Friday, January 28, 2011

That Could Have Gone Better

I would list just how many different ways it could have gone better, but then I’d be here typing for the next several years, and I don’t want that.

It didn’t take me long after seeing Slender Man outside for me to decide that the best possible course of action would be to grab my knife, run out there, and charge blindly at him. What was the worst that could happen?
So there I was, running across the street towards the tall suited faceless guy whilst waving a knife. I jumped forward to tackle him…. And succeed in doing so, knocking him to the ground. Except the person whom I’d pinned to the ground was no longer Slender Man, but some random guy who began to scream in terror because he had just been attacked by a man with a knife. Publicly attacked him, I should add. There was quite the combination of shock and panic around us, as all the folk who had come to the river for some nice relaxation saw what they assumed to be attempted murder. There was little I could say which would remedy the situation (“Sorry about that, I was trying to stab the faceless monster and got you instead?”) so I go the hell out of there.

I don’t get it. He looked just like Slender Man, up until the point when I touched him. Even the style of walking, and the occasional tilt of the head. I know…. I mean, I’m pretty sure that he can’t change into people (I guess it would be foolish to claim certain knowledge on anything relating to him), but the alternative is that he’s manipulating my mind, which is a thought I abhor.

I’m typing this from a school computer; I don’t want to go back to my apartment yet. Right now, my chances of being arrested are completely in Javert’s hands. This isn’t me killing some proxy in the middle of the night with no one around; I attacked someone not related to Slender Man at all, in broad daylight, in front of at least a dozen people. No one could complain if he just walked right up and cuffed me. Initiative has fallen to their side; all I can do now is prepare to counter whatever action they take against me.

To be honest, when I realized what I had just done, I almost did stab the guy anyways. After all, it wasn’t like I was going to be even more screwed over. At this point, being arrested has become the equivalent of execution by Slender, no matter whether the charge is assault or manslaughter. But instead I ran; perhaps I still have a shred of optimism left in me that wants to at least kill Javert, maybe even Slendy to, before this is over.



I never once imagined that participating in a struggle against an ancient monster of doom and destruction would involve such a scheduled lifestyle. I wake up at 5 in the morning, do a 7-12 mile run, and then go to the horrible excuse for a weight room this apartment provides. The rest of my morning is spent doing research, either online or at the library. Judo classes are on Monday and Wednesday at 12, and karate is Tuesday/Thursday 12. I expect on the days I don’t have those classes, I’ll use that time for practicing on my own. After that, I either resume research, or start investigating Javert and the others who seem to be with him. Then I do a short 4 mile run at 6, followed by free time until I decide to sleep. Occasionally Slendy will spice things up a bit by playing Hide and Seek in the distance, or I may find myself being followed for several blocks by a random pedestrian, but otherwise the routine stays the same.

God damn, I never thought preparation would be so dull. I do most strongly desire a training montage to speed these things up.

But while I loathe the boredom, it has not been without result. Our boy Javert seems to have quite the history. Multiple commendations, a near perfect record, and glowing evaluations across the board. Heavily involved in the community, especially elementary level drug awareness programs. And word around the station is that the chief is grooming Javert to be his replacement when he retires. It’s almost hard to believe the man could possibly be a proxy for Slender Man, at least until you look at how he got where he is.

Four years ago, eight kids disappeared from the park they had been playing in. No one could figure out what happened to them, even after months of investigation. Then our Javert comes along, and gets put on the case. Within two weeks, he found and arrested a man who gave a full confession to kidnapping and then killing the kids. The man killed himself shortly after his guilty verdict, and Javert’s career and reputation soared to heights unfathomable before. The bodies of the children were never found.

There’s been much less success on Slendy. I know he was active previously, most famously in medieval Germany, but also in other past cultures. But there are huge gaps of inactivity. What caused that? Why would he go unseen for such long times? Maybe if I can figure out what causes him to stop, it might reveal a weakness…. Unless his motive for stopping is because he’s satiated his hunger for death….

Oh, and speak of the devil. It seems that Mr. Man is taking a stroll across the street. Looks to be heading for the river, and all the annoying sunbathers there. Should I leave him be, and laugh at whatever misery he causes them?
Nah, that doesn’t sound like fun. I’m getting my knife, and we’re going to see what happens.


Monday, January 24, 2011

Conversation with a Proxy

Is it really already Monday? I seem to have lost track of time with my reading. Pouring through books as fast as I can seems to have that affect.

So I ended my last post saying I was considering talking to Javert. And that is exactly what I did. I walked out of my apartment, down two flights of stairs, across the street, and attempted to strike up a conversation with him. I felt that it was likely more productive than just watching him from my window while making the occasional rude gesture. I’ll try to transcribe what was said, but I’m going off of memory here, so accuracy might not be completely attainable.

When I first crossed the street to meet him, I expected he would initiate the conversation, and so I waited for him to do so. After several moments passed, and his attention remained on watching cars, I began to speak.

The Great, Wonderful, and Handsome Arkady: “Well, fancy meeting you here. Enjoying the beautiful day?”

Javert: “….”

A: “Yeah, I know, right? So, how’s your day been?”

J: “….”

A: “Really? Well, good for you! Hey, listen, I feel like we’ve bonded here, I really do, so as a favor to a friend, could you ask Mr. Slendy to not kill me or something? That’d really be great.”
*I noticed there that an expression of anger passed over his face when I said “Mr. Slendy”*

J: “I do not choose who He selects as his victims, and I have no say after He has made his choice.”

A: “Hey, you speak! So how’d someone like little ol’me get chosen?”

J: “I don’t know how He chooses, only that he does.”

A: “Aw, but what did I ever do? Was it the loaf of bread? Is Slendy mad at me for stealing a loaf of bread? I’m innocent, I tell you!”

J: “You’ve already killed two men. I don’t think you qualify as innocent anymore.”

A: “Well now, you can hardly fault me for Benjamin. And Jason…. Well, I just pushed him off a balcony. It wasn’t my fault there was a wild Slender Man loose on the ground.”
*Again, that slight look of anger when he heard me say “Slender Man”.*

J: “You’re a sick freak. Soon He’ll bring you the justice you deserve.”

A: “Slendy delivering justice? I’ll admit I’m not the nicest fellow out there, but what about all those poor little childrens? It would be hard to call it justice when he goes and eats the souls of orphans, wouldn’t it?”

J: “Whomever God chooses to kill, it is justice.”

*Several seconds of silence*

A: “So…. When we say God here…. Are we using another pseudonym for the tall guy, or are we talking about an old bearded man in the clouds.”

J: “They’re the same.”

*An even longer silence. I tried to detect any hint of sarcasm or a joke in that sentence, but couldn’t find anything. As far as I can tell, the man honestly believes that Slender Man and Yahweh (or some similar deity figure) are the same*

A: “You…. You mean you actually believe…. You honestly, really think he’s….”
*Starts laughing*
“Oh gods, you, you’re crazy! Even more than me! You’re so crazy, it’s, it’s awesome! You seriously think Slender Man is god? That…. Oh, man, I love you! No one’s made me this amused in a long time! I am going to have so much fun killing you and your family-”

That was when Javert changed from seeming disinterested to filled with anger. As I was still laughing, he suddenly punched me in the stomach, and then again in the face when I doubled over. Before the blow could make me stagger back out of his reach, he grabbed me by the collar and made me look into those blue eyes of his.

J: “If you come anywhere near them, then you will die. I don’t care if He wants to kill you himself, or if he has some other plans for you, I will hunt you down and slaughter you like an animal.”

Now, a police officer beating the crap out of someone who isn’t an ethnic minority in public is sure to draw concerned attention. A handful of pedestrians had stopped to watch with shocked faces, and even a few cars slowed down to view the entertainment. It seems Javert doesn’t like an audience, since he left quickly after that.

I’m going to say this once, to get it out of my system. God damn, that man hits like a fucking sledgehammer. I’m just going to consider it lucky he decided not to break any bones; after feeling those punches, I don’t doubt he could have if he wanted to. And so friggin’ fast…. I had no chance to block, dodge, or anything before he hit me.

That brief little scuffle of ours has given me even more incentive to get some kind of training. If I can’t even face one of his minions, how the hell am I supposed to go up against the Big Bad himself? I tried sitting in on a self defense course offered at the school. Unfortunately, the instructor took attendance and could tell I wasn’t registered for his course. Fortunately, he mistook that for a sign of having a “go-getter” attitude, and put me down on the roll. His name’s Professor Baker, and he’s got me down for both his karate and the judo classes.

I don’t know how long I’ll have before I need to confront Javert and his boss. Longer would be better, as I need time to build up more strength and experience to fight Javert, and knowledge to fight Slendy. Yet somehow I doubt they’ll give that opportunity to me. However much time I have, I need to accomplish as much as I can within it.


Wednesday, January 19, 2011


School has officially begun once again. Students go to their classes, professors earn their keep, everyone pretends that education is taking place….
Not that it affects me, as I haven’t been attending classes. Yes, our own Arkady Svidrigailov has been playing hooky.
“Arkady! How could you!” I hear you shout. “Don’t you know that getting a degree is a vital part of becoming a functioning gear in the cogs of society?”
To which I respond, “Screw you all, I’m going to be dead and all my organs removed within the year. I have better ways to spend my time.”

Using my now unlimited quantities of free time, I have worked towards preparing myself as best as possible for whatever confrontation comes. Most of my mornings are taken up by working out; being able to do things like throw a good punch or run away quickly may not be all that helpful against Slendy, but it’s something. I’m planning to sit in on some of the self defense courses the university offers, but that will only work so long as the instructor doesn’t take attendance and realize I’m not a student in their class. I’d also like to learn how to use that replica sword I have as something other than a bludgeoning object, but I highly doubt a single soul in this city has even the slightest clue of how to handle a weapon like that in a real fight.

Research has been another priority. I’m already familiar with the major blogs and vlogs, and have read through all the informative blogs, so finding more info on Slender Man isn’t the goal. What is a priority is learning practical skills and techniques. It’s amazing how easy it is to find how to guides online for picking locks or making homemade explosives. Only the first of those is really practical; I’d bought a set of lock picks several years ago because I thought I needed it to show how aloof and above society’s restrictions I was (Yeaaaahh…..). Now that they’re coming in handy, I can’t complain. As Jason no longer needs his door, I’ve been using it as practice.
Explosives are a different story; I don’t want to blow off my hands making them (a very possible consequence for someone unskilled like me making them), but more importantly, I don’t want to give Javert and his crew more reasons to bother me. Ever so often, I’ll find that I have an officer tailing me as I walk through the city. So far they haven’t interacted with me beyond their stalking, but it makes it ever so difficult to commit illegal activities. For the time being, I’ll just stick with those leftover fireworks I have.
Another avenue of my research has been more historical. Curiosity still nips at my heels from time to time, and I can’t help but wonder just what this thing following me is. Finding primary sources about him is an awful chore, so I’ve needed to settle with researching the periods and ideas he seems associated with. I’ve read through several books and essays on Norse Mythology, focusing on the tree Yggdrasil, with a spattering of Ragnarok, and have checked out several books dealing with medieval Germany. If I have the time (unlikely, but I can hope), I’m planning to look into Tibetan Buddhism, where the word “Tulpa” originated from. Then I’m going to look into those Egyptian hieroglyphs that reportedly showed Slender Man in them. I doubt any of this will help me find a weakness, or give me any small edge in fighting him, but it can’t hurt. I should at least know what it is I’m stabbing before I stab it.

For a fun, none research related fact, my bank accounts have been frozen. Yup. No more money flowing from them. Also no explanation, warning, or anything. I found out when I tried withdrawing some money. Thankfully, I’d been making preparations in case I ever needed to liquidate everything and go on the run, so I’d been withdrawing money, at a rate slow enough that it wouldn’t attract suspicion, for the past few days. With my accounts frozen, that plan has to stop, and what I have on my person is how much cash I’m going to have to live with. Comes up to around $500, which means I need to choose between paying next month’s rent or eating.

In news relating to people who are not me (Yes, such people exist in this world. Unless solipsism is correct, and I am god.), the memorial service for that proxy who tried to kill me was held today. It seems his name was Benjamin Sayer. It just so turns out that I had a philosophy class with him last semester; the beard and long hair made recognizing him a bit difficult when we met. He’d stood out to me in that class, something which doesn’t happen often. We didn’t agree on our philosophical views in the slightest (Kantians can be just so annoyingly self righteous at times), but he was one of the few people there intelligent enough to hold a reasonable debate with. From what I’ve heard, he disappeared over the break, and the report of his death was the first his family had heard of him since then. It’s kind of a shame he had to die; intelligent people are such a rarity these days.

And hey, look at that. Javert’s set up a speed trap right next to my apartment. I can see him from my window. Even wave at him. Hi there, Javert! You go and stop those dastardly college kids who think they can destroy American values with their fast driving!

Hm…. I’m actually tempted to go and talk to him now….


Monday, January 10, 2011

Under Suspicion

The police stopped by my place today. Said they wanted to search through. I asked if they had a warrant. Then they pulled out one.
Even if we’re assuming TV drama levels of efficiency at the department, there is no way they should have been able to get their hands on a warrant that quickly. How did they even convince a judge to give them one, anyways? There was no one else around when I killed that puppet/proxy/hallowed/whatever the hell they’re being called now (wouldn’t it be nice if you people could just decide on a single name for once?), and I’m certain I didn’t leave enough evidence to point to me (and if I did, it shouldn’t have been enough to point to me this quickly).

They just did a sweep of the place, never saying what it was they searched for. In fact, they didn’t speak to me once during the process. After finishing overturning all available furniture, they walked out the door. Nothing was taken with them, and I wasn’t arrested (hooray?), but I now know that I cannot rely on them doing silly things such as “gathering evidence” or “finding witnesses” before putting me under suspicion.

In other news, in spite of me leaving in the middle of the night without warning, I have yet to hear anything from my parents back in Austin. Curiosity finally got the better of me, and I called their phone, but it rang without answer. Nothing pleasant can come from that.

And a final, minor note. My attacker’s death has been getting more attention than I thought it would. Apparently he was someone important on campus (some student council member, or star athlete, or the dean’s child, or something. I haven’t been paying much attention). The news stations have been running scenes of his parents crying while blubbering about what potential he would have had, and the school has even begun to plan a lavish and expensive memorial service for him. Or something ridiculously unnecessary like that. I wonder how they’d feel if I told them that he had become the mindless pawn of a faceless abomination who seeks to kill us all before he died.


Thursday, January 6, 2011


Let's hear us some Broadway.

I don’t usually go to bars. But when I do, it’s with the intention of taking the property of someone who has consumed far too much alcohol.

There was a reason behind my petty theft, different from my usual “I was bored and had nothing to do on a weekday night” excuse I tend to fall back on. This time I had a PLAN. After taking some drunken fool’s wallet, I went to the police station to drop off a lost wallet, like the good citizen I am. The whole plan was something of a gamble; whether or not I succeeded was based entirely on luck, and if I failed, well, repeatedly dropping off items I’d “found” would be a tad suspicious

For a long time, I waited outside the police department, distancing myself so that I would not arouse suspicion, but close enough to see the people who entered and left. When I saw someone who bore some resemblance to what I remember from the officer New Year’s night, I memorized his license plate, then walked in after him. I still couldn’t tell if he was the man; I’d need to hear him say something, so I could tell if the voices matched. If they didn’t, and I had followed the wrong man, well, would have sucked to be me.

All I needed was to hear him say a few words to identify by, so my plan had been to just drop off the wallet, and pray that not only he said something within earshot, but that my one shot was being spent on the right person. Was not expecting him to be the one who was collecting the lost and found property that day.

It wasn’t even necessary to wait for him to speak for me to identify him. The instant I saw that gleaming, carnivorous smile, I knew I’d found the right target. He went through the motions of taking the lost property, but I could imagine the laughter he was suppressing. There were no doubts from his expression, he remembered who I was, and he found this entire meeting most amusing.
For sake of greater accuracy, I’ll use this as an opportunity to further describe his appearance. He had a name tag on, but I think I’ll just call him Javert (All I did was steal some bread kill my roommate, commit one count of arson, and attempt another arson!) Most of my description I gave on the first encounter was accurate, though lacking in detail. Hair was just a shade too dark to be called platinum blond, with bright blue eyes. His jaw had a chiseled appearance; he has what may be the most heroic looking chin I have ever seen outside of fiction. As far as appearances can go, he looked like the sort of man who would have made Himmler squee in delight.

After our meeting, I returned to waiting outside the department. Several hours later, Javert’s time for working ended. Staying a few cars behind him at all times, I followed his drive back to his home. The man lives in a surprisingly lavish house, on the outskirts of the city, where habitation ends and forests begin (of course). It’s two stories tall, with a fence surrounding the property, except for the back, where a barrier of trees existed. My ability to observe from the outside was limited, and I felt that breaking inside would be stretching my streak of luck far beyond what it could take, so I was forced to be content with peering through windows. Our Javert fellow appears to be living with a wife and elementary age son. Certainly was not expecting that. Though this family of his may prove useful to me later on.

My observation of the man in his natural habitat continued until night fell. Everything I had seen thus far had been boringly normal. Not until late in the night did things turn interesting. I had dozed off for a little (in hindsight, that doesn’t sound like the most intelligent of decisions, does it), but was awoken when I heard Javert leaving his house, and walking out back. I fingered the hilt of my knife as I watched him. It wouldn’t be much use against a man armed with a gun, but it was better than no weapon at all. I though perhaps he was coming over to where I was hiding in the brush, but he walked past me without stopping, towards the forest. Inches from the branches, he dropped to his knees, and spread his arms out. An absolute silence fell over the area, as though a bubble had encased this one small place, blocking all outside noise. Shadows snaked out of the forest and wrapped around him in an embrace. The expression on his face was of unrestrained bliss, jaw hanging slightly open and eyes gazing distantly into some world not visible to anyone else.

Curiosity made me stay longer than I should have. After five minutes of watching Javert kneel motionlessly, his head suddenly snapped to the side, looking straight at my hiding place. His lips were pulled back, stretched impossibly far, showing more teeth than I’d have liked to see. Slowly, he rose to his feet, and started lurching towards me. I assumed this to be my cue to leave, and made a quick escape, dashing to and over the fence as fast as I could.
I had nearly made it to my car (note to self: parking a distance away from your target is good for avoiding suspicion, but terrible for making quick getaways) when I heard footsteps gaining on me from behind. My first thought was that Javert was a quicker man than I had assumed, but when I looked back, it was someone new on my tail. Terribly disheveled fellow, I would have just assumed him to be some homeless drifter were I to encounter him in any other situation. It would be inaccurate to say he was running towards me. Instead, it looked like he was being pulled, his feet moving across the ground not to propel himself forward, but to keep himself from falling as his body accelerated. Without any grace at all, he leapt at me and tackled me to the ground. Long and dirty fingernails clawed at my face, reaching for my eyes. After a brief struggle, I threw him off of me.
My attacker was younger than I’d first thought, around my age. The scraggly beard and torn clothing he had gave him a deceptively old appearance. His movements looked…. Wrong. He didn’t move like a person, but like a puppet. When he stood back up, I caught myself looking from the strings pulling on him. Again, he threw his body at me in another attack, this time adding biting on top of clawing to his methods. I managed to keep his teeth off me (which I am very glad of; he didn’t seem to have the most hygienic of mouths), but I couldn’t prevent my arms from being covered in cuts as he slashed those claw like nails at me over and over. The actions were clumsy, but relentless; no matter how many times I struck back, punching him in the face, kicking him in the stomach, he kept up his attack. Once more, he managed to knock me to the ground. This second time, I didn’t bother with trying to throw him off; I pulled out my knife, and started stabbing it repeatedly into him.
At first, even that didn’t seem to hinder him. Most would stop fighting once they’d been stabbed in the jaw once, and those few that would continue would tend to throw in the towel after the next five knife wounds. No matter how many times I stabbed him, he would keep trying to claw out my throat/bite my eyes out/etc.

I’m not sure how long we fought there. By the end, I was covered in his blood (as well as a fair helping of my own), and he was barely recognizable as a human. He should have died long ago, but even as I threw his mutilated form off me, his body still twitched, trying to move its broken limbs towards me. To be safe, I ran over him as I drove away.

Since last night, I haven’t seen Javert, Slender Man, or any hard to kill puppet proxy whatevers. There was a new message in my inbox, from the university. It said that a student had been murdered last night, and told everyone to be on the lookout for a white male in his twenties with brown hair, brown eyes, 5’9”, and wearing a collared shirt.
Yeah, well, fuck you and your police alerts, Javert. If that description didn’t match dozens of other students here, I may be concerned, but now it’s just an annoyance. I’ve gotten rid of the knife, burned the clothes I was wearing at the time, and you can’t use Mr. Faceless on the witness stand. And now I know where you, but more importantly, where your family, lives.


Monday, January 3, 2011

New Year

Smiting the Gods: Your go to place for amateur Central Texas photography.

So now the sun has set on our adventures in Austin, and I have returned to my home. The place is still empty, with Jason’s room untouched. I might use it for storage, if I ever get enough stuff that I need storage.

My inventory of Slender fighting tools at the moment consists of a tire iron, two remaining empty wine bottles which can be converted into molotovs, a replica sword (blunt edge, but can still be used as a club), three knives (only one of which was meant to be used on something other than food), and fireworks. Not the stockpile I’d have wanted in this, but it’s what I’ve got.

Since I haven’t done anything recently (Slendy looks to have given a small bit of a reprieve for most of us around the holiday season. So kind of him, giving us time off from noteworthy events during a period when we would be hard pressed to write about them.) so I felt I needed to try something. Nothing too fancy, just a little New Years prank to start me off on. I really liked my “burning the forest down” deal I’d done before, so I thought I should do an encore show. Seriously, why hasn’t anyone done this before? If he’s so powerful in forests, just remove the forests.

While my little college town lacks the vast quantities of forests and woods found at my suburban abode in Austin, there’s enough here for what I intended. I followed a park, until the trails gave way, and the park transformed into wilderness. With everyone else in the city distracted by their festivities and brightly colored explosives, there shouldn’t have been anyone else out there.

Just as I was preparing to light the rag on fire, and create a glorious New Years bonfire, a hand reached from behind me and snatched the bottle away. Instinctively, I reacted by turning around and swinging a fist at where I thought the hand had come from. It barely missed the face of a man who was standing behind me; a lucky miss for me, as the man was wearing a police uniform.

Because it was dark, I had a hard time making out the features of this police officer (waving a lighter in his face to get a better view was certainly not an option at that point, sadly), but I could get a general idea. Caucasian male, a couple of inches taller than me (likely around 5’11”, maybe 6 foot), light colored short hair, and very white teeth. I remember those teeth strongly, for some reason. In the dark, his grin seemed to shine unnaturally bright, like it was its own source of light. The smile wasn’t overtly threatening, but there was some mischief hidden in it, which his tone also had when he spoke.
“Now, doesn’t a kid like you have some kind of party to be attending tonight?” He said to me, while he poured the gasoline and oil out of the Molotov I’d made. “Besides, He wouldn’t like it if you burned another down, ya know?”
I could hear that capital H fall into place during his speech. No question there who he was referring to. Left me in a bit of shock, as that was not how I had been expected the events of that night to go down. By the time I finally caught up with what he had said, the policeman was already walking away, throwing the now empty bottle over his shoulder as he did. I ran after him, but he was soon swallowed by the night. This is the second time in this blog I wish artful flairs I put in here were embellishment, but from my perspective, it looked like blackness engulfed him. Maybe the fireworks being shot off on the horizon were just screwing with my night vision, so I just couldn’t follow whatever path he took out of that park. Or it could just be more Slenderfuckery. Either way, I’m pissed. Ruin my New Year celebrations? Now that’s just cruel! It shall now be my quest to discover the identity of this man, so I can express to him in full detail the extent of my disapproval towards his actions….