The Extra-dimensional Pioneer Of Fiction [Draft]

[Smith's House: Dining Room]

The soft glow of the able lamp illuminated the Smiths' dining room, casting warm shadows on the walls as Arlo carefully laid out his tools. Mr. and Mrs. Smith sat across from him, exchanging skeptical glances.

"So," Henry began, crossing his arms over his chest, "how do we start this whole... fortune-telling business?"

Arlo leaned back slightly, offering a composed smile. "We'll keep it simple. Let's start with face-reading."

"Face-reading?" Mrs. Smith asked, tilting her head. "Like palm-reading but with faces?"

"Exactly," Arlo replied, though in his mind, he added, More like an excuse to use Spirit Vision without looking suspicious.

He tapped his glabella in what appeared to be a thoughtful gesture, subtly activating his [Spirit Vision].

As the Spirit Vision took effect, Arlo's perspective shifted. A faint glow enveloped Mr. Smith's body, most of it a clean, healthy white. But his heart... the aura around it was dark green, almost sickly, a clear sign of an issue. Arlo's brows furrowed slightly as he processed what he saw.

"Mr. Smith," Arlo began carefully, meeting the man's eyes. "Have you been feeling any discomfort in your chest? Tightness, maybe?"

The room fell silent, tension palpable as the Smiths exchanged wide-eyed looks.

"How'd you know that?" Henry asked, his tone both surprised and wary.

Arlo kept his expression neutral. "It's something I noticed. Certain parts of the face or body can reflect internal issues. It's an old technique."

Mrs. Smith leaned forward, concern etched across her face. "Henry, you've been brushing this off for weeks! You promised me you'd get it checked."

Henry sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I thought it was nothing. Just a bit of strain from the farm work."

Arlo's voice softened. "It might be nothing, but it's better to be sure. A visit to the doctor could save you a lot of trouble down the road."

Mrs. Smith reached for her husband's hand, squeezing it tightly. "We're going tomorrow, Henry. No arguments this time."

Henry let out a resigned chuckle. "Alright, alright. I'll make the appointment."

Arlo nodded, relieved that his subtle intervention had worked. "I'm glad to hear that. Sometimes, a little nudge is all it takes to get on the right track."

The conversation lightened after that, transitioning to talk of farm life and small-town happenings. After an hour, Mrs. Smith stood, clapping her hands lightly. "Well, it's getting late. We should all get some rest."

Arlo followed the Smiths as they tidied the room, bidding each other goodnight. As he climbed the wooden staircase to his room, he couldn't help but reflect on the evening. That went better than expected, he thought, his steps creaking softly against the old wood.

Settling into his room, Arlo glanced out the window at the moonlit fields. His mission here was far from over, but tonight, he'd done something good. He closed his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips as the quiet hum of the countryside lulled him to sleep.

........

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of Arlo's room, nudging him awake. He stretched, letting out a groan as his body protested against the stiffness from the night before. Today, his plans were clear: explore Springwood and begin his investigation. After throwing on his usual casual attire, Arlo headed downstairs, where Mrs. Smith was bustling about in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Arlo," she greeted with a warm smile, flipping pancakes onto a plate. "Heading out today?"

"Morning, Mrs. Smith," Arlo replied, grabbing a quick cup of coffee. "Yeah, I was thinking of sightseeing around town. Get a feel for the place."

Mrs. Smith nodded, her expression approving. "That's a good idea. Springwood might be small, but it has its charm. If you need directions, let me know."

"Thanks," Arlo said, finishing his coffee. "I'll probably check out the Public Library too. Always good to learn about the Town."

She handed him a paper bag. "Here, a snack for later. You never know when you'll get hungry."

Arlo took it with a grateful nod. "You're too kind, Mrs. Smith. I'll see you later this afternoon."

As he left the farm, Arlo walked along the dusty road leading to Springwood. The fresh morning air was invigorating, and the peaceful surroundings gave him time to collect his thoughts. His task was daunting, but he was determined to approach it methodically, starting with information gathering.

By mid-morning, Arlo arrived in town. Springwood was the epitome of small-town America, with its quaint storefronts, friendly townsfolk, and a general air of simplicity. But beneath the surface, Arlo sensed an unease—a shadow lingering over the town's history.

.......

[Springwood Public Library]

He soon located the public library, an older brick building with tall, arched windows. Stepping inside, he was greeted by the faint smell of aging paper and the quiet hum of activity.

A librarian at the front desk gave him a polite smile as he approached.

"Good morning," Arlo said. "I'm new in town and was hoping to get a map of the area."

"Of course," she replied, pulling a folded map from a drawer. "You'll find this helpful. It even has some landmarks marked for visitors."

"Perfect. Thank you." Arlo took the map to a nearby table and used his BrainLink to scan and store it. Now that he had a layout of the town, he could begin narrowing down potential locations of interest.

Next, he moved to the archives section, where rows of microfilm reels and old newspapers awaited. Arlo's target was clear: anything about Freddy Krueger. He scrolled through article after article, piecing together fragments of Freddy's grim history.

What he found was chilling. Freddy's mother, Amanda Krueger, had been a nun working at the Western Hill Asylum Psychiatric Hospital. An error had locked her in a wing with the most violent criminals over a holiday weekend. What followed was a nightmare—days of unspeakable abuse, leaving Amanda barely alive and pregnant.

"The bastard son of a hundred maniacs," Arlo muttered, shaking his head.

As Arlo dug deeper, the story only grew darker. Freddy had been adopted by a cruel alcoholic, Mr. Underwood, who beat him relentlessly throughout his childhood. By the time Freddy became an adult, his warped psyche had already begun taking shape, fueled by years of neglect and hatred.

His killing spree targeted the children of those who had tormented him as a boy. Before his death, Freddy had managed to marry a woman named Loretta and even fathered a daughter, Katherine. But his dark side consumed him, and he eventually got caught. The victims' parents, enraged by his release on a technicality, burned him alive—a vengeance that birthed the nightmare he would become.

Arlo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "This guy's entire existence is like a horror novel come to life," he muttered.

Satisfied with his findings, Arlo saved the articles to his BrainLink and returned the materials to their shelves. As he stepped out of the library, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the quiet streets of Springwood. He glanced back at the building, feeling the weight of the knowledge he had just uncovered.

His investigation had provided him with invaluable insights into Freddy's origins, but it also left him uneasy. The horrors Freddy endured and inflicted painted a picture of a man consumed by vengeance and malevolence—a man who had transcended death itself.

Arlo's mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead. His task was clear: stop Freddy Krueger and protect his targets. But how? Freddy's connection to the Dream Demons made him nearly invincible, and severing that bond would require more than just brute force.

"This is just the beginning," Arlo murmured to himself, determination hardening his resolve. "If Freddy's going to be a nightmare, I'll be the one who wakes him up."

.............

[Springwood: 1428 Elm Street]

As the sun began to set, Arlo approached Elm Street, the air thick with an eerie calm. He unfolded the map he had scanned from the library, tracing the road with cautious steps. To avoid suspicion, he made an effort to walk casually, blending in as best he could. Hopefully, I won't be mistaken for a creep, he mused.

Then, remembering the snack Mrs. Smith had given him, he opened the paper bag. Inside was a classic American peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

A warm smile crossed Arlo's face—Mrs. Smith had taken the time to prepare something simple yet thoughtful. He took a bite, savoring the perfect balance of creamy peanut butter and sweet, slightly tart jelly. The bread was soft, the flavors nostalgic. The comforting taste grounded him, momentarily pulling him away from the darkness of his investigation.

As he ate, he observed Springwood. The town's streets were mostly empty, the occasional car rolling by, headlights cutting through the approaching twilight. Some houses had their porch lights on, illuminating neat gardens and well-kept lawns. Others remained dark, their windows like empty eyes staring out into the night. The town seemed ordinary at a glance, but there was an underlying tension—a stillness that felt unnatural.

The walk had been uneventful but mentally taxing, as his thoughts remained tethered to the dark history of Springwood and its infamous serial killer.

At last, he reached 1428 Elm Street. The house stood quietly amidst a small yard, its weathered facade and sagging roof hinting at the weight of its grim past. A single, gnarled tree stretched its branches toward the sky like skeletal fingers, while the cracked driveway told tales of time and neglect. The place looked innocuous—too normal for the horrors it hid.

"It's always the unassuming ones," Arlo muttered, his gaze lingering on the front door. He could almost picture Freddy Krueger's victims, their screams echoing in this seemingly peaceful neighborhood. The house was like a silent witness to nightmares made flesh.

A slight rustle pulled his attention to the side. Standing in the yard, fiddling with a rake, was a young woman he instantly recognized.

[Nancy Thompson]. Heather Langenkamp's portrayal in the movies had been iconic, but seeing her in the flesh felt surreal. She wore a simple outfit—jeans and a loose sweater—but her presence carried a quiet strength that was unmistakable.

"Not bad, Nancy," Arlo murmured under his breath, watching her from the corner of his eye. He wasn't here to interact, and drawing attention to himself could derail everything. Still, there was a flicker of admiration for her resolve in facing Freddy.

Nancy glanced in his direction briefly, her expression unreadable before she returned to her task. Arlo adjusted his stance, doing his best to appear as nothing more than a curious passerby.

"Blend in, Arlo," he reminded himself. "You're a writer, remember? Just out here for inspiration."

He gave the house one last glance before turning to leave. As much as he wanted to dig deeper, the time wasn't right. His presence could easily rouse suspicion, and the last thing he needed was Nancy or her family questioning his motives.

..........

[Smith's House: Porch]

The walk back to the Smith farm was quiet, but his mind raced with possibilities. The house had a magnetic pull, a sinister aura that lingered even in broad daylight.

Arlo stepped into the Smith farmhouse, the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards announcing his arrival. He barely had a chance to close the door before Mrs. Smith rushed forward, her arms flung wide as she hugged him tightly. Arlo stiffened, not accustomed to such displays of affection.

"Uh... Mrs. Smith?" he muttered awkwardly, patting her back in an attempt to return the gesture.

"Thank you, Arlo! Thank you so much!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion.

Arlo shot a confused glance over her shoulder at Mr. Smith, who stood by the dining table, looking far less stoic than usual.

"Uh, Mr. Smith, what's going on here?" Arlo asked, his tone cautious.Mrs. Smith finally pulled back, her eyes glistening with gratitude.

"Your divination! It was right!" she said, her hands clutching his arms.

Mr. Smith chimed in, his voice carrying a newfound warmth. "We went to the hospital first thing this morning, just like you suggested. The doctors ran some tests, and they found a serious blockage in my heart. They said if we'd waited much longer, I could've had a heart attack." His usual gruff demeanor softened into a rare smile. "But thanks to you, they caught it early."

Arlo blinked, caught off guard. "That's... great news," he said, trying to process their gratitude.

A soft chime in his HUD caught his attention. Pulling up the notification subtly, he saw a progress update:

[Notification: Seer's Potion Digestion Progress: 20%]

Internally, Arlo let out a sigh of relief.

Finally, he thought, a hint of satisfaction bubbling up. Progress in the potion digestion meant his seer abilities were improving, and this incident seemed to confirm that that mean that the aciting method for digesting the seer potion is working. Still, he had to keep his reaction composed.

"I'm glad it helped," he said, smiling faintly. "But you're the ones who acted on it."

Mrs. Smith's hands fluttered like she was shooing away his modesty. "Nonsense! You're the reason Henry is still here and healthy. I don't know how you knew, but we're forever grateful."

"Well, you know," Arlo said, scratching the back of his neck, "I just... pay attention to details. Sometimes things just stand out to me."

"You're being modest, son," Mr. Smith said with a chuckle. "But whatever it is you've got, it's a gift. And we're lucky to have had you here."

The conversation eased, and Mrs. Smith guided Arlo toward the table. "We're celebrating tonight. Sit down and join us for dinner. I've got a roast in the oven, and it'll be ready soon."

Arlo hesitated for a moment but relented, taking a seat. As Mrs. Smith bustled off to the kitchen, he leaned toward Mr. Smith. "I'm glad you went to the hospital. It's better to know these things early," he said, his tone genuine.

Mr. Smith nodded solemnly. "You're right. It's a wake-up call for me. I'll need to take better care of myself moving forward." Then his lips quirked in a wry grin. "You might be young, but you've got some wisdom in you, Arlo."

Arlo shrugged, hiding his amusement. "Sometimes you just learn things the hard way."

As Mrs. Smith returned with a warm smile and a plate of appetizers, Arlo felt a strange sense of belonging. He hadn't planned on staying with the Smiths, but their gratitude and kindness gave him a fleeting moment of respite.

For now, it was enough to celebrate a small victory before facing the nightmare that lay ahead.