Slenderman sat on his patio in a fancy lawn chair behind his mansion and was lost in thought. He was remembering what tea tasted like when he used to be able to drink it. A filled tea cup was what in fact what he was holding in his right hand. He had made the tea just for so he could see it and feel it's warmth against his bony hands. He could no longer taste or smell the food of the mortal plane due to the mutations that his race had adapted all those years ago so he could sustain himself with the new type of food that had emerged: souls.
When Slenderman was younger, before the arrival of the humans, artifacts had fallen through time. It what was jump started his own race. But when the humans came, all of it changed. The objects that fell through time stopped coming, he missed his beloved tea. Most of the races of 'monsters' inhabiting the Earth evolved to feed on the humans through their emotions, their flesh, or their souls. His race evolved to eat souls. Souls were the tastier then any delicacy the humans had ever created. They were juicy, tender, smooth, and a million other adjectives that cannot be described. Slenderman liked the souls but he was a stubborn man and didn't stuff himself with souls like some of the other races did. He only ate them when starving or when they trespassed onto his property. The amount of humans finding his forest were getting larger every day and they seemed to show their bravery by stealing his warning signs then escaping with as many as they could.
Absentmindedly, Slenderman lifted the teacup to where his mouth should be and tilted it to drink. Hot tea ran down his face and onto his shirt. Sighing, he thought to himself how he wished he had a mouth like Jeff the Killer.
