Carl panted as he sprinted up the mountain, the thing from the forest closing in on him. His heartbeat raced as he began losing his breath. But he didn't dare stop or it would catch him and he would lose the game and meet his untimely death. But hope sparked in the young man's heart the moment he saw light and made out the image of a cabin. He sprinted faster, through the door and slammed it shut, barricading it with the chair that happened to be next to the door. He held his breath then turned to examine the dishevelled cabin. He slowly walked across the floor and jumped when he heard glass crack. Looking down, he saw he had stepped on a broken photo frame. He bent down and picked it up to look at the picture. It held the image of a cute little girl, about eight years old, with albino features. She was smiling and holding up a freshly baked batch of muffins.
"Wait, I've seen that girl before," Carl murmured as he ruffled through his pockets.
He pulled out a missing poster with the girl's face on it. The writing was too blurred and damaged to make out anything though. But Carl immediately matched the faces as soon as he compared the poster with the photo. He also spotted Slenderman by the window behind the young girl, coming to the conclusion that the girl was or had been his victim too. Carl stood up and wandered around the cabin more. He didn't notice the eyes glowing in the shadows behind him. Carl wandered around and came by a room that had the door ajar. He slowly pushed the door open and jumped when he heard footsteps run across his line of sight. He pulled his flashlight out and shone it around carefully before entering the room cautiously.
Water dripped from the pipes above as Carl looked around the cold stone corridor. There was a soft humming up ahead and Carl came to another door. He slowly pushed it open and found an empty looking room, cockroaches scuttling across the tiled floor. He could hear the humming a bit better now, it sounded like a little girl was humming a tune that she was making up as she went along. He carefully crossed the room and turned the corner, letting out a silent gasp. It was a young girl of about eight years old, dressed in an ice blue dress with a skirt that reached the middle of her thighs. The sleeves were short and frilly, making Carl shiver as he remembered how cold it was in the room. The girl was brushing her hair, her long white hair that reached the ground and lay in a neat little pile by her feet. She had an armful draped over her arm as she brushed, looking at what she was doing in the cracked mirror in front of her.
Her red eyes spotted his reflection and she dropped the hairbrush. Carl shifted uncomfortably as she slowly turned around and gave him a sympathetic look. She took in a breath.
"Run."