A Slender Story

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"So I know why you're here, it's always the same people wanting to know more about the ghosts and phantoms," said an old man. "Look, there are no ghosts or anything," he explains.

"Sir, I am researching about weird things, currently Slende..." You pause, because the old man seems displeased at your curiosity.

"That name," he says quietly and sort of ominously. Then, he began to yell. "That fucking name! Why did you say it? Year after year, right when it's in the deepest part of my mind, you say it! That horrible name, that person! Don't say it around here! It has more meaning here than anywhere else!" It seems you hit a soft spot.

"Sorry," you say. You are just trying to get him to tell you something more for your report on unnatural things.

"Just refer to that creature as "It" around here," he replies. "Saying its true name causes bad things. It is chasing me more and I don't have anywhere else to go. I'd rather not have to see it for the rest of my life," he explains.

You nodded your head and he nodded back in a sort of "Deal" way.

"I'll tell you one story about it; a personal story, my first encounter," he begins telling a story unaware what harm it may bring. And you don't think that either as the opportunity sounds excellent! You're getting a great story for the paper, and he's getting his secrets off of his chest! Pretty good for a beginner.

The old man cleared his throat and continued. "It was a typical Friday night, except that night, for whatever reason, my friends wanted to have a scare. We went to a "Haunted" corn field. I think it was burned a year ago along with everything else, but I'm not sure what exactly it was or if it did happen. The drugs have gotten to my head too much..."

He lost his place and you didn't respond for a moment because you were writing it down. "Umm, I believe you were at the part about your friends and you talking about some corn field?" you explain to the man.

"Oh the corn field," he says.

"For whatever reason, my friends wanted a scare and the corn field was said to be haunted, so they asked if I wanted to go. Trying to be a badass, I said 'Hell yeah, and I'll lead too'. And I did. We crossed a few things, like scarecrows. I told my friends they were zombies and ghosts, and they got a good scare. Then, right after, we noticed a trail of some black liquid unlike anything we'd ever seen. Didn't smell like gas or other fuel, and it wasn't tar. It was like blood or water, just black. We followed the trail, and then we noticed we went in a circle and inside was some sort of X crossing the circle out. You should know the sign and what it means by now, if you know what you say you do." You replied to him "I got a good idea of what it is but to be more specific can you draw it"?

You handed over your pen and paper and sure enough he sketched the symbol.

"Shall I continue" The man you were talking to responded carefully remembering his manners.

You said "Yes, please!"

He once again cleared his throat and continued on, "It scared us, but one of the guys thought it was treasure for some reason. I knocked him upside the head. I told him that was stupid and to be on alert for something strange". The old man paused and seemed to get a closer look at something.

You didn't really notice anything wrong as you were writing down but as you peered up when writing you got a feeling of something being just a bit off. As you completed writing the sentence you were stuck on you asked "Is something bothering you"

He didn't respond for a few seconds then caught him self, but eventually he talked "Sorry I thought I saw something must be my old mind. Now lets continue"

He re traced his thoughts and continued "A few minutes passed, and someone noticed a scarecrow looked like it was suited. To be honest, it did. We saw one again that wasn't there before and looked suited like the other one. The third time we saw it, it was really close. We didn't see a face at all, and then tentacles began coming out of the back. They waved then the flash light went out for a split second and it was gone. We all immediately left and didn't speak to each other for months... "

The mans eye got a bit watery and he started to cry when he thought about the next part.

"Sir, are you alright" you said in a steel voice like a cop supporting close family of a recently dead Father/Husband.

The old man regained himself but yet his word were unclear. "A few months later, I tried to contact my best friend one of his sisters picked up and explained what happened, I think it went something like this: THAT FUCKING FACE THERE IS NONE, THOSE GIANT ARMS, GIANT THINGS IT'S TOO MUCH FOR ME SO GOODBYE EVERYONE!"

The old man took some deep breaths and calmed down. "He was completely insane. Everywhere in his room were notes implying insanity. The strange thing is that the note was in the trash bin and it didn't look like a suicide at all. He had a gun, a small revolver with six salt covered silver bullets. all were empty when the police were there and the cause of death was self-inflicted, or possible a dull knife just sharp enough to do cuts. It makes no sense. If he had bullets why wouldn't he use them? Of course I know what you're thinking. "It did it" but there was not..." The old pauses the story. The mans eyes widen and look behind you. Once again you finish writing but he doesnt speak anymore. So regretfully, you turn around In hindsight, you shouldn't have done that.

You already knew what was there: "It". You run as fast as you could and left. The next day the old man died; committed suicide they said. The story was incomplete and never finished. The fragment you had been saved and put online in order to complete it. A troll by the name of 05OXLx0O3XXNX3D43, deleted it, and later that night your roommate was killed.

You never spoke of any of this again until last weekend. You visited your Aunt's farm and when you looked out your window, you saw a large scarecrow in a suit. You left shortly before breakfast the next day with the excuse that works for everything: something came up.

As if there was not a single other thing in the world, you turned on your car and hid at a small hotel for a week. Take this as a warning: don't look for Slenderman.


I know what you must be thinking: another creepypasta. Well it's not, After reading this I have a rough idea of what happened. Well to start the guy did die from suicide, he hang himself. Well that's what the police believe I think different, and I'm sure you all got the same idea from the former story "Oh Slenderman did it!". Well, he did, my child. Slenderman did kill him.

He set him up, like the old man, making sure people will see the story and then re-enforce the story. Ha, ha, ha! You foolish humans all so alike. Always believing these stories, getting foolishly scared from these tall tales, giving me the power I need to truly finish all of your race!

You all need to die eventually. Maybe I'll store all my power into a ball; that's a bomb. Worse than a nuclear bomb. What it will do is going to the earths core and burn it out. I will not explain how this will work, for it would be so complicated to destroy every law you humans believe to be in Earth. All order will be re-written, all the things you know will be wrong.

Have you ever wondered why Issac Newton had to write down the laws of physics such as gravity? It's because a long time ago the world was lawless, nothing made sense, until I came here. You see I'm part alien, and part god. There's a sacrifice for everything I do, but you mortals wouldn't know that, would you? I changed this lawless land, for I believed it needed a savior to give it properties and laws. And when I made them, I made myself, a thing that doesn't have to obey the world's rules, oh no no no my friend. Why would I do that when I can control whatever I want? I control you, your life, your families lives, your best friends' lives. I control all. Now you may ask why would I kill that I control.

Well that's complicated. Let's just say one of your race is set free from my grasps by this imperfect world of consequence, and I have to kill him and his family and give their energy to the earth in order to keep it going the way I want it. Now, that energy is what I am going to use to destroy your puny race. Heh, you will all be out of control. All of your worldly rules will no longer be enforced by me, and simply put, after that, I have no reason but to take all the painful excruciating power I gave you to live, and move on to my own peaceful minuscule world. I wont have to control but I'll live on.

Until my energy runs out, that is. You see, there are some very interesting principles of the galaxy. Time repeats itself, and I can go to any time I want to eat a few unlucky victims and leave. Huh. It seems your population is diminishing already. Maybe the paradox I made is killing them off faster than I imagined.

That's my first fault. What a god of immortality is never supposed to fault! Dammit! When I created a paradox I lost my future selves energy and burned out. Fuck! Now I'm no longer immortal or god and only aliens of a race that faults every minute of their lives. This will be hell. No! Worse than Hell! Oh what is that noise... Slenderman was ran over by a truck that very instant.

Such a major fault of his, common for his race though. That is what the Devil thought to him self shortly after the earth was destroyed and millions of years later re-made just as slenderman said.

That's when your friend Tom stopped whispering the scary story to you. "Ha! That wasn't scary" you exclaim "Behind you," Tom responds to your arrogant act of not letting him finish and you do look. All you see other than darkness is three, no six white blank faces. You look closer and further and everywhere you can and see white, blank, detail deprived faces. Then you realize where the story's inspiration came from. You whisper to yourself, "Goodbye."

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