Becoming Terror, a True Supernatural Transformation

The person muttering to herself was Jessie.

In just a few days, she had gone from a good student to one who nodded off in class every day.

She was afraid to sleep. She kept reminding herself of those words.

"No matter what you do, don't fall asleep."

But she was exhausted. She had gone nearly three days without sleep. Even as she told herself to stay awake, the next time she opened her eyes, she was in a classroom from her nightmares.

The fluorescent lights flickered wildly overhead. Cold white light fractured the classroom into pieces. The desks and chairs were twisted like crumpled paper, their surfaces scored with deep, crisscrossing cuts from a blade.

There was no writing on the blackboard. Crooked, dark-red scratches covered it, with sticky liquid seeping from their edges.

Someone stood at the front, where the teacher should have been.

The man wore a red-and-green striped sweater. The steel claws of his metal glove slid across the blackboard, then snapped shut with a strangely pleasing whistle.

He turned, revealing a terrifying, burn-scarred face. "You shouldn't sleep during class," he said ominously.

"Who are you?" Jessie asked, trembling.

The man greedily fed on her fear before answering coldly.

"Freddy."

Jessie didn't answer. She turned and ran. Freddy stepped down from the platform and followed her at an unhurried pace.

Though he seemed to be strolling, he kept up with Jessie as she ran flat out.

His nightmares had grown stronger.

The real world.

The classroom.

"Ah!"

The piercing scream made the entire class and the teacher jump.

Jessie had just escaped the dream, but her body was still shaking. The painful wound on her arm reminded her it hadn't been a dream.

"Jessie, what's gotten into you?"

The teacher's expression darkened, and the question