The Slender Mannequin
There she was, standing with her back to me, tossing her brownish hair around as she laughed and talked excitedly with her friends. I couldn't make out her words from my current distance but it didn't matter. It was time. I took a silent step towards her. Then another. And another. She hasn't noticed me. Good. I crept up behind her, still unnoticed and invisible. I was about five paces away from her before I was finally seen. One of her friends glanced over momentarily, but his eyes lingered for just long enough to take in my image. She instantly froze in terror.
"Grace? What's wrong?" I heard my target ask, her voice laced with worry. Grace's petrified stare was soon joined by multiple others, all with the same reaction. However, her back still completely towards me, she was oblivious.
"Guys? Are you playing a joke on me?" Her voice was panicky now, unsure how to react. I quickly but quietly closed the remaining distance between us. Finally, one of them managed to choke out a warning.
"Behind–," she cried, but it was too late. As my victim quickly spun around I raised a clawed hand to strike her. She had only enough time for one thing only.
"AAAAAAAAAAUUUUGGGHHHHH!" she shrieked, literally falling backwards into the failing arms of one of her nearby friends. It was a satisfying scream and I stood there studying my helpless prey. She was desperately clinging on to her friend's arm, crouched and quivering in shock. I leaned in close to her as she hopelessly tried to maximize the distance between us and whispered, "Got you." It took less than a second for her to identify my voice and the rest of the second to convert all of her fear and shock into pure boiling rage.
"JASON! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" she hollered, swinging an arm at my face. Barely able to stop myself from laughing, I leapt backwards and dodged her attack with the experience of years of trial and error. She quickly leapt to her feet and chased the giggling and suited maniac all around our hang-out spot. Eventually she cornered me and unleashed the full extent of her fury through her fists. I managed to block them. Or at least most of them.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow, I'm sorry, Jia, ow, ow, ow!" I cried, laughing and wincing with every blow she landed on me. Eventually, after a few dozen slaps and smacks and an endless stream of expletives, she finally laid down her weapons and staggered back, exhausted. I was still laughing, the priceless look on her face still fresh in my mind. I was helped up by a couple of our friends who were shaking their heads and trying very hard to conceal their grins. Our little "scene" had attracted a small amount of unwarranted attention from nearby bystanders but it was nothing they hadn't seen before, except for my costume, which they stared at intensely and then shook their heads as if trying to shake away the sight of it. It was Halloween day and I was dressed as the Slenderman, a very obscure but disturbing urban legend. I remembered every detail of my costume like I was just putting it on right now. I wore a black suit and tie with a white dress shirt underneath and the darkest shoes I could find. I also wore custom made gloves that turned my hands into pitch black claws that looked sharp enough to rip into flesh. The most striking characteristic of my costume, however, was the mask. It fit my head very snugly and was completely blank and white, giving me the impression of having no face at all. Finally, to complete my ensemble, I wore a black fedora.
"How could you do that?" an incredulous and still gasping Jia screeched, waking me from my slight reverie. I grinned, though no one could see, and shook my head.
"I couldn't resist. I love this costume," I replied nonchalantly, like it was the most obvious and casual thing in the world. I earned a scoff from her, but laughter from the rest of our group.
"What are you supposed to be, anyway?" one of them asked. I grinned again, enjoying the opportunity to fully reveal the gruesome facts about my persona.
"I am the Slenderman, a dark monster who stalks. Slaughters, and consumes his prey silently in the shadows," I began, my voice dropping to a grave whisper. "You may see him from the corner of your eye from time to time but when you turn to check, no one is there; that means that he has taken an interest in you. These suspicious flickers across your peripherals grow more and more frequent until, finally, you stand face to face with him, and by then, it will be too late. Able to shift his shape at will, he will slip through any crack in the wall, any keyhole in the doorknob, and nowhere will be safe. He will overcome any obstacle in his way until you finally find yourself alone with him. Then, he will reveal his numerous razor-sharp tentacles, each as black as pitch, and he will rend and tear and rip your body to shreds, but he doesn't leave any bodies behind…" The silence my little monologue induced was deafening, and I took the chance to give Jia a small jab with a sharp claw. She yelped and shot me a dirty look, but it broke the rather discomforting silence and restored the good humor of our group of friends.
I was then met with cries of amazement and wonder as my companions began admiring the whole extent of my costume. It was a rather simple costume to make, however, and I only recently became hooked on the Slenderman mythos about three weeks before Halloween. Despite the relatively short amount of time I spent on my costume compared to some of the other students, I was both proud and amazed at how well it turned out. True, I was missing the stilts and tentacles that made the Slenderman truly shock-inducing, but the mysterious and creepy look my costume gave off was very impressive.
However, all good things must end, and the bell signaled the end of our break and the beginning of our classes. I savored the glory of one more awestruck face and headed off to my next class. The rest of the school day was rather uneventful, with my main goal of scaring the living daylights out of Jia complete. However, I did enjoy the horrified looks my costume merited from random classmates walking by. One particular stumbled back completely paralyzed with fear when I opened a door and faced him, and he looked like he was about to –– well, let's just say it was very fortunate that we were in the bathroom.
As the last bell of the day sounded, indicating the end of the school day, I headed straight back to my house to prepare for the thing I've been anticipating the most all day long: trick or treating. I love trick or treating and I was especially excited for tonight's journey. In fact, it wasn't even about the candy anymore (but don't get me wrong, everyone loves candy); I just wanted to see the petrified faces of young children as I stepped out of the shadows to confront them; my heart began to race just thinking about it! I spent the next few hours fixing and touching up my costume, refinishing my claws with more black tape and trimming my mask to make it look more natural. When my work was done, I stared at the terrifying creature in the mirror with awe. I was ready. I waited until the sun had completely set and the moon was high in the sky. Finally, I ventured forth in search of prey.
My first victim was actually about to ring my own doorbell for candy when I opened the door, surprising the both of us. The little girl in a pink frilly tutu and fuzzy angel wings stumbled backwards in fear and started crying her eyes out. I felt terrible and had to apologize profusely while giving her a handful of candy before she finally stopped. The mother didn't really know what to say, as it wasn't exactly my fault, but she thanked me politely and promptly got the hell out of there with child in tow. I felt absolutely awful for making the small child cry and most likely scarring her for the rest of her life, but some sick part of me deep, deep down in the depths of my heart actually enjoyed it. I shook the disturbing thoughts away and, with my trusty bag in my hand, I headed out for candy and slightly older, less heart wrenching innocents.
I still felt slightly bad for every child I scared at first, but as the moon rose higher and higher into the night sky, the thrill began to overwhelm me and take over my senses. I silently stalked many a trick-or-treater, making the occasional rustle to make them turn back and look. Their faces were priceless, several of them tripping over their own feet. If approached from behind, my extremely dark attire made me effectively invisible in the night, and I would suddenly turn around to face the approaching kids, appearing out of thin air to them. The ones handing out the candy were grown adults, so their reactions were expectedly milder compared to the younger ones, but they still gave me a long hard stare as they tried to remind themselves that I was merely in costume.
Of course, the highlight of my night was something drastically more sinister. I spied a small group of middle-schoolers with no visible adult present approaching in the distance, no more than a block away. Silently, I ducked behind some bushes that lay next to their path. Somehow I was able to stifle the giddy and malicious laughter I so desperately wanted to let loose as they approached. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they were within an arm's reach from my hiding spot. Silently and stealthily, I reached out and tapped one of them on the shoulder. As expected, he stopped and turned to face nothing.
"Did you want something?" the boy asked his friends, turning back to face them.
"What?" another asked. The group had completely stopped now and they quickly turned towards the bushes as they heard them shake. Slowly but deliberately, I rose up, controlling my ascension to make it look like I rose straight up from the ground. Their heads craned up in terror to meet my faceless glare and I reached out both clawed black hands and rested them atop the heads of two of the students. They both dropped their bags of candy and stared at me; they all stared at me, their mouths open. Maybe it was my silence that kept them there for so long. Maybe it was the unassuming nature of my costume, that is, except for my lack of a face. But when I started squeezing the children's heads, all hell broke loose. The one in my right hand screamed first, and the rest of his companions soon followed suit. The boy who screamed first was also the first to start running and a few seconds later, they were all gone, save for one bag of candy that one of the poor souls left behind in fear.
Heart thumping in exhilaration, I picked up the fallen bag and looked for where they went, but they had already vanished into the night, their screams gradually dying down. Grinning like a serial killer, I shrugged and added the contents of the bag into my own. Sighing in satisfaction, I checked my watch to see that it was midnight already. I had promised my parents to be back before then, and the thrill of terrifying young children quickly succumbed to the fear of a parent's punishment. I broke off into a run, taking a shortcut back to my house. My detour took me through a rather old and run down neighborhood that had more than a few ruined houses. I paid little attention to them, as much of my focus was set on getting home, but something standing in front of a small shack caught my eye. I slowed down and doubled back to check it out.
It was a slender mannequin left standing on the sidewalk for all to see. Looking around, I saw no lights or sign of awakened people and returned my gaze to the curious and mysterious object in front of me. The figure, as I said, was very skinny, the limbs not quite as thin as bone, but still smaller than my own arms and legs. It was a complete mannequin, with arms, legs, head, and even articulating fingers. However, there were no details carved into the model, no face or muscles at all. The wood was dark and polished so intensely that it seemed to shine in the dim lighting of the night. This was obviously a very valuable piece and it was amazing that someone would just leave it out here in the street.
Admiring the fine craftsmanship of the mannequin, a wicked idea began to creep into my mind. If no one wanted to give it a home, no one would mind if I took it with me. After all, it was obviously very expensive and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. I also did not want to just stuff my costume back into my closet to wait for a year. No, this mannequin was just what I needed to keep my costume in tip top condition. I could also use the mannequin to help me decide what to wear and it would add some much needed elegance to my dreary room. The thrill of discovering such a treasure lying around and maybe just a little bit of the sugar from the candy I snacked on earlier slowly drove out my better judgment. Grinning wide, I looked around once again to confirm my solitude and grabbed hold of the mannequin. I was surprised to find that the platform holding it up was equipped with wheels, making for easy transportation.
Whistling, I wheeled the figure all the way back home and, with some major begging and pleading, won it entrance into my house. Without a second to waste, the mannequin quickly found itself in my room along with my sack of candy and it was suddenly clothed in my costume. I was surprised to find how well everything fit, despite the model's slender frame. The gloves fit especially well and I attributed it to some craftsman witchcraft and thought nothing more of it. I then spent the next ten minutes (yes, I'll admit it) playing with my new doll, finally positioning it so that it was facing out my window, keeping watch for any intruders.
Smiling with satisfaction, I headed into the bathroom and took a nice, long, soothing shower. After cleansing both my body and mind in the rejuvenating waters of my home, I got dressed in my pajamas and headed back into my room, closing the door behind me. I stopped dead in my tracks when I entered and stared at the suited man in my room. After a few seconds, I heaved a sigh of relief as I remembered that it was just a mannequin. I stared at it with a grin, but quickly lost it. Didn't I pose the figure with its hands splayed out in front of its chest? The arms were now hanging limp by its sides. I wracked my brain, trying to remember, but the memories escaped me. Shrugging, I leapt into my bed and dove under the covers, snuggling into my favorite sleeping position.
"Good night Slenderman," I sighed, closing my eyes and drifting into a peaceful slumber. "Sweet dreams."
"Candy!" I yelped, as I awoke to a slight rustling sound in my room. I groaned and rubbed my blurry eyes, and chastised myself for eating so much candy. I dreamt of scaring children in my costume and stealing all of their sweets, my bag swelling with every addition of booty. Eventually, my bag got so big that it burst and I was drowning in a sea of Kit Kats, Milky Ways, and Snickers. My stomach ached slightly at the thought of more candy. Snapping out of my candy coma, I squinted around my dark room as a chilling breeze hit me. I eyes slowly focused on an open window and billowing curtains.
"That's funny," I muttered to myself. "I don't remember leaving the window open." Then again, I was prone to forgetfulness and I quickly got out of bed to right the wrong. Shivering, I returned to my warm covers and glanced around the room, looking for anything else I forgot to do. My eyes slowly fell upon my costumed mannequin, forever staring out the window. Trying to fall asleep again, I let my eyes mull over all the details that made my costume amazing, checking each one off my list like I was counting sheep. The dark fedora… The blank white mask… The fearsome black claws… The mysterious suit… The wispy tendrils…
My eyes snapped open in confusion. My costume did not have the signature Slenderman tentacles; this, I remembered clearly. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see more clearly in my moonlit room. Yes, there was no doubt about it; a number of black tentacles dangled from the back of the costume. My confusion grew as questions began violently bouncing around in my head. How did they get there? Did I put them on somehow? Were they always there? These questions demanded answers, which were in extremely short supply at the time. Suddenly, the tentacles began to sway a little in the breezeless room. One by one, the bouncing questions vanished until there was only one left: Did I really just see that?
I was so focused on the tendrils that I barely noticed the next thing that happened. In the corner of my eye, I swore that I saw a clawed finger twitch, ever so slightly. Confusion quickly fought a losing battle to fear as I slowly sat up in my bed. The finger twitched again, deliberately this time. I drew my blanket up to my chest, almost as if to shield me, as the head began to go into what seemed like a spasm that grew more and more violent with each passing second. I began squeezing my blanket in my clenched fists so tightly that my nails dug slightly into my palms. I could only watch as the twitching head suddenly ceased all movements and stay perfectly still. Then, very, very slowly, the head began to turn. Due to the blank white mask, I would not have noticed it, had it not been for the fedora, now the only sign of movement from the head.
The fedora stopped turning when the front pointed directly at me, indicating that something was making eye contact with me. We held this gaze for what seemed like an eternity, the mannequin and I. All that could be heard was the rapid and irregular beats of my heart. The figure then slowly began to straighten itself from its hunched-over pose. When standing straight, the mannequin was easily seven feet tall, much taller than when I had brought it into my room. I forbade myself to believe it before, but I was forced to confront the truth. This was no longer just a costumed mannequin.
Once I accepted this reality, it was as if I was thawed out of my frozen body, though my body was still ice cold. I scrambled backwards as far into the corner of my bed as the walls would allow, drawing my covers over me until just my eyes were visible. The figure stretched out its arms and hands, the black claws gleaming in the moonlight, totally unlike the black electrical tape I used to fashion them myself. As he stretched, the limp and dangling tentacles hanging from his back suddenly stiffened and radiated outwards from his body like spider legs. They grew longer and longer until they resembled skinny arms that ended in wickedly sharp points. All while this was happening, the fedora never pointed anywhere else except towards me.
The creature took its first step towards me, causing me to flinch terribly. I wanted to scream; I wanted to yell so loudly to the point that my voice box would rupture and I would hack up blood. I wanted to squeeze my eyelids to tightly closed that it would take a team of men with crowbars to pry them open again. But my voice was smothered by an oppressive silence that had no intention of being broken and my eyes seemed to be hypnotized by the numerous limbs projecting themselves from the monster's body.
It took another step towards me. My heart beat so quickly and forcefully that my chest visibly recoiled back and forth from the sheer momentum of the beats. My lungs refused to take a breath, as if they feared that if they made any noise at all, the fedora would point towards them instead of my head. Seconds became years as the slender figure took another step towards me, and then another, and another. It was standing right next to my bed now, its tall body towering over my quaking form. I scrambled backwards desperately, scraping my back against the rough walls hard enough to draw blood, but I felt no pain, only the most primal, guttural terror that I have ever felt before.
Who are you? I wanted to shriek at the top of my lungs. What do you want from me? However, these questions didn't need to be asked at all, as I already knew the answers. He was the Slenderman and he was going to kill me. Almost as if he was waiting for his identity to be revealed, he finally began to reach towards me with his long, slender claws. My eyes had widened so much from horror that it felts as if I might rip my face apart if they opened any further. My body was totally numb. I hadn't even noticed that I had practically chewed off my lower lip. My teeth finally drew blood as the ripped into my flesh, and a salty, slightly metallic liquid flooded my mouth.
His clawed fingers gently brushed against my face and I recoiled in shock so destructively that I banged the back of my head against the wall with ridiculous force. I felt no pain. An insane idea emerged in my mind, one forged in the fiery furnace of pure desperation. I slammed my head into the wall again. I felt no pain. I did it again. I felt no pain. I did it again and again and again, faster and faster, trying to smash my skull open and splatter my brain across the walls of my room, ending my life on my terms and not his.
He suddenly drew back his hand, as if surprised by my behavior. He then quickly grabbed my neck and jerked me forward away from the wall and threw me facedown on the bed, blood leaking from numerous gashes on my head.
Suddenly, there was a sharp and terrible stab in my lower back. He let me feel again, and the pain was mythical. Another tendril impaled me, shooting through my left lung. He let me breath again and I took in one last gulp of air. Another tendril punctured me through the stomach. He let me close my eyes, and I shut them tight as bloodied tears streamed from my tear ducts. Another tendril tore its way through my heart. He let me scream again but my final guttural words lost themselves in the softness of my bed. Another tendril plunged through my skull. He let me go. I spoke no longer. I saw no longer. I breathed no longer. I felt no longer. I was no more.
To be continued?