A Nightmare on Elm Street
				     A Screenplay By:
					  Wes Craven

	INT. (MONTAGE).

	NIGHTMARE MUSIC THEME begins as we FADE UP on a SERIES OF SHOTS 
	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 linage attached to the glove.

		  -- Then the BLADES attached to all of it.

		  -- Then the MAN'S HAND slips into this glove-like
		     aparatus, 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.


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

	A PULSATION OF LIGHT AND SHADOW.  MUSIC DROPS AWAY to a hushed 
	RUSHING OF WIND and DISTANT SIRENS.  CAMERA RACKS INTO FOCUS on a 
	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 
	light.

								CUT TO:

	INT. CONCRETE PASSAGEWAY.

	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 
	free.

	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 teet on 
	edge, twists the MUSIC, and sends TINA running.


	INT. BOILER ROOM.

	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 
			    you...

	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:

	INT. TINA'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	TINA convulses in bed with a SCREAM, loking 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.

						TINA
			    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 (O.S.)
			    		(distant, annoyed)
			    You coming back to the sack or
 			    what?

						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 
	nightgown.

						TINA
					(low)
			    Oh, shit.

	SHe suddenly snatches up the cross that hangs over her bed, her 
	face white as her sheet.

							    FADE TO BLACK
							    BURN ON

					THE FIRST DAY

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


	EXT. HIGH SCHOOL. DAY.

	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 
	THOMPSON, and Nancy's boyfriend and owner of the car, GLEN LANTZ.

	FOREGROUND seeral 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!

	MOVING ANGLE FAVORING NANCY.  She's a pretty girl in a letter 
	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 mid-
	conversation.

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

	Nancy nods.

						NANCY
			    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.

						ROD
			    		(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.

						TINA
			    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.

						ROD
			    Hey, up yours with a twirling lawn 
			    mower!

	He cuts off across the lawn.

						TINA
			    Rod says the sweetest things.

						NANCY
			    He's nuts about you.

						TINA
			    Yeah, nuts.

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

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

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

						GLEN
			    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 
	class.
	
						TINA
			    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

	EXT. A VALLEY STREET. NIGHT.

	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.


	INT. TINA'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

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

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

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

	GLEN shoves a cassette into TINA's Ghetto Blaster.

						GLEN
					(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 SCRUPPT!!

						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 (CONTD)
			    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 
	giggles.

						GLEN (CONTD)
			    		(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 of a FORD LOTUS screaming 
	by at 180 mph.

						GLEN (CONTD)
					(reacting to his mother's
					 reaction)
			    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 (CONTD)
			    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 
	out at top volume -- MACHINE GUNS, HAND GRENADES, DIVING BEARCATS 
	and SHOUTS of charging Huns.  GLEN makes a last-ditch dive and 
	flings the cassette out of the machine.

	Blessed silence at last.

						GLEN (CONTD)
			    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.

						NANCY
			    Worked like a charm.

						GLEN
			    Jesus.

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

	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.

						NANCY
			    Nice to have a fire.

						TINA
			    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.

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

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

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

	TINA laughs despite hereself.  NANCY brightens.

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

	TINA shakes her head, wishing she had forgotten.

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

	NANCY looks up with a flinch.

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

	TINA looks up.

						TINA
			    What you dream?

						NANCY
			    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 
	effected.

						TINA
					(quietly)
			    So what about fingernails?

	NANCY remembers, imitating the frightful coincidence.

						NANCY
			    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 noise --
					(immitates)
			    sssssccrrrtttt...

	TINA pales.

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

	The girls stare at each other.

						GLEN
			    That's impossible.

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

						TINA
			    What?

						GLEN
			    Nothing.

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

						NANCY
			    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.


	EXT. FRONT OF HOUSE. NIGHT.

	CLOSE ON FRONT DOOR as a BOLT UNLOCKS, a KEY TURNS, a CHAIN is 
	REMOVED.  At last the door swings open and GLEN swaggers out.

						GLEN
			    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.

						GLEN
			    It's just a stupid cat.

						NANCY
			    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 
	house.

						TINA
			    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.

						GLEN
			    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.

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

						ROD
			    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.

						TINA
			    What the hell you doing here?

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

						TINA
			    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.

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

						GLEN
			    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 --

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

	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.

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

	He pulls TINA inside without further ceremony.

						NANCY
			    Rod...

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

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

	ANGLE BACK ON GLEN AND NANCY.

						NANCY
			    We should get out of here...

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

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

	She disappears.  GLEN looks at NANCY.  Too innocent.

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

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

	She kisses him lightly, then pushes him back.

						GLEN
					(frustrated)
			    Why's she so bothered by a
			    stupid nightmare, anyway?

						NANCY
			    Because he was scary, that's 
			    why.

						GLEN
			    Who was scary?

	NANCY turns and looks at him.

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

	GLEN gives her a funny look.

						GLEN
			    Me?  I don't dream.

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

							    FADE TO BLACK


	INT. TINA'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

	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.

						GLEN
			    Morality sucks.

							    CUT TO:

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

	This is a slightly larger room that 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.

						TINA
			    I knew there was something 
			    about you I liked...

	ROD yawns into the pillows, happy.

						ROD
			    You feel better now, right?

						TINA
			    Jungle man fix Jane.

						ROD
			    No more fights?

						TINA
			    No more fights.

						ROD
					(sleepily)
			    Good.  No more nightmares for
			    either of us then.

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

						TINA
			    		(beat)
			    When did you have a nightmare?

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

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

						TINA
					(sleepily)
			    Where'd you get this snotty old
			    thing.

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


	INT. TINA'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	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 beat.

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

	ANGLE BACK UP ON THE CEILING JUST ABOVE HER HEAD.  SOMETHING 
	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.


	EXT. TINA'S HOUSE. NIGHT.

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

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

	Another PEBBLE strikes, with a sharper RAP.


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

	CLOSE ON TINA'S FACE as her eyes open.

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

	TINA raises slowly.

						TINA
			    Rod...

	SNORES from ROD.  TINA sits up.

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


	EXT. TINA'S BACK YARD. NIGHT.

	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.

	A LOW ANGLE TO WINDOW as TINA jumps back, startled.  She hadn't 
	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.


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

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

						TINA
					(low)
			    Who the fuck you think you are,
			    whoever you are?


	EXT. TINA'S BACK YARD. NIGHT.

	WIDE ANGLE ON THE REAR OF THE HOUSE.  A LIGHT COMES ON.  TINA 
	appears in the doorway.

						TINA
			    		(listening)
			    Somebody there?

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

						TINA
					(garbled)
			    Tina.

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

						TINA
			    Who the hell is that?

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


	EXT. A SERVICE ALLEY. NIGHT.

	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.

	LOW REVERSE ACROSS LID TO TINA.  Despite herself she comes over 
	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 begind 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 scrapping 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.

						TINA
			    Oh, shit, please God...

						KILLER
					(softly, approaching)
			    This is God...

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

	WIDER ANGLE IN THE ALLEY -- a terrifying, all-out footrace 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.


	EXT. TINA'S STREET. NIGHT.

	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.

						TINA
			    Nancy!  Open the door -- Nancy!

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

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

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

	CLOSE ON HIM as he takes the blade on the end of his right index 
	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 
	SLOW MOTION.

	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 them 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 the 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.

	TINA staggers backward, GROANING, her foot now inexplicably 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.


	INT. TINA'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	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.

	IN HIS POV we glimpse the dark underside of the blanket -- see TWO 
	SHADOWY FIGURES flailing and clawing under teh 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 
	bedspread.
	IN HIS POV we SEE TINA struggling and flailing along on the 
	sheets, the MAN nowhere in sight.

						ROD
			    T-tina!?

	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.

	CLOSER ON HIM as he struggles around.  In the blue FLASHES OF 
	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, horrenously 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 plane.

	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.

						ROD
			    What the hell's going on here!
			    Tina!

	REVERSE IN HIS POV -- as the body falls like a sack of rocks onto 
	the devestated 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.

						ROD
			    You motherfucker!  I'll kill you
			    for that!


	INT. TINA'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	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.


	INT. HALLWAY. NIGHT.

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

						GLEN
			    What the hell's going on!?

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

						ROD (OS)
			    		(sobbing)
			    I'll kill you!

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

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

						GLEN
			    Rod?
					(silence)
			    Rod, you better not hurt Tina...

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

	GLEN barrelsinto the door like the football player he is.  THe 
	frame splinters and they're in.


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

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

						GLEN
			    You okay?

						NANCY
			    Yeah.  Something slippering all
			    over here...
					(feeling)
			    Tina?

	No answer.  THe room is quiet as a tomb.  Except for a steady 
	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.

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

	He bursts from the room.

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

							    FADE TO BLACK


	EXT/INT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

	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 
	OFFICE.)

						PARKER
			    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.

						PARKER
			    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?

						PARKER
			    Something like a razor was
			    the weapon, but nothin was
			    found on the scene.

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

						SERGEANT GARCIA
					(wary)
			    Leautenant.  You know who --

						LT THOMPSON
			    Where is she?

						SERGEANT GARCIA
			    I put her in your office...

	PARKER scurries after.

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

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

						PARKER
			    She lived there.

						LT THOMPSON
			    I don't mean her --


	INT. LT THOMPSON'S OFFICE. NIGHT.

	THOMPSON enters his office and confronts NANCY and her mother, 
	MARGE THOMPSON.

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

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

						MARGE
			    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
			    Marge.

	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?

						NANCY
			    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.
					(hotter)
			    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.

						NANCY
			    Rod's not a lunatic.

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

	The girl is shreddin a Kleenex, staring off.

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

						NANCY
					(quietly)
			    It wasn't that serious...

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

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

						NANCY
			    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...

						THOMPSON
			    What?

						NANCY
			    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.

						MARGE
			    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 of her -- she's still a kid,
			    y'know.

	MARGE wheels on him.

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

	THen she and hte 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

	INT. NANCY'S KITCHEN. MORNING.

							    BURN ON
				  
				    THE SECOND DAY

	FADE UP ON MARGE THOMPSON 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 girls 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 --

	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 shaoves it back inside and pulls the zipper up the rest 
	of the way.

	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.

						MARGE
					(kind)
			    Where you think you're going?

						NANCY
			    School.

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

	NANCY pulls away, determined.

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

	MARGE studies her face a moment.

						MARGE
			    Did you sleep?

						NANCY
			    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 
	cheek.

						MARGE
			    Right home after.

						NANCY (CONTD)
			    Right home after.  See you.

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


	EXT. STREET. DAY.

	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.

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

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

	IN HER POV we SEE the MAN is gone.

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


	EXT. BUSHES. DAY.

	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.

						ROD
			    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.

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

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

						ROD
			    The cops were all over my house.
					(shivers)
			    They'll kill me for sure.

						NANCY
			    Nobady's gonna kill you.

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

						ROD
			    I never touched her.

						NANCY
			    You were screaming like crazy.

	NANCY says this without accusation, just cool observation.

						ROD
			    Someone else was there.

						NANCY
			    The door was locked from your
			    side.

	ROD grabs her hard.  His muscular body tenses.

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

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

	The boy jerks round.  NANCY's father, his .38 leveled right at 
	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 --

						NANCY
			    No!

	THOMPSON jerks his gun into the air, furious.

						LT THOMPSON
			    Jesus -- are you crazy!?

	He plunges past the girl.


	EXT. STREET. DAY.

	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 POLICEMEN, 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 -- !
					(fading)
			    I didn't kill her, Nancy!


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

						NANCY
			    You used me, daddy!

						LT THOMPSON
					(exasperated)
			    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

	INT. CLASSROOM. DAY.

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

						TEACHER
			    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 
			    did -- 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 adn the poetry of the 
	Bard.

						SURFER
					(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 
	CUT TO NANCY.

	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 tenatless, and
			    the sheeted dead did squeak and
			    gibber in the Roman street...

	NANCY's head has sunk again, eyelids drawn as if by enormous 
	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.

	NANCY gives a start.  Her eyes lock onto something.

	REVERSE.  TILTED SIDEWAYS, IN HER HEAD's POV, we look straight 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.

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

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

	NANCY looks nervously towards the rest of the class. No one else 
	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.

						SURFER
			    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...

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


	INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY. DAY.

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

						TINA (O.S.)
					(distant)
			    Nancy.

	NANCY whells and sees the bag, prone on the tiles at the far end 
	of the hall, at the end of long snail's trail of slime.  A pale 
	invisible gravity, the bag slides out of sight into an 
	intersecting corridor.

						NANCY
			    Tina!

	NANCY starts running for it.

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

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

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

	NANCY leaps up --

						NANCY
			    Screw your stupid pass!

	She turns -- sees the body bag halfway down this darker, narrower 
	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 slickening 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.

						HALLGUARD
			    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 
	THEME.


	INT. A STAIRWELL.

	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.

						NANCY
			    Tina?

	No answer.  NANCY starts down the stairs.


	INT. BOILER ROOM. DAY.

	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.

	REVERSE IN HER POV -- we see a tangle of pipes, shadows, and the 
	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.

						NANCY
			    Who are you?

						MAN
			    Gonna get you.

	The leering MAN brings the bloodied scalpel-fingernails across 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.


	INT. PIPE TUNNEL.

	ANGLE IN THE NARROW PASSAGEWAY.  In the BACKGROUND the killer 
	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, form 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 same split second we HEAR her flesh 
	scald, we

							  CUT TO

	INT. ENGLISH CLASS. DAY.

	NANCY lurches up SCRAMING, 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.

						TEACHER
			    Okay -- Okay, THompson!  Every-
			    thing's all right now -- Nancy!

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

	NANCY begins methodically picking up her books.

						TEACHER
			    I'll call your mother.

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

	She marches for the door.

						TEACHER
			    You'll need a hall pass!

	But the girl's gone.


	EXT. THE SCHOOL. DAY.

	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.

	But she shakes herself silent.  Wipes the tears away with a slash 
	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.

	TINA, aginst the tree inches from NANCY, turns to her and says --

						TINA
			    Couldn't get back to sleep
			    at all.
					(beat)
			    What you dream?


	EXT. A BUSY STREET. DAY.

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


	INT. VAN NUYS POLICE STATION. DAY.

	NANCY crosses directly to GARCIA.

						NANCY
			    My dad here?

	GARCIA looks up from his paperwork.

						SERGEANT GARCIA
			    Lieutenant.

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

						LT THOMPSON
			    Decide to take a day off after
			    all?

						NANCY
			    Dad, I want to see Rod Lane.

	THOMPSON doesn't miss a beat.

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

						NANCY
			    Just want to talk to him a second.

						LT THOMPSON
			    He's dangerous.

						NANCY
			    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 
	neck.

						NANCY
			    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:

	INT. CELL AREA. DAY.

	A GUARD exits pushing a cart.  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.

						NANCY
					(low)
			    And then what happened?

						ROD
			    I told you.
					(reluctantly)
			    It was dark, but I'm sure there
			    was someone else in there, under
			    the covers with her.

	NANCY reacts.

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

						ROD 
			    How the fuck do I know?
					(beat)
			    I don't expect you to believe 
			    me.

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

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

	He looks away.

						ROD
			    No.

						NANCY
			    Well then how can you say
			    somebody else was there?

						ROD
			    Because somebody cut her.  While
			    I watched.

	Now the place is so quiet you can hear heartbeats.

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

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

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

	NANCY gives a twitch.

						NANCY
			    What you mean 'all at once'?

						ROD
					(low)
			    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 NANCY.

						NANCY
			    Rod!

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

						ROD
			    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.
					(beat)
			    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?

						NANCY
			    No.

							  FADE TO BLACK

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

	FADE UP ON ESTABLISHING SHOT as a spooky WIND sets a DOG BARKING 
	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.


	INT. NANCY'S KITCHEN. NIGHT.

	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.

						MARGE
			    Nancy, don't fall asleep in
			    there.

						NANCY (O.S.)
			    I won't.

						MARGE
			    Get into bed.


	INT. UPSTAIRS BATHROOM. NIGHT.

						NANCY
			    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.  Luxurious.

	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 
	deepens.

	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 like 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)
			    Nancy?

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

						NANCY
			    What?

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

						NANCY
			    Mother, for petesakes.

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

						NANCY
					(low)
			    Warm mile.  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, beter 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!


	EXT. UNDERWATER SHOT.  NIGHT.

	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!


	INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE BATHROOM.

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

						MARGE
			    Nancy!  NANCY!


	EXT. UNDERWATER SHOT. NIGHT.

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


	INT. BATHTUB.

	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 hte loud BANGING 
	on the door finally opens her eyes.  She turns and calls gasping 
	to her mother --

						NANCY
			    Mommy!

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

						MARGE
			    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 lparalized with some sort of weird dread.

						MARGE
			    You okay?

						NANCY
			    Great.

						MARGE
					(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 Doze and slips it into her 
	robe.


	INT. HALLWAY. NIGHT.

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

						MARGE
			    No television, forget the
			    homework, no phone calls.

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


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT.

						MARGE
			    And no school tomorrow, either.
			    You take a little vacation, relax
			    and rest fro a change.

						NANCY
			    Yes, Mother.  G'night.

	MARGE offers a smile, and a little yellow pill.

						MARGE
			    Take this, it'll help you sleep.

						NANCY
			    Right.

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

						marge
			    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

	FADE UP ON INSERT OF TELEVISION SCREEN.

	A MONSTER MOVIE in BLACK AND WHITE.  NO SOUND from the set.

	PULL BACK to REVEAL NANCY propped in bed, furtively watching.  Or 
	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.

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

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


	EXT. NANCY'S HOUSE AND STREET. NIGHT.

	HIGH ANGLE, AT SECOND-STORY LEVEL.  NANCY looks directl 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.

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

	She gets herself together, barely.

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

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


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT.

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

						NANCY
			    If you don't mind.

	GLEN crosses to the chair and plops down.

						GLEN
			    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.

						NANCY
			    Guess I did.

						GLEN
			    Haven't slept, have you?

						NANCY
			    Not really.

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

						GLEN
			    You lookdead and rained on, if
			    you wnat the ugly truth.  And
			    what you do to your arm?

	She shrugs, trying to keep it casual.

						NANCY
			    Burned myself in English class.

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

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

						GLEN
			    Slept like a rock.

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

						GLEN
			    No.

						NANCY
			    You believe in the Boogey Man?

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

						NANCY
			    You believe in anything?

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

	NANCY thinks.

						NANCY
			    Listen, I've got a crazy favor 
			    to ask.

						GLEN 
			    Uh-oh...

						NANCY
			    It's nothing hard or anything.
					(beat)
			    I'm just going to... look
			    for someone, and... I want
			    you to be sort of a guard.
			    Okay?

	GLEN makes the Twilight Zone sound.

						NANCY
			    Okay?

						GLEN
			    Okay, okay.
					(beat)
			    I think.

	She comes very close to him.

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

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

						GLEN
			    Okay, I won't screw up.

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

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

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

	EXT.  ELM STREET. NIGHT.

	FADE UP ON NANCY, still in her pajamas, walking through the 
	shadowy streets ear 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.

						NANCY
					(stage whisper)
			    You still there?

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

						GLEN
			    Yeah.  So?

						NANCY
			    Just checking -- keep out of
			    sight!

	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.


	EXT. ALLEY. NIGHT.

	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 
	second.

	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 herself looking across the mall to


	EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

	The Plice 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?


	EXT. ALLEY. NIGHT.

	We only HEAR teh DISTANT VOICE, slightly ECHOED.

						GLEN'S VOICE (OS)
					(yawning)
			    Still here!

						NANCY
			    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.


	EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

	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.


	INT. ROD'S CELL. NIGHT.

	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.


	EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

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

						NANCY (CONTD)
			    Glen.

	No answer.

						NANCY (CONTD)
					(louder)
			    Glen?!

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

						NANCY (CONTD)
			    GLEN!

	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.


	INT. ROD'S CELL.

	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 rols 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.


	EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

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

						NANCY
			    Glen!!

	She turns back to the cell in desperation.


	INT. ROD'S CELL.

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


	EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

	NANCY puls back from the window, stunned.

						NANCY
			    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 bady 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 wil, to look.

	Ahead of her perhaps twenty-five feet, covered with a thick 
	plastic body bag through which we can barely see her face, is 
	TINA.  Standing square in the middle of the street.  A dark ooze 
	of BLACK EELS roil out of its bottom, and at its top, the zipper 
	CHATTERS down and the greenish-white face of TINA lolls out.  SHe 
	gestures, supplicating, her watery eyes desperate to convey some 
	desperate message.

	The MUSIC FALLS TO A HUSH.

	NANCY backs away, eyes streaming tears.

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

						DEEP RAGGED VOICE (O.S.)
			    I'm here.

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

						NANCY
			    Glen!  Glen!!!


	EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT.

	MOVING WITH NANCY at full gallop, running blind.  She crashes 
	through a sawhorse into a new sidewalk, sinking into th ewet 
	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 streeetlight.  He just misses the girl as she wrenches free 
	and flees again, now so winded she can only stagger.

	MOVING WITH THEM.  Tim after time NANCY just barely manages o 
	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, theat would take breath she doesn't have.  THe 
	only SOUND is of RUNNING FOOTSTES, RASPING BREATH and the KNIFE-
	FINGERS WHISTLING through the air.


	EXT. NANCY'S HOME. NIGHT.

	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 dorrframe, and the LOCKS 
	fall shut.


	INT. NANCY'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

						NANCY
			    Glennn!!!

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

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


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT.

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

	She listens at the door.  Nothing.  She crosses to her bed.  Next 
	second the KILLER dives through her window and seizes her in a 
	shower of shattered glass!

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

	The two fall backwards in a terrible, gasping struggle, crashing 
	onto NANCY's bed.  Her grip is broken -- the MAN stabs -- NANCY 
	twists away, backed into a corner of bed and walls.  Defenseless, 
	she snatches a pillow up; the KILLER lashes out -- disemboweling 
	the pilow and sending a great gush of feathers flying.  NANCY 
	dives for escape in a virtual blizzard.

	The KILLER manages to snare her with his other hand, and the two 
	crash across the bedside table to the floor, the table and all its 
	contents cascading around them in a whiteout of feathers.

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

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

	Instantly the MUSIC STOPS.  ANd a moment later the room is light.

	WIDER as NANCY reels up, blinded by the sudden light, SCREAMING 
	AND FIGHTING on her bed.

	ANGLE ON GLEN, lurching from his own sleep at the frightening 
	noise.  He discovers NANCY pressed in terror against her 
	headboard, clutching a pillow like a drowning woman would a straw.

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

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

						NANCY
			    Glen, you bastard...

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

						GLEN	
			    What I do?

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

						NANCY
					(low)
			    I asked you to do just one thing.
			    Just stay awake and watch me --
			    Just wake me if it looked like
			    I was having a bad dream.
					(eyes wild)
			    But you.  You shit -- what do 
			    you do -- you fall asleep!

	She stops herself, wiping a bit of 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 (O.S.)
			    Nancy?

	Her mother's door opens O.S.

						GLEN
			    Oh, shit.

	NANCY composes her voice as best she can.

						NANCY
			    Yes, mother?
	MARGE's flip-flops approach outside the door.  GLEN barrels out 
	the window -- NANCY dives for the bed, jams off thelight and 
	disappears under the covers.  MARGE, bleary eyed herself, opens 
	the door and flicks on the light.

						MARGE
					(beat)
			    You okay?

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

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

						NANCY
			    Okay.

	MARGE closes the door.  NANCY immediately sits up and looks at the 
	window.  A single bone-white feather floats down in the moonlight.  
	Then it's sucked outside and is gone.


	EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

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

						GLEN
			    You mind telling me what's 
			    going on?

	NANCY races into the station without answering.

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


	INT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

	NANCY goes straight to the SERGEANT's desk.

						NANCY
			    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.

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

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

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

	GARCIA glances at GLEN.

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

						LT THOMPSON (O.S.)
			    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.

						NANCY
			    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 -- hwat are you
			    doing here at this hour?  You're
			    supposed to be getting some 
			    sleep.

						GLEN
			    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.

						NANCY
			    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.


	INT. CELL BLOCK. NIGHT.

	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!


	INT. BOOKING ROOM. NIGHT.

	NANCY makes a move for the cell block --

						NANCY
			    This isn't you 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 tkaes that one to heart.  She wheels on him and pleads, her 
	intensity sobering even to him.

						NANCY
			    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
			    Right...
					(feeling in his pockets)
			    Now where'd I put hte key...

	He mumbles backs towards his desk.  MUSIC BUILDS as we HOLD ON 
	NANCY's FACE.


	INT. ROD'S CELL. NIGHT.

	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 steet, but despite his strenght he can't get his 
	fingers between the noose and his windpipe.  He's dragged 
	backwards across the cot.


	INT. BOOKING ROOM. NIGHT.

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


	INT. ROD'S CELL. NIGHT.

	ROD's being dragged backward's, gasping and struggling in vain 
	against the powerful pull -- fight 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.

	ANGLE THROUGH THE BARS as NANY, GLEN, LT THOMPSON and GARCIA 
	appear in the corridor outside, the girl sprinting ahead.

						NANCY
			    Rod!

	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
			    Goddam 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 
			    this?

	NANCY says nothing.

							    FADE TO BLACK


	EXT. FOREST LAWN CEMETERY. DAY.

							    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.

						MINISTER
			    Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
			    may God be with this young man's
			    soul.

	ON THE FACES of MARGE, LT THOMPSON, TINA's MOTHER and ROD'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 O.S.)
			    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 O.S.)
			    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.

						NANCY
					(quietly)
			    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?

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

	THOMPSON lights her cigarette, attempting some sort of 
	nonchalance.

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

						MARGE
			    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 
	away.

						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 offf 
	over the valley.

						MARGE
					(very gently)
			    Time to go home, baby.

	She moves her awy from the brink of the hill.


	EXT. CEMETERY PARKING AREA. DAY.

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

						NANCY
			    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.

						NANCY
			    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-
			    nails.

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

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

						MARGE
			    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


	EXT. UCLA SCHOOL OF MEDICINE. DAY.

	FADE UP ON UCLA's WESTWOOD CAMPUS and PAN TO SIGN:

					UCLA SCHOOL OF MEDICINE
					   INSTITUTE FOR THE 
				     STUDY OF SLEEP DISORDERS


	INT. A LABORATORY SLEEPING CHAMBER.

	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 
	beyond.

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

	WIDER, REVEALING DR SAMUEL KING, a young, curly-haired internist; 
	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 hagard and visibly thinner.  
	MARGE, background, looks downright distraught.

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

						MARGE
			    No, nothing.

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

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

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

						MARGE
			    I sure as hell hope so.

						NANCY	
			    I don't see why you couldn't
			    just give me a pil 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?

						NANCY
			    No.

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

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

						MARGE
			    Please, Nancy.  Trust us.

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

						NANCY
			    It's not you I don't trust.
			    It's...
					(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:

	
	INT. THE OBSERVATION ROOM.

	MARGE and DR KING overlook NANCY's sleeping chamber through the 
	one-way mirror.  And KINGmonitors 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?

						MARGE
			    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.

						MARGE
			    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.

						MARGE
					(immensely relieved)
			    Thank God.

	MUSIC RISES SOLEMNLY, MAJESTICALLY into a haunting transition as 
	we

									DISSOLVE TO

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

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

	MARGE lights a cigarette, angry at her helplessness.

						MARGE
			    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 fo 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 
	bed.

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

	WIDER ANGLE -- the mother and DOCTOR watching.

						MARGE
			    What happened?  That needle
			    sank like a rock.

						DR KING
			    		(quietly)
			    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.


	INT. THE SLEEPIGN ROOM.

	We can see NANCY drift from the initial stage, over the brink into 
	deep slee.  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.


	INT. CONTROL ROOM. DAY.

	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, fightining a turn of 
	nausea.

						MARGE
			    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 
	pad.

						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, asured.

						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 daugeter to the DOCTOR, color draining from 
	her face.

						MARGE
			    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, behind.

						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 sleepign room, NANCY is 
	contorting as if shot through with a thousand volts.  KING knocks
	over his chair in his sprint for the door.


	INT. SLEEPING ROOM.

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

	ANGLE ON NANCY (eyes open) -- lookin in terror -- SOUND ECHOED 
	STRANGELY.

	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 
	eyes!

	MARGE screams at the top of her lungs.

						MARGE
			    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-wrenchign 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.

						NANCY
			    No.  That's enough sleep.

	Her eyes are windows straight into white fire as she locks into 
	KING'S face.  He dabs his splidt 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 hand.

	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.

						MARGE
			    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 
	lips.

						NANCY
			    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.


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

	NANCY fixes her with Xray eyes.

						NANCY
			    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


	EXT. NANCY'S HOUSE. DAY.

									BURN ON

					THE SIXTH DAY

	FADE UP ON NANCY'S HOUSE, early morning.


	INT. NANCY'S KITCHEN. DAY.

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

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

						NANCY
			    Go even crazier?

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

						NANCY
			    Did you ask Daddy to have the 
			    hat examined?

						MARGE
			    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.

						NANCY
			    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.

						MARGE
			    But that's just not reality,
			    Nancy!

	Furious, NANCY janks open the drawer before MARGE can stop her 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. 

						NANCY
			    It's real, Mamma.  Feel it.

						MARGE
					(horrified)
			    Put that damned thing down!

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

						NANCY
			    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.

						MARGE
			    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.

						NANCY
			    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.

						MARGE
					(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 
			    bed.

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

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

	MARGE pulls away.
						MARGE
			    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.

						NANCY
			    Screw sleep!

						MARGE (CONTD)
			    Nancy!

	But NANCY runs past her mother for the front door.

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

	NANCY turns in the doorway.

						NANCY
			    That's enough!

	On the door SLAM, we

									CUT TO


	EXT. SHAKESPEARE BRIDGE. DAY.

	ANGLE ON A NEIGHBORHOOD STREET.  We hear GLEN's VOICE and PAN UP 
	to REVEAL NANCY and GLEN high above, two tiny figures walking 
	across this strange white bridge in old Los Angeles.  CAMERA 
	BEGINS A SLOW ZOOM.

						GLEN
			    Whenever I get nervous I eat.

						NANCY
			    And if you can't do that, you
			    sleep.

						GLEN
			    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?

						NANCY
			    No.

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

						NANCY
			    Yeah.

						GLEN
			    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.

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

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

						NANCY
			    What happens if they don't do
			    that?

						GLEN
					(shrugs)
			    I guess those people don't
			    wake up to tell what happens.

						NANCY
			    Great.

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

						NANCY
			    I found it at this neat
			    survivalist bookstore on
			    Ventura.

						GLEN
					(shocked)
			    Well what you reading it for?

	OUR ZOOM LOCKS IN ON A TIGHT TWO ON THEIR FACES, NANCY's grimly 
	determined.

						NANCY
			    I'm into survival.

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

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


	EXT. ELM STREET/NANCY'S HOME/EVENING

	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 it.

						FOREMAN
			    And the other...

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

						MARGE
			    Where's you mask and gun?

	The FOREMAN counts the money swiftly.

						FORMAN
			    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.


						NANCY
			    Oh gross...

	WIDENING TO REVEAL THE HOUSE as NANCY walks across her front 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 the 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.


	INT. MARGE'S ROOM. EVENING.

	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!?

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

						NANCY
			    Oh, Mom...

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

						MARGE
			    's'mine...

	She rocks the bottle in her arms.

						NANCY
			    What's with the bars?


						MARGE
			    S'curity.

	NANCY sits on the bed, a surprining compassion entering her voice.

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

						MARGE
			    Dead and gone.

						NANCY
			    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 
	chest.

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

						NANCY
			    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 
	grin.

						MARGE
			    All right.


	INT. NANCY'S CELLAR. NIGHT.

	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 fac so close to her daughter's that NANCY 
	reels from the alcohol.

						MARGE
			    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.

						NANCY
			    So he's alive?

	MARGE smiles grimly.

						MARGE
			    He wouldn've stopped.  The 
			    bastard would've got mare
			    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.

						NANCY
					(hushed)
			    What did you do, mother?

	MARGE cradles the bottle.

						MARGE
			    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...

						NANCY
					(dreading it)
			    Go on...

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

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

	She mimes striking a match --

						MARGE (CONTD)
			    WHOOSH!!!

	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
			    kids...

	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.

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

	MARGE sags back.

						MARGE
			    Sure, and Glen's.  All of us.
			    But that's in the past now,
			    baby.  Really.  It's over.
					(slyly)
			    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)
			    See?

	NANCY stares at the damn things, chilled.

						NANCY
			    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.


	EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT.

	WIDE ON THE STREET AND BOTH HOUSES, GLEN's on the right, NANCY's 
	on the left.  A TELEPHONE RINGS.  ZOOM IN ON GLEN's UPSTAIRS 
	BEDROOM WINDOW.


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

	GLEN, yawning, crosses and picks up his telephone.

						GLEN
			    Hello?

						NANCY (telephone)
			    Hi.

						GLEN
			    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 begind 
	the bars.

						NANCY (CONTD)
			    Much better.

						GLEN
			    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?

						NANCY
			    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.
					(beat)
			    Listen, I... I know who he is.

						GLEN
			    Who?

						NANCY
			    The killer.

						GLEN
			    You do?

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

	GLEN is appalled.

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

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

	GLEN pales.

						GLEN
			    Bring him out of what?

						NANCY
			    My dream.

						GLEN
			    How you plan to do that?

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

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

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

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

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

						GLEN
			    What!?

						NANCY
					(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?

						GLEN
			    You crazy?  Hit him with what?

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

						GLEN
					(weakly)
			    Meanwhile...?

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

	She hangs up.  GLEN's eyes bug out.

						GLEN
			    Holy shit!  Midnight.  Baseball
			    bats and boogemen.  Unfucking
			    real.


	EXT. THE VALLEY AND HILLS. NIGHT.

	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.


	EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

	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.

	
	INT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

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

						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.


	EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT.

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

	ZOOM TO GLEN'S LIGHTED LIVING ROOM WINDOW.


	INT. GLEN'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

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

	MR LANTZ takes a pull on his Bud.

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

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

						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.


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

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

						MRS LANTZ
			    Glen?  you all right?

	She puts her ear to the door and listens.

						MRS LANTZ (CONTD)
			    Glen honey?

	No answer.


	INT. GLEN'S ROOM. NIGHT.

	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.

						GLEN
			    Whuu?

	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.

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

						MRS LANTZ
			    Well how you gonna hear what
			    she says?

						GLEN
			    Who cares what she says?

	The mother gives up.

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

						GLEN
			    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.

	INSERT OF CLOCK.  It's 11:42.

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

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


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

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

									CUT TO:

	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT

	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.

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

	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.

						NANCY
			    Okay.

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

						NANCY (CONTD)
			    Night-night.

	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 
	is.

	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.


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

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

	ANGLE IN THE LIVING ROOM as she pads through the darkened house, 
	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 
	gin.


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

	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.

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

	NANCY pulls down the shade.

	GLEN's father grinds the cigarette beneath his shoe.

						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 
	forehead.

						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.


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT.

	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 agin, but she doesn't even care anymore.  Too late to 
	sweat the small stuff.  She crosse 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.


	INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE NANCY'S DOOR.

	IN NANCY'S POV though 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.


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM.  NIGHT.

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

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


	INT. GLEN'S ROOM. NIGHT.

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


	INT. ELM STREET. NIGHT.

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


	INT. GLEN'S ROOM. NIGHT.

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

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

	He puts the earphones back on.


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT.

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


	EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT.

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


	INT. GLEN'S ROOM. NIGHT.

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


	INT. NANCY'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

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


	INT. GLEN'S ROOM. NIGHT.

	TIGHT ON PHONE as it begins RINGING loudly.

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


	INT. GLEN'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

	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
			    Hello?
					(listens, frowns
			 		 slightly)
			    Oh... Hold on.
					(covers the mouthpiece)
			    It's her.  She wants to talk to
			    Glen.

	The father crosses to the telephone, suspicious.

						MR LANTZ
			    		(whispering)
			    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
			    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.


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT.

	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.  
	yawns.  The TELEPHONE RINGS.

	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 timeshe 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.

	REVERSE IN HER POV.  THE TELEPHONE RINGS again, despite the fact 
	that the end of its yanked-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 mouuth -- 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...!


	INT. NANCY'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

	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:

	INT. GLEN'S ROOM. NIGHT.

	CLOSE ON GLEN'S FROM DIRECTLY ABOVE.  The MUSIC is tinny from the 
	earphones, the TV SOUND DIDTANT AND ECHOED.  The boy is breathing 
	deeply now, slowly and gently.  Then, unmistakeably, ge 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 dedsheets, 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 scrams and struggle, GLEN's mother bursts 
	into the room.  The women stares for one moment of horrified 
	disbelief, then reels back and lets out th emost god-awful SCREAM 
	imaginable.  The cry splits the night.


	EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT.

	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.


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT.

	CLOSE ON NANCY'S BIG OLD WINDUP ALARM CLOCK.  Its big and little 
	hands sweep together at midnight.

							    BURN ON:

					THE FIFTH NIGHT

	There's a BABBLE of POLICE RADIOS, SIRENS WINDING DOWN, RUNNING 
	FOOT-STEPS, SHOUTS, NEIGHBORHOOD KIDS and DOGS BARKING as CAMERA 
	LIFTS TO NANCY'S FACE.  Set.  Unafraid.  Ruthless.

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

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


	INT. GLEN'S LIVING ROOM/NANCY'S KITCHEN -- INTERCUT. NIGHT.

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

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

	THOMPSON turns away from the dripping.

						LT THOMPSON
					(low)
			    Tell her I'm not here, tell
			    her...

						PARKER
			    Uh, she just saw you, sir...

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

						LT THOMPSON (CONTD)
			    Hello Nancy.

						NANCY
			    Hi daddy.  I know what happened.

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

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

	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.

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

						LT THOMPSON
			    Nan, I --

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

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

						NANCY
			    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.

						NANCY
			    -- 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...

						NANCY
			    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.

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

						PARKER
			    Lieutenant -- they're waiting
		 	    upstairs.

	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.
			    Deal?

						NANCY
			    Deal.

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

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

						PARKER
			    '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
			    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.

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


	INT. GLEN'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	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.


	INT. HALLWAY. NIGHT.

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

						COP #2
					(faint)
			    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?

						COP #2
			    he's in the john puking since 
			    he saw it.


	INT. CELLAR. NIGHT.

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


	INT. NANCY'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

	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 insersts 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.


	INT. NANCY'S UPSTAIRS HALLWAY. NIGHT.

	-- 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.

	
	INT. MARGE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	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.

						MARGE
			    Guess I should'n'a done it.

						NANCY
			    Just sleep now, Mom.

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

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


	INT. NANCY'S ROOM. NIGHT.

	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:


	INT. GLEN'S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

	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 theman, baffled.

						LT THOMPSON
			    Who?  Who did that?

						MR LANTZ
			    Krueger.

						LT THOMPSON
			    Krueger?

	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!
					(gettign control)
			    Sorry.  Anyways, the door was
			    still locked when we heard the
			    screams.

	He blinks.

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

						LT THOMPSON
			    		(much lower and hard)
			    Keep you 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 #2 (OS)
			    Lieutenant Thompson.  Coronor
			    wants to show you something.

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

								CUT TO:


	INT. DOWNSTAIRS. NANCY'S HOUSE. NIGHT.

	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.


	INT. NANCY'S CELLAR. NIGHT.

	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.


	INT. BOILER ROOM.

	NANCY decends like Orpheus into hell, but without wepon save her 
	wits.

	She decends a steel stair to the lowest level, then hears the 
	SOUND of the knives from donw 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 
	down.

	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.

	INSERT ON NANCY'S WATCH -- the COUNT-DOWN a blur of black digits 
	counting down to zero.  They've just crossed the ten minute 
	warning.

	CLOSE ON NANCY'S FACE.  She speaks into the night.

						NANCY
					(quietly)
			    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.


	EXT. THE HEAVENS. NIGHT.

	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.


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

	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:


	INT. NANCY'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	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, and sees next instant that 
	she's actually lyig on the surface of a wall, half-way up over her 
	bed, in a crazy half-dream, half-waking gravity mistake.  
	Instantly she plunges to the bed like a sack of rocks!

	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 bd, turns on the bedside 
	lamp and re-examins 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 reathless.  She rattles 
	her head in confusion and despair, realizing her own madness.

						NANCY
			    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 --


	INT. HALLWAY. NIGHT.

	MARGE, knocked flying by NANCY's charge, hits the floor hard, 
	knocking the wind out of herself.  NNCY 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 in the very act of doing this he of course unknowingly pulls 
	the string attached to the outside doorknob with terrific force.

	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 withan incredulous 
	shriek, the twenty pound sledge hammer swings back and reveals to 
	the 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 carwheels 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 flagpole.

	NANCY SLAMS the DOOR as KRUEGER struggles up, clutching his head.

	Enraged, the huge man CRASHES against the door with terrific 
	force, and rears back and starts smashign against the door like 
	the utter homocidal lunatic that he is.

									CUT TO:


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

	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.

						NANCY
			    Help!  Hey -- Daddy -- I got
			    him trapped!  Where are you!?

	ANGLE ON the street.  PARKER, assigned to guard the house, sees 
	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.

						PARKER
			    		(yelling up at her)
			    Everything's going to be all
			    right!  Everything's under
			    control!

	ANGLE at the window.  Close on NANCY's face, incredulous at his 
	response.

						NANCY
			    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
			    dad!

	Behind her the DOOR SPLINTERS.  NANCY whirls around just in time 
	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.

						MARGE
			    No!

	She blocks the charge perfectly -- blockign the knives.  Both she 
	and NANCY are slammed backwards against the bars behind.  MARGE, 
	thought she is drunk, is hanging onto KRUEGER's weapon hand, 
	keeping the knives inside herself, away from her daughter!

						MARGE
			    Nancy -- for god's sake's run!

	But NANCY turns ot teh window instead, screaming for her father.

						NANCY
			    Daddy!  Where are you!


	EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT.

	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.

						PARKER
			    Poor woman's got her hands full 
			    with that kid.  Maybe I better 
			    tell the lieutenant.

	He turns and jogs towards GLEN's house.


	INT. MARGE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	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.

						NANCY
			    Hey fuckface -- can't catch me!

	The bait works -- KRUEGER leaves MARGE and howls after NANCY.


	INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY. NIGHT.

	As NANCY clears he hall and make sth estairs, KRUEGER lurches 
	through the shattered doorway after her.


	INT. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

	The girl careens down the stairs, across the room and to the front 
	door, banging against it with terrified fury.

						NANCY
			    		(screaming)
			    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 
	THINGS OVER, SCRAPING his LONG STEEL FINGERNAILS along the wall 
	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 EET 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
			    bastard!

	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.


	INT. CELLAR. NIGHT.

	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 SCRAPING of the blades against brick turns her to see the huge 
	killer holding his knife-laden fingers up for her.

						KRUEGER
			    Ready for these?

	ON NANCY -- she ducks behind the furnace -- comes out the other 
	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 stagers 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.


	INT. NANCY'S KITCHEN. NIGHT.

	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 flames.

	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:


	INT. GLEN'S UPSTAIRS HALLWAY. NIGHT.

	The CORONER steps out of the bathroom peeling bloody rubber 
	gloves.  Pale and sweating.

						CORONER
			    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 
	stairs.

						PARKER
			    Hey -- your daughter's acting 
			    kinda -- !
					(THOMPSON's gone)
			    Strange...


	EXT. NANCY'S HOME. NIGHT.

	CRASH as NANCY breaks another window and presses against the bars.  
	She sees her father bursting out the front door of Glen's house!

						NANCY
			    DAD!  GET US OUTTA HERE!

						LT THOMPSON
			    Oh, Jesus -- Nancy!
					(to his men)
			    Hey!  We got a fire!

	ANGLE ON NANCY'S FRONT DOOR.  Many MEN batter the door down as 
	black smoke pours from the windows and NANCY's SCREAMS and SHOUTS 
	fill the air.  Within the 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 
	woman.

						NANCY 
			    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.


	INT. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

	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 you talking about,
			    Nancy?

	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!

	She darts across the living room, following the flaming footprints 
	of FRED KRUEGER up the stairs before THOMPSON can stop her.

						LT THOMPSON
			    NANCY!


	INT. MARGE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

	NANCY STOPS IN THE SPLINTERED DOORWAY -- a ragged gold-red light 
	splashing her horrified face.

	REVERSE IN HER POV -- FRED KRUEGER, literally a man of fire, has 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 and has thrown it 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 
	flames.

						NANCY
			    He's under there!  Watch it!

	THOMPSON pushes the girl back -- yanks out his .38 and pulls off 
	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 
	manage.

						NANCY
			    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.

						PARKER
			    You find him?
					(looking closer
					 at THOMPSON)
			    Sir?

	LT THOMPSON just walks by him.  PARKER chases after.

						PARKER (CONTD OS)
					(fading)
			    Sir -- here, let me light that
			    for you -- Lieutenant?  What 
			    happened?
					(gone)

	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.

	CLOSER ON NANCY from the direction of the bed.  MUSIC SUDDENLY 
	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 through.

	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.

						NANCY
					(quietly)
			    I know you're there, Krueger.

	She turns and faces him.

						FREDDY
			    You think you was gonna get
			    away from me?

	NANCY shakes her head.

						NANCY
			    I know you too well now,
			    Freddy.

	KRUEGER smiles bitterly.  Coming closer.

						FREDDY
			    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.

	NANCY simply shakes her head again, as if seeing a light at the 
	end of her long, long tunnel.  And the way she says the words, 
	they might be appearing o the inside of her eyes.

						NANCY
			    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
			    again.

	KRUEGER grins insanely, confused and amused at the same time.

						FREDDY
			    You what?

						NANCY
			   		(even, firm)
			    I take back every bit of
			    energy I ever gave you.
			    You're nothing.  You're
			    shit.

	And then she turns her back on him.  KRUEGER bunches his fingers, 
	producing a single ragged bundle of razor talons nd 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.

	CLOSE ON KRUEGER'S KNIFE-FINGERS poised.

	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:


	EXT. ELM STREET. DAY.

	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.

						NANCY
					(to herself)
			    God, it's bright.

	MARGE sticks her head out, squinting, and nods.  Sober.

						MARGE
			    Gonna burn off soon or it
			    wouldn't be so bright.

	NANCY turns and looks her mother over.

						NANCY
			    Feeling better?

						MARGE
			    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 
			    peeked.

	NANCY smiles.

						NANCY
			    Nah.  Just slept heavy.

	The girl gives a wave and goes off.  MARGE calls after.

						MARGE
			    See ya.

	NANCY turns and waves.

						NANCY
			    See ya.

	WIDER ON NANCY as she walks to the curb.  The whole scene is 
	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.

						GLEN
					(calling)
			    You believe this fog?

						MARGE
					(laughs)
			    I believe anything's possible.

	TINA slaps five with NANCY.

						TINA
			    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.

	CAMERA PANS TO a group of LITTLE GIRLS, half-hidden by the fog, 
	jumping rope and singing gayly.

						GIRLS
			    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 
	thein air, and we

							FADE TO BLACK
					
					ROLL END TITLES.

This Script Provided By:  The Stoned Page  http://www.flash.net/~viator