A/N: My little darlings, I'd like to introduce you to my newest brain child To Carve Love into her Arms, which is book One of three in a series focused on the fucked up relationship that I've been dreaming about for months now. Ever thought about what the relationship between Slenderman and Splendorman is? What if I threw in a skittish, shy, nervous, medically fucked up girl into the mix? It will be chaos, I tell you. Gorey, sexual, brutal, beautiful chaos. Please, stay tuned, my little gumdrops!
Disclaimer: I really don't own anything except my characters, and those are influenced by people I know or myself.
The wind whipped through my hair and stung my face, memories of childhood beatings resurfacing in the back of my mind, but I quickly forgot about it as I kept running. My legs were burning, my lungs aching and threatening to collapse from the hours of sprinting it seemed like I'd been doing. I'd almost forgotten why I'd started running, or where I was headed, all I remember is the white expanse of face that I'd once called Slender covered in the black blood of his brother. The once rainbow spotted suit of Splendor just dark fabric, the usual smile that adored his face replaced with a terrifying snarl full of sharp teeth that tore through flesh. I thought of kissing that mouth a million times, laying with them in trees and on their bed, the touch of their hands and mouths and bodies against my naked flesh...
My foot snagged on something on the ground, and I fell face first into cold dirt. My palms stung along with most of my front, and I was sure that my ankle was broken, but I tried to get up, tried to keep moving, keep doing what Slender had told me to do in the deep and angry voice I'd never heard come out of his mouth...
"Run."
But my legs wouldn't move, they spasmed and went numb as I tried to move them. My face was covered in tears and blood, and I tried to scream but my throat was so dry I could only croak. Behind me, I heard the scraping of many little feet on the earth, my mind filling with pictures of the things that had attacked us, and I began to pull myself up, drawing the knife I had in my pocket. It was small, not hardly sharp enough to do real damage, but I'd be damed if I died tonight without a fight.