Archive for the Uncategorized Category

In My Opinion

Posted in Uncategorized on November 30, 2010 by aaronsummac

Whatever the Bitch says, she’s lying. Her nattering on her blog is adorable in its ineffectual attempt to throw us, but I know she’s full of shit.

I’ve seen her, and so has Blake. Lurking in the dark, following us from work. She may have disappeared for a few days, after her story about seeing it, but she’s far from just disappeared. And if you think she waltzed into any shop in Michigan, the way things are around here, and just got a job, you’re more hungry for fiction than I can imagine.

I worry about Blake, though. He’s scared of her, and she’s not what he should be scared of.

It’s been hanging around too. If the Bitch really did let it have taste of her, maybe it’s only looking for the rest of its meal. Maybe its looking for her. I hope so — I enjoy my job; I like teaching. And Blake isn’t going to want to drop everything and go. I’m not a teenager anymore; I can’t quit a job and ditch a tenement;  my belongings don’t all fit in a little box or my backpack. I can’t just try fitting into a new place and drop the old life.

So hopefully (and God will surely damn me for this little prayer) it’s got a taste for the Bitch, and will never notice me. It would clear up two issues in one smooth stroke at least.

What they want

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on November 10, 2010 by aaronsummac

When I first saw Slenderman, I thought he was the sandman. My father had just died and I went through a long bout of insomnia; in desperation my mother started telling me stories to try lulling me to sleep. My grandmother tried to help; she told me if I didn’t go to sleep before the sandman showed up at the witching hour (an hour I’m still not sure of), he would snatch my eyes out of my head.

This, as you can imagine, was not a comforting thought. I was six, and I didn’t know that adults lied.

Not long after, I saw him in my window, late at night. He scared me at first, but he was still, so still, and so incredibly quiet. Just as loud noises and multiple noises irritate and upset me, the presence of a quiet, calm person tends to sooth me. The first time I saw Slenderman, he lulled me to sleep.

The other thing I met earlier still. Someone suggested this creature is something called ‘The Rake’. As near as I can tell, The Rake is a humanoid demon that either tells of death, warns of death, or hurts people. All descriptions of it are close to what I saw, but I am reluctant to call this thing by that name. By any name. Naming things is a bad practice.

Also, The Rake tends to be described as a hairless, malformed humanoid, and it is supposed to speak. Or be capable of speech. The thing I saw, as The Bitch described in her vague and annoying way, is much more like a large, shaved dog. About the size of a Saint Bernard, but muscular and bald, and with teeth more like an angler fish’s. Its teeth are needle-like and protrusive; there seem to be too many of them in its mouth. Its claws, too, are longer and sharper than are normal on a canine.

When I first saw it, it was lurking in the trees that fringed a little park by my house. It was laying in a little ditch, making a noise like a dog will make when it’s sick. That’s what I thought it was, at first — a sick dog, and I called to my mother to come see, and started pushing through the brush. I don’t remember if I made it through and went up to the thing, or if it lashed out before a got to its little nest. All I can be positive of is that one second I was fine, if a little scared, and the next my coat was torn open and blood was falling in the leaves and I was alone there. My mother came and scooped me up, and ran me home, all the while asking, ‘what got you, what got you?’, like she hadn’t seen the beast of a creature. I don’t remember it leaving. I think I went to the hospital for stitches, or my father might have given them to me at home. He died a few months later, and everything around that time is a little fuzzy in my head.

The Slenderman wants something. The persistence of his lurking, the insistent staring and stalking (and, yes: eyeless or no, he stares) tells enough of that. But what exactly he wants, I don’t know.

The other thing… I think it just wants to eat.

Ringing in the Changes

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on November 8, 2010 by aaronsummac

A Very Bad Man took a knife and cut my father out of the world.

But first, Something hurt me. Something that followed us, lurking around the outside of our lives. I saw it in the park, hiding in the dark, and when I called attention to it, it lashed out and marked me.

Before the Something, there were the doors. Doors to everywhen and anywhere, but all of them locked; the perils inside not yet mine. A five year old can only survive so much, and hungry for travel and adventure though I was, the doors would never open. I could only imagine what lay behind them, these doors I was told I only imagined.

When the Very Bad Man cut away my father, I was afraid. If the Very Bad Man could take Dad away, then mightn’t he also come for me? And if I slept, I wouldn’t even see him coming. I denied sleep for days until one night, laying in bed,  a door appeared outside my window,  a black void against the white sliver of moon.

As I stared at this door, I became convinced that this was the door to the Very Bad Man’s house.  Now the Very Bad Man would come and steal me away, the Very Bad Man would come with a knife and cut me right out of the world. He was going to open the door and come in through my window, and Mother would scream and weep and shriek just like she did when the Very Bad Man took Daddy away.

I wanted to call out for my mother, for any adult to come – because bad things always disappear for children when an adult is near, is it not so? But I remembered all to well the Something that had hidden itself in the bushes; how it hurt me when I cried out, how could I forget when the blood still drained into the bandages wrapped around my arm; and I knew that some horrors never flee in the face of the coming calvery. Some just hurt you all the worse.

Then the door opened.

It opened to nothing; blackness layered over blackness, as if someone had taken a swatch of sky and swept away the stars. A complete darkness, malicious and maddening, so total it retuted the possibility of light.

Out of the doorway, the darkness seemed to leak; like ink overspilling the well, it poured over the lip of doorway and down some impossible distance to the ground. My bedroom was in the attic space, and the door hung somewhere slightly higher in the air. Something boneless and vile eked from the door, pooling down in the grass below. It seemed endless, this slimming ink, until suddenly, too quick to comprehend, it took on a solidity, a formedness; it became a thing with long reaching fingers and a pale faceless head staring from above a perfectly black body. It was something terrible; it was a man. It was the Very Bad Man.

It moved toward me in one smooth step, so it stood right outside the window, its long fingers clutching at the sill. Though I had been scared for so long, and though the thing standing beyond the thin glass of my window leaked malvolence from every bit of itself, as I watched it, my fear suddenly fled me. Iwas in the presence of the Very Bad Man, but I couldn’t be scared. I asked, starting to slide from my bed – perhaps to open the window – “Do I have to come with you?”

The Very Bad Man looked at me, seeming to stare with his ever shifting face at my bandaged arm. Was there was something about it, something about my clawed up meat that changed his mind? Because after a while of staring, he simply shook his head. No, I didn’t have to come; not yet. Later, perhaps; and did he say that with his mouthless face or did I just make it up? I don’t remember. I remember the cracks running across his face, shifting, changing, consuming themselves only to spread in anew different web; I remember watching these and falling asleep, thinking of wounds that heal and reappear, heal and reappear.

 

Good News

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 7, 2010 by blakecalhoune

First of all: Aaron and I don’t have a dog. I have no idea what that crazy bastard is talking about. The complex we live in doesn’t allow pets over ten pounds, and then they charge an extra fee for the pet, so we’ve never gotten one. So even if we had a dog, it would be a chihuahua-sized runt, and if he got his ass kicked by a chihuahua… well, then we have absolutely nothing to be afraid of.

Secondly: I would never shave an animal.

And finally: Aaron says he’s willing to start posting again, soon. So that’s really all I have to say tonight, except I’m glad to hear that ‘youknowme/oohthethingsiveseen’ got his ass handed to him by an imaginary animal. More power to you, Shaved Phantom Dog.

Kinda Freaked Out

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on November 4, 2010 by blakecalhoune

I spoke with Aaron after ‘Wenders’ commented my last post. He…

Okay, first, let me tell you the deal with Aaron. He wanted me to drop this whole thing, and after the hospital trip, I said I would. I told you all that. But when the USB drive disappeared, he started getting twitchy about it again. He said he knew it had ‘something to do with that bitch’.

‘That bitch’ I assumed to be our Slenderfriend. I asked, and he tensed and said, ‘not quite’.

Other than that, I can’t get a word out of him about what he thinks is going on, though he’s back in the habit of sitting up late at night. I think he’s waiting.

So I showed him the comment from ‘Wenders’

(and it’s okay that you can’t or won’t tell us who you are. I just hope you’re not another jerkass)

and he clicked the link and just stared at the Tumblr page we were linked to, before pushing away from the computer and stalking back to the living room. I have made a Tumblr account, thinking to comment — I have almost left a question on oohthethingsiveseen’s page twice now — but somehow I just can’t bring myself to do it. I have to admit, I’m kind of scared too. This guy claims to have been in our house, and I honestly don’t want to provoke him.

But at the same time, the guy seems to be such a flake. I can’t be sure that he didn’t just happen upon our blog and decide it would be fun to mess with us. He puts random words into caps (though sometimes the caps turn into little phrases that might be intentional, I have no idea) and seems to thrive and messing with yet another crazy guy on Tumblr.

Does anyone have any advice?

Posted in Uncategorized on October 30, 2010 by blakecalhoune

Okay, so… following Aaron’s request, I kind of dropped the blogging thing. In fact, I really did my best to drop the entire Slender-Friend thing. When they discharged him from the hospital, I asked him again what had happened. I asked him if it was related to our previous experiences.

I already knew it was. I knew, just because of how adamantly he refused to tell the doctors what had happened. But as we got into the car, he told me — “We’re done with this. Stop asking about it. This is the last of it, okay?”

And I said okay. He still won’t tell who beat him so badly. I haven’t come across anything like this in other blogs or vlogs — no instances of the Slenderman beating the shit out of his victims. I mean, I’ve seen people end up with bloody noses or pass out, but never end up…

Nevermind. Long story short, someone kicked the snot out of Aaron, and its somehow related to our sightings of Mr. Tall. He stayed in the hospital for three days while they ran some tests because they were concerned about brain damage. That’s how bad it was.

And because he asked me to, I put the whole damn thing out of my head. Or tried to. And I could tell he did too. But we both still felt something, especially at night when we were trying to sleep. There were sounds, like someone stalking around outside… usually one or both of us would be paranoid enough to get up and look around. But for the last week, after a few minutes in bed — no more than fifteen — we both just passed out for the night. Which is very unusual for the both of us.

Then last night, I heard something. It sounded like tapping, at the window, you know? And I wanted to get up and look, but I didn’t. Instead, I fell asleep. I guess that happens sometimes; you’re tired enough that you just kind of conk out. I woke up at seven feeling fresh and well rested, and Aaron seemed to have had just as good of a night. True to his request, I didn’t mention the tapping at the window, and I didn’t think of it until I went into the office this afternoon.

We  — okay, I — am kind of nutty about keeping things in here labeled and in their place. Even so, at first i wasn’t sure what was wrong with the room; nothing was really moved or anything. Except, upon further inspection, my USB drive. It’s not even a big storage drive; it’s only like 1GB. And lets face it, my photos of Aaron and my class syllabi aren’t exactly state secrets. They’re important to me (and the photos are irreplaceable) but why would anyone steal it?

I thought the same thing;maybe I misplaced it. I spent three hours looking around the house for it; Aaron helped for a while. It’s not in this house. It’s not in the car. I can’t imagine it’s at work, since I haven’t pulled it out of the computer since the last time we went to that stupid park.

I have no idea why, but I know it’s true — someone stole it. It makes no sense, but neither does creeping around outside our house and knocking on things. Or, for that matter, a ten foot tall guy with no face following us around.

Some one broke into my house last night and stole a USB drive that has absolutely no value to anyone anywhere. They did it while we were sleeping and without waking us up — quietly and quickly, it had to have been. And for whatever reason, the fact that they managed to do it without disturbing us or moving any of our stuff around is terrifying to me.

Making Ourselves Scarce

Posted in Uncategorized on October 20, 2010 by blakecalhoune

Aaron’s in the hospital, and I don’t know when I’ll be allowed to take him home. I’m a little freaked out right now, but I just didn’t want anyone to think we’d disappeared. We’re still here, despite the best efforts of someone.

Even if we’re apart.

Could be a few days before we post again.

I’m still here.

All Quiet on the Mid-Western Front

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on October 17, 2010 by blakecalhoune

First things first: still no sightings, though Aaron continues to have trouble sleeping.

There is always something to see

After reading through some of the other Slender Man related postings on this and other blogging sites, I am hopeful that there might be a few people out there who honestly have seen what we have or know something about our kind of situation. Though a few seem to trail off into ominous silent spells, which is kind of off-putting.

Deeply dreaming, we don’t worry about waking

Last night I was talking about my recurring dream. I feel it prudent to mention that the dreams (for me at least) are not an every-night occurrence. Rather, they became less frequent as waking life started getting more… upsetting. Which seems kind of backwards, really… usually upset in the waking hours seeps into your dreams; isn’t that where bad dreams come from? But still. The worse things seemed during the day, the better sleep was once I finally got there.

Wake up, don’t wake up

The waking stuff started like ‘from the corners of my eye’ kind of eerie-ness. I’d see something dark slink around a corner, or a streak of pale white hovering high outside the window. Whenever I turned my head or strained for a better look, there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. I thought it was just… well, you know, nightmares steal sleep; I’m just so tired.

I honestly think Aaron has been going through this longer than me, though he’s become suddenly quiet on the topic. He was often snapping his head to one side or the other, peering off suspiciously into nothing. I honestly didn’t really think anything of it, because well… Aaron has always been kind of suspicious of the world around him, just sort of by nature. It wasn’t anything to me, until he finally admitted that his insomnia was also stemming from a rash of bad dreams.

I’ll always be right here, baby

(He gave me one of his Looks when I asked about sharing his nightmares (he’s got several recurring ones), so we’ll have to wait and see. Maybe he’ll relent, or maybe he thought I was stupid for asking instead of just doing it. I’ll clarify that tomorrow.)

This log was his idea, in case anyone becomes curious. I at first didn’t like the idea of broadcasting what sounded like our brief bout of craziness. But I actually find that writing it all down is kind of soothing. Aaron, however, seems inclined to steer clear of the blog now that he’s gone to the trouble of making a banner and everything. “Better not to talk about it, maybe.” He says. “Put it from our heads.”

Whisper in the dark, darling

But I can’t, and I know he can’t either.

I’ll whisper right back.

Unfound

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on October 15, 2010 by aaronsummac

There are doors, many open but most closed. It is right that they remain closed. We don’t need to see what lies behind their sturdy barricades.

As days crawl by, each shorter and darker than the last, the thing I cling to most is this: most of the doors are still closed.

But I keep thinking of Quill and how the door was closed, the basement door was closed and locked, and how she was out when we came back.

Is a closed door really so much security, even one that is as locked and barred as these are supposed to be? Graviora manent; Nemo ante mortem beatu.

A cat’s collarbone is not connected to other bones in its body, instead buried in the muscle of the cat’s shoulder. This allows a cat to slip through any opening the size of its head — Quill was locked in the basement when we left the house, and through strength and acrobatic flexibility, she managed to squeeze between the door and the wall, straining the door against it’s chain lock.

Most doors are kept closed, but it is really so hard to imagine that something on the other side could, like a cat, squeeze itself through the cracks? Something thin and flexible and hungry which, sniffing long enough around the edges of its door, has smelled good prey and comes now to hunt.