing her horrified face.

205.  REVERSE IN HER POV -- FRED KRUEGER, literally a man of fire, has   205.
      a screaming MARGE pinned to the bed and is crawling all over
      her!  NANCY gives a banshee's howl, snatches up a chair and
      brings it down over the back of the firey beast, stunning him.

      By the time LT THOMPSON races into the room NANCY'S seized a
      heavy blanket has thrown over both of them, fighting the flames.
      The father joins his daughter without a second thought, heaving
      another blanket over the bed and smothering the last of the

                      He's under there!  Watch it!

206.  THOMPSON pushes the girl back -- yanks out his .38 and pulls off   206.
      the first cover.  No movement.  He pulls back a second one,
      ready to fire.  But the only thing he sees is the blackened
      half-skeleton of his ex-wife, smoking and seething and sinking
      into the fluid-like mattress, sinking right down through it as if
      she were sinking into a lake.  A blackened, gnarled hand goes
      last, then the bed solidifies over the place she's disappeared.
      And it's as if no one was ever there.
      NANCY turns and looks at LT THOMPSON, her face white as her
      ghostly hair.  THOMPSON shoves his .38 back in its holster and
      finds a cigarette, his hands shaking so badly he can barely

                      Now do you believe me?

      PARKER barges in.  The room is filled with smoke, the bed is
      stripped, but other than that, the place seems normal.

                      You find him?
                              (looking closer
                               at THOMPSON)

      LT THOMPSON just walks by him.  PARKER chases after.

                                      PARKER (CONTD OS)
                      Sir -- here, let me light that
                      for you -- Lieutenant?  What 

      WIDER, ON NANCY alone in the room.  She turns and looks at the
      bed.  MUSIC slips in and builds.  The bed has changed color.
      It's now an ash-darkened red and yellow.

207.  CLOSER ON NANCY from the direction of the bed.  MUSIC SUDDENLY     207.
      STOPS, and the surface of the red and yellow bed gets a bump in
      its center that keeps raising, raising until it's a hump that's a
      head and shoulders, still raising until it looms over NANCY.

      Then FRED KRUEGER's entire shape sweeps up into the yellow and
      red mass -- and the garish head, smoking and seething, pops

      NEW ANGLE -- KRUEGER, a burned, sizzling black hump of a killer,
      clumps onto the floor between NANCY and the door.

      NANCY falls absoltely still, and her face goes through a
      strange, almost sublime transformation.

                      I know you're there, Krueger.

      She turns and faces him.

                      You think you was gonna get
                      away from me?

      NANCY shakes her head.

                      I know you too well now,

      KRUEGER smiles bitterly.  Coming closer.

                      And now you die...

      There's a SLICKERING RATTLE at his side, and he raises the only
      thing on him not charred -- the gleaming steel talons.

208.  NANCY simply shakes her head again, as if seeing a light at the    208.
      end of her long, long tunnel.  And the way she says the words,
      they might be appearing on the inside of her eyes.

                      It's too late, Krueger.  I
                      know the secret now -- this
                      is just a dream, too -- you're
                      not alive -- the whole thing
                      is a dream -- so fuck off!
                      I want my mother and friends

      KRUEGER grins insanely, confused and amused at the same time.

                      You what?

                              (even, firm)
                      I take back every bit of
                      energy I ever gave you.
                      You're nothing.  You're

      And then she turns her back on him.  KRUEGER bunches his
      fingers, producing a single ragged bundle of razor talons and
      raises his hand over the back of her head and neck.

      NANCY closes her eyes and steps to the door.

      CLOSE ON HER HAND, touching the door knob.


      MUSIC BUILDS then SHRIEKS as KRUEGER stabs down, right through
      NANCY -- as if she were an optical illusion -- loosing his
      balance and falling down, down, down...  And he's gone.

                                              CUT TO:

209.  EXT.  ELM STREET.  DAY.                                            209.

      CLOSE ON NANCY'S FRONT DOOR AS NANCY jerks it open and blinks in
      the bright, diffused light.  The MUSIC FADES on a transitional
      note, into light.

      We hear BIRDS.

      CHILDREN playing.

      Early morning SOUNDS.

                              (to herself)
                      God, it's bright.

      MARGE sticks her head out, squinting, and nods.  Sober.

                      Gonna burn off soon or it
                      wouldn't be so bright.

      NANCY turns and looks her mother over.

                      Feeling better?

                      They say you've bottomed out
                      when you can't remember the
                      night before.
                              (shakes her head)
                      No more drinking, Baby, suddenly
                      I just don't feel like it
                      any more.

      She touches NANCY.

                                      MARGE (CONTD)
                      Didn't keep you up last night,
                      did I?  You look a little 

      NANCY smiles.

                      Nah.  Just slept heavy.

      The girl gives a wave and goes off.  MARGE calls after.

                      See ya.

      NANCY turns and waves.

                      See ya.

210.  WIDER ON NANCY as she walks to the curb.  The whole scene is       210.
      wrapped in an unseasonal tule fog, bright yet diffuse.  We notice
      that NANCY's house no longer has bars on its windows.  Then we
      see a familiar convertible pull up at the curb, top down.  TINA
      and ROD are in the back seat.  They all wave to MARGE as NANCY
      climbs in.

                      You believe this fog?

                      I believe anything's possible.

      TINA slaps five with NANCY.

                      Lookin' good, girl!

      ANGLE INSIDE THE CONVERTIBLE.  GLEN slips into the seat next to
      NANCY.  Someone else is driving, it seems.  NANCY looks up to the
      DRIVER.  The big MAN turns and grins at NANCY, a terrible,
      scarred, hideous leer of a grin -- FRED KRUEGER'S grin!

      ANGLE BACK OUTSIDE THE CONVERTIBLE as its top clamps over the
      kids within -- a bright red and yellow top that closes as fast
      and hard as a beartrap!  NANCY'S frightened face flies to the
      window, pressing against the thick glass as the car roars away
      from the curb and into the thick fog.

211.  CAMERA PANS TO a group of LITTLE GIRLS, half-hidden by the fog,    211.
      jumping rope and singing gayly.

                      One two --
                      Freddy's coming for you!
                      Three four --
                      Better lock your door!
                      Five six --
                      Get your Crucifix
                      Seven eight --
                      Gonna stay up late!
                      Nine ten --
                      Never sleep again!

      MUSIC CROSSFADES WITH THIS SONG, expanding the simple tune to
      symphonic, boundless dimensions as the little girls fade into
      thin air, and we

                                      FADE TO BLACK
                              ROLL END TITLES.