It was the day when I was kidnapped. She called me Mythos, my mother did. I was picked on at school, beyond my ability then, therefor because of my name. She thought it was creative name, a piece of artwork that no one else bore, not your common Jeff, Jane, Ben, Jack, whatever you want to call your children.

No, this is telepathy. I am not speaking to you in first person. These are merely my thoughts. But this is also no backstory. I am not telling you a tale of who I am. I am telling you what I am. I am Slenderman.

And now you join my dark game.

The wind bristled in the trees over the autumn lit ground in Chicago. Forests and woodlands were scattered over the land just beyond the city. Well, the in-progress city.

A young boy, holding a small cat doll in his left hand, with sleek black hair and green eyes, surveyed the hilltops with his watchfulness. He turned his head and saw a small family walking with their puppy down the road.

He remembered he had asked his mother, Mary, for a puppy.

It was the same answer as always. "We're not ready for a puppy, Mythos," she would say. "When you turn eight, we will see that maybe it can be done. For now, you have Phillis."

Phillis was the cat doll that Mythos had in his hands right now. It had black and blue button eyes and a twisted tail and some broken whiskers that lined its face with silver colored fur. Mythos has had the doll since he was merely a newborn.

Mythos was six now. Six long years had dragged, going through little school and little patience all the same. Mythos wanted to explore, he wanted to learn, he wanted to discover. He also wanted a dog.

But Mythos was okay with Phillis. He would sometimes think that Phillis was his imaginary friend, just in the world to make sure that Mythos would grow into a great man with a pleasure of exploration. But a dog would bring that more to life.

But little did Mythos understand between the good and the bad. He didn't know much, other than hunger, adding, subtracting, happiness, sadness, rightness, wrongness… and anger.

Even though the young boy would bound with anger at times that he didn't get the cute snowman toy that dangled loosely in the markets that he asked for time and time again, he didn't understand it much.

Nor did he want to.

He had heard, or well, been told, that mad people were bad people. Yes, the rhymes fit in there for the younger child to remember. He just hoped that his parents would never get mad.

But they were happy. And Mythos was too. So was Phillis, and the two, imaginary friends, in the world to stand side by side with each other to the very end. Mythos thought the world would go as he wanted it.

Like a king.

But the pale skinned boy knew better than to think of world conquer. He had learned about similar activities like World War II, when Adolf Hitler set for world division. He didn't want to be bad.

He didn't want any other person at all to be like that either.

"Mythos!" shouted his father from the green bushes directly behind the six-year old. He turned and he gazed into the darkness of the woods, Phillis plopping in besides him. "Dinner in five!"

"Okay, daddy!" chirped Mythos, before he turned around and he dropped onto his knees, bending over in the dirt and soil and sticking a baby fat finger into the soft material. He slowly started to write words out into the earth.

After a few more rough moments of scrabbling at the mulch, he spelled the words:

I LOVE YOU FAMILY

Then, picking up the filthy Phillis off the ground, the young boy bounded off into the woods that separated him, his family, and dinner.

But then, something glistened in the corner of his eyes, making the young but curious boy spin his head to look into the darkness.

Another flash, coming from something that Mythos had been told was called "Metal."

And the child started to dip off into a run to see what had caught his attention so greatly. And when he managed to get to the location, he could see that one of his Christmas gifts, a small bird plush with a metal beak, was driven into the ground.

Sad to see it sitting there, Mythos knelt over and he picked up his toy. But that was when another flash caught his attention.

And another metal toy was leading into the darkness.

But Mythos just saw his toy, and he squealed and he tumbled over to it, brushing a strand of his long black hair out of his eyes. Kneeling over once more, he collected the item and dusted off the sand that glittered on it.

About ready to turn around and go back to his parents, there was another flicker. And Mythos wanted his toys.

Dashing over to pick it up, Mythos fell into the sand and then he heard a crack. His mommy would often scare him when he went into the woods just for her own personal pleasure of seeing the little child scared.

And Mythos expected it to be the same this time around.

"Mommy, I know you're there!" he called. "You're not sneaky, mommy!"

But silence followed.

And then a wave of dread washed over the toddler. Whenever the child had caught his mom trying to catch him in the woods, she would step out and grin, her own black hair reflecting his own, then scoop him up and carry him back to the house, for his father to smirk as well and ask if the "Bogeywoman" caught him this time.

But there was no response to him, and this brought worry and fear into his heart.

Picking up his toy slowly, Mythos turned around, but he was covered by dark shades of green trees, a bright full moon high in the sky, and darkness.

And Mythos couldn't see his home anywhere.

So he plopped onto the ground, his little cat doll in hand, and he looked all over for something. Then a liquid tear dropped from his face, and then he curled up into a little ball.

"Mommy!" he cried. "Daddy!"

More streams of tears washed down his face, snuggling with his cat doll and keeping it pushed against his chest tightly, he curled his knees together as if he was trying to stay warm.

His echoing cries leaked into the forest around him.

Then, a branch snapped, and the toddler lifted his head up, sniffling at his now runny nose, and looked around for the source of the noise. "H-hello?" he asked, rubbing his nose with his arm as snot dripped out of it from his crying efforts. "Is an-anyone there?"

Then, something exploded from the darkness, what looked like a man carrying a large bag, rushed over to him and stuffed the bag over his head, making the young boy squirm and twitch with efforts of breaking free.

"MOMMY!" He screamed, thrashing with his efforts and being lifted off the ground. He wormed with want of being let go. He was being kidnapped, he could feel it, the rub of his leg being snagged on something and ripped.

He could feel fresh blood running down his leg now, and he reached down with his only free hand to touch the open, bleeding wound, still entangled in the bag and desperate to be let go.

And that's when finally he was tugged into the bag at its fullest, and with a sudden yank, the young toddler dropped Phillis onto the earth floor, and got dragged away into the darkness of the forest, leaving his special doll on the ground in the woods, as it seemed to watch him get carried away.


Mythos awoke with a start, lying on a hard metal bed and felt a bandage over his damaged leg. He glanced down and then he saw that he was no longer carrying his cat toy.

He remembered dropping the special doll in the woods when he got kidnapped…

He started to bawl.

It was only moments later when a light shone from a door in the dark room. The room was far too dark to see anything inside of it other than the bed that the child sat on now, but he rubbed his leg with pain when the chamber door swung open.

A tall man was standing there with a clipboard and pen, a doctor's mask over his face and a long lab coat dangling from his shoulders. He approached Mythos, and by the way that his eyes lifted behind his mouth cover, you could see that he was smiling.

"Hello, child. How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice smooth like silk.

"Where is my mommy and daddy?" responded Mythos, dryly, sniffing his nose again with the runs.

"Oh, they're not here, baby," smirked the man, his blue eyed gaze on the toddler. "They are perfectly okay with you being here, though. In fact, they had asked if you come to our facility!"

Mythos paused, blistered by his words. Were they not calling him for dinner when he got snatched?

Cautiously, Mythos narrowed his green eyes at the stranger. "Did they not expect your arrival?"

"Did they not? Huh, I thought they would of," shrugged the man, writing down something on his clipboard before grinning again. "At least you're here, right?"

"Why were my toys in the woods, mister?" asked Mythos.

"I have no idea, child," stated the tall man with another repeated shrug.

Mythos was a clever child. "My mommy and daddy called me to dinner the time around when you snatched me, with a trail of toys in the woods. My mommy and daddy don't know where I am, do they?"

Suddenly, the man frowned.

"You really are smart, aren't you? They warned me of this…" grumbled the tall man, brushing some dust off his lab coat. "Gary! Drug him!"

"Wait, what?" asked Mythos, as the tall man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and then pushed him to his legs. Mythos stumbled forward and then he felt a muscular, thin arm wrap around his neck.

That's when a man opened the door to the room with a kick of his leg. He jumped forward, a rag in his hand that had an odd odor to it, and spotted the child. He was wearing a gas-mask and dark black clothes.

And then he ran forward and he pressed the rag against Mythos' mouth, making the kid squirm against the tall man's arm and the rag that was being pressed against his mouth. And then his eyes floated off and he closed them within seconds.


Mythos awoke for the second time. But this time he was no longer on the hard, metal bed like last time, but this time in a pure white room on an operating table, with three men in the corner, pulling out some tools and then smirking back at the child.

Mythos tried to lift off and run, but he felt hard restraints lay down on his arms, belly, and legs and several on his neck and head. And they hurt so badly against his skin he felt it tear when he tried to jolt free.

Mythos gave a harsh scream into the air, and then the doctors seemed surprised and then one of them grinned and placed a cigarette in his mouth. "Kid, you got wraps on. I suggest you keep still."

"Where am I?" shouted Mythos, wincing when he felt the rusted metal scrape his kneecaps.

"No matter," replied the cigarette man with a smirk. "You won't be here long, so don't worry about. Kathy, pass the bags."

A doctor, clearly going by the name of Kathy, turned around after nodding her head and then turned back towards a table and pulled out a black, clear bag with a runny white liquid inside. She then passed the bag gently to the cigarette doctor, who took the item with a snatch.

"Let's get this over with," growled the tallest man in the back, blonde hair over his dark colored eyes.

Mythos' eyes widened in fear, and he pressed his back against the hard operating table as he watched the doctors walk over, pushing the tool cart over with them that contained several assets of knives and blades, little cotton balls and antibiotics.

He watched one of the doctors, the female named Kathy, pull off a large saw looking knife and then grin. "Don't worry, little boy. This will only hurt… a lot."

Mythos felt a second of dread, and then he was flipped around, his back facing the air. He felt a rush of chilly wind pierce his back like thorns when his shirt was ripped clear in half with a pair of scissors being held by cigarette man.

"No, wait!" shouted Mythos, but then a fierce, a near unbearable pain stabbed him when the saw blade was injected into his back, and he felt the blade run over his spine, and it made him fidget, but the restraints that had easily turned with his body when he was flipped, kept him held against the operating table.

Suddenly, he felt disgusting amounts of blood wash over his pale back as he tossed his locks of black hair behind his eyes with a flick of his head, swallowed by his thoughts with screams of unimaginable pain striking him.

He felt the burns of the restraints as he wrestled against the bands that kept him pinned, and he felt his back flesh, skin and muscle both, kept ripped apart, opening his back like a book.

Suddenly, he felt of the bags get placed on top of his rib cage, and then he felt a small slit slide across his bone that connected his rib to his spine, and he roared in pain, tears streaming out of eyes as he curled his nails across the metal of the operating table, leaving dents where they had once been.

More blood-splitting screams echoed from the room, and one of the doctors winced from the noise before grabbing a tube and injecting it into the slit of the bone and stabbing it into the bone marrow.

The white liquid rushed into his bones and he yowled in more striking pain. The pipe was connected to the bag and they were releasing it into him.

Mythos wormed with a new energy, and the cigarette man snarled. "Keep him down, god dammit!"

The two other doctors slammed their weight into the six-year old boy, making him gasp in pain and lack of oxygen, and he felt more of the liquid fill his bones and he writhed in more of the indescribable torture.

That was when, the two doctors pulled away. Shortly after that, Mythos felt the liquid stop, but the pain did not. He was screaming his head off, so much that he could have gone mute. Blood poured off his shoulders, scars now lining his body. It had happened so long and slow… Mythos was sure that it would never end.

Thrashing with pain, Mythos felt chains break over his arms, and then he was being dragged on the floor, in his aching and sore body, into his cellar and then chained onto the wall, just enough space that he could reach the bed and toilet.

He smacked his body against, yowling in pain, more tears forming on the edges of his eyes as he brought his hands over his black hair and he screamed, on and on, until the tall man came back.

"My dear boy," he said, smoothly. "It'll end soon. Just give it some time and you'll be okay."

The six year old felt his eyes slowly lift his eyes onto the tall man. "What did you do to me?" he growled.

The tall man sprang backwards, alarmed. The child's voice had gone from high pitched squeals of joy to a dark, low and dark snarl, so alarming anyone would have ran just then and there.

"N-nothing bad, child," gulped the tall man, pressing his own back against the door. "Ju-just some t-tests. It'll be over before long."

Mythos said nothing else before he continued to stare at the tall man, silence spreading. "I don't want to be tested on!" snarled the child. "Give me my life back NOW!"

The whole room throbbed with Mythos' voice, and the tall man felt his eyes widen with fear. Mythos looked at the chains that held him on the wall, and then he pressed his charred, broken nails against the metal and popped them both clean off.

And then the child ran forward, screaming at the top of his lungs and then pounding on the man, roaring and snarling, making the tall man a bloody scrap heap.

That was when the man named Gary slammed the door open, and his eyes spun wildly to the kid, before running over to him and then smacking Mythos' legs with his own, making the toddler fall onto his knees, and he squealed in alarm.

Then, Gary pressed his rag against the child, smacking him onto the wall and holding the six year old there until Mythos passed

When Mythos awoke, he had a cloth wrapped around his mouth that kept him from screaming as soon as he woke, in which he did.

He was alone, chained with a thicker, stronger material than before. His back was in pain, and he pressed it against the hard bed, and he moaned in agony. He had never felt anything hurt this bad. Not even slipping and falling.

He wanted Phillis.

Mythos wanted to go back home, in the warmth of his family's arms and in the love of his territory. But he was in the darkness, and he hated it. He hated it beyond belief. There was nothing he hated more than this.

It wasn't long when the tall man, his jaw beaten in slightly, came back, startled. "My, my, child," he growled. "It seems you have been doing an awful amount of screaming, dear."

Mythos said nothing, his green gaze fixed onto the man.

"No worries, child. I just came here to fix that problem. Come with me," he offered, opening up the chains from the wall and extending his hand into Mythos' own, who nearly shrugged it off but held his gaze strong.

"Well, look at you! I've never seen a kid age as fast you have, that's for sure," he exclaimed, looking at Mythos with that twisted grin. "Here's a mirror. Look at yourself!"

When Mythos grabbed the mirror that was in the man's pocket, he peered into it, curious.

And there was a boy that was no longer the age of six. He now looked like he was a twelve year old, his hair slicked back into a handsome curl, and his green eyes now a blaze of neon. He looked… good.

And he still thought about his previous life things, like his doll Phillis and the want of being in his family's arms.

"How long have I been in here, mister?" asked the boy, flicking his eyes onto the tall man.

"You were knocked out with some pretty serious drugs. You've been in here for about three weeks now. Your young age, well, younger, I should say, couldn't handle it well and you were out for a while," responded the tall man.

Three weeks without his family, three weeks without Phillis, and three weeks in total back pain.

Mythos gulped when they entered the operating lab again. Wrestling backwards, Mythos turned to see the door shut in front of him when he turned around to run.

"Not so fast, boy," said the tall man. "We need you here."

Mythos felt his breathing rate increase massively, and he felt his chest heave.

"Don't worry, kid," growled the cigarette man from the corner, his blue eyes glowing in the dark light. "It won't be like last time. We're just here to perform a necessary task."

"Oh, and looking good," said Kathy with a grin, followed by a wink and a raise of the female's eyebrows.

Mythos couldn't help but growl.

"Alright, up here, boy!" said the blonde male, tapping the operating table with his large hand.

Mythos gulped at the extended restraints, and he took a step backwards.

"Get over here… now."

Mythos slid forward and he crawled onto the table, his heart rate picking up with every second that went by. Finally, he lingered down and he extended all of his arms and then felt the tight, metal and leather restraints close over his arms, legs, neck, hands, head, and belly.

And he felt it tighten, making his clench his teeth with pain, and then give off a shallow yowl of pain.

"That's why you are here, boy," said the cigarette man. "We are done listening to you screaming."

He felt another restraint hold his head down and he growled.

"Quiet, boy!" snarled the blonde, with a snort.

"We need thread, Kathy, and a needle." Cigarette man flicked some ash off his lit cigarette.

"Right away," said Kathy with a grin, as she turned around and she slipped out of view.

Mythos felt another shiver of fear crawl up his spine and then he glanced around wildly. "Are you planning on sewing my mouth shut!?" he gasped.

"We planned that, yeah," growled the blonde with a shrug. "But not everything goes as planned, does it?"

Mythos felt small, weak, and pathetic. Nor would he be able to speak again, for that matter.

The back pain was too much to handle, and he felt his head less mobile than the rest of his body. He tried to squirm, and the restraints, all of them, were pressured down on his body. He grit his teeth, and he narrowed his eyes in the white room.

The cigarette man grinned as he watched Kathy come back from the supply room, closing the door with a slam. She walked across the floor with light, delicate steps before handing over the thread and needle.

"Thanks, love," said the cigarette man with a wink.

Kathy rolled her eyes before she stepped back from the smelly cigarette that dangled loosely in his mouth. The cigarette man then turned back to Mythos, peering over to the frightened boy, who could not move at all because of the thick restraints that squished him down.

"Hey, Matthew," said the cigarette man, gesturing towards the blonde who had a knife in his hand and staring directly at Mythos, "Hold him down."

Matthew nodded his head and then stepped forward to Mythos, his large hands extended before he wrapped his fingers around Mythos' cold, dark hair and then pressed his head against the metal operating table, making the child squirm with discomfort.

"Don't you worry, child," said Matthew, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed his own cold hands against Mythos' forehead, "This won't be near as bad as what you went through three weeks ago. It'll be painful, yeah, but the pain will go away much, much faster. A few days, maybe."

Mythos started to cry again, and then he got his tears washed up by Kathy, who had walked over to him and stuck her index finger underneath his eyes and then wiped her hands off with her lab coat.

"Oh, it makes me sad to see you cry, dear," said Kathy. But the only thing that threw Mythos off guard and made him question that statement was the fact that she was grinning, and her voice sounded like she couldn't be happier about it.

Mythos watched the cigarette man approach him and then grab the thread from off the tool cart and put the line into the needle hole, before tying it off and then finishing it with a smirk. Then, he looked back to Mythos, who was staring wide eyed at the man, his chest once again heaving with terror.

Cigarette man pulled the needle closer to Mythos' head, making the child attempt to squirm, but the two other doctors were holding him down, along with the burning restraints that scarred Mythos' skin.

Mythos felt the thread of the needle brush his neck as the cigarette man then placed the needle on Mythos' lower lip, then he grinned and looked to Mythos. "Keep your mouth shut, little boy, and this will hurt a lot less."

Mythos couldn't help but obey, fear, horror, terror, everything that described being afraid, was filling his heart. But he kept his mouth shut nonetheless. He didn't want this to hurt any more than it had to.

Then, cigarette man smiled, and stuck the needle through Mythos' lips, making the boy wretch in pain, but the restraints stuck to him, but that only worsened his agony.

On and on the cigarette man pulled the thread together to close his lips, through hip upper lip and back through the bottom, and then pulling to make it shut off from opening his mouth. Mythos felt like he might cry.

Finally, after a last hard tug against Mythos' lips, Kathy passed over a lighter to cigarette man, who cracked his thumb against the metal, and a spark of flame appeared over the top of the American flag lighter, and he glimpsed it to the thread, which slowly burned off.

But before it could damage the skin around Mythos' lip, he cut the end of the burning tip off and finished off the remaining thread with a snip, and then released the restraints that held Mythos to the operating table, then he patted Mythos back with a smirk.

"All better, kid, get a look at yourself, boy!" he exclaimed, gleefully.

Mythos watched the tall man approach him, who had the mirror in his left hand, and a worried expression across his face, and continued to grow to his words. "Here you go, squirt," he grumbled, ruefully.

Mythos snatched the mirror out of his hand, and then peeked down to see his new face, and he showered with his terror.

His face was normal, but he had strands of thread closing his lips from speaking any words at all, and then Mythos wanted to scream. But he had no control of that. Any noise he wanted to make was now sealed off.

His face was hideous with that new addition of thread and blood.

"See, kid?" said Matthew, grinning again with those dark eyes glaring right at the child. "You look better than ever, that's all I got to say."

"Hey kid," said Kathy, in that sarcastic way she always does, her grin betraying her expression and nature, "You looking mighty fine, huh? Loving that new style. Now you can stop all the bawling too."

Growing and seething with rage, his teeth grit and his breath slipping from his lips with any holes that remained left, Mythos flung the mirror at Kathy, the glass and metal shattering upon her face, and her cries echoed in the white room.

"Don't make us get Gary, child," snarled the tall man, who was narrowing his eyes at the younger person with hatred and fear. "Or you'll be out another three weeks."

"What do you mean, 'don't make us?' Look what he did to Kathy, you moron!" snarled the cigarette man, who burnt off the end of his cigarette with a smash of his thumb and index finger, and he gestured to Kathy, who was sprawled on the ground.

Everyone that remained standing in the white, near empty room, turned around to glare at Kathy, who was making soft whimpers in pain, and moaning softly.

Her face had glass stuck in her lip, nose, forehead, and chin, with blood raining down from it, and she made another loud groan. The only thing disturbing about it now was where the metal was in her face.

The metal that made up the chassis of the mirror was plunged right into her left eye socket, and the skin around that eye was peeled back, and you could slightly see inside of her skull. Kathy let out a loud scream of terror.

"I can't see!" she yelped, scrambling backwards with her legs that were slipping out in her own blood. "That child, get him!"

The cigarette man took no heed of rushing up to Mythos and grabbing him by the collar, shaking him like the baby he was, his own face red with fury, but the tall man pushed cigarette man aside, making him slip in Kathy's blood, and he fell right down with her.

"Leave the child alone!" snarled the tall man. "I know you have feelings for your colleagues, Jackson, but this is our experiment! You can't trash what we have wasted supplies on! And who runs this operation? Derek. So quit your obnoxious carelessness and get Kathy to the medical bay."

"God dammit, Lycian," snarled Jackson, standing up from the blood and wiping it off his face with a stiff arm, and a sneer embedded on his face. "That child could kill us! These tests are not safe, for us or for him!"

"They don't need to be safe, you motherfucker," seethed Lycian. "Get her to the medical bay, asshole!"

Jackson took a glance at Mythos, and he snatched the kid by the arm, and sprinkled some ash in his eyes, making Mythos squirm with discomfort. "You're a dead son of a bitch," Then, releasing Mythos and helping Kathy to her legs, Matthew, Kathy, and Jackson, slipped open the door and down into the hallway.

Lycian watched them leave, his eyes narrowed and his own chest pulsing with anger, calmed down and he looked to Mythos, who didn't seem worried, even a little bit. "What you did was naughty, child, and you can't do that. Understand me?"

Mythos didn't do anything, just stared at the blood that was covering the floor, and he nodded, but he wasn't sure if he understood it. He just wanted to get out of trouble, just like his mommy always said.

But his mommy also said that a mad person was a bad person, and Mythos was just angry, seething with rage.

And he hurt another human being because of it.

"Let's get you back to your room, huh?" asked Lycian, stretching his hand out to Mythos, who took it and plopped off the operating table, scars covering his body. "My, my, look at you. You will never be the same as you used to be, but you are doing it for a good reason. Many scientists will be proud to see how this ends."

Mythos decided to not think about what he said, because he was worried that he might get mad again and hurt another person. Mythos didn't want to hurt anyone else, even though he was getting tortured. But he decided to be a brave boy and suck it up, just like his mommy said.

He really did wish that his mommy was here now, and his daddy and Phillis, too.

And he wished even more to go home. This wasn't a dream; he wasn't going to wake up in the morning, to see his mother and father by his side, cooing him and asking him what the matter was and if he had a nightmare.

This was real, and he hated it more than anything else.

Soon enough, after a few more minutes of twisting through dark hallways and silence, the two people walked over to the door to Mythos' room, and then clicked the door open after smacking in a key code.

"Here we are, boy," said Lycian, letting go of Mythos' hand and then chaining him up to the wall, which made Mythos twitch with anger and the want of being let free, but he allowed it anyway. "It won't be long before your next test, and it will be worse than the first one. But gather your strength and energy, because it will be in a few days. I'll come and get you when the time comes. Gary will feed you as always, and you might need to make an apology to Kathy."

Mythos could only nod.

"Alright," said Lycian with a smirk. "See you later, child."

And the door smacked shut.

Mythos curled up, and then he snuggled with his knees. He started to cry, but he could only make small sobs because of his stitched mouth, and tears streamed down his face and over his nose because of his sideways angle.

And finally, Mythos fell asleep.


Gary came in and placed the food onto the counter, not a word coming from his mouth as he quietly slipped through the door and left just as silently.

Mythos crawled to his legs, with hunger biting his stomach, and he collected the tray into his hands and he glanced down at the food.

It was a splash of oatmeal, milk, and an apple that had a bite taken out of it.

Even though his mouth was sewn, he could still eat from in between the tiny holes that remained in his mouth. He just had to use a small spoon or straw so he could put it in between the holes, which was a complex process indeed. He picked up the spoon and he fed himself slowly, the disgusting meal slipping down his throat, and he quivered with discomfort, but he finished the food because he didn't want to starve to death.

Days went by, and Lycian never came in to grab him. Mythos sighed, well, attempted to. The only time someone who come into his room was Gary putting down the tray on the counter and then leaving. And even that only lasted mere seconds.

It was just about a few hours since Mythos awoke from his meal when Lycian came in, a grin on his face. "Well, well, well, my boy," he grinned. "I see you have been eating well."

Mythos only nodded, and continued to pick at the bed springs that held him sorely up.

"Time for your next test," Lycian squealed, as he walked over with the key and then unlatched the chains, letting Mythos free from the wall, who rolled his shoulders and grunted.

"Come, boy," said Lycian as he placed his hand in Mythos' own. "Let's not keep the doctors waiting on us. You can apologize with a note to Kathy when we get there. No need to be hasty, though, we are all over with the shaken up feeling we all received when you took out Kathy's eye."

Mythos gulped, and he walked down the dark corridors and finally Lycian opened the door to the white room.

As usual, there were the three doctors in the far end of the room, putting on their gloves, face masks, aprons, and coats, but Kathy's eye was fixed on the child.

She had one eye remaining, her right one, and she had bandages all over her face, covering her nose, chin, and forehead. She grinned behind her face mask, and her smirk sent chills over Mythos.

"Hello, dear," she growled, placing her hand in his own when Lycian brought him forward. "It's been a few days, hasn't it?" She shrugged, before turning to see cigarette man, who was also glaring at Mythos. "But isn't there something you want to, er, write to me?"

Mythos was handed a piece of paper and pencil, and he scribbled some letters down and displayed them to the rest of the doctors.

DIE

Kathy growled, but she said nothing as she stood up and walked back to the other doctors and whispered something to them. She then grinned, and placed a hand and Mythos' slim shoulder.

"Why thank you, dear," she snapped. "But get on the table, now."

Mythos did as he was told, but felt his eyes go smaller when Kathy was walking over to the tool cart and pulled a clear bag with a black liquid inside of it. She handed it to cigarette man, who didn't even look at her or thank her because his gaze was fixed intently on Mythos.

"Let's get this done," snarled Jackson. "I don't want to be here any longer than I have to be."

Matthew stepped forward and he tied down the restraints that were on the operating table over Mythos, which yet again sliced and burned his skin all the same. The pain was barely able to stand.

That's when Kathy grabbed the saw blade, and she motioned for Matthew to grab the scissors, and he snatched them and he put it on the end of Mythos' shirt, and ripped it up, making Mythos flinch.

Then, Kathy looked at Jackson. "May I have the honors?" she asked, grinning.

"Go ahead, love, I've had my chance," he replied, smirking as well.

Kathy stepped over, a maniacal grin spreading across her face as she stepped forward and pushed the knife unexpectedly through his chest, making Mythos attempt to scream but the thread kept his mouth shut.

Kathy tore the knife down Mythos' chest, and then cracked his skin open, yet again like a book, and made Mythos growl through the thread, and Kathy grinned. "Doesn't feel so good, does it, boy? This is how you made me feel, all those days ago."

Mythos snarled between his grit teeth, and this only made Kathy laugh harder.

Mythos attempted to squirm against the restraints, and watched with his narrowed green eyes as Jackson grabbed the knife and jammed it into his ribs, cracking them open and stuffing the tube that was on the end of the bag into his heart.

Then released the liquid with a few pumps of the bag.

Mythos felt, yet again, the liquid rushing into his heart, and then, pain, rows of rows of it, rushed over him like tide, and he wretched around on the operating table, withstanding the pain, and watched as another bag and tube was stuffed into his arteries, and then Matthew pumped the liquid into him.

Mythos felt his fingers bend and creak as his bones grew underneath him, his fingernails bending in pain. He looked down to see what was happening. His fingernails were curling into what looked like sharp, long claws, and his fingers were stretching out further from his hand, longer and longer.

He felt his arms growing longer as well, and his legs stretched just as fast. He felt something sprouting from his back, and he screamed.

Behind the thread that kept his mouth sealed shut, he still managed to screamed.

Kathy dropped the end of the blade in alarm, before stumbling back in terror. Matthew stared without any expression at all, and Jackson looked as alarmed as Kathy.

"W-where are his eyes?" asked Kathy, shaking and quivering.

Mythos didn't really understand her question. He could see just fine, in fact. As clearly as ever, more even.

"That bitch is tall!" shouted Matthew, as he watched Mythos grow longer and longer in length. Lycian was on his knees, covering his head with his clipboard, who was shivering in fear as well.

"What the hell is on his back? Why the fuck does he have claws?" shouted Jackson, who was pressing his back against the wall.

Something took over Mythos that moment, and everyone's vision went blurry, and it was followed by possessive screaming.

"Make it stop!" bawled Kathy. "Please, make it stop!"

Everyone was crying now.

Mythos felt his long arms crack open the restraints that held him to the table, and he wrestled to his legs and he looked around the room.

They were all shaking, cowering, and afraid.

And the next thing he did was unthinkable.

He disappeared from sight.

"Where did he go?" asked Kathy, who had endless rows of tears streaming down her face as she looked up from her arms, where her face had previously been stuffed to hide her vision that was going crazy like static.

Then, he reappeared. And when he spoke, it was through his mind, and his voice was the most horrifying thing one person might think.

"Looks like this is going to hurt, dearest," taunted Mythos, bringing a black, oily tendril up the side of her face, and then, even more tragic things happened.

He expanded the sides of his flesh where the threads where that kept his mouth shut, his mouth stretching farther than it ever had, and skin that hadn't torn was still connected to the farther part of his jaw, and then a black, forked tongue appeared.

Kathy screamed, loud enough to make a young child go deaf.

Mythos didn't even know he was doing this. In fact, he couldn't even feel what he was doing. He thought he had passed out, but a real animal had taken over his body now.

And then, the unconscious Mythos devoured every last bit of Kathy, leaving a blood heap everywhere, the red liquid splashing on everyone and on the walls, and Jackson screamed over the loud sounds of Kathy's death.

"Kathy!" he roared, as he attempted to smack the larger being that stood before him that had eaten his love. "You give her back, you asshole!"

Mythos, the corrupted entity, turned around and screeched right in his face, and this made Jackson tremble with Mythos' might. He used one of his long tendrils to smack Jackson backwards, and again, slipped in his colleague's blood.

Matthew was crouched over in a corner, his white lab coat stained in blood, and got snatched by another one of Mythos' long tendrils, and he screamed.

"Mercy, please! I was just doing my job!"

He got tossed aside, and a loud crack echoed, and Matthew moaned in pain as he reached his left hand down for his back. "You broke my back!"

"Lie there then, because that is no longer my problem, is it? Pathetic human," Mythos growled, as he went over to Jackson and snatched him by the leg, making the cigarette man's nails grind across the floor as he was thrown into the air.

And then came back down with a smack, and he cracked, blood gushing everywhere, showering over the remaining two people that were still alive, and Matthew cried out, wailing.

"I have a family, please!" But it was far too late. Mythos slipped him into an oily, blubbery tendril and then wrapped it around Matthew's neck, suffocating him and watching him squirm. Then, head was lifted off his shoulders, decapitated, and more blood washed over the white room.

The last one there was Lycian.

Lycian was peering up at Mythos, who stood menacingly over the smaller man, and Lycian shivered with fear. "Are you going to kill me, boy? After my niceness to you?"

"Niceness? You tortured me, human. I feel inclined to making you go through what I went through. Doesn't that just sound fair?" asked Mythos, his tendrils slowly drifting through the air, blood stained.

"No, I was nice to you! I was sweet and I saved you from the wrath of Jackson when you injured Kathy! How can you not spare me for my better deeds?" begged Lycian, his arms together, pleading.

"Because you just wanted to see me as an experiment to your pathetic tests. I'm no longer stupid, human, in fact, I know more than you do. I will haunt you, torture you, stalk you, and find you, if you try to run away."

Lycian shook his head. "Just spare me!"

"That's not an option. Dying or getting tortured, your pick."

"Here's an idea," snapped Lycian. "Spare me!"

"I'm done with this. Torturing sounds better, doesn't it?" Mythos slid a tendril over the man, making him scream in terror. "You took my family from me, took my toys away from me, tortured me, sewed my mouth shut, and lied to me!"

Lycian screamed as one of the tendrils was plunged into his mouth and up his and out his nose, making blood squirt everywhere as he attempted to gag through the pain and mess. And then, he wilted, falling to the ground.

Mythos tossed him to the side, before teleporting away.


Mythos had no idea where he was other than the woods outside of his house. He was finally going home. He knew he looked different than he used to, but he was sure that his family would accept him.

As he paced through the woods, he saw Phillis on the ground, peering up at him, the broken filthy doll that it was. Mythos bent over and collected it into his now white hand, and he brushed it off.

Mythos was sure that other than his stitched mouth, he looked just like the little boy that he used to.

And he was going to be wrapped into his family's arms once more.

He saw the little house in the woods, and his heart thumped with happiness. His family! Dashing forward with his long legs, he made his way through the field of grass. Finally, he reached the porch and knelt over to the door.

It was locked.

That was strange, his family always left it alone and unlocked.

He bust the door open and he crept inside of the lit house.

And his family was sitting on the couch, watching a TV program, before turning to look at him, their eyes round with shock.

"Mommy! Daddy! I'm home!"

His mother screamed and his father sprang to his legs. They saw that he was holding Phillis, and his mother let out a loud moan of agony.

"What did you do to our son, you monster?!" she wailed.

"Wh-what do you mean? I'm your son!" Mythos stretched a hand out to her, but Mary stepped backwards and Mythos' father sprang to his wife, protecting her with a knife in his hand.

"Get away from my wife!" snarled Mythos' father, lifting the knife up. "I said get back!"

Mythos stepped backwards, dropping Phillis, and he turned around and he raced across the fields of grass, out and away from the house. He ran as far as his legs could carry him, and he came across the river that was in the woods.

Why were they so scared of me? Surely I don't look that bad, do I?

Mythos peered into the water of the river, and gasped when he saw himself.

He had no eyes, mouth, or nose, and his face was dead white, and he was very tall, at least nine feet tall and growing. He had six black tendrils hanging off his back and his fingers were long and stretched and was "laggy."

No! What did those bastards do to me? What am I!?

Mythos let out a silent sob as he looked over his shoulder at a noise that filled his ears.

A small child stood there, gazing up at him, hanging onto her own doll.

Mythos peered down at her stiffly. The child could not have been more than eight years old, but what was she doing by herself.

"Hello, sir," said the child, extending her hand. "I'm lost. May you help me?"

Mythos paused for a second, but then, if he had any lips left to move, would have grinned. "I don't see why not. Perhaps start by telling me where you live?" He extended his hand, and the child took it into her own.

"Woodlanway Road, and the house number is 11345."

"Very well," Mythos responded, dryly. He looked over his shoulder as if to make sure that no one was coming. "Thank you for the information. Now," he lifted up his black tendril and wrapped it around her body. "Your family will die right along with you!"

"Wait, what?" she screamed, as she bashed against Mythos' long tendril but it made no heed against his muscular tentacle. Mythos opened his large, molded mouth, and ate the little girl whole.

You see? The humans fear me because I am different to no bounds. I kill without mercy, and I end with question. People are so pathetic and weak, they can do nothing but scream and beg. That's just why I am joyed by killing them; the feeling of their soft flesh underneath my claws, I can really make someone's life miserable.

I did it all of you. Kate the Chaser, Hoody, Masky, the Observer, Firebrand, Collective, Charlie, Kevin, Mary, and Deadhead. All of you work for me with the same hoodies, the same scar, and the same goal.

The humans call me many things. The Tall Man, Branch Man, Tree Man, Black King, Demon, Monster…

But there is one name I like better than the rest of them, the one that really makes my appearance stand out more than the rest of them.

Slenderman.