At this point in time it's too already late. I have been taken by him and i'm most likely dead. I can feel him staring at me, although I never understood how he could. I know he's there, I can feel his evil aura engulfing my own as he leans in closer. I won't turn around, I don't need to turn around because I know it's what he wants and I won't give him that pleasure. I believe it's already been 4 years since it started but I may be wrong, 4 years since he became widely known, 4 fucking years since I made my greatest mistake.

My name is Kyle J. Hammond, I am in my mid twenties. In a few minutes I'll be gone from the world, he'll wrap his tendrils around my throat and take me. But I need to tell my story so that everyone will know the truth. Everyone will know how he came to be.

I was always an artist since I was young. I wanted people to know my work and appreciate it. I would make many different pieces from the metaphorical kind to the literal kind, but I always wanted to make my work a reality. When I was about 17 or 18 I made a drawing of a tall man in a black business suit with no face.

I became obsessed with the drawing, writing it on every blank page I had until there was no more room. When there was no more paper to draw I used the walls writing him everywhere until my room was filled with countless drawings of him, and still it was not enough. My mother found me in my room on the cold night of November. She walked down the stairs worried about me because I had not exited my room all day. She opened the door to find me against the wall, blood pouring from slits in my fingers. She looked in horror at the drawings now made of blood on the wall. She called 911 and I was taken to a hospital from the amount of blood I lost.

I woke up to see her in tears next to my bed. I had bandages covering the tips of my fingers. The urge to make more was still there, I tried to get up but I saw that I was strapped down. I looked around the room and saw my dad speaking to a nurse, he seemed to be taking it hard. Within the day I was taken home and all the drawings in my room were scrubbed off. I complained to my mother but she refused to speak to me. My father would stare at me angrily

I wanted to make more of the drawings but my mother had already taken away my drawing tools and materials. I needed to keep making them so I went to my father and asked him to buy me more sheets of paper. After some coaxing I finally convinced him.

No matter how many times I drew it, I couldn't get it out of my mind and putting it on paper only increased my hunger to keep drawing. I needed to get it out into the world. I went online with my computer and did some research on the subject, after some time I found a symbol that meant creation along with a ritual to make it come to life, I was skeptical but was desperate at the same time. In the end I decided to do it. I used up the remaining pages to practice my hopefully final drawing, if it didn't work then I would just have to get over the obsession.

The ritual required 8 red candles, a drawing of the creature I wish to create, a tool capable of drawing blood, and a brush. I traveled to the local Dollar General and bought the candles and headed home earning a few worried looks from my parents. I went into my room downstairs and began drawing the man. I drew each arm, each tendril with such care that I never showed my mother or father. This was going to be my masterpiece, my legacy. I poured all my faith into the ritual and laid out the candles in a circle. I lit them with a lighter and sat in the middle.

I reached to my right and grabbed a pocket knife I stashed away. Slowly I slit the side of my thumb and winced at the slight pain, blood dripped onto my brush and I readied myself for disappointment. The lights being off and having only the candles as my source of light made me feel uneasy. I put the brush in my hand and slowly drew a perfect circle around the man, the next thing to do was to draw the x over him. I became anxious as the brush, filled with my blood drew lines over the faceless man.

For the next few seconds nothing happened and I feared this may have been for nothing. Then to my surprise I saw the drawing of the suited man slowly disappear from the symbol, all that was left on the paper was the bloody symbol. I just sat there wondering what would happen next. Then I felt a presence behind me, it towered over mine and it made me feel so insignificant. I gathered my strength and turned around to see my new creation.

I felt my heart sink when I saw it. It was 9 feet tall leaning down to look at me closer. It's black suit was darker than the blackest abyss. It's slim arms almost reached the ground, stopping just short of it's knees. Then it's face… god it's face was just an empty slate of white. It just continued to stare at me, then it tilted it's head to the side in what seemed like curiosity. One of the tendrils protruding from it's back moved it's way up to my face and touched my nose. I reached my hand up to touch the tentacle but as soon as I felt it, he was gone.

I waited my best for him to come back but weeks turned to months and I became more and more curious as to if it actually happened. My parents started to trust me again and became talkative. Then my mother asked me about the candles that I brought home and what I did with them. I told her I just wanted more natural lighting in my room but she rebuked this saying they were gone along with all of my drawings. I started to freak out.

I never got rid of them, and I sure as hell would've remembered disappearing. I got to my room and noticed that they were gone. I had mixed feelings about this. I was scared, I mean how the hell did they disappear like that, and let I was excited because that meant that maybe I didn't dream my creation coming to life.

I decided to search it up and what I found was very surprising. What I found was pictures everywhere, all over the internet, even had it's own wiki. I clicked on it and there was so much information that I had never known. Several internet videos were made surrounding him, even a game. People called him the Slender Man, then after some searching I found the symbol only it didn't mean creation in fact it didn't have a meaning at all, the symbol was dubbed the Operator Symbol and had some sort of association with the Slender Man.

I went to the site that I found for the ritual. It read that when the entity is created it will be written into history as if it's always been there. The meaning of using blood to make the creation symbol is to create a bond between the entity and the creator so that if the creator is killed by it then it will die as well. That meant that he shouldn't be able to kill me but from what I've read and seen he takes children and either kills them or makes them his proxies. I no longer wanted to see it again.

It became it's own myth in history, it had left it's mark on society and is taking children as I write this. I don't know how he did it, but he broke the blood bond and now he's going to take me and kill me, I can only hope that maybe he'll just make me a proxy, seeing as though I created him. I can feel the tentacle wrapping around my neck, the feeling of it against my skin is like someone wants to brand my neck.

I thought at first that my creation would be my legacy but I know I know that it will be my undoing. This will be the last I write. I have eight pages warning anyone who tries to look for him. I pray to god that nothing will happen to whoever reads this. I don't want to die but it may be the only way to stop him from getting into other lives. My mother and father are already in their graves, now it's time for me to be in mine. To whoever reads, I'm going to turn around and face him. Just please, tell no one I loved them. Whatever you do don't look for him, don't Google him or Bing him whatever fucking search engine you use, and whatever you do don't look behind you.

Hope you enjoyed this treat. It will be rewritten later on.
Leave a comment telling me what you think, Happy Halloween.