That's It, I'm Moving

Okay guys, this is it. I am fed up with all this Slender shit that is going on outside my house, and in my neighbourhood. It's been around a month since I last posted here, and I am very sorry for that, but quite honestly  you wouldn't have posted either if you had been here. To be honest, it's not because I'm scared, though I am. I just need a new place to think and rest

This all started on a sunny Sunday, like any other, except that I decided I would go to church. Why not go to Church and perhaps pray for my survival from all of this. I felt silly in my suit and tie, sitting among people with a similar purpose, but no concept of why I was really there. Perhaps it was comforting to believe that there was a higher power that could influence my fate, but once again I was the cynic. What did God have to do with any of this? Why would he have such a creature wandering the earth if he was so benevolent and kind and the rest? No, if there is a God, he or she is looking down at all of us and laughing as we struggle through everything that life has to throw at us. As we run from our fears and worries. Well I was tired of running. As I sat in the church, filled with people who praised a unfair and cruel god, I decided to take fate in my own hands.

I walked home instead of driving, my first move as my own man. It was bright, and kind of warm for mid fall. I didn't even need a jacket. As I approached the front of my house, I saw someone in a hoodie leaning against the wall of the house next door. There was no doubt that this was a Proxy, my proxy, due to it's unnatural stillness. There were few options, and I picked the craziest one I could think of. I no longer cared simply about living. To leave this plane would perhaps be a blessing rather than the curse I believed it to be. I made a beeline straight to my Proxy and stared it right in the face. "Hello there." I said with all the confidence I could muster, which was very little because I have no confidence in me. The Proxy stared at me, and said nothing. Quite honestly, I think it was confused at this moment. I decided to carry on, because at that point I had already opened the door, and walking away would just be rude.

"Well...I would like to request that instead of the whole rigmarole of a sham of a chase, you would just kill me now please. My life has no meaning and I would much rather just die without the hassle of having to go elsewhere." I said in a gush of words, that probably just confused the poor creature even further. "Uh...I suppose it is really at your convenience and all..." I trailed off and then the Proxy turned to me, it's voice much higher pitched then I was expecting.

"This is NOT how this is supposed to go!" It railed at me, throwing it's hands up in the air and shouting. "You are supposed to hide and cower and hope..." It yelled and I shrugged. "I was at church" I pointed out, gesturing to my clothes. "Not the point" It continued. "You are supposed to run and I am supposed to chase. You're supposed to be broken and beaten and die all alone, but you....you...." and then it stormed off, leaving me to stand in the street alone with everyone staring at me like a mad man.

I must leave you here for now dear readers. It appears the Real Estate Agent is at my door and I have to greet him properly and explain all the damage in the area and how this is a perfectly nice neighbourhood, save for the homicidal maniacs and the Eldritch Abomination that is trying to stalk and kill me. I'm sure that will go over perfectly well and I will find a ready and willing renter who wants such a location while I scurry off to some apartment in a quiet, yet friendly, part of town and wait for this all to blow over. I shall post again a little later friends and fellow...well I suppose you are called Runners, though I have no intention of running, and neither should you.

Stay Safe, what ever your "Safe" is

Lack of Sleep

Perhaps it's lack of sleep that leads me in writing this. All my fears and insecurities, well I suppose you've pretty well got a handle on that. It's not that hard to figure out. I feel like I'm drowning, slowly letting the water rush into my open mouth and down my throat to plug my lungs. My pulse pounds in my head as my blood rushes to my brain, never stopping. It's like a drum, thump thump, thump thump, over and over until it would drive me mad. It will never leave me alone, I know that now, and perhaps would be I a fool for believing that I can escape the fate of all those that came before me. I have a new path though, a new way of maybe surviving all this, though I no longer hold any regard for the life that I hold within my beating heart and rushing blood.

I am tired of all that goes on outside my door. The accidents, the mishaps. There are too many coincidences in this part of town, and I want nothing to do with it. As soon as I get the paperwork to close, I'm moving houses and hopefully I will have no worries of his goons on my doorstep, though that would be wishful thinking. Even though I am moving, don't think of this as running or trying to hide. No. I refuse to give up my life just because some abomination wants to kill me. Go ahead if that's what you really want Mr. Slender. Kill me and don't leave a body. Make me disappear into the night because it's not like there is anyone who really cares if I'm gone. No one relies on me for anything other than to be the existence that is just as easily forgotten as unpleasant paperwork.

So as I sit here at my desk, bottle of rum in one had and a bottle of coke in the other, I wonder if this is what life is really about. I wonder if this is what God's plan for me really is. Will I be one of the ones who fall quickly from grace, destined to live in the shadowy nether regions of the spiritual life, or will I be tied to this plain of existence for years to come. Really it's all in God's hands now. I can't see myself surviving this onslaught of Myth and Superstition, yet, perhaps today I will be one of the lucky ones.

Late and Travel

I'm sorry this post comes so late, but I've been busy. Not that kind of busy that I was working all night and just didn't have time to get online busy, yet I applaud myself for actually getting off my butt to do this.

I took a trip to Holland. You heard me right. The land of Illegal drugs and Red Light Districts that would knock your socks off, but that's not what I went for. I arrived in front of the Cirque Du Soliel European Headquarters with little more than a backpack full of clothing, and a key that had been tucked into my father's diary. I had to confirm all that he said in the book, because I sure as hell wasn't going to just blindly believe something like that. It was certainly a hassle to try and get these guys to let me in. The old gym hadn't been used in years and there was some sort of shady reason that the Cirque people didn't want to tell me. Also the Russell family appeared not to exist, but there was a look on their faces as if they had seen a ghost while they looked at me.

It took about three days, but they finally let me take a look around. As I approached the old building, a feeling of apprehension clenched in my stomach. What if everything that my Father had written was true? What if all this stuff about Proxies and Slenderman was actually real? I couldn't think of that. I couldn't possible believe that any of this could possibly have roots in reality. I slotted the key in the old lock and turned, pushing open the door. The smell that came over me made me gag. It was like rotting flesh and unwashed blood that flew into my nostrils like a particularly annoying fly. There was the hum of insect life as I stepped in closing the door behind me and flicking on the lights in the dark room.

There it was, the sea of blood. Not cleaned in the years since my father had done it, and as I stepped in a puddle, I realized that the blood wasn't dry. My head was spinning. This wasn't possible. There was no way that the scene would stay so intact. The laughing came from high above. Insane. High Pitched. Like a child who was almost ready to cry their heart out, but was holding it all in. I couldn't take it.

I turned and ran.

And so here I am. Back home safe and sound, the key tucked far under my pillow along with that damn work of fiction. I refuse to believe what I saw. It's not real. It's not there. There is no such thing as Slenderman. There are no such things as proxies. This is all lies meant to scare me into running and hiding or fighting some figment of my imagination. I will not give in. I will not be scared of the bumps in the night, because they are nothing more than regular things in my normal life.

What a Day

Sorry for the length of this, but hell....I think this is justified!


Let me start off by saying that last night wasn't fun. I was expecting to waste away my evening with my bottle of delicious rum, and end up passed out drunk on the stairs, making my way to bed. I must say that it turned out quite different from the way I planned. Instead of my nice, comfy stairs, I ended up with my security blanket wrapped over my head as I spent the night in a Jail Cell that I'm pretty sure smelled like piss and death.


Let me start at the beginning. I went to my liquor cupboard to find my lifeblood, other wise known as my magical bottle of rum, only to find out that my drinking habits are not only killing my liver, but leaving me woefully short on the mystic substance of my desire. In a major life crisis, and a long debate with my walls, I decided to take the trek down the street to the store to buy myself a little more of the good stuff, like a good little junkie. I quickly armed myself with the shower curtain rod, that had hit me in the head earlier in the morning when I tore down the blasted object to give Slender one less space to hide, and hopefully deter him from popping in for a visit while I am sitting on the toilet, and threw my security blanket over my head, like a warrior dons his armour. I was ready for battle...or so I thought.


Now there was no incident on the way to the store, except for the crazy stares as I hurried down the street, rod clenched tightly in my hands and blanket pulled tight over my head. I checked my surroundings thoroughly, glaring off who ever I thought could possibly be a Proxy....though I think some hipsters got on the wrong end once too many. I finally made it to the store, bought my five bottles, and tried in my haste to make it back to the relative safety of my bunker as quickly as my legs could take me, when suddenly knocked on the back of the head...


And the bitch stole my rum.


You heard me. THE BITCH STOLE MY RUM.


Off she ran with me screaming like a banshee, waving my shower curtain rod and threatening to kill her. This is when the cops decided it would be a good idea to patrol the street. I was promptly pepper sprayed, disarmed, and thrown in the back of a squad car, presumed to be a illegal alien because my wallet was in the bag with the rum. After everything was said and done, I was thrown in the tiny cell to cower in the corner and cry that "he" was definitely coming to get me.


Three things:
1. That bitch stole my rum
2. Who the hell was that guy who came and bailed me out with the excuse that I was a paranoid schizophrenic who forgot my medications, told me to be careful after we were outside, and just so happened to recover my wallet
and 3. Did I mention that THE BITCH STOLE MY RUM?!

Why Did I Do It?

Why? Why on earth did I invite unspeakable horror into my home? Why did no one tell me that it was a FUCKING BAD IDEA?!

What good is this community huh? I started reading about all these irrational people who are on the run and I LITTERALLY INVITE Tall, Dark, and Slender to come haunt me. Even my family history can't save me. I can't sleep, can't even walk down the street without checking over my shoulder for the faceless man. The pale, featureless face haunts me everywhere I go....and the shower curtain sitting across my tub now seems like a really bad idea.

To recap, A few nights ago I called upon the powers that be to bring Slender Man to me so I could laugh in his suit wearing presence. That turned out to be a retarded decision, and I wouldn't blame you for questioning my intelligence. I wasn't expecting for a figment of overactive imagination to show up outside my window. Yesterday was another peaceful night, and I was curled around my bottle of rum, ready to pass out from my drunken stupor, to notice something flickering in the light of the bustling city just outside my window. It goes to say I was startled by what was staring at me....or rather the lack of what was staring at me. Tentacles thrashing in the rain, an ethereal, guttural, screeching, distortion coming from his very presence.....I should have worn my brown pants to bed.

Ever since then I have seen his minion crouching outside my windows, waiting outside my door for me to make a mistake and set one foot past the threshold. What they don't know is that I am ready for the nuclear war in this bunker of a house, and eating canned food won't bother me for as long as I have to wait for all of this to blow over. Maybe I shouldn't have been playing with fire in the first place, but what is the fun if you're not going to get burned, or burn down the house you are playing in and half the neighbourhood along with it? Somehow I think all of this will turn out wonderfully, and I will live a nice long and eventful life, right guys?

I'll live right?

Sleepless Night #1

I'd hate to say I am afraid, because I don't believe I am, even if I am jumping at every creak and groan. I attribute that to the fact that the house next door is already a disaster waiting to happen and could well...fall at any moment.

Since the last time I posted nothing has become clearer to me. I spent my whole day on the internet looking for others like me...but it just seems like these people are, to be frank, awesome. I am far from the desired subject to fight this "Slender Bug", but it seems like everyone just pussy foots around the issue. I am not quite sure if it is lack of sleep that leads me to write this or perhaps it is my perverse death wish that makes these words flow from my finger tips. So here, with the hesitation of a thirteen year old that wants to look cool in front of his friends, but knows mommy and daddy will hate this decision, I come out with the very thoughts I believe that everyone wants to hide.

COME AND GET ME SLENDER MAN! I AM WAITING FOR YOU TO MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL AND LA DE DA. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE MY LESS THAN COMFORTABLE HOUSE, THAT REALLY DOESNT MEAN MUCH TO ME, AND ABANDON MY LIFE, THAT NO ONE REALLY CARES ABOUT EITHER!

There. I said it. Now I just have to wait for the horrible monstrosity to descend upon me. I can't see why everyone is so scared. Slender Man is just a figment of everyone's imaginations and can't hurt me, or anyone else. All these people on the run are just paranoid of bumps in the night or delusional and need to be in a mental hospital, on stronger medication than a normal psychiatrist can give. The diary that was left to me from my "dad", which I still can't prove is either fake nor real, is for some reason keeping me up at night, and I am finding it in my constant thoughts. There is more to this hoax than there seems to be, and I WILL find the answers behind it.