Have you ever heard of Slenderman? No? Consider yourself lucky. Well luckier than me I suppose. Yeah, I’m one of those poor souls who is cursed with the knowledge of his existence. Oh, you want to know too? Very well then, I shall divulge my knowledge. But I must warn you of the consequences.
It all started 6 years ago. A young boy of 16, full of vigour and curiosity, much like any other child his age. Accompanied by a gang of similar kids, disaster was bound to occur.
We had an idea to spend a night in the abandoned office at the far end of the town. A pretty small and quiet town it was, not the type where you’d heard any strange stories and where the people slept by 9. So an abandoned building didn’t attract any attention. A perfect place for a bunch of kids to fool around. We snuck in at dusk, to explore the ruins. Not much to see, a few broken tables, moody computers. But there something about the place, that weird feeling in your gut that there’s something wrong. But somehow it pulled me in further. I ventured into endless catacombs, leaving my friends behind. I had to go further. He was calling me, I just didn’t know it yet.
I had wandered for what seemed an hour before I heard it. A scream, it sounded human at first but stretched into something worse, almost animalistic. I turned back and rushed to my friends, fearing their safety. I followed the scream until it died out. It was then I realized that I had lost my way, every room and hallway looked the same. I desperately dashed through, hoping to find someone. Then I saw him. Kneeling over a body, feeding on what was left of my best friend. Then he saw me, I still remember that horrid face. A face of emptiness, stains of blood smeared across it. I never imagined something so plain could be this haunting. I dropped my torch and ran, crying for help, crying for my friend, crying for my life. I could hear his footsteps behind me. No matter how I ran, I could feel his icy cold breath upon my neck. And then that sound, that horrible static sound, ringing in my ears.
I ran up and down the floors, banged on every locked up window but could find no way out. It was only when I reached the lobby I saw my brother there, holding a revolver he stole from dad. He was trembling and didn’t say a word. He stared at me with the revolver pointing straight. I screamed at him, pleading him to run away with me. It was then I realized he was looking right behind me. I ducked down instantly as he emptied the entire gun. I closed my eyes for a minutes, which seemed like eternity. I slowly crept over to him and stood up, only he wasn’t there. The revolver lay on the floor. No blood, no torn clothes, nothing. He vanished. I turned to the door and dashed out. I glanced back as I ran away to see him standing at the door, if he had a mouth I would say he was smiling. He didn’t chase me, just stood there motionless.
I rushed back home, crying. I told everyone what I saw. My parents, the cops. They all said it was an accident, that I was traumatized and made this up.
But I didn’t, he’s still there. I’ve seen him. He visits me every night. Whispers horrible thing to me, things no one wants to hear, things no one should have to hear. You know what’s the part? He tells me who he kills every time. Now he tells me he’ll kill anyone who knows.
Now you know of the consequences. He’ll come for you too. Lock your doors, bolt your windows. And when you see him, run. He loves a challenge!