Tuesday, March 29, 2011


Two things.
I'm getting a car.
I'm going to New Jersey.
Will post why later.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Thought Swilling

I've lost time again.
But this time, it isn't because of some eldritch abomination screwing with my brain or my memories revolting or my brain going pphbth because it can't process what happened.
Nope, nothing like that.
I just went on a binge.
It's...kind of surprising how much you can drink when you put your mind to it.
And that was a stupid, stupid, stupid waste of time that only got me my first ever hangover. Christ, I don't even want to know how much I puked.
So scratch 'drink your brains out' off my list of coping mechanisms.
I'm tucked away in the back corner of another library. After I came to this morning in that same hotel from my last post, face down in my pillow and stinking of cheap beer, I realized I had to get moving. Of course, I had to wait for a bit before my head felt vaguely non-nuclear-explosion-ish. A very long, very cold shower helped a bit. So here I am, with my icky-feeling clothes and faithful laptop. Hopefully, the next place I stay for the night will have a laundry somewhere.
While I was on the bus earlier, I found myself staring out the window, flinching every time I saw a man in a suit or a tall tree. Am I going to spend the rest of my life like this, cringing and hiding and running and never being able to sit down without staring over my shoulder for something trying to kill me?
I don't want this. I don't want to be like this until I slip up and get ripped apart.
I need to find something to work towards. People in the blogs, they generally have more on their list than just 'evade Slender Man.' I've got to find something to put on mine.

Friday, March 25, 2011

heheh oh damn
ladies and gents i have discoveredthejo ys of underage dri nking
not thatdru nk just a c ouplme i thiiiink but manthis is fuuuuuuuun
holaed up in some godfosaken hotel from helll where they donte even card yu at thbe bar
im ond the third flooor so slenderderp cant see me isnt that what m sa id woould work
wheeeeeeeeeee evrythilngs funny when yor buuuuuzed even ne arly dyinnng and stufff
heh im goin g dto bed so niight night all

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Lethargic Huddle

Nothing happened today.
I think I spent the entire day buried under these ratty covers.
I don't want to move. I don't want to think. I don't want to eat. I don't want to sleep.
My parents are gone. My home is gone. I'm 18 years old and have nowhere to go, no one to depend on.
I know there are others in worse straits than me. At least a proxy isn't trying to stab my eyes out or something.
But when you come to and it's 10:00 at night and you realize that you haven't left your bed once all day, it's kind of hard to get perspective.
This isn't healthy. It's not going to help me, and if I stay in one place, I'll probably be found.
So I'm going to try again tomorrow. One step at a time, just get out the door and move on.
To anyone who's reading this, I hope your day was more productive and less depressing than mine.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Sleep Preclusion

It's...way too late. I should be trying to sleep.
But I'd really, really prefer not to.
That post story thing I wrote for Frap's plan on the equinox...I don't know how much of it is what really happened and how much is just my messed-up imagination filling in the gaps. But if it is sort of real, if my admittedly-foggy memory of that day is semi-accurate...
Then my dad is dead. My mom is almost surely dead. Christ...
I don't have a home. I don't have a house. I don't have anything in the world but the contents of this ratty backpack and a hotel card key.
Changing the subject before I get bogged down in miserable self-pity, which isn't going to do me any good.
Vivi and Chester of Exilis Veritas no longer remember anything about Slender Man. They can live a normal life. I'm glad for them. Been reading their story for a couple months now, and they deserve whatever break they can get. I don't know how permanent this'll be, but at least they're happy. More people should be happy.
And that sounds like a narm-filled cliche off a Care Bear show.
There's nothing really to say. I'll be moving on again in the morning. Debating getting a cheap car with the money in my account so I don't rely on bus fare, but gas prices are making me question that choice. I just wish I could remember what happened after...after Dad told me to run. I still am not sure how I ended up here.
I guess I'll find out later. Right now, I'm going to try and sleep.

Sunday, March 20, 2011


He’d always been a logical man.

It started out as something of a coping mechanism. When his mother went off on her schizophrenic rants, he retreated by analyzing just where her arguments failed. When his wife’s bipolar disorder led to increasingly irrational decisions, he handled out by pointing out the flaws and bringing her back to Earth.

It didn’t always work on his teenage daughter, but he could deal with that.

When his wife began to speak of The Tall Man, he discarded her ramblings as just a product of overexposure to Lovecraft and bad horror movies.

When she didn’t stop speaking of it, his logic failed him.

Such a being could not exist. All known laws of reality said it was impossible. This could not be real.

He continued to say that as the abomination plunged its tentacles into his mind.

And he realized he’d been wrong.

Now, there was only one logical course of action. Contain his wife, dispose of his daughter, and be another servant of Him.

When his daughter escaped, taking his wife with her, he felt a little part of him break. He’d failed. Beaten by an 18-year-old girl and her sick mother. This was intolerable.

So he set out to find them.

It wasn’t that hard, when he tried. The network of souls enslaved to Him allowed him to track them down quickly enough. He felt no fear, no doubt, nothing but cold logic and allegiance to Him. What more did he need?

His daughter barely put up a fight.

He returned successful, his wife nearly out of her already-fragile mind with terror, his daughter bloody and unconscious in the back seat of the car. She was locked into her room, while his wife was turned over to Him. Some distant piece in the back of his mind quivered at what He would do to his wife, but that was not for him to know. His wife didn’t even scream as she faced Him, only stood there with face set in stone. He didn’t stay to watch.

The hours passed as he stood watch outside his daughter’s door, waiting for new orders. They came as a whisper in his thoughts. she may have the same. bring her.

He opened his daughter’s door.

And there she was. Staring at him. Brown eyes wide and eerily calm.

“Are you going to kill me, Daddy?”

He paused.

“Dad, I know…I know you’re a proxy, I know you can’t help me, but I still love you anyway. And I know that something in you still loves me.”

It was like coming out of a fog.

“Hurry.” She blinked once, then nodded and grabbed her backpack. He led her down the stairs, each step like leaping across a canyon. Whispers were filling his mind, his breath hurt, anger pulsed around him like the heartbeat of a god. He stumbled as he made his way to his desk, where her wallet and keys were locked in a drawer. Words tumbled out of his mouth, something about transferring money and getting out of town. They made it outside before he shuddered to a stop.



There was fire.

Burning, death, terror, screaming, his daughter racing back to him, him pushing her away, yelling at her to go, run, don’t look back, don’t look back, you’ll die, it’s too late for me, go. She hesitated, and he shouted it again. She was crying, but she ran.

And He was here.

As His rage slammed into him with the force of a sun and the pain tore his body to pieces, one free thought lingered in his mind.

It was the logical thing to do.

Stormy Harbor

Back with the vaguely poetic titles. Heh. Trying to revive my zombiefied sense of humor.
I'm writing from a McDonald's. Thank God for 24-hour service and free wi-fi. I only have a short time; they don't like loitering.
So I know where I am. I'm still in my state, but I'm several long hours away from my hometown. I'm in a city that my family and I would vacation at all the time during the summer or spring break. Dad always talked about moving up here one day...
I still don't know what happened. I took a nap earlier on a bus I caught, and I saw...things in my dreams. I don't know what, but there was a lot of shouting and me screaming and fire and death and my dad's face...he was crying. I've never seen my dad cry.
Christ...what am I going to dream tonight?
I walked into a bank earlier and checked out the card that was in my wallet. There's about $20,000 in the connected account...which about the same amount as our savings. I'm really freaked out about the implications of this, but at least I'm covered for money. Whoopee.
I don't know where I'll go after I finish this. Probably check into some crappy hotel for the night and keep moving. I want to go back home, but I don't know if I have a home to go back to, and I know...I know it's not safe there. It probably will never be safe there again.
I wonder what's happened to the rest of my family. I could try contacting my brother...
No. He has a family, a wife and kid, and I'm not dragging them into this insanity. I can't go to anyone for help without risking their lives. I don't know who to talk to among the bloggers, as it seems like they have more than their fair share of problems to deal with. No one needs another inexperienced, stupid Runner to worry about.
I haven't noticed anyone following me, for now. Knock on wood.
Bugger, I'm getting dirty looks from the employees. Have to go.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

It's...it's Saturday?
God, what...I don't understand.
What happened to me?
I'm...I'm in a library. Don't recognize it. Sitting at a table. Typing from my laptop. I don't know where the power cord is. My backpack's underneath the table. Looking to see what's inside.
There's a notebook. It has Mom's drawings tucked in the front. The pages in the notebook are scrawled with things...looks like my handwriting. Mostly indecipherable, but I can see the operator symbol on some places, and some of these words look like they're saying "I am not yours." Like what Mom said.
My phone isn't here. My iPod isn't here. My wallet is here, has my ID, my university card, some cash in it, about $500 in $20's. There's a check card I don't recognize, but it has my name on it. Small slip of paper with four numbers written on it, not my handwriting. Might be the pin for this card. Nothing else.
There's my power cord for my computer. That's good.
I've got these weird scars on my upper arm. Like thick whip marks. They don't hurt, but I think I can guess where they're from.
I don't know where I am. It's quiet in this library. There's some people milling around, looking at books. No one seems to have noticed me. I'm okay with that.
I can't remember anything that happened since my last post. I remember the door opening, and then everything's...blank. Nothing. I know something happened, I know I got away somehow, but how? Why? What happened to my mom and dad?
I'm...I don't even know, I can't put it into words. I'm going to get moving, figure out where I am. Will try to post more tonight.
God, my head hurts.

Monday, March 14, 2011


It's light out, and my head no longer feels like a grenade went off in my skull.
I can't get out of my room. Door won't open, window's barred, and the wall's too thick to break through. My phone is gone, and so is my laptop. Last night, I crawled around in the dark until I found my iPod. I guess Dad or whoever put me here forgot about that.
I don't know where Mom is...or where anyone is. The house is eerily quiet. I don't even know where my cat is. I hope Mom's alive...
Wait...a white paw just slid under the door. Kitty! Hold on...
Right, just spent a bit touching my cat's paw. I wish I could hold her.
I...I don't think I can even be scared now. I'm just numb. I don't know what's going to happen to me or to Mom or Dad or if I'm going to die or if that bastard's going to turn me into one of his. Scrounging around my room to find something I can use as a weapon. My alarm clock is pretty heavy. I have some old encyclopedias that would produce a nasty thump on the head. There's a scarf in my top drawer.
How long are they going to keep me hesomeonesatthedoor

Sunday, March 13, 2011

i'm alive...i think i'm home...i don't...my head is killing me...last thing i remember is looking out my car window...
glass shattering...
i can barely see...can't find my glasses...
room's dark...it's my room...all the lights are gone...door's locked on the outside...window has bars over it...
i don't know what's happening...

Thursday, March 10, 2011


It's past 1:00 in the morning.
Had to pull over at and take a break. God, my eyes are aching, but I don't want to sleep. I'm scared of what I'll find in my dreams.
There aren't any trees around here; I made sure of that. It's just an empty rest stop with awful wi-fi, broken vending machines, and a streetlamp that keeps flickering.
Mom's sleeping in the back seat. So tired...
I'm typing just to keep myself awake. Scared to check into hotels, don't want to leave any kind of paper or money trail. Don't remember the last time I actually slept properly.
...I'm going to keep moving, find a place with people. This rest stop is really creepy.
I hope there's a gas station somohgodwhatwasthatsomethingjustmovedoutsi

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Problem Catchup

To whoever's still reading this damn thing,
I'm sorry I haven't been very communicative. God, things are bad. Really bad. I mean, not as bad as stuff like Ava getting kidnapped by Redlight(s) and Vivi & Chester having happy fun time with Tenebria and Robert nearly getting lobotomized and all that other insanity, but pretty bad for a girl who, until just a couple months ago, was just a nerdy girl going to college and hoping to be a writer.
I'm on the run. With Mom. This is even harder than it sounds. I managed to salvage her medication, but it's not going to last very long. She's barely coherent as it is.
So...after the events I wrote about in my last entry, I realized that I had to get out of there. My dad was...being controlled. He wasn't himself, and I know that he was...is a Proxy or Hollowed or whatever the hell you call it. My daddy is being mind-controlled by a bloody eldritch abomination, and I can't do anything about it.
Oh God, I have to put this down for a minute.

Okay...I'm sort of calm-ish now. Anyway. So I realized I had to leave. I grabbed my laptop and started making transactions. Point of the matter is, I cleaned out my savings account and transferred it to a separate one, one my dad can't see or touch. It was a pretty substantial amount, so I should be okay for a while on that front. The whole damn time I was in my room, I could hear my dad breathing outside my door. I shouldn't have to be scared of my dad. God damn it, this is insane...
I had to wait a long time before Dad went away. Soon as he did, I grabbed the Louisville slugger in my closet and moved the dresser away from the door. Sure enough, he was right outside.
I...I had to hit him quite a lot before he stopped. God, there was blood all over the place, on my hands, my shirt, the floor...stopthinkingaboutthatitsnothelpingstopitstopitstopit
I got Mom out. Took my laptop with me. Had a feeling I might need it. Grabbed as many clothes as I could stuff into my backpack. Got my wallet and keys, my phone. Set out.
We're pretty far from home now. Been driving almost nonstop. The car's in decent shape, but I just know my dad's reported it stolen, so I freak out every time I see a cop. At least since I'm 18, I can't be reported as a runaway.
While we drive, I try talking to Mom. Ask her questions, figure out more of why Slender Man's been after her, why he killed her brother, why he's stalked her since she was just a kid. Something she said made me think.
"I am not his. I will never be his. Nothing he can do to me will change that."
It was a rare moment of coherence, and then she was back to shivering in the passenger seat and peering out the windows, terrified of every tree and phone pole. God, that sound so...so stupid...being scared of bloody telephone poles.
So right now, we're hunkered down in a gas station with really awful wi-fi. Won't say where, of course. My phone keeps getting calls, mostly from Dad, but I don't dare answer.
I'm scared. I'm so damn scared. Haven't noticed anyone following us, but I kept expecting to see that abomination staring at me.
I want...I want my daddy.