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[Killjoy.]

I'm writing a whole bunch of "sightings" of Slenderman. Some are gonna sound like they're from a diary and the rest are just stories Kinda an inspiration from "marblehornets" on youtube.
ANYWAY.
--
It seemed like a normal night for Eliza. She was sitting at home, alone, drinking hot tea. This is what she normally did, especially when her sister wasn't home.
She got up and began walking to the kitchen, but stopped when she kicked something with her foot. "Ow! Shit.." She cursed under her breath and glared down at what she kicked.
It was a tape. There was something carved in on the front, but she could barely make it out. She could've swore it had the number "4" carved in it. On the back, there was a piece of taped paper that said, "WARNING: Don't.... this tape.... is...." at least, that's all she could make out. The rest was either smeared, or teared.
She chuckled once and shook it off immediately, throwing it onto the couch and walking into the kitchen. She placed the delicate tea cup next to the sink and glanced out the window.
Something blurred past it.
She jerked her head up to look, but nothing was there. Then she chuckled. She was being childish, just the spooks of being alone was getting to her. Though she told herself this, she swiftly ran to the safety of the lighted living room and sat down.
Something was different. Then she realized, the tape was now on the table.
Hah, she thought, I must've missed the couch and put it on the table. She knew this wasn't possible, but it was the only thought they kept her from freaking out. She then thought, well maybe it was a scary movie her sister forgot to put away. That would be fun; then she would have a reason to be scared. Yes, her thought process was very weird but hey, she was one interesting person. At least she thought so.
She shoved the destroyed-looking tape into the VCR and retreated to the couch, pulling her legs to her chest and watching the TV carefully.
At first, it was lines of colours and an ear-piercing high pitched sound, which made her cover her ears. But soon, the sound was cut and it was nothing but someone sitting on a computer, doing nothing. Someone was holding the camera, considering it was bouncing up and down. Whoever this person was was a bad camera man.
After a few minutes of nothing, it switched to another scene. The same guy was turned and he was staring at the TV. He jumped back slightly and he looked like he was screaming. Then, an elongated shadow looked like it entered the room. The man and the camera shot backwards, revealing a bit of the man. Then, it went black.
The TV went into static, signaling it was over, but Eliza was terrified. The long shadow was definitely a man. But he wasn't an ordinary man. He looked like he stood eight feet tall and his facial features could not be made out. He was also wearing a suit, but she barely noticed that.
She heard a banging sound and let out a shriek, whipping her head around frantically, trying to see what she had heard.
She didn't see anything. She chuckled nervously, thinking that the movie was getting to her. Then the bang happened again. She froze. It was coming from upstairs.
Then she heard heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs. She stopped, staring at the staircase and waiting for someone to come out of nowhere.
Nobody came.
She sighed with relief and laid back. Her eyes widened as she saw the same man from the tape now standing in front of her.
Everything went black.


Ashley swallowed back a sob as she sat inside the hospital, waiting for the doctors to come out.
She knew her sister was dead. She knew it.
She just wanted to make sure it was her.
Earlier that day, she had received a phone call that a body was found in the woods near her house. They thought it was her sister, but the body was so mangled that they couldn't even tell if it was a human being or not.
Later, they confirmed it was her sister, just because they wanted this whole thing to blow over. Ashley went home to where her sister once lived and sighed as she walked inside.
She looked around, nothing was out of place or anything. It seemed like Eliza had just stepped out. Then, Ashley saw something that caught her eye.
It was a messed up tape on the table with the number "5" scribbled on the front.
Then she saw a shadow streak by from the corner of her eye.

[Oracle]

(That was amazing, You. I loved it, real creepy.)

Amelia drove up to the house, Back street 34. It was her first ever baby-sitting experience that she could remember. Amelia remembered the course well, enough, over two years ago, but no baby-sitting since. It was actually pretty odd. Mind you, Amelia had spent a lot of time in a white padded room, though everyone told her that had been a dream. She rang the door bell, and the parents, Mr and Mrs Smith opened the door. They grinned at her, and commented “Nice outfit, the kids will love you.” She wasn’t wearing anything special, just a red skirt, a gold top, some foundation, blush, eye-liner, and lipstick.

The Smiths had three children, Ruth, Johnny and Philip. All were well behave triplets. Mr. Smith was right, the kids did love her. Once the parents had gone, Amelia and the kids played monopoly. Amelia was the shoe, Ruth was the horse, Johnny the ship, and Philip was the bowler hat. Philip won, and Ruth stormed upstairs, really upset. Amelia sighed, and hurried upstairs after her. Gently knocking on the door, Amelia wondered what to do. The door opened, and Amelia entered, before tucking p Ruth, Johnny and Philip.

The Radio was on, talking about the elections, when Amelia decided to close the curtains. There was one window which didn’t have a curtain, and Amelia looked out of it, straight at a clown. The clown was holding a knife dripping blood, and grinned at her.
Amelia ran upstairs, and as she entered, Ruth screamed, pointing at Philip’s bed. Amelia spun, and saw Philip, dead, a knife wound. Amelia frowned, checking his pulse, then reassured the two that it was just a dream, that Philip would be fine in the morning.
Amelia went back downstairs, and looked out the window. The same white faced clown grinned at her, holding a saw.
When she got upstairs, Ruth was dead, decapitated. Amelia said to Johnny. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, I’ll protect you, promise.” But he looked at her with such fear, that he screamed. She spun, expecting to see the clown. Nothing.
Amelia headed back downstairs, and looked out the window. The clown was laughing, holding a chainsaw. Amelia screamed “Johnny!” No reply. She ran upstairs, and Johnny was dead too, dismembered.

Later, when the police and the parents were there, Amelia explained her story. The police officer cuffed her and she asked what he was doing. He replied simply “That wasn’t a window, it’s a mirror.”

[Killjoy.]

Whoa! Yours is SO cool! Loved the twist in it! ^.^
It'll probably take me a bit to whip up a new Slenderman story unfortunately. xD v.v

[Killjoy.]

'Nother Slenderman story. I don't think it's as good as the last one, but eh. I like asylum-based stories. xD

---

December 12th, 2001:
I've been locked up in this stupid asylum for what seems like years, though it has only been a few weeks. They allowed me to keep a diary in my padded cell and also allowed me to have a TV, since they declared I'm not as crazy as others claimed.
I barely allow the TV to be on. I've always been told it's mind-numbing so I just leave it off; all it is to me is a small, motionless box with a VCR on top of it.
Ah, I hear footsteps. It must be the daily check up to make sure none of us has killed ourselves or each other. So I better wrap this up. Tomorrow, I have to go into electro-shock therapy.
Maybe that will make the voices go away.

December 13th, 2001:
Hello again, I just got out of the therapy I was talking about yesterday. Quite frankly, it hurt a bit. I don't think it did much good. I can still hear faint voices in the back of my mind...
But the weirdest thing happened today, I went inside my cell, and there was a VCR tape laying in the cell! I'm pretty sure nobody came into my room while I was away. Then again, who knows.
There are a lot of psychos in here.
I decided to inspect the tape. It's a weird thing, really. A number "5" is scribbled into the tape on the front, and scratched up paper is taped on the back. It's very odd. I decided not to watch it.
So now, I'm sitting here in my cell, alone, waiting for the inspections to happen. Hm, a shadow went by my window. Was it that time already? I thought they would wait at least 15 minutes... Oh well.

December 15th, 2001:
Today, they made me sit down and draw pictures. I mean, really? I'm a grown man for Christ's sake and I had to draw pictures of bad experiences I had? It was quite annoying. I'm no seven-year-old. Whatever.
The tape that was here a few days ago is gone, and I do not know where it went. The owner must have taken it back.
Thank goodness, that thing gave me the creeps just looking at it.
I think I am going to go to sleep early tonight, before the inspections begin. I'm awfully tired, and therapy can be tiring after awhile. Goodnight.

December 16th, 2001:
Apparently, the tape never disappeared. Someone had put it in the VCR.
Odd. Well, nobody came for me today for therapy, so I just decided to watch the tape. It was very, very eerie. I do not get scared easily, but I was on the borderline of being terrified.
After a bit of static and high pitch noises, a girl appeared was staring intently at the TV, looking excited and worried at the same time. I could see some part of what she was watching. It was another girl who looked terrified and what looked like was being attacked. But the girl who was watching it, suddenly shut off the TV and stood up, turning around. She screamed at the camera and began running, but what looked like a man grabbed her wrist and then, the camera shut off. The odd thing was, the camera never moved. It was in a stationary position like... She cut it on herself when she decided to watch the horrid video.
Why anyone would do this, I shall never know.
I looked outside of my window just to see if the in inspector had come yet.
No, they didn't. But some man was standing outside of my door, staring intently at me. Or, so I thought. He didn't have a face, that I saw anyway. He didn't move. He just stood there, his long, almost-touching-the-floor arms swaying lightly. He took a step forward, and my first instinct? Get the hell away from that door. So that's what I did. I scrambled as fast as I could away from the door and pressed my back against the padded wall. I almost screamed as black slivers started seeping through the door. Almost. Then a pair of footsteps began walking down down the hallway. The slivers shot back outside of the door and disappeared. I was safe.

REPORT OF INMATE #6849
DATE: 31 DECEMBER 2001
SUBJECT: Inmates Death.

It appears as though another inmate had come inside Subject 6849's cell at night and killed him, as well as mangled his body. His cell is perfectly clean, but he himself is a bloody mess.
Next to the body, a tape was there. It read "6" on the front. We decided to leave the crime scene to professionals, but when they came a few hours later, the tape was gone.
I do believe one of the inmates got rid of the evidence for good. Though, we may need to keep an eye on one inmate, who has been heard screaming and thrashing about his room. When we asked him what was wrong, he replied in a stutter "Slenderman." I do not know who this "Slenderman" is, but we must find him as soon as possible.

Dr. Francis Drake.

[The Oro]

[Lol wow, Immo. That was like a modern day Edgar Allen Poe story. I just love how the twist was simple one-liner. Moments like those are like a slap in the face to the reader that shouts "wake up."

You: That was intriguing. I'll admit my eyes went wide when I saw the entries go from dates in a journal to suddenly a hospital report saying "Subject: Inmate Death" lol. Nicely done.]

---------------------------

[This is a continuation of my other story involving Alex Krone.]

Officer Wallace Pekwarsky and his partner Jonas van Wyk stood across the street from a blackened hardware store, their patrol car parked with the emergency lights still on. The alternating flashes of blue and red were practically the only source of light in the district. Jonas lit up his mag light and shined it into the windows after stepping off the curb. The shutters were closed. Wally circled around the front of the car over to the curb with one hand on his holster.

"This is where the call came from?"
"The call was mobile," Jonas replied in a heavy South African accent, "but yeah, it was from around this area. A passerby said they saw some kind of disturbance between two men and the owner."
"I understand that," he began, nodding his head to a convenience store on their side of the street, "but are you sure that's the right one?"
Jonas glanced at the shop over one shoulder. "Caller definitely said it was a hardware store."
"The shutters are closed though."
"Owner probably settled the matter then closed shop."
"Let's check it out just to be safe."

"Alright." They started across the street towards the run down shack of a store. "Do me a favor, man. Keep your hand off your piece. Gives people the wrong idea sometimes."
"I'm not letting Dude run off with my service pistol to shoot some kid in the back with. Plus you're one to talk, mister I-gotta-carry-my-knife-everywhere."
"Eeuww man! I like my knife."
"When are you ever going to have to shank someone in thi--"

Just then there was a gunshot from inside the shop followed by a pair of thugs barreled out of the shop's side window. Both of the officers gunned up when a third figure stumbled through the door to the alley. "Take 'em! I got the other two!" Wally shouted, quickly chasing after the two from the window. He glanced into the shop to see the owner holding a civilian model M90 CAWS. "Stay inside!"
"They're armed! Watch yourself!"

As Wally pursued the first two thugs, Jonas was already catching up to the third. "Stop!" He flicked the safety off his M6G as he saw the dull reflection from the assailant's hand. Sure enough he had a gun. "Stop or I will fire!" At that warning the man dropped behind a dumpster. "Come out! Throw out your weapon and come out with your hands up!" A loud ka-chink of a pistol pistol slide in action echoed in his helmet. "Don't do it, man. Don't you fo--"
"Ahhh!"
"Shit!" Before he could finish his second warning the thug charged out from behind his cover in an attempt to get a bead on the officer. Jonas already put his sights on the man and fired. The magnum round slammed into the suspect's face, breaking his jaw off in the process. He quickly moved up and kicked the gun from the man's death grip. He looked around for any other threats and only saw another civilian standing in a doorway. "Get back inside, lock the door!"

Meanwhile, Officer Pekwarsky was closing distance on the remaining two. One of them was wearing what looked like prototype Mark VI meant for civilians. Highly outdated but still almost as effective as his own standard issue body armor. As they were about to pass another block, the one in armor grabbed hold of a civilian bystander, turning around to face Wally as he put a gun to her throat. "Don't come any closer!"

Wally stopped dead in his tracks but didn't think for a second to take his sights off the bastard. "Put it down. You don't wanna do this."
"You expect us to give up after we just tried to rob Larry's Hardware, you asshole?".
"Yeah. Something like that."
"Shut up!" the second one spat, "Dude, let's just kill 'em both and go!"
"Still here, dumb shit. And if you don't want to do the right thing, then consider the fact that I have the bigger gun." That was no bluff. On top of that, what Wally wasn't telling them was that he had full rights to already kill them since they're threatening a hostage. He could have taken the shot, if only he had it.
"And I have the girl. So whatchu gonna do abo--"

"Aye!" Jonas called out from the street perpendicular to theirs. Mark VI whipped to his left to face the new threat. That gave Wally the chance to land a round on the side of the thug's head. He saw blood spit up into the air as it painted the inside of the thug's visor, landing bits of glass all around his corpse as he hit the ground. Instead of fighting, the third suspect ran. Seeing as he wasn't armed, the two officers couldn't engage him.

The chase was short lived as he tried to haul himself through an open basement window nearby. That wasn't before Wally grabbed hold of his leg. The suspect proved to be persistent by fighting while only half of his body was through the window. "Enough of this." Jonas grumbled, reaching for his pocket. Wally did only caught a glance of his partner pulling out a handle, which caused him to look back again wide-eyed.
"Ow! Ow! Stop!" the thug shouted in pain, finally ending his resistance "Hold on, there's a nail in my leg!"

"That ain't no fooking nail, man. That's my knife. Now come the hell out of there before it's the other leg."
Wally was struggling to hold back his laughter as he restrained the suspect. He was just glad his breach visor hid his smile from his estranged partner.

[Oracle]

[Lol wow, Immo. That was like a modern day Edgar Allen Poe story. I just love how the twist was simple one-liner. Moments like those are like a slap in the face to the reader that shouts "wake up."

Thanks!

You: That was amazing! Like Oro said, Subject: Inmate Death is a really creepy way of doing that bit, instead of writing the actual death sequence. And, I love how the stories link together with the 4,5,6.
Where did you get your inspiration?

Oro: Wow, as usual, that was really well written.

[Killjoy.]

Oro, your stories are amazing! @.@

@ Immo: Thank you And "Slenderman" is actually a made up being from the Something Awful boards that was used just to freak people out. He's really awesome and I love him Besides stealing the Slenderman thing from a forum, everything else is something I made up xD

[The Oro]

[Thanks, You. I'd like to see more of your writing whenever you can. It was really into the last one you posted too.]

"Hey! Easy! You stabbed me in the leg remember!"
"Fook off, man!"
"I know my rights!"
"Yeah? Well you gave those rights up once you decided to take down a hardware store for some cash."

The small exchange went on as Pekwarsky and Jonas hauled off the remaining live suspect into his cell. He resisted all the way. They had to rough handle him just to get him in the cell where they finally unshackled him and shoved him away. The thug threw a blind hook around the moment his hand was free. His fist connected with one of the two officer's faces, but unfortunately for him Jonas was still wearing his helmet. All he landed his strike on was impact resistant ballistics glass. "Ah! Shit!"

Wally drove an elbow strike against the suspect's temple. The hit was enough to put him on the ground for a few minutes but Jonas was thinking otherwise. "You fooking serious, man?!" An armored boot swung into the downed suspects ribs. Wally quickly moved into the corner of the cell that had the door leading to the hallway. He kept his back facing outward after a look around the corner. Jonas finally stopped laying hits into their arrest. "Don't make me come back down here." They both walked out and closed the cell behind them as they left. Jonas reached under his breach shield to feel if his face was opened at all from the hit as they continued walking. "Wally, tell me no one saw that."
"Yeah, you're clear. I blocked the cameras for ya too."
"Oh, thank you man."
"Yeah. Just don't lose it like that again. I'd rather not make it a habit for covering brutality cases."
"You think I went to far with the knife?"
"Nah, he was resisting."
"Aha! See? It does come in handy."
"You want me to put that statement in the report when I write it?"
"Wha-? No..."

Wally smiled. "Let's nab a report file and head off to the lounge. We'll write it there." They passed by the front desk of the massive lobby of the CPD station. It was a pretty impressive set up, though it was to be expected of something recent. The woman behind the marble desk handed them a file. "Thanks, Grace." They continued on toward the lounge. "Okay run by what you remember. Step by ste--" He noticed a smile on Jonas' face. "What?" He didn't say anything. "What?" Wally repeated, slightly annoyed.
"Heh. What? You didn't notice her smiling at you?"
"What? You think she has a thing for me? She smiles at everyone, now would you please focus? First thing that happened was..."
"We heard a weapon discharge from inside the store."
"Right. Heavy caliber--Hey Lieutenant," Wally said to Lieutenant Resnik who was nearby as they passed the second set of holding cells. "Anyway, sounded heavy; probably the store keep's shotgun."

They grabbed an empty table and opened the blank portfolio. "That's when the three stooges bailed out of the store."
"Yeah. You chased the one, I went after the other Moe and Larry. What happened to the first guy." Jonas held up one finger then pointed at his jaw. "Ouch. Right in the kill zone."
"Yeah, he rushed out from behind the trash bin and I had no choice."
"Wait...you fired more than one round?"
"Yeah I think so. You I remember firing off one round. You got a clean kill."
"Lemme see your gun."

Jonas handed over his M6. Wally pulled the mag out and checked it from the side. Just one was missing from the twelve round magazine. He then checked his own magazine, He too thought he fired off at least two rounds. "Shit..."
"What?"
"We both only fired off one round."
"Throughout that entire thing?"
"Yeah...Weird isn't it?"
"Guess in this city we're use to full on gun fights. Just a typical fooking thug run this time around."

"Dammit. I know." He dropped the pen and leaned back in his chair. "This city's got me looking over my shoulder, thinking that I fired off a round every time I gunned up and even has me writing a request for more firepower from the cage."
"They finally accept it?"
"Yeah they couldn't ignore me for long."
"No shit. You know what they;re giving you? No rifle I hope."
"Hell no. Not on the streets. I'm expecting an M7. Hopefully by tomorrow if time serves me."
"Fook, man. Magnums are one thing, but a sub machine gun." He took a sip of water from his cup. "I'm beginning to now think my attitude in this kind of work to be somewhat acceptable now."

Wallace chuckled a bit, shaking his head. This was modern day Chicago; a sub machine gun was something that should've been in just about every patrol car, he thought. After the Human-Covenant war, all kinds of surplus hit the streets. Contraband weaponry fueled gangs from soldiers who were willing to make a few extra credits. On top of that, there were extremists who opposed being allies with the alien species even though there wasn't much of a covenant presence in Chicago anyway.

"Fuck this," Wally said, dropping the pen into the folder a second time. "I'm starving."
"Ya, I can go for food right now too."
"Alright. Let's go out, grab something to eat, we'll fill this out there." They stood up and left the station. "I cannot think on an empty stomach, I tell ya." They walked under the dimly lit parking lot of the station to their patrol car when suddenly their radios cackled to life. "God--"
"Dammit..."

"Any available units near Twenty-first and Addison, please respond."
Jonas grabbed hold of Wally's wrist before he could toggle his receiver. "Don't do it, Pek. For the love of Christ, man."
"Jonas....get your hand off me. The Watch Commander's right there, we have to take this. That's just down the road."
He reluctantly released him "Shit!"
"Officer Pekwarsky and van Wyk on station. Go ahead central."
"Fook, man."

"Getting reports of a disturbance coming from a warehouse on Twenty-first and Addison. Think you can check it out, Wally? It'll be saving us a lot of trouble."
"Jinx town..."
"Aw, fook."

"Jinx town" was the nick name given to the warehouse sector in their district. It used to be a place filled with gang activity until one day it all just ceased. The report that authorities gave to the press was that the gangs just relocated because some rivals must have found their home base out. The truth was that no one, not even the police, knew what had happened to them.

He clicked his receiver again. "Yeah, we'll take care of it. Let's go, Jonas."
Jonas pointed an annoyed finger at Wally after flicking his breach shield back down on his helmet. "You're buying once we finally eat."
"Deal."

[Oracle]

(Wow Oro, I'm running outta compliments)
There was a girl, admitted into the hospital, in urgent need of a heart transplant. The name of the girl was Nathalie, and she was 11 years old. She was put on the fourth floor, and her parents were staying on the third floor. Nathalie had her operation, and was expected to stay in the hospital for several days.
On the first night, Nathalie woke up, at about three in the morning, and a voice echoed from inside her. “I’m outside the hospital, I want my heart back.” Natha shrugged it off as a dream, and fell asleep again.
However, the second night, she woke up again, at the same time. The same, echoey voice seemed to come from inside her, but outside at the same time. “I’m on the ground floor, I’m coming to get it.” Natha thought it was a dream again, and fell back asleep.
The next night, the same thing happened. “I’m on the first floor, I’m coming to get you.” Nathalie was scared now, but was sure it was just a nightmare.
The following night, she wasn’t so sure. Natha heard “I’m on the second floor, I want my heart back.” Natha ran downstairs to her parents room. She shook them awake, petrified, but they told her it was a dream.
“I’m on the third floor, I’m coming to get it.” Nathalie was too scared to warn her parents, but nothing happened. The next morning, she asked about the person who had donated their heart. A fifteen year old girl had been shot in the stomach, while revenging her brother’s death. She had died at three in the morning
“I’m on the fourth floor, I’m coming to get you.” Nathalie looked around fearfully, and the echoey, high pitched voice spoke again. “I’m infront of the door, I’m getting my heart back.” Natha grabbed her duvet and climbed into the wardrobe, closing it behind her, petrified. She pulled the duvet over her head. “I’m infront of the wardrobe, I’ve come to get you.” The wardrobe door opened. The duvet was lifted, and Natha closed her eyes. “I’m… In you.”

[Killjoy.]

REPORT OF “SLENDERMAN”
DATE: 4 JUNE 2002
TO: Doctor Roberto Carlisle
SUBJECT: New Information

It seems as though one of the inmates has named themselves “Slenderman” and is harassing as well as murdering some of the inmates. Some inmates have lost their minds more then they have before and now have to be detained in a windowless room. Though we do this and lock the door, it still seems as though “Slenderman” finds a way in and kills the poor men. Everytime a murder occurs, a tape shows up. I have noticed the numbers on the tape slowly add up the more and more murders happen. I do not know why this man is doing such a thing, but it is one sick game. I am going to find the tape and watch it to see what the fuss is about, and maybe this will attract the killer near me.

Dr. Francis Drake.

After Drake finished his report, he got up from him computer and waited for the creeping computer to send the message.
He grabbed his cup of coffee and stood in front of the long and large window, staring out it in a daze. He was thinking, hard. It seemed as though the tape led the killer to his next victim. So, maybe that’s what he needed to do.
Be preyed upon, to begin preying.
He took a long sip of his coffee then set it down on a table near him. His plan was a very, very dangerous one.
He decided to interrogate the inmates one on one to see if they were the soon-to-be victims of this Slenderman. It was prohibited that any doctor or nurse enter the room without someone else with them, but he knew he was okay.
Tazers can do wonders sometimes.
His eyes shifted to the computer, seeing if the message had sent. It did, so that meant he was going to have to go off on his dangerous quest soon. After everyone else leaves, of course.
In the mean time, he sat in his chair, his finger in a gun-shaped position and resting it against his lips, deep in thought of the events that had happened here.
The first event was of the schizofrantic man, second was a serial killer and the third…disappeared. There was no trace of the man with a split personality.
The doctor also wondered, was there an accomplice with this Slenderman? It would make sense, but it seemed like there was only one.
He heard the last person leave the building so that meant it was time for him to go out into the unknown. He grabbed his gun and shoved it in his pocket then held the tazer in his hand. He was just going to have to hide it behind his back if he had to go inside the cell.
He turned the lights out in his office and closed the door behind him, locking it. Then, he started walking to the inmates quarters.

After he arrived in the eerie hallway, he inspected the rooms. Half of them were either asleep or huddled up in a corner, their eyes wide. The rest were either talking to themselves or throwing a tantrum. Only a bit farther and he would reach the rooms where the real crazies were…And where Slenderman’s next victims were kept.
He, unfortunately, had to open the doors to see if they were still in there. This was about the most dangerous part, which made him turn his tazer on. The first didn’t do anything, the second almost clawed his face off trying to get out and the third screamed and hurled himself against the back wall. Though, after seeing whom it was, he calmed down. This one must be the paranoid one.
“Hello.” Dr. Drake said.
“Uh.” The inmate murmured under his breath.
“I have a few questions for you.”
“Um…O-okay…”
“Do you know a man who calls himself Slenderman?”
The inmate’s eyes widened and he went into a fit. He thrashed, cried and shook violently. He was absolutely petrified at even mentioning the name.
“Calm down, calm down. It was only a question.”
“NO!” He shrieked. “Get OUT of here! GO! Leave me ALONE!” He approached the doctor, which immediately made him leave. But the worst part was, he heard the man scratch and pound at the door, desperately trying to get out and get to the doctor.
Damn, he must really be scared of this guy.
The next of Slenderman’s prey was in the cell next to him. So, the doctor went into the next cell and opened the door, peeking his head in.
The same reaction. The inmate threw himself against the wall and let out a screech of fear.
“It’s okay, it’s only me.” The doctor said comfortingly.
The inmate took a deep breath and relaxed but then stared at the doctor in slight fear. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to ask questions.”
“About the man?”
The doctors eyebrow raised. “What man?”
“Slenderman.”
“Well…Uh, yes. How did you know?”
He shrugged. “It was a hunch.”
“Right, yes. Well, why is he called Slenderman?”
The inmate shrugged again. “I dunno. He just is. But he’s stalking me and Frankie.”
Frankie must’ve been the guy who freaked out on him. “He’s stalking you? Why?”
“We saw him.”
“You saw him?”
“Yeah. On the video.” He pointed to the VCR.
“Why do you say that?”
He shrugged…again. “He only comes after the people who watch the video. Who see him…it. Whatever it is.”
“Do you know where the video is?”
“Yeah, I still have it.” The inmate bent down and lifted a part of the padded floor, pulling out a ruined tape.
“Can I have it?”
His eyes widened and he clutched onto the video. “No! You can’t have it. He’ll come after you too.”
“No he won’t. He’s just a psycho serial killer. That’s all.”
The inmate stared at him wide-eyed. “You’ve never seen him. He’s not an ordinary man. He can soak through cracks in the wall and ceiling. And he has really long arms and legs and no face.”
The fear on the inmates face sent a chill through the doctor. He cleared his throat. “Well, I won’t watch it. I just want to have it so nobody else can watch it.” He lied smoothly.
The inmate stared at him some more, then hesitantly handed him the tape. “Now leave. Before he comes back to get me and Frankie.”
Dr. Drake stared at him for a second and left immediately, closing and locking the door up tight. He wasn’t going to get that guy anytime soon.
Dr. Drake went straight to his office to watch the tape. What the inmate said was ridiculous; there was no such thing as a man who looked like that. He looked at the tape. The number had changed; it said 10 now. He slid into his office and locked the door behind him and sat down, putting the tape into the television and sitting back, watching it carefully.
It started out as a tape that looked ruined, but then it switched to an inmates cell. The inmate with schizophrenia was sitting in his cell. It was really nothing out of the ordinary. Then, it changed. The inmate looked like he was screaming and pressed his back against the wall.
Then he heard two loud screams echoing down the hallway.
He stood up, turning off the TV and running out of the room and down the hallway with his gun in hand. By the time he got to the cells, the screams had stopped.
He looked in the cells; Frankie was mangled. He knew the same thing had happened to the other inmate. He looked inside of his cell but nothing was there.
A shadow passed quickly by the cell while he was inside. He quickly ran out and looked around in the hall.
Nobody was there.

[Yay for an abrupt ending xD]

[Immo, I absolutely love your stories. xD Most of them I have to read them more then once to get it but still, they're really, really good and interesting. And Oro, I'm in love with your stories :3 The newest one is amazing, as all the others]

[Oracle]

(Wow, that was sooo creepy, You, they're really good.)
(Ahh, I have writers block right now, might take a while to write the next one. Any ideas on how to blow up a volcano.)

[x!ECOfriendlyEMOkid!x]

[lol i got one but its like REEEEAAAALLY long. ill rewrite it on my comp then copy and paste it later.]

[The Oro]

Jinx town was dead quiet when Wally and Jonas arrived on scene. The only source of light was the flashing bar at the top of their police interceptor. The both of them almost seemed hesitant to leave their car, or at least leave anywhere within ten feet of it. Wally looked over his car at van Wyk, who hadn't even closed his door yet. He finally pulled his stare off of the warehouse and connected with Wally's gaze.
"What?"
"You gonna move or what?"

Jonas shrugged, somewhat in protest before his partner waved him toward the building. Wally could hear the officer sigh beneath his helmet as he finally took point toward the warehouse. The two of them kept their hands on their holstered weapons. Normally, as Jonas would often advise against, keeping one hand on your weapon in populated areas gave people the wrong idea, made them feel unsafe. Jinx town was different because no one was really around. If someone was there, then they probably shouldn't be, and could just as easily be hostile. That was the number one reason Jonas hated the place. He pulled out his LED mag light, clearing the path of the darkness to reveal nothing else but grass, scattered garbage and blood droplets. Blood...

Without moving another step, Jonas felt his hand tense up over his pistol grip. Wally saw his partner's hesitation but he didn't get the message until Jonas looked back at him with a cold implicating expression. Almost simultaneously, their M6Gs were drawn from their sides. Wally pulled his own mag light out and doubled his hands up with the regular "Harry's technique," resting the wrist of his gun hand on that of his support hand with the flashlight.

"No body," Jonas whispered. Wally shined his light up the side of the building slowly, noticing a few small streaks of blood dried up on the wall. Jonas was pointed to the source by his flashlight. Still no visible body, but the landing beneath one of the windows on the top floor sure as hell had a pool of blood for it to be dripping over the side. "Should we call it in?" Wally simply put one finger over his breach shield and shushed him. "Pek! Come on, man!"

"Quiet. Someone else might still be here." With that, he nodded Jonas to the entrance. Jonas wanted to curse, but all that came out were angrily slued, incoherent word fragments.

The place was starting to look more and more like a haunted house rather than a derelict industrial zone. They almost didn't want to go inside the building. But, reluctantly, they approached the door anyway. Jonas gently nudged the door open with his foot, following the door's opening with his flashlight to clear the room. As the two moved in, their lights slowly dragged across the open, searching for something, anything. Just something to yield and answer. "You smell that?"
"Mhm..."

Gunshot residue. It had that sulfuric, burned power kind of smell. Someone had been firing off shots in there. Wally noticed a blinking node on the wall. "A standby light?"

"Wha--?" Jonas looked at what Wally was nodding at, shining his light on the panel. "That's a utility panel. Manager uses it to operate the building's machinery." Wally remained silent, looking in the direction of the panel. "I don't know why it's on though. Power shouldn't be running to this part of the--"
"Wyk..." Wally said, calmly, keeping his gaze on the wall.
"What now?"
"Pan left with your light...eight feet from the panel."

Jonas did as he was instructed, shining his mag light left of the panel. There were a few old factory bulletins pinned up along with a calendar. "What? Miss November?"
"The floor, Jonas..."

Officer van Wyk laughed, shaking his head as he shined his light down on the floor. His smile soon faded as he saw the body. "Oh..."
"Yeah." Wally muttered as he went for his receiver to call backup.
"How the fook did I miss that?"

[Oracle]

(Ok, this is the first part of an assignment which I've been writing. It is a fictional memoir about a black slave in the Southern states of America.)
WARNING: Contains graphic and somewhat rascist content. This does not show my opinion on the matter at all. Ok?

----------------

Jambo, I am Bartholomew Isaacs. Well, actually, I’m not, that’s just the name my master, Dr. Snell, gave me. My real, Kenyan name is Brevarlly Wesongo. I am 18, and if I get spotted writing, I will almost definitely be hung. You see, I’m left handed, and with my already ‘lower’ status, they would kill me. I write this is in the hope that my great grandchild, if I ever have one, will not be forced to work the way I am being forced to.
As you may have read earlier, I am from Kenya; however, my name is all that reminds me of that country. I was taken from my family when I was seven, and I arrived in the Caribbean at the young age of eight. Then, instead of speaking my native tongue, Kiswahili, I was forced to speak English. That was when I spoke, which was rare.
And if an emotion could be a colour, all my memories from back then were painted with dark, black, fear.

I write this in the hope someone; indeed anyone will see the cruelty of what’s happening to us. That is why I shall tell you the exact details of what happened. I don’t remember much, apart from the capture itself. The most painful thing was I knew the man who took me and my elder sister. He was the son of our chief, and he was carrying some kind of object which looked like a tube of steel with a block of wood on the end, I was told later this was a musket. I’d been sold for a musket. A weapon of war! I was absolutely petrified, and that is the main thing I remember. “Watcha!” I remember hearing my parents screaming. Which means ‘Stop it’ in my native tongue, Kiswahili.

We were bound and forced to walk hundreds and hundreds of miles, and more people joined us as we went along. I travelled through lands that I’d never even heard of, before arriving at a vast body of water. It was immense. I had heard legends from merchants and travellers about the ocean, but I’d never believed them before that moment. It’s impossible to explain how huge it was. And it was also so deep; it looked as if you would never reach the bottom. Then, we were put in cages as if we were ferocious beasts. Several people died of disease. We were given salty water, certainly from the ocean, which caused more issues. The food was filthy, and we were often beaten. But the worst thing of all was the fear. Fear that hung in the air like poison, as we wondered what our future would be like, if we ever had one.

One morning, we were pulled out our cages and put on display, women, children, men and many disabled, both mentally and physically. Men walked round us, with odd proportions and hairstyles. Their skin was like cow milk, white, and in patches red, where they had burned. They inspected people, pushed them, behaved outrageously. We were like cattle in a market. I was certain, even at my young age that we were being chosen for slaughter, for cannibalism. They picked me up, tossed me around, to see what I was worth. I could feel my sister trembling at my side, and she was no older than 14 herself. Then, we were moved, moved to the docks, towards a great, ugly beast of a ship. How was it possible, for such a thing to float? It must have been magic of some description. Had the white men stolen the powers of our ancient leaders? Fear made my body quiver. Now, I was sure I had entered the company of devils.

We were walked aboard, and I was separated for my sister. I screamed and struggled; I needed to get to my only connection with my home country. Tears streamed down her face as one of the white men, one too fond of the whip, smacked it across my back. I collapsed, and I was pushed into a cramped room with several other boys. We were each allocated 5 feet 6 inches in length, and 16 inches in breadth. Everyone had that amount of space; no one cared whether it was too little. Each day, we were given 1 pint of water, some yam and horse beans. It was barely enough to keep someone alive, but they managed it. Several people tried to refuse food, but their mouths were forced open by some device called a speculum oris. The conditions were sickening, as the human waste piled up, disease and infection spread. The only moments were living conditions were stand able was when we were brought onto the deck so they could ‘clean’ the living quarters. What they really did was soak the place with salty water. Those were the few times I saw my sister. She and the other girls were often forced to walk around naked, to the delight of the sailors. They could be whipped for not doing so, too. Fear smothered our hopes on this horrid journey.


(Oro, as usual, I loved yours.)

[PeppermintxKiss]

(Immo I LOVE your writing.!)
(also I would post mine but there all rather crap. oh well the worst you can do is flame me.)
(I wrote this for a competition on rasing suicide and self mutilation awareness in school)

She always felt like she was running from everything all the time, I guess I could understand how she felt, now that
she lay there, alone and cold,in the cold dark soil.Anna was dead, nothing anyone could have done to save her, but
the one thing she was promised that when she was gone someone would tell her side of sufferings, she never told
anyone, but was there for everyone and in the end it was this that partly killed her.

Anna Wiseacre died 24th August 2005, this is her story.

She woke up on Friday morning, and got ready for school only a few days left till summer, not that it made a
diffrence wether she was at school or not, she had no mates so made no diffrence.Anna walked down the cold
floorboarded stairs, and went into the kitchen to make her dinner for school, her mother had already left for work.
So she made her dinner, packed it into her school bag and ate her breakfast. It was 7am and she would have to leave
for school soon, every morning at 7:15 am she would set off and walk 1/2 a mile to the local bus stop to get into
the town to catch the school bus, it really did suck to live this far from her school.So she began her Hour and
fifteen minute daily journey to school, if she could she wouldn't go but she had no choice so got on with it.

Anna walked into school at 8:30am, just before the bell rang for form time, she sat at the back in the corner,
trying to keep out of the drama with the other people, she usually knew what was going on and from time to time she
would help them out, they wouldn't appreciate it and usually backfired on her, but she still tried her best.
Many times had she just sat there dreaming in her own little world till the end of form, she did this today.As she
was making her way to first class someone noticed her and walked in the opposite direction, everyone hated her, she
practically had no friends, she tagged with some girls but she knew they didn't want to be around her. It was
Josie's 14th Birthday party and all the other girls in her small friendship group got invited, she knew she
wouldn't not after the year before at Kayleigh's when she got blamed for breaking Libby's phone, it didn't bother
her she hadn't ever been invited to a party and she knew the monday after that would be all they would talk about.

Lessons passed and she went to lunch with her small group of friends, if she could call them that.Demi, wasn't happy
so as usual, Anna helped her and sorted it, whenever they fell out which was often enough. This weekend was going
to suck because her mother was out all weekend with work. So she was going to be alone, if she had been invited to
the party it wouldn't have been as bad, but she wasn't which was no surprise to her.

The end of the day came and Anna walked home on her own, all the way because she didn't have enough money, it took
her a hour and fortyfive minuets to get home, which wasn't too bad. When she got home she started on her mountain
of home work and made herself some tea and had a early night.About 11pm she had a call from Shanice, one of her
friends they were drunk and telling her how much of a amazing time they were having without her, she put the phone
down and cried into her pillow all she wanted was a best friend who no one would take her away from.She just wanted
this one thing more than anything.The weekend was slow and boring, Sunday night her mother returned home, and she
didn't look too good, so she asked what was up and it turned out she had lost her job. This meant even harder times
were ahead, Anna was ashamed that she couldn't help at all. She was used to not having much money but it was going
to be even less now and no one would see that she was just like those who people give money to charities for.

Growing up in a 3 bed council house with 7 people was not Anna's idea of a good life she was the oldest in her 5
siblings. She was the one who got the blame for everything, they sometimes stayed at there gran's but even now they
couldn't anymore.Her life sucked and there was nothing she could do about it, so instead of moaning she just got on
with it, her life continued like this, everyone at school would hit her, call her and never like her. All her friends
turned on her and she hated it. On the evening of the 24th of August she finally called she had, had enough so on her
way home from school, she stood infront of a truck adn let it hit her, in her hand read a note saying:

Dear whoever may care,

If you are reading this it means I am dead.I never wanted it to come out this way, but I didn't want anyone to
have to worry about me, you all have your own problems and I know that, so no one will worry if I am gone. You
may one day understand but if not , well it doesn't matter.

Anna. x


She was buried on the 26th August when her body was released from the morgue and was finally at peace.
Most people have problems, she just didn't and couldn't cope with hers.Suicide is selfish and does nothing but hurt
everyone who does care, at the time it may not seem like anyone does, but somewhere deep down, people do care even
if they might not show it too well. Don't make the same mistake she did

[Oracle]

(Wow, that was really touching. I actually have the same problems as her, and I really enjoyed reading a story like that.)

One night, there was a storm. The ship tossed and turned, and several cries of “All hands on deck!” Adding to the filth around us, several people threw up of sea-sickness. I thought the wrath of the water spirit had come to drown us. I heard footsteps above me, and muffled voices. One man, who I knew as the captain was speaking, not hiding what he was discussing. The wood they stood on wasn’t thick enough to muffle their voices, and the first mate replied. Then, I deciphered what they were saying, and I wretched again: They were discussing whether or not they could claim insurance if they threw the ‘cargo’ overboard. I shivered in pure fear, certain I was about to feel rough hands lift me up and throw me into the ocean. Then, they talked about the uproar in some place called Great Britain when some other ship had tried that.
In that storm, we got very damp, as well as covered in human waste and vomit. I felt the boy beside me shivering…The next morning he died of pneumonia. The captain claimed the boy had walked onto the deck in the storm, but I knew he hadn’t, because he had been beside me.

Of course, then, some people managed to co-operate with one another and there was a rebellion. My poor, poor sister was involved by accident, and several bangs later, I saw her limp and bloody body get thrown overboard. It seemed, in my eyes at least, to slow down time. Every second became a minute after that moment, until we arrived. This had been one of the days I’d been brought upstairs for exercise. I ran to the port side of the deck, and saw her still twitching body sink, sink, into the bottomless blue, now tinted by red. Chaos broke loose, and several people still tied down were trampled, before the men with whips came. Every man still bound was whipped 10 times, and anyone free from their irons were whipped 30. I still have scars from then. Afterwards, I was asked, uh, demanded, to clean the deck. Several men, women and children were dead, still lying in their pools of blood on the deck. I arrived at the one which I knew, by some instinct, was my sister’s blood. A small, metal thing lay in it, a bullet. That was the day fear replaced every single emotion, apart from the mourning for my sister. My tears didn’t stop flowing for days, though I had to hide them, unless I wanted to be whipped.

One night, we heard loud explosions, in the far distance. They came closer, and suddenly the whole ship tipped sideways, and screams of terror came from everywhere. I noticed this trickle of water running down the ceiling. Several loud explosions came from above, leaving an unpleasant ringing in our ear. Another thud hit the ship, making the wood creak in protest. The ship swung again, and human waste fell covering my head; I began to suffocate. Several more explosions from our side later, it fell silent. Then, several men came running round the ship, looking for holes. One man, tipped a bucket of salty water of my face, and I choked, coughing up human waste and salty water…At least I could breathe again. This same man didn’t give me my pint of water, because he said he’d already given it to me. The cruelty balanced out his previous kindness, and I was once again convinced he was a demon.

Finally, after months of torture, we arrived. We were put in pens, like cattle. No distinction was made between age, gender, or race. No one in my pen spoke Kiswahili, so I spent most of the time in silence, curled up, hiding the tears. After a week or so, I had recovered from the shock of the conditions on that ship, and the loss of my sister. That was the day I saw a young lady holding a baby, who was as old as the ship journey. She had been moved from another pen, and was now singing softly in Kiswahili…I remember the lyrics: Rasilimali ya mnyonge ni Umoja, Wananchi wote tulinde mashamba kwa pamoja, Wananchi wote tufanye kazi zetu kwa pamoja, Umoja ni nguvu, Wanyonge tuungane, Shirikiane wote kwa pamoja, Rasilimali ya Mnyonge ni Umoja. It was a song of unity, and reassured me. I sat beside her, and hummed with her, before we began to converse. This was a small spark of hope that life wouldn’t be too hard on me.

[The Oro]

xXx~♪aint breathing♪~xXx : That was really powerful. I can seriously relate to what you were saying in the last part. I've known a lot of people who've experienced some kind of a loss from suicide. It just doesn't make any sense to act as selfish as that.

Immo: I'm glad that you're not holding back details in your story. There just isn't any way you can candy-coat something like that and make it extremely reader friendly. The story reminds me of when we had to watch Amistad in our US History class. It's disturbing to think of slavery being a chapter in human history. Very impressive work.

[Oracle]

I agree, on topics like this, I would be extremely irritated if anyone tried to sugar coat it. I'm actually glad our history teacher gave us all the facts, not trying to protect us like some teachers do/have done. I can't believe it was the norm, or even considered acceptable. And thank you. The next part may take a while, because I've had several new ideas for the plantation part.

[Chica]

Kasey's Slenderman stories, and Immo's horror stories reminded me of creepy pastas at one point. I love creepy pastas. XD They made me want to write one. The Clown story is my favourite in the whole topic, so far.

And, I was really hoping for more of the Halo story, because I thought it might have finished, because the Halo stories I've seen/read so far have been really short. That story is awesome. >.< It makes me unable to wait for the rp. XD

Those last two stories were...I can't explain it. lol. They made me feel sad, because those are both issues that people deal with/had to deal with. Although I, and everyone has probably known someone who has committed suicide/attempted it, it's still really shocking to think that someone would actually get to that point. And, it's even more shocking/sickening that people were so cruel in the past.

>.< All the stories were amazing. I actually had more to say about each of them, but it took so long to get to reply, that I forgot what I was going to type.

I FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINALLY finished chapter two of my fanfic: http://www.fanfictio...2/King_of_Celes
-.- Gomenasai.

[The Oro]

If you're talking about the Halo story I wrote that had actual military characters, then yeah, that's not continuing, at least not for a long while. The other one that I'm posting in here is still going on, these two police characters are just from a different perspective in the story.

By the way, Nat, I finally finished reading chapter two. Sorry, my short attention span and constant interruptions caused me to take forever lol. The ending was kinda left a little open, like you were trying to rush that last sentence out but it was good. I can't wait for the next chapter.