We were both so young when we had first met. Even to this day, I am not entirely sure how we had met. Perhaps our fathers had been working partners. Maybe we'd just crossed paths one day. It does not matter, because we were always inseparable.
He was always different then the other children. Very pale, with dark hair that was kept very well. He was unusually tall and slender for his age as well. He always dressed well, too. He lived in a massive home that very well could be considered a mansion. It was considered to be a building of "architectural genius" by everybody.
Too bad it burned down with both of us inside of it.
We burned to a crisp, and I lost sight of him forever. My best friend. The closest thing I had to a sibling. We were separated because of the Hell itself.
Many decades later, I found myself reborn. It was the year 1990. Obviously, the generation and time had changed. It was time for me to start anew. I had no memory of my old friend with the pale skin who always dressed well. The memories of the good times we had left me forever, and I was completely unaware of it at all.
Now it is the year 2013. I am living on my own and I study at a university. I've made many friends since I left home. I've even found love in a wonderful girl. Things in my life are spectacular.
Yet, in my city, people have been dying left and right. One woman was found hung by meat hooks in her apartment. A young married couple had been found with their insides ripped out, their bodies completely hollowed out. The entrails were never found. There was just blood everywhere. The worst may have been the man who had his face "eaten". His skull was caved in, with blood oozing out of the eye sockets and his mouth.
The most recent death was actually one of my close friends.
I attended their funeral, which was held on a dark day. The sky filled itself with grey clouds. The sounds of thunder could be heard from all around. Yet, no rain poured down. The casket was placed into the ground as everyone mourned.
Yet, for some reason, I felt no emotions. I was entirely numb inside as I watched my friend disappear into the ground. I never felt like crying. I never felt like visiting his grave after that day. I only stayed at the grave for that one day.
Before I left, a sheet of paper blew up against my leg. I picked it up, and found a drawing of sorts. A tall man holds onto a tree branch with his hand outstretched. He has no features upon his face.
I did keep the drawing, but I thought nothing of it. I just let it be.
Yet, one day, I did find myself walking through the graveyard. My love had wanted to visit said friend, and I agreed to accompany her there. We walked in silence as the sun shined down on us.
She asked for some time alone with our friend, and I agreed. I headed back towards the car, waiting for her to return for several minutes.
She didn't come back.
They found her mangled body impaled through a tree branch.
Again, I felt no remorse as she disappeared into the ground.
Because he was there.
I didn't see him. I didn't hear him. But, I felt him. His presence was comforting. It seemed almost familiar to me, but I could not recall who he was. When I went to glance in the direction that I felt him looking, I only see a sheet of paper. A drawing of the same man is scrawled in black pencil.
The murders piled up more and more. Soon enough, everyone had become quite distant from me. That was when the dreams began.
I saw trees. The colors would invert, turning the darkened trees to a grisly white.
A tall man dressed in nice clothing holds out his hand to me. I run from the gesture.
A screech is heard, followed by a shot.
I'm on the ground, and a shadow comes over me.
I make no sound as he picks me up slowly, placing me back on my feet. His expressionless face seems almost sad to me as he holds my face in his hands. His pale fingers would disturb most people, but I find them comforting. It is like being in the hands of a familiar poltergeist who promises to protect me.
Everything around us seems to light up slowly, and the warmth covers us like a house would cover its inhabitants.
Then I wake up.
The dreams continue, and I sometimes see a small boy with the tall man. They seem so familiar to me, but I am never able to put my finger upon it.
One particular dream came to me on a stormy night.
The boy was holding my hand, saying, "Come! Let's play our games again!"
I have no choice but to follow. This is a dream that I cannot stop.
He points to a shack. "This is where we will play one more time!"
I suddenly find myself inside of the shack. It is an old building. Floorboards are missing. Things lay strewn about the room. The four walls are littered with numerous papers. Newspaper clippings about missing children, a note with "I MISS YOU" scratched onto it.
The child says, "Hey."
I turn my gaze to him, and the sight of his black eyes shocks me.
"Come here. Come to me. I miss you." His voice is turning into something that sounds almost demonic. It is deep and grotesque. I gasp as he lunges.
Then I awaken.
The next night, I drive on the roads in the rain. The road is empty, aside form myself. Yet, it is still difficult for me to see what is in my path.
I groan in frustration when my phone begins to ring. I glance down for just a moment to see who it is. Seeing it is my mother, I set it aside, and when I look back up...
He is there.
My car slides, and the last thing I remember is the metal crunching as I toppled down that hill.
I wake up, and it is still dark outside. The rain is pouring hard, and my body hurts. I feel something warm dripping from my head, which I decide must be blood. I try to stand, but my legs protest. I look down at them, seeing that they are bleeding heavily. They are wrapped in a nasty colored gauze that seems to have already been used once. I assume they are both broken, and begin to feel the fear come in.
I gasp when a pencil suddenly rolls my way. I look into the dark corner without the light. After another moment or two, a small pad slides out of the void. I try to crawl away, but my legs violently scream in protest. I glance down at the pad, and...
This pad is familiar to me.
I pick up the pencil and the pad slowly, my eyes flicking to the corner every few seconds. I open the pad.
"WHAT IS YOUR NAME?" is scrawled in it. I write my name into the book, and turn the page. On the back of the same sheet, it says "GIVE BACK".
I place the pad down, and slide it into the corner, followed by the black pencil. I hear the pages flip open, and I stiffen up. I hear the pencil scratching up against the paper. It suddenly stops, and the pad and pencil come back to me.
I open it up slowly, flipping to the next page. When I see what is on the page, my eyes begin to tear up.
"MY NAME IS SIMON". Below this phrase is a picture of two figures which appear to be drawn by a child.
One figure is tall with shaded in hair. The second is noticeably shorter and has hair that seems to be a lighter color.
I flip the page. On the back is the same to figures, and they appear to be doing something together. Above this picture, the words "WE USED TO PLAY TOGETHER" are written in that same handwriting as before.
I look at the next page is when it says, "DO YOU REMEMBER?".
I suddenly do, and I break down into tears. I drop the pad and pencil onto the floor around me, and throw my hands onto my face. The tears don't stop falling as I remember what happened to the two of us. I remember the flames, and the look on his face as he burned. Even the pain comes back to me.
I only look up when I feel a presence. When I see him, though, I jump.
The faceless man is squatting down by me, with his brow furrowed. Despite the lack of eyes or a mouth, I can tell he is sad. My poor friend...
"I-I'm so sorry..." I wrap my arms around him. The feeling of his long arms around my body seems so comforting. I cry into his shoulder, and he doesn't seem to mind. The pain in my legs seems to have gone away. My whole body has stopped hurting.
Our reunion is all that I've waited for my whole life. I just never knew it.
I wipe my eyes, and he touches my face with one of his long fingers. I smile slightly at this, remembering my dreams. He seems happy to see me, and I am just as glad to see him.
When he suddenly stands up, I ask, "What are you doing?"
Silence comes. He returns a moment later with a newspaper clipping. It is about the recent murders. I look back at him. "What is this?"
He hangs his head in shame, and holds his hand over his heart. I am unsure of what this means.
Silence comes when I realize that he was the one who killed them all. But why does he still have his hand over his heart?
I am cut off as he stomps away, returning a minute later with a gasoline can.
"Wh-What?!" I cry out.
My friend turns to me, grasping up the pad and flipping a few pages. He throws it to me with a fierce throw, and am shocked by the force.
I glance at the image. It is of the two figures laying together inside of a house. Yet, the house is...
I blink. Once. Twice. Three times.
He once to be with me forever.
It all makes so much sense.
He's been trapped here for years. Perhaps it has even been centuries. He has only wanted to find me.
He really only... Wants me forever.
This isn't greed.
He only misses me. He would do anything to be with me forever.
I sigh lightly.
"It would be my pleasure to die with you."
The night air was frigid, but the two of us were warmed for eternity as the flames burned around us.
He looks at me, and I smile at him. The fire around me is rising higher, and I am feeling fearful at this point.
He seems to sense my fear, as he wraps his arms around me protectively, as if he were telling me everything was alright.
Then, as the fire came upon us, I screamed. His grip on me tightened, and I could only cry tears of joy. Death was coming upon each of us slowly. An eternal sleep was coming, and I was ready for it.
But at least I died in the arms of my best friend.
Recently, I (finally) listened to "My Immortal" by Evanescence and I was inspired. This is what came out of it.
I wanted to depict the lovely Slender Man as a being who is lost. He is searching for someone that he loves dearly in a friendly way. His spirit longs for it, and it is the only way for him to be finally free. I did give him a name in a way, but I do not think he has any sort of name.
The friendship between Slender Man and our narrator is like that of me and my "best" friend. In a way, I would do anything for them, but they do not know that I am willing to do so. I want them to recognize me and be aware that I need them, but they can't see that.
I've been feeling very down lately, so I needed to really vent. Plus, I really like Slender Man! So, here you go. A sad one-shot about death, friendship, and angst.
To really get into the mood I needed to write this, I listened to these lovely songs.
"My Immortal" - Evanescence
"Apologize" - Within Temptation
"ST4LK3R" - Bentley Jones
"Mad World" - Gary Jules
"The Horror Of Our Love" - Ludo
"Black Dahlia" - Hollywood Undead
"Maestro" - Julien-K
I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. I claim no ownership over Slender Man. The story itself is mine. Reviews are nice, even if it is a simple comment.