>>17081301
I couldn’t tell you how the day started beyond vague details, couldn’t tell you what we ate, what we joked about. The house was beautiful, that much I remember, a two story six bedroom. It’d been fun though, a perfect day, and it was surely just a taste of how the next four days were going to be. We drank, we joked, we sang, danced. It’s always the case isn’t it? In horror movies? Before the shit hits the fan, everything is perfect, life is great, I think it’s all a cruel joke. Fate sets you up so that when you suffer, when your life is on the line, your last memories is about just how precious life really is. I don’t think life could have pulled any crueler of a joke on me. I still remember it to this day. We made love for the first time that night, for the first time ever, truthfully. I remember the smell of her skin, how smooth she felt in my arms, the tiny shudders as I entered her the first time, the small gasp. The sound of my name on her lips, the sound of hers on mine. I remember the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the warmth between. But most of all I remember the emotion. I wonder now, had things been different, had I anything to compare it too, would I still consider the love I felt for her as precious as I did? You know how it is, to be young and in love. Life is still a movie to you, even the most level-headed of us lose ourselves in the embrace of another. The words “I love you” were even sweeter after that moment we shared together. I remember falling asleep peacefully, no, blissfully would be the better word, for the last time.

>>17081303
I’m had been a light sleeper you see. It didn’t save us in the end, but I did wake. It slipped into the room, scuttling like a spider, the light of the living room was still on, and as the door opened, the light shone on it. My stomach dropped as my vision and mind focused. It was human shaped, vaguely. There were eye sockets, but no eyes, instead, just the same poxed gray skin that covered the rest of it stretching over the empty holes in its skull. The limbs were too long, too skinny, and its arms were positioned in a way that no human could a manage, as it walked on all fours. The mouth though, I’ll never forget the mouth. The tongue was rotting, the gums black, but the way the mouth was contorted in a soundless scream. Not once during the whole ordeal did it close, or even move that mouth. I woke because it wasn’t silent. Not in opening the door, which to this day, I do not know how it managed, and not once in the room. It was a gurgle and a sort of clicking, at the same time, soft, soft enough where no one else would likely wake to it. It turned its head towards me, and when I say turned, I mean it’s entire head swiveled at an unnerving angle. It had no eyes but I knew it saw me watching it. I don’t remember how long it lasted, but I remember being the first to make a move. It was a burst of bravery that I honestly never would have expected to have, I flung the lamp on the wall at it, tearing the cord out of the wall. Surprisingly it hit it, right in its face. It made a terrible screeching croaking noise.

>>17081307
I swore loudly at it, cursing it in, what I recall, were extremely creative ways. I gripped the alarm clock we’d brought and used it as a blunt object, bashing its head as hard as I could. I could feel it’s skull give as it tried vainly to attack me back. It was strong, but no stronger than the average person, somewhat weaker now that I recall, though it’s never easy to subdue something that doesn’t want to die. My girlfriend told me that after I collided with it trying to cave it’s face in with the clock, the house woke up, screams across the rooms to each other before they figured out it was coming from my room.

>>17081312
It died faster than you expect, it’s face barely recognizable, bleeding a dark, almost black, red. The one female friend we had was the first in the room. I can’t imagine the scene; it’s probably why it took her a few seconds to start screaming. My girlfriend was in the bed shaking and white faced, I was hitting the thing still, covered in the spatter of its blood, naked, I might add.
“Who the fuck is that?” my best friend screamed. I remember a few arms pulling me off of it, I couldn’t stop hitting it. I wasn’t angry understand. There was something so profoundly wrong with the situation, I couldn’t process it, the thing didn’t belong, and the only thing going through my mind was to make it disappear. There we more questions, more talking. I don’t remember much of it now. It wasn’t long, and none of it was coherent, I had enough time to get my pants on, still too shocked to even answer the barrage of questions.

>>17081316
It wasn’t the sound of the door being broke down that caught my attention, it was the scream. One of my friends didn’t stay in the room, he walked downstairs and sat on the couch. I can’t explain it to you, the sight of the creature was, simply put, unnerving, though the word doesn’t do the feeling justice, it had a effect on all of us. He couldn’t take it I assume. But it was he who screamed, and I heard the screeching again. My four friends bolted out, I heard them shout and curse, and run down the stairs, except for my best friend. He screamed too, but it was one of terror, he came sprinting back into the room and huddled in the corner. I went to go too, but my girlfriend held my arm, and pleaded with me to stay, and so I did, for what seemed like hours, but had truthfully been a few seconds. I heard my friends fighting, yelling, but then I heard one of them screaming. It was a scream I can’t even imagine to you. If you’ve watched a video of someone being put through extreme pain, that’s close. I guess I would describe it now as a death scream, utterly different from any other sound we make in even the most intense situations, the scream we make as we’re dying. He was screaming and then he stopped immediately. It took that and the shouts and panic in my other’s friends voices to get me down those stairs.

>>17081323
There were five of them, the same things I fought. One of them was dead, head caved in, from who I can’t tell you. They were all slightly different from the one I fought though. Like the differences between two people. They were the same thing, I could tell, but unique in their own ways. I found out why later. My friend who had been screaming, his throat had been torn out. The things were trying to claw, kick, and throttle my other friends. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed one of the kitchen knives and sprinted back out. I managed to grab one from behind and stabbed it through the eye socket. It was strange how easy it went it, it punctured the skin like you might puncture a drum, nothing underneath, until I felt it hit flesh again. It went limp. Almost immediately the other three fled out the door. We all stared, and didn’t move, or really acknowledge each other at all. The girls came down when the commotion stop. I still remember them trying to get us to respond to them. “Baby, baby what happened? Are they gone? Put down the knife please!” my girlfriend pleaded. The stupid cunt, like I really could have told her what happened, or even if the things were gone.

>>17081330
He stepped through the door, that’s what I remember next. Screams, female, I don’t remember who, probably both. It stood in the doorway, and it was unlike the other things. It was massive. It’s limps were outrageously long, and had four joints, contorting in outrageous ways, paled maggoty skin, another eyeless face, another contorted mouth. But different. Not frozen in some scream, but alive. Vaguely human enough to guess what it was feeling. And at the moment, I swear the son of a bitch was smiling.

>>17081335
We attacked, except Taylor the spineless fuck. Told the girls to get upstairs, they did, and the pitiful cunt followed. We didn’t put up much of a fight, tried beating on it, stabbing it. Never really worked. It was physical, so with enough force, we staggered it a bit. But stabbing didn’t help. Certainly didn’t help John when he had his body broken in half, futile stabbing at the hands and figers that clutched him. Xavier was next. Took a blow to the head, and to be honest, it may not have killed him, but something inside told me that he wasn’t getting back up now or anytime later. Me and Russel, we were football players together. It was just the two of us then. The panic was running high now, as you can imagine. We’re both dead. I know, he knows. Even as the slender fingers grip my throat, my life doesn’t flash before my eyes. No profound thoughts. I am terrified, I am about to die and that sort of primal fear sets in. Bless that mad fucks soul, had it been him at the end of all this, I could have forgiven him. He lowers his shoulder and tackles this thing right at, what I guess is a waist, and manages to stumble it. Surprise it even, as it dropped my ass. Not for long though, and quickly Russel is now amongst my fallen friends.

>>17081338
I wanted to see her one more time. Maybe even help her escape. I get to the room, coughing and sputtering, closing the door. She’s telling me things, trying to calm me down. Looking back, I think I could have married her. Had it all been different. Anyways, Taylor is babbling, rocking in the corner like the pussy he is, Lauren is silent, in shock I would guess. Hell, I probably was too. Only she’s there, trying to keep calm. Funny how she usually is the shy one, but she always was hiding a surprising amount of steel behind her shrinking-violet type personality.
The door breaks open. Because of course it does. And it’s dragging her out now. I’m trying to hold onto her. Taylor doesn’t help at all. It’s Lauren surprisingly. Full front kick to the dome, and she manages to get it to loosen just enough that I pull her from his grip. I’ve seen this before though, and I pull Lauren back not a second too soon as it claws at her.

>>17081341
At this point, had it not been clear before, we’re fucked. So I do the last thing I can do.
I beg.
I plead, and sob, ask it to save her specifically, take me, you know, some shit that would really make a bitch swoon were she watching this shit in the movie theater. The kind of moment where she would turn her head to her boyfriend, husband, what the fuck ever, “Would you do that for me?”
Of course, were I to have been asked, I would joking tell her “Hell no.” And then we’d laugh after some playful pouting.
But anyways, the crazy shit was, it worked. I mean of course it worked, how else would I tell this story. It grabs me by the leg, and I don’t even resist, I just give one last look to her, mouth that I love her, and before I know it, my head thumps down the staircase and I knockout.

>>17081344
You see here’s where the story gets crazy. I wake up, and I can’t even describe this place. Humanity’s collective nightmares I would say. I would tell you some of the shit I’ve seen out here your nightmares have nightmares of, that no human should be able to think up, but after knowing the nature of this place, obviously we’re all a little more fucked up than I could ever have imagined. Back then. I have a pretty good idea now.
This happened in 1988. Why does that date mean anything to you? That thing that took me. Apparently not thought up until the late 2000’s. Insane. The human consciousness is a beautiful thing. This bastard comes up as a joke to a website that might be familiar to you. He’s their monster of the month, that quickly spirals out of control as thousands hear the story, adding their own. They build a mythos of him. I was a companion of sorts. One of those things that attacked earlier. He didn’t always bring us. Sometimes he’d be different. A faceless man in a pressed suit that delighted in stalking children. Hell sometimes he’s downright playful, not in the least dangerous. And other times he brings us. Or sometimes he goes alone. You see, he’s thought up in the 2000’s. Given a history that dates back further. Everything conflicts, his way of operating, his appearance, his demeanor. And yet, he manages to be all that at once. He became real. History rewrites itself, and suddenly he was always here, and yet he wasn’t. To all of you, he’s still just a stupid ass story you made up that got out of hand is now over used.

>>17081347
That’s how most of us are. It’s amazing the nature of it. Evidence doesn’t exist except the evidence that you want to exist. The stories that are told, they bring us to reality, and yet only barely. It’s like we’re here, but we’re not. We exist, but we don’t.
Maybe I was just special, I’d like to think I’ve come down this path of my own freewill.
I stopped going with him. Eventually, I could even walk in the normal world again. Always far from society, something deep in me driving me to stay away from deep population zones. I guess maybe I was bound by the collective belief that monsters stay far from the safe cities.
Some of the things I’ve seen in the woods though. They stay away from me. Indifference before. Later, well, even predators fear worse predators.

>>17081351
Because I did find my way back near people. A strong urge to see her again. I knew I couldn’t make myself known to her. I’m different now. Would only scare her, or worse, have dragged her with me. But I follow. Lauren killed herself a few years later. But Taylor, Taylor you see, kept himself near her. Needed to heal, someone to talk to. The little shit. Crushed on her a long time before, but in the end she was mine. But, eventually, they do get together. Her belly swells. And soon they give birth to a boy. Get married eventually. The boy is a weedy little thing like it’s father. Cowardly. More time in front of a computer than anything. The injustice of it. I could have watched her love another, but him? I gave it all for her. Their fucking future was bought from my suffering, my pain. It was built on the bodies of four men far greater than he, her life saved by a woman with more balls than he would ever have, and for some fucking reason he gets the life that should have been mine?
I watch them. Still the pussy. The son is no different. And she forgets. Stops going to my grave when the little shit turns 11. Stopped going to everyone else’s grave far before that.

>>17081355
As you can tell I was rather upset over the whole thing. My appearance changes too. I take out my rage on people. Out in the woods sometimes. Sometimes in the darker parts of cities. Every time, I get a little bit closer to where I am now. A little bit more of what made me, me goes away, and I get stronger. More vicious. There’s a joy to it. I’m sure any serial killer could tell you, but when you’re something that transcends time and space, with absolutely no worry over repercussions, you get creative. I mean, because even the most sadistic killer will at least fear when it comes to an end. No end for me though. No end for any of us. Sometimes we can be killed, if people believed we could. But still we persist. Because even if are killed in one story, thousands of others exist where we don’t. Lucky for me, what defines me is far less distinguished. I will be mentioned in one story passing, and the thought of how to kill or stop me will never pass anyone’s mind. I am more a force of nature than anything, those only thing to stop me being myself. So I play games with those I kill. Most of us do. There’s those out in the wood who like replacing people in a group. Using mimicry and shapeshifting. Some for kicks, then they leave, some as part of the way they hunt. For me, I like them to have a lot of time to be scared. Just put them in a situation they know they can’t escape. The inner struggle. Sometimes if they choose to be brave, I am merciful. Trying to fight back is something I can respect. Most don’t. Most try to run. I am not merciful to those.

>>17081360
You see the years pass, and I always come back to the household. And here I am there again. She kept me at bay. But she forgot me. Still, most of my rage is directed at the boy. I kill her and Taylor, and I’ll admit killing her does send something stirring in my chest. He hears the screaming. He gets up, and instead goes to the bathroom. Even I have to stop at the stupidity of it. I drag the bodies past the door and wait. I see him get out. I see him peak at the blood, and just like his coward of a father, who even then didn’t try to save his wife, he runs. To his room, and under his sheets.
I don’t even know how to feel about it. I can see the slight tremble of his body beneath the sheets. He’s awake and hiding. It’s alright. I’m patient. Hell, at this point, moments like this is all I really exist for. I drag their bodies in the room and have them sit at the foot of his bed. In his father’s blood I scribble a message on his wall, and I hide beneath his bed.
It’s been three hours now, and I hear the slightly rustle, and I know he’s looking at the message I wrote on his wall, now barely visible in the early morning light.


I know he’s awake.

>>17081363
anyway's folks that it for me. I actually had a dream of the first part of the story way back in 2010 when Slenderman was still knew, and tried writing a story off of it. Didn't finish it till now. It's my first attempt at OC. Back in '10 the guy turned into some gary stu protector, but I had some inspiration while looking over the story years later when going through old files

I like the tie-ins. I rather enjoyed it, good job.

>>17081301
well done op

>>17081301
Prove it

>>17081301
Nice one. Few pretty corny moments but I enjoyed it. Thanks OP!

gay lol

Meh, it was pretty predictable to me. Plus, it is pretty corny.

>>17081371
Good job OP !

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1988 was a good year for me OP

>>17081371
I enjoyed that mate. Thanks for putting the effort in

gg, but what was the message

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>>17082167
>>17082477
>>17082651
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>>17083841
Thanks for the feedback folks. I know it gets pretty corny in some parts, and I'll be honest, I caught a fuckton of inconsistencies which I'm sure you noticed after reading it over after posting it.
The message here my friend >>17083841
is that you don't fuck your friend's exes

Nice, I really got into it

Good effort Anon. Maybe it's just me, but I didn't quite get it tho.
So this thing kills everyone (together with his on 4 legs walking minions). However he didn't kill you, but instead you became one of them/him/whatever. So what did you become? Why? How? Are you the only one? So you work for or are enslaved by he 'thing' that took you? Or does he change you into another species or something, like a vampire?
What happened to the corpses of the things you killed? Must have raised some suspicion when others arrived. Must have led to certain actions.
You stalked your childhood girlfriend and friend. How did you find them?
These are just a few of the questions I had while reading.
Sounded like random things woven together or something. No background, no explanation etc.

Fake and gay. Opie sucks dicks.