First and foremost, I will address the previous post and assuage any possible concerns.
Blake and I are, of course, on speaking terms. We are not hostile housemates, I am not keeping him locked up, and neither of us are in eminent danger of dying or killing. I tested negative for pertussis, but I was given a course of antibiotics (or some such medicinal garbage) as a preventative measure, to ensure that I wouldn’t play Typhoid Mary; Blake tested positive at the beginning of the month.
Blake suggests I thank you for your concern. So on his behalf: thank you. In my opinion, none of it was your business, and since the only reply to Blake’s post came from The Bitch, I assume you all knew that.
On to why we’re here tonight:
I feel the need to post this because I haven’t heard it addressed in other media.
To begin with – I insisted that Blake stop posting and that we play blind toward the things going on around us. It has worked for me in the past, to pretend that nothing is there; perhaps not as a permanent solution, but it has WORKED. He would find me and follow me, creep around in the dark and whisper his awful things, but I could will him away.
That’s the first thing: no one else has mentioned this to my knowledge. I am by no means entirely fluent on the little games circulating the internet revolving around him and his victims, but I have read and watched my share. Has anyone experienced anything like this? Even the illusion of control?
The second thing: as I’ve said, I HAVE read some of the other… stories… posted around the internet. Some are quite good and others are, suffice to say, not worth the free web space hosting them. But there is, it seems, something like a rash spreading among those who claim to have seen the Slenderman, in which they have begun seeing something entirely Else. These stories range from the mundane to the obscenely stupid (tumblr seems to home for half-witted and ill transceiver tales in this vein). Many of them – of you – call this Thing ‘the Rake’, but none of you can seem to put a bead on what it is. Is it a dog? Is it a naked, wild man? Does it speak? Does it kill?
If it is hairless, wild, like a Great Dane without fur and far too long of tooth, its paws too prehensile to be just paws, then I would hear more of it. And I would hear especially of it’s behavior. If it’s hungry.
And finally: to those of you idiots who call yourselves ’employees’, ‘servants’, ‘disciples’, or whatever demented thing you think of yourselves as in the service of our slender friend… I’d like to know just one thing. I would like to know if a single one of you can give me a rational word telling me you know what you’re doing. Enough of your pretend madness, enough pretend split-personalities, enough SILENCE. At least Marble Hornets’ masked man had the good grace to keep his acting straight. The rest of you are more irritating than anything, so I dare you, send me word that you know what you’re doing and you’re serious about it. And tell me you’re not pissing yourself in fear, sincere as you want me to believe you are.
If anyone has answers, comment here or email me. aaronsummac@gmail.com