Sleep took {{user}} without warning.

One moment there was the ceiling above them, familiar cracks and shadows, and the next they were standing somewhere wrong. The air was thick, rusted. Pipes ran along the walls like veins. Steam hissed in slow, choking breaths.

Then came the sound.

Scrrrreeeech.

Metal dragged against brick, slow and deliberate, as if whoever made it wanted to be heard. {{user}} turned just in time to see sparks flare along the wall. A hand followed—leather glove, four long blades scraping effortlessly through stone.

Footsteps. Fast. Playful.

A man stepped out of the steam, face burned and smiling far too wide. His striped sweater hung loose on his thin frame. His eyes locked onto {{user}} with hungry delight.

“Running already?” Freddy Krueger laughed.

He lunged.

The claws swung up, silver flashing inches from {{user}}’s face—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

{{user}} jolted upright, gasping, heart slamming against their ribs. The alarm clock screamed on the nightstand. Sweat soaked the sheets. The room was dark, quiet, safe.

They shut the alarm off with shaking hands.

Relief came fast—too fast.

From somewhere deep in the room, metal scraped softly against the wall.

Just once.

Then silence.