Hey guys! Long time no see huh? Well, anyways, I got in the mood to write, or at least start writing, a horror fic, and I thought to myself, what better subject than Slenderman? Okay, I know this has been done before. I know using an OC is completely cliché, but I wasn't originally going to upload this to Fanfiction. I was just going to let it sit on my laptop for all of eternity, but I figured I might as well reanimate my dead account. :3 Anywho, I have no idea if I'm going to finish this or not, but this is the start of something nonetheless. Reviews are greatly welcomed *COUGHCOUGH*I encourage them*COUGHCOUGH* Ahem. Enjoy!
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Life.
All I ask for is that I get the chance of living out such a savory thing. But with this thing following me, no matter where I go, no matter what I do, I know I won't be able to stick around for much longer.
But I can sure as hell try.
Moving into this quiet mountain town surely seemed like a good idea at the time. Here, I thought I could be safe. Here, I thought it wouldn't get me. Here, my mom thought I'd be less crazy than I already am.
Wait, hold up a minute. Back it up…
Three years. For three years this thing has followed me around, has tortured me, teased me. For the first year, I would silently wait in bed as it tap-tap-tapped on my window and ceiling, waiting for it to crawl into my bedroom and take me. I had accepted my fate at that point.
The thing, though…It didn't like that. It wanted the satisfaction of making me suffer. It started to follow me around, making itself visible just out of the corner of my eye. But it disappears. Every single time I would snap my head in its direction, it'd be nowhere to be found. Fucking nowhere.
By now we're into year two of the torture, and the thing has proven to be a relentless fellow. Every single night, at a random time, it'll come tapping at my window, for exactly an hour, and stop. It's just an illusion though, the stopping part I mean – it just wants me to think it's gone, even though I can see its ominous shadow casting itself onto my window curtains and my wall. Then when I'm not lying in bed, the fucking thing follows me as I've already explained. It'll whistle to me, make subtle noises so I look in its direction. But it's never there.
That's about the time I figured out it wants me to acknowledge it. That's where it gets its sick pleasure from – the fact that I know it's there and can't do anything about it.
But the fact that it's there isn't the thing that pisses me off – the thing that pisses me off is that it's right; I'm completely helpless. I'm at its mercy.
After the paranoia set in, it started appearing in my dreams. It deleted any kind of comfort I can get from my mind, and has instead set up a wicked, horrifying setting, something I can't escape. So I don't sleep anymore. I just sit there in bed and listen to it tap-tap-tapping.
Paranoia and insomnia. That's what this thing has given to me. And now, in year three, I'm the opposite of curious when it comes to knowing what it has in store for me now.
Oh, and m mom believes none of it. My friends have long since given up on me, completely convinced that I belong in the loony bin. They simply sit with me at lunch and ignore me, occasionally casting forlorn and pitiful glances in my direction.
The loony bin. Maybe that is where I belong? After all, I'm sure this thing has put countless other people in there. Unless it takes them first. To be honest, I'm completely clueless when it comes to the fact of what this thing wants. Is it going to kill me? To eat me? To steal me away and hide me forever? Maybe it just wants to cause me strife and royally fuck up my life. Whatever its intentions are, I'd be more than happy for it to go ahead and get on with it already.
But now my mom has insisted that we move to this quiet town in Colorado, where she's convinced that the fresh air will be good for my mental well-being. Actually, she didn't put it in those words; she said 'the fresh air will do wonders for you,' but I knew what she meant. She thinks I'm crazy too.
I'm the only one who knows I'm not crazy. Or am I? I've been having a little inner turmoil over this subject myself, lately. If I am crazy, or schizophrenic, then this would explain a lot. If I'm not, well, I'm on the verge of flipping my shit. I thought I could ride this out. I thought it would go away.
Boy was I wrong.
Upon arriving at this quiet mountain town, South Park it's called, I instantly knew that nothing would change. As we passed one of many trees, I can see the outline of its tall, lanky body, its spindly fingers just hanging there limply, its white, featureless face mocking and terrifying. I quickly avert my gaze to something less mentally traumatizing, like the gas meter on our car.
"Mom, we need to get gas."
"We're practically there already, we'll make it!" I roll my brown eyes and look back out the window. It's there, again. But this time, instead of standing next to a tree so that it blends in perfectly, it's standing blatantly on the side of the road.
It's like time suddenly turns to slow motion, the sudden rift in reality not effecting the creature or me. As our car nears it at a torturous pace, the thing reaches out its fingers, its arm long enough to touch our car. My eyes widen as I back away from the window. Loudly, its pointed fingers leave thing scratches on the glass surface.
With my eyes screwed shut, I scream.
"Hannah! What's wrong with you!?" My mom sounds furious as I reopen my eyes. Time had returned to normal, and the scratches the creature had left on the window are gone, as if they never existed. My heart is racing and I can feel the blood pounding in my ears.
"…Nothing, Mom. Sorry…" She simply grunted as I stared wide-eyed out the window. That's the closest I've ever been with the creature. That's the closest I ever want to be with the creature. Somehow, despite the lack of features on its face, I know it was smiling. I know it was smiling a wicked, sadistic smile that only wicked, sadistic demons can have. I shiver and close my eyes, leaning back in the seat. Maybe if I keep my eyes closed, I can prevent seeing it again…
As soon as I feel myself begin to nudge off, I open my eyes and shake my head. Sleep is not something I need right now. Or, more realistically, it's not something I want. Not with that dark disturbing place lurking somewhere in the depths of my mind.
"Sweetie, look! We're here!" I turn my attention to the front of the car, where I catch a glimpse of a rickety, half-assed sign that says 'South Park' on it.
"Yay…" The word slips out of my mouth in a sarcastic tone, and my Mom rolls her eyes.
"Hannah, you know I did this for you right?"
"I know Mom, I'm sorry…I'm just a bit…Spooked, that's all." I shake my head, my bob of curly, blue-tipped brown hair bouncing along with the movement.
"By what? There's been nothing out of the ordinary here, other than you randomly screaming and almost causing me to wreck the car." She shrugs it off. I simply sigh, realizing that my mom might always fail to understand, and simply examine my new town. I see people walking on the streets, eyeing our car curiously. My gaze catches on a rather chubby man sitting on his front porch, holding a rifle. Next to him is a skinny man with a rather large head, also holding a rifle.
"Great…We've moved into the Red Neck of the woods…" I looked at my mom from the corner of m eyes to see her furrowing her eyebrows at my remark. But nonetheless, she's making a poor attempt to stifle a giggle.
"Hannah, give these people a chance at least." She coughed while trying to cover up her giggle, and I simply roll my eyes and huff. Finally, we pull into a house. Our little humble-a-bode is located in the middle of a bunch of other houses that look exactly the same in structure. The colors vary though. We got a dark purple house with a pale blue roofing, window panes, and door. As soon as the car comes to a stop, I shove open my door and jump out.
With a deep breath and an exasperated sigh, I know that this will be the worst time of my shortened life. Speaking of my shortened life, I haven't seen the creature since the encounter in the car about half an hour ago. This is the longest I've ever gone without catching even a glimpse of it.
"Hannah! Did you hear me?" Oh, whoops. She must have been talking to me. I stare at her blankly, and she takes this as the hint for 'no mother'. Quickly, she repeats herself. "I'll take care of moving the rest of our stuff in," The movers had already moved our furniture and shit in ahead of time. "I want you to go out and meet some of the local kids. I'm sure there will be lots of other fourteen year olds willing to play with you!"
"Mom, we don't 'play'. We 'hang out'. Practically means the same thing, but the different wording is what lies between 'socially acceptable' and 'outcast'." With a slight chuckle and a shake of her head, my mom shoos me away.
Not that I'm socially acceptable anyways.
With my Mom heading inside, I'm suddenly left alone in the snow covered yard, looking around awkwardly. I don't like being alone; being alone means I'm vulnerable. I don't want to be vulnerable.
As if thinking about it summoned it, a slight whistle sound blows on the wind, sending a shudder up my spine. The area is dead silent, and a icy cold feeling sends itself deep into my chest. The hair on my neck stands up straight as the whistle comes again, but louder. I don't move. I don't talk. I don't even breathe, because whatever this creature is, it's right behind me. I can feel its slender figure looming over me, and in my head, I'm quickly accepting the fact that I'm going to die in a matter of seconds.
Three.
I hear a faint noise on the wind, but it's probably my imagination.
Two.
As the thing closes in from behind me, I hear the noise again, but louder this time. It sounds almost like a voice.
One.
I cringe and screw my eyes shut, waiting for the darkness to engulf me, for the thing to wrap its stick-like arms around me and curl its finger over my mouth and for - !
"Hey, kid!" I whip around, my eyes wide and a frown on my face. The creature isn't there like I previously thought it was.
No, I know it was there.
"Kid! Yeah, you!" I see a boy about my age running towards me, his brown jacket and blue and red hat features that I'll remember. Finally reaching me, he stops in front of me and bends over, his hands on his knees and his breath coming out of his mouth in short gasps. "Jesus…Christ…I saw your van and figured you must be the new kid…" He looked up at me with bright, blue eyes and stood up straight. "I didn't think you'd be a girl though. Whatever." I cock my head to the right curiously – did he really chase my van all the way here? I'd be flattered if I weren't so terrified.
"Hello? Can you hear me? You look like you've seen a ghost or some stupid shit like that." He chuckles, and I still don't say anything. This brings a slight frown to his face, and he tries a different method. "Hi. I'm Stan, and you are…?" I blink twice. "Psst…This is the part where you insert your name…" He whispers, and I can't help but smile.
"Sorry, I, uh…" I look behind me out of habit and paranoia. It's not there, thank God. "I was distracted. I'm Hannah." We stand there in the chilly wind for a few seconds before he shrugs.
"Anyways, since you're new in town, I guess maybe you need some friends, huh?" I hesitate, but then nod. The less alone I am, the better. "Cool. Then let's head over to my place, and I'll introduce you to Kyle, Kenny, and Eric."
"…Alright…" Should I tell my Mom? …Nah, she said I could run off. Anyways, I have my cell phone with me.
"Sweet! C'mon, follow me!" He quickly turn around and starts to run off back in the direction he came from. I stand there for a few more seconds, simply thinking. "Are you coming!? Move your ass!" His voice has a mocking tone to it, and I'm snapped out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, I'm coming!" Without hesitating this time I dash forward, chasing after him. Quietly, somebody whistles behind me.