My name is Melvin Mail, but my friends like to call me Alpha Mail for some reason. I am the captain of the high school wrestling team, and this is Night One of my attempt to prove that Slender Man does not exist.
Lacy Town is usually a safe, quiet, small town with friendly folks. But a month ago, a couple of people were found stabbed to death at the park. Witnesses claim to have seen Slender Man around the crime scenes. One of them, some guy named Tim Wright, even wrote a blog about it. Except he called Slender Man the Operator or something.
Pfft! And they call me a muscle head. I've never heard of anything more ridiculous. So I commented on the blog saying that I'm going to prove that Slender Man doesn't exist.
Because of this stupid urban legend, kids are afraid to play outside and students might be forced to take online classes for our own safety. Guess what, you can't wrestle online. Unless you're playing a video game or something. That means the amateur wrestling tournament is going to get canceled. I can't let that happen. I worked too damn hard and spent too much of my time practicing. I'm not about to let it all go to waste.
By the way, lemme make something absolutely clear. I am not planning on solving the murder cases like those teenagers on mystery TV shows. That's my dad's job. He's sheriff of Lacy Town. My grandad was a sheriff, too. And I'll probably become sheriff one day, but until then, I'm not about to try and get myself killed by going after a murderer. I'm not as dumb as people seem to think I am.
The only thing I wanna do is prove to everybody that Slender Man isn't real so everything can go back to being normal. In order to do that, I need to bring my phone to shoot a video of what I'm going to, or rather what I'm not going to, find.
I don't got any o those fancy cameras that vloggers or YouTubers use. I rarely upload pictures or videos on SNS, I'm not a techie, and I don't do any o those weird dance challenges on account of I got a life. But my phone's camera is good enough to show people that there aren't any bogeymen lurking in the shadows.
O
I step outside, start recording, and lock the door behind me. It's a small but cozy one story house with a garage, and it's just me and my dad living here anyway, so we have plenty of room. The night is kinda warm, and I leave my jacket open. It's only a quarter after seven, and already there's nobody else outside. There ain't no curfew or nothing. People are just scared is all. I aim to change that.
Not a lot of folks live in Lacy Town, so the houses aren't crowded together, which is nice. People can enjoy their privacy. Kinda dark at night though in between houses with only a few lampposts on the side of the roads.
I pass by the house of my closest neighbor, Mr. Townsend. He's a nice widower that lives alone; not crabby at all like some other old folks I know. He has a daughter that works in one o them big cities. I don't remember which. She's a lawyer, I think.
Usually, I would hear soft jazz music playing from a radio whenever I pass by his place, but tonight, I hear loud noises like furniture being overturned or glass shattering. I suppose it's kinda strange, but it's none o my business, so I ignore it and keep walking. My dad didn't raise no busybody.
Then, Mr. Townsend bursts out of his front door with ketchup all over his face and hands and yells, "Mel, help me! He's trying to kill me!"
"Good evening, Mr. Townsend," I pleasantly greet him back.
I'm not like most kids these days. I know how to respect the elderly. A guy runs out of the door right behind Mr. Townsend. I can't tell who it is. He's got a hoodie on that's hiding his face. He has a big knife in his hand, so I'm guessing he's Mr. Townsend's dinner guest.
See that? I figured all that out through observation alone. Nobody even had to tell me nothing. That's called being smart.
O
I finally get to the park where they found those dead bodies. It's pitch-black, so I turn on my phone's flashlight while I shoot the video.
And just as I expected, there's nothing here. Nothing but trees, trees, and more trees. It's completely quiet except for the crickets.
I find a symbol carved out on a tree trunk. Looks like a circle with an X on it. I dunno what it means. Hugs and kisses? Maybe it's a gang symbol or something. We got a couple o gangs at school. Not dangerous or anything. Just a bunch o kids trying to look cool is all.
My phone goes on the fritz for a few seconds. The images on the screen get distorted, and it makes static noises. Piece o junk. I really should get a new one.
Oh, I also see a tall, bald, faceless guy in a suit. I don't recognize him. Must be from out o town. I try to greet him, but I start coughing. I don't want him to catch anything, so I just walk away. I got good manners.
I walk around the park, filming footage of nothing for a little over half an hour, until I'm satisfied that I've proven my point. Then, I walk back home.
O
There are a couple of cigarette butts on the front porch. Where'd they come from? I don't smoke, and Dad isn't home yet.
I find a small box waiting for me on a bench in my porch. I open it, and there's a flash drive inside. There's also a note that reads, "This will explain everything."
I almost laugh out loud. It's impossible to explain everything. This is obviously a prank, or maybe the flash drive has a virus. They can't fool me.
I toss the box, the note, and the flash drive in the garbage.
O
Later, I upload my vlog. I title it "Slender Man Is Not Real." Sure enough, after only a few minutes, it gets a comment from Tim Wright.
The comment reads, "You fucking idiot! The Operator was with you in the park! He's right there in your video, you dumb fuck!"
Typical keyboard warrior behavior. Once you prove them wrong, they resort to cussing and insults. So pathetic.
TO BE CONTINUED