istens, 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
tomorrow!
He SLAMS down the telephone with a grunt of satisfaction to his
wife.
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.
NANCY
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
Glen?
TIGHT ON HER, ZOOMING EVEN CLOSER ON HER EAR AND THE EARPIECE as
we HEAR the awful SCRITCHING SCRAPE of STEEL FINGERKNIVES.
NANCY slaps the phone down as if it were diseased -- then, in
pure rage, rips the thing's cord from the wall.
Spent instantly, she puts the receiver back on the cradle and
lays it on her bed, chiding herself.
NANCY
Brilliant. Now what if Glen
calls?
She wraps the phone cord around the useless machine and puts it
on her bed, then sneaks back to the door. This time she gives an
expression of relief, and opens the door. MARGE is gone.
Then the TELEPHONE RINGS again.
CAMERA MOVES IN ON NANCY as she turns slowly.
162. REVERSE IN HER POV. THE TELEPHONE RINGS again, despite the fact 162.
that the end of its janked-out cord is clearly visible. The
NIGHTMARE MUSIC THEME slips right up our spines.
BACK ON NANCY. She starts to shake. She goes to the telephone
as we WIDEN, unwraps it as it RINGS even louder. She's shaking
so hard by now she can barely manage to lift the receiver. MOVE
IN CLOSE ON HER, so close we can HEAR her teeth chattering as she
brings the phone to her ear.
NANCY (CONTD)
Hello?
The unmistakeable VOICE of FRED KRUEGER comes over the phone,
garbled by time and unknown dimensions, but clear enough.
KRUEGER (FILTER)
(triumphant)
I'm your boyfriend now...
CLOSE ON THE MOUTHPIECE.
It's changed from a normal telephone
mouthpiece to an actual mouth --
Fred Krueger's mouth --
and his
long, slick tongue flicks out and darts into the startled girl's
mouth!
WIDER -- as NANCY explodes from her micro-dream -- absolutely
mad. She jerks the telephone away from her and smashes it
against her wall, then attacks it with her feet and hands,
smashing it to smithereens.
ANGLE ON THE TELEPHONE PIECES. Normal pieces of a normal
telephone.
She pinches herself hard -- until tears come and her flesh is
nearly bleeding.
NANCY
I'm awake, I am awake. This is
not a dream! I am --
She stops, realizing what Krueger meant.
NANCY (CONTD)
My boyfriend...!
163. INT. NANCY'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT. 163.
NANCY barrels down the stairs and across the darkened living room
to the front door.
It takes her a moment of tugging and fumbling to realize the
deadbolt is locked from inside. And there's no key in it now.
She races to a porch window and throws it open, shaking and
banging on the bars like a mad woman. But there's no getting
through. She staggers back, stymied and furious. Then somebody
moves behind her in the dark.
VOICE (OS)
Locked.
NANCY jumps around in shock. Her mother has posted herself on
the couch with her bottle.
NANCY
(furious)
Give me the key, mother.
MARGE
I don't even have it on me,
so forget it.
The word is final. NANCY runs past the woman to the back door,
to one window after the other, shaking bars and slamming locks
and SCREAMING in teenage fury. But it's no good. The house is
her prison.
MARGE (CONTD)
(drunk satisfaction)
Paid the guy damn good to make
sure you stayed put. You ain't
goin' nowhere, kid. You're
gonna sleep tonight if it kills
me.
NANCY clenches her fists and screams at the top of her lungs, a
heart-wrenching, eardrum-breaking cry of love in despair --
NANCY
GLEEENNNNNN!
SMASH CUT TO:
164. INT. GLEN'S ROOM. NIGHT. 164.
CLOSE ON GLEN'S FROM DIRECTLY ABOVE. The MUSIC is tinny from the
earphones, the TV SOUND DISTANT AND ECHOED. The boy is breathing
deeply now, slowly and gently. Then, unmistakeably, he begins to
SNORE. Very faintly, far in the background, we can hear NANCY.
NANCY (OS)
Glen!! Don't fall asleeeeeep!
CAMERA PULLS BACK AND STRAIGHT UP as the SNORES merge with a
weird, unsettling MUSIC CUE. The boy lies sprawled, still
clothed, in the middle of his bed. Save for the bedside lamp,
the room is dark.
FULL WIDE ANGLE FROM THIS HIGH SPOT looking down at him as from
the eyes of some great fly hung on the ceiling. THE MUSIC
REACHES A TERRIFYING PITCH OF ANTICIPATION -- THEN STOPS
ABRUPTLY.
There's a heartbeat's pause. Then with tremendous force, two
powerful arms shoot up beneath the red and yellow bedspread and
grab GLEN around the waist!
Next moment the young man's body is dragged straight down into
the bed, as if some huge beast had grabbed him and heaved him
down! His feet and his arms shoot up -- there's another hauling
yank -- and the boy disappears except for his hands and fingers
-- down into the pit in the middle of the bed! His hands are
last to go, clawing for a hold. But soon they vanish as well,
dragging blankets and bedsheets, wires and stereo across the
caved-in bed and into the abyss.
There's HIDEOUS SCREECHING of MUSIC jamming in with GLEN's
ECHOING SCREAMS -- then an unholy, sudden silence.
Next moment what's left of GLEN is vomited up from the pit of the
nightmare bed...a horrible mess of blood and bone and hair and
wires...streaming out and over the bed. Then the pit in the bed
is gone as if it were never there.
Drawn by the terribly screams and struggle, GLEN's mother bursts
into the room. The women stares for one moment of horrified
disbelief, then reels back and lets out the most god-awful SCREAM
imaginable. The cry splits the night.
165. EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT. 165.
The SOUND of the SCREAM CROSS-FADES WITH the WAIL of the
AMBULANCE as it screeches to a halt at the curb, followed by two
BLACK AND WHITES and an UNMARKED CAR. Uniformed POLICEMEN spill
out FOREGROUND.
LT THOMPSON and PARKER exit the unmarked car. By habit or by
premonition THOMPSON glances at the house that was his home. His
eye is caught by a movement; his daughter is at her upstairs
window, white-haired, hollow-eyed, looking down on him through
her bars. She gives a little wave.
Unnerved, THOMPSON waves back, then walks rapidly for GLEN's
home. MR LANTZ, pale as a ghost himself, waits on the porch; we
can hear the mother's WAILING inside.
166. INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT. 166.
CLOSE ON NANCY'S BIG OLD WINDUP ALARM CLOCK. Its big and little
hands sweep together at midnight.
BURN ON:
THE NINTH DAY
There's a BABBLE of POLICE RADIOS, SIRENS WINDING DOWN, RUNNING
FOOT-STEPS, SHOUTS, NEIGHBORHOOD KIDS and DOGS BARKING as CAMERA
LIFTS TO NANCY'S FACE. Set. Unafraid. Ruthless.
The girl
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