8.28.2011

Broken Little Toys

I'd like to make this clear. I'm not a little girl, nor an insane freak you can fuck around with whenever you like. I'm what amounts to a scribe, not some broken little toy. You aren't going to find me and play with me until you get bored. I'm not going to stop what I'm doing just because you say a mean thing, or think I'm something I'm not. It doesn't work that fucking way. I might get along with His children all damn day long and that's fine. I don't mind talking to Runners or Fighters or Proxies or what the fuck ever. None of this gives my followers, or anyone else for that matter, permission to come and try to mindfuck me or hurt me.

If that's all you're here to do, you can get over yourselves. You aren't that goddamn important. You are just as low on the totem pole as I am. Any moment you could die or be exchanged for "a newer model." Everything we do is just to make our lives extend that much longer. Maybe it's even for those we care about. It doesn't matter in the end. We are all going to die. What I write is intended to help people. Not be your gossip rag or something to use to get inside my head. I'm not putting up with this goddamn bullshit anymore. Either be civil and treat me like a human being or get the fuck out.

I have said it so many times, I should put it in the blog description. I don't care who you are or what side you are on. I just want respect. I ultimately would like to stay friendly with anyone I can. I'm trying so hard not to judge anyone, but it seems like that's all that's happening to me now. I don't know how to fix the situation besides to enforce a new rule: treat me with the golden rule, or I simply won't acknowledge what you say or do. I don't want to fight. I don't want to be raped, or hurt, or kidnapped, or have some insane person following me just to find that opportunity.

For anyone that wasn't around for the comment war, I'm sorry for this. I really am. You can probably just ignore it and go on with whatever you were doing. I have to do something, or else I'm going to wind up being a supernatural doormat. I really, really don't want to wind up that way.

8.27.2011

My First Interview

Yesterday was... strange. After I finished writing the post about Morningstar, I got an email from an address I didn't recognize. Considering that one of my emails is public on my profile, I didn't think anything of it. Maybe a message from one of the Ladies or something. I opened it, and my jaw dropped. I damn near shut the computer and went to sleep, it freaked me out badly enough. Apparently, one of my followers told KK Collins about the Morningstar post. She had read it (and apparently a few of the others), and recognized her being mentioned. Among some of the more colorful phrases written, there was a simple demand. To meet her somewhere public, unarmed. The details and her description were there, but no explanation as to why the hell she was even interested.

I slept badly that night. I had heard horror stories about KK, and what I did know for sure was the fact that she was scary. As hell. I hadn't gone and read her blog, which I dearly started to regret by the time the meeting rolled around. What happened while I was there, well... let me put it this way. Looking back, I realized I fucked up a lot of shit in that 'interview', or whatever you want to call it. I was so damn worried about meeting this woman outside of the internet I acted like a complete bitch to try and make up for it.

You can imagine how well that went. I made my way to the restaurant she had picked out for me, and walked in thinking I'd have to wait for a while. I'm normally early to these kinds of things, but to my surprise she was already seated at the table. She was glaring at the door with a cold expression, like I had spoiled her day by showing up. I walked over and sat down across from her, setting my pen and paper on the table. What follows is the conversation from that point on.

Me: "I'm going to go ahead and assume you are KK. The email you sent was rather... descriptive."

KK stared at me, eyes half-closed and not quite threatening. Her voice was flat, and quiet. "Yeah, well...I wanted to be sure you knew what to look for."

Me: "you are hard to miss. So, why all the conditions? Why meet me to begin with? I could have told you anything you wanted to know through the email. This is a bit unnecessary."

KK: "Yeah, well, I needed some sunlight."  She was clearly being sarcastic, since it was raining outside.

Me: "Okay, first off, you are the one that asked us to come here. You can cut the bullshit now. If I wanted to hurt you, it would have already happened. I don’t care about that stupid shit."

KK was irritated, still staring at me like I'd stabbed her cat. She hadn't blinked in over a minute. "Keep talking to me like that and I'll put you in the hospital. If you think I can't, you are even stupider than your blog makes you seem. If you MUST know, I wanted to talk to you because I wanted for ONCE to talk to someone who hasn't seen Him yet."

Me: "Oh wonderful. Insult me. Thats a great way for me to get to know you."

 KK: (snarky) "It really is, since I do it to everyone."

Me: "Okay, for someone thats been hurt as badly as you, you are just a tad bit aggressive. Would you like to explain why you are talking to a complete stranger that way, or should I start assuming things?"

KK: "What, you think EVERYONE who's been abused turns into a shrinking violet?"

Me: "No. I personally think it makes them stronger, or breaks them until they're no better than Hollows. But that's an opinion. I came here out of good faith. Not for you to test me or act like I'm the boogeyman."

KK: "If I thought you were the boogeyman I'd be trying to kill you. And I'm not testing you. "Testing" people is worthless. You never know if someone will betray you until they DO. So why do not you quit assuming you KNOW me and how I think?"

Me: "You know what? That's a great idea. YOU tell me who you are, and how you think."

KK nodded slightly, her expression not changing. "Fine. Ask a question. What do you want to know?"

Me: "At the end, if I'm wrong, I'll apologize. Why did they hurt you so badly? Morningstar... he mainly just gloated. And acted like a psycho. Can you tell me the real reason? Please?"

KK: "What, the reason they hurt me? It might've had something to do with the fact that I'd barged in with a gun and with full intent to kill them all."

Me: "Okay, what made you go after them? How did you even get involved with the Slenderman and his Proxies to begin with?"

KK: "I got sucked into this world by sheer bad fucking luck. Followed the wrong guy into the woods. That's all it was. As for why I went after them...they'd taken my sister. They were TORTURING her." Something oddly despairing was in her tone, though it's still flat on the surface. "I had to rescue her. I was always her protector.It was my job."

Me: (dumbfounded) "That's why? What were you even doing following the guy?"

KK: "He looked like a child molester, and he was walking through a playground. I wanted to see what the fuck he was up to."

Me: "Why didn't you just call the police? Or, even better, get other people to go with you?"

KK: "I do not trust the fucking police. And there was nobody else around. I was in Redmond to see a friend."

Me: "That does make sense, unfortunately. They normally do not show up until things are too fucked up for them to fix. So what happened next? You went into the woods after a suspicious guy, and... you saw Slendy?"

KK: "Sort of. First all the tree leaves went black, then the guy yelled at me to get the fuck out of the forest. Then I ran into fucking Redlight. What a prick. He nearly took my eye out."

I listened quietly to her story, rather worried by the mention of Redlight. "The Path of Black Leaves? And who is Redlight? I keep hearing about him, but all I know is he is, was, whatever a proxy."

KK: "I do not know much more about him than that. He was a psycho with some weird powers. And yeah, I guess that was the Path of Black Leaves."

Me: "How long were you in there? Did you get sick, or did you run before it could happen? (A lightbulb goes off in my head as I realize something) you are the one telling the story. I'll shut up for a while, and let you tell it."

KK: "No, the questions are good. I'm having trouble thinking straight lately. It's better if I can tell it one piece at a time. I was only in the Path for a minute or two at most. I didn't even run into Redlight until I was out of the forest. I saw the Suit watching from afar, but didn't interact with him."

Me: "So he didn't mess with you? He left you alone?"

KK: "At the time, yeah."

Me: "So, what you are saying is that wasn't your only encounter with him."

KK: "Right."

Me: "You saw the Slenderman in the distance, but he didnt mess with you. What happened? Did Redlight keep chasing you?"

KK: "No. The guy distracted Redlight and I took off. I'm pretty fast when I'm able to walk. The Suit didn't follow me."

Me: "So what brought you in contact with the Proxies? That one encounter couldn't have been all of it. Especially the kind of hatred you had for them."

KK: "Of course it wasn't. The very next day a Proxy attacked me on my roof. I threw him off. How does someone walk away from an eight-story fall?"

Me: "Well, we know the answer now. Why the hell were you on the roof?"

KK: (annoyed) "I have a rooftop garden. I grow tomatoes."

Me: "Most sane people do not tinker around on their roof willingly. They're generally afraid of falling off."

KK rolled her eyes so hard I could see the whites. Freaky lady. "I live in an apartment building. The roof is flat.  And who said I was sane, anyway?"

Me: "Not I, said the fly.  Anyway. He attacked you, you threw him off.... what next?When did you start doing your research, anyway?"

KK: "I started doing my research after that Proxy showed up. The Suit was following me around pretty regularly at that point, so I wanted to know more about him."

Me: "You act as though you weren't scared."

KK: "I wasn't at the time. I thought it was awesome. I was being followed by otherworldly beings of eldritch horror. It was fun."

Me: "That you had contact with psychopaths and stalkers with fucked up abilities?!"

KK: "Yeah. I'm a weird person, alright?"

Me: "The encounter of nearly being blinded, and nearly being thrown off the roof yourself didn't put you off your game at all?"

KK: "Nope. I've had worse. I've DONE worse."

Me: "Of course you have. It fuckin' figures, these days." I begin to look around nervously.

KK acts almost amused. "Well, look at Little Miss Cynical. You have no fucking IDEA how much someone can live through, dear."

Me: "What the hell do you expect? I am just a regular girl. The best thing I have towards self defense is knowing how to shoot a gun. Which, of fuckin' course, doesn't work worth a damn if they've had contact with Slendy.  I mean, the people I speak to on a regular basis have either killed someone, or know magic or some shit. I do not. You can understand why the hell I would be worried. Just coming here was probably a mistake."

KK: "I do not know magic. I just know how to cause lots of pain. And how to run away."

Me: "No, you apparently have some kind of unhealthily high pain threshold. And, I suspect, a good deal of experience in causing that pain. I have a feeling it wasn't all against proxies, either."

KK: "I basically do not feel anything less than being stabbed in a vital organ. And yeah, I have lots of experience, the vast majority of it before any of this happened."

Me: "you are doing wonders for my paranoia, dear. Keep going. I "love" it." I spit this sentence out about as sarasticly as I can. KK was just plain fucking creepy. Death threats just made it worse.

KK: (deadpan) "I live to serve. I can think of seventeen different ways to kill you in the next ten seconds. All of them with my bare hands."

Me: "You know what? Fuck this. I'll go back to writing from behind a computer screen, and you go back to doing whatever the fuck it is you do when you aren't going after proxies."

KK: "Getting myself drunk and wondering why the hell I seem to be a magnet for all the universe's shit. That's what I do when I'm not fighting." She says this quietly, seeming almost vulnerable.

Me: "That seems to be a running theme with Runners. Though... I'd say you are a Fighter. Damn it. Look, why dont you drop the tough girl act for a while?"

KK: (flat) "It's not an act. It's all that's LEFT of me. You'll pardon me if I hang on to it." I wonder at the fact that she said this. She speaks as though she was once the opposite. I do the stupid thing, and keep pressing her. I'm such an idiot.

Me: "It'll be a lot easier to ask the questions if I'm not afraid of you."

KK: "I'M afraid of me sometimes. Why should you be any different?"

I start to panic at this point. She sincerely seemed to me like she were going to hurt me.

Me: "Because I do not have contact with this shit. I write because I want to help people. Not because I feel like putting myself through stupid shit like this with someone that doesn't even want to be here."

KK: "That's what I'm saying. You SHOULD be afraid of me. I'm not a good person. I'm not some romantic hero. I am a broken woman who's willing to do anything necessary to survive. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't have suggested a meeting. The only reason I didn't invite you over to my place was because I do not like people knowing where I live."

Me: "Can you at least stop hinting at the ways you can kill me? Please? I do not know about all of this shit. I have cold, written words to tell me about all of it. I'm not like you, and I do not want to be. I do not want to be afraid all of the time."

KK: "Sorry. And it's good that you do not want to be like me. I do not want people idolizing me."

Me: "If you are sorry, then prove it and stop doing it intentionally. Good faith, remember?"

KK: (expression and voice both flat, unreadable) "Ask your next question."

I sigh and look down at my notes. I'm nowhere near used to dealing with someone like KK. "Tell me where it escalated. Where it went from sightings of the Tall Man and playing with stalker proxies to... what came later."

KK: "You know that saying, "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing"? I fell prey to that. See, I found out that Slender Man doesn't like electricity. I have a friend who used to work at a lightning lab in town. I sort of bribed him into letting us use it for an "experiment", us being me and Derek. We lured Slender Man in, flipped the switch, and hit him with about 4 million amps of pure electric glory. It pissed him off."

Me: "Well, I've heard the Rake doesn't like bright lights. Doesnt mean I'm going to start rigging flood lights to shine in his face."

KK: "Lemme rephrase. The Suit is HURT by electricity. He avoids it like I avoid sea salt and human affection."

Me: "Im sorry, Ive gotta say this. That's not only stupid and suicidal, but it's also heaps of arrogant."

KK: "No shit."

Me: "You thought because you had a little bit of electricity you could bring down a Fear? The granddaddy of them all by one little upstart Fighter? Are you fucking kidding me?"

KK:  (irritated) "You made your fucking point, one that I already KNEW, thank you very much. Move on."

Me: "Fine, fine. You act like "I'm" the sensitive one.."

KK: "Never said I wasn't touchy."

Me: "Okay. So you pissed off the Slenderman with... Derek, you said?"

KK: "Yeah. My husband."

Me: "Your husband? Why isn't he here today?"

KK: "I didn't tell him where I was going. Besides, he works."

Me: "You ran off on your own, to have a meeting with a stranger you had never met. And you didn't tell him. What happens if he comes back early? What the hell do you think he's going to think with you gone, in your condition?"

KK: "He's USED to me leaving for things without telling him. Besides, I left a note. I'm not a TOTAL idiot."

Me: ".....what if I was a Proxy?"

KK: "Then I'd kill you. And do not get mad at me. YOU asked the question."

Me: "Seriously, what if all of this was a trap? You think a note is going to change you being DEAD?"

KK: "You think I wouldn't KNOW it was a trap the moment I saw you?"

Me: "I'm not touching that sentence with a ten foot pole. I do not feel like having my neck snapped."

KK: "Good idea."

Me: "Look, you pissed him off with your husband. What came next? Did you start Running? When did you realize you were in over your head?"

KK: "My sister, Christine, went missing. She lived with us. And no, I didn't go running. I do not run. As far as I knew, she'd just moved back to New York. So I started calling her friends, but none of them had ever seen it."

Me: "Why would she leave without telling you?"

KK: "She was freaked out by me, since I'd been talking about the Suit. Derek didn't even believe He existed until he saw Him at the lightning lab. Anyway, I went to New York to look for her. I DROVE to New York."

I look at her expectantly. There's no way in hell I'd let her leave it at that.

KK sighs to herself. "Turned out she'd been kidnapped. By Andromeda, who you may or may not have heard of."

Me: "Barely. I know.. of her. Mainly because of bouncing around blogs. Why did Andromeda kidnap her? What the hell was the point?"

KK: "To punish me. For daring to attack Slender Man directly."

Me: "What the fuck? Why would she even care?"

KK rolls her eyes again. "She was TOLD to do it by Slender Man himself. Oh, and the psycho thinks she's my mother. My mother's been dead for years."

Me: "do not people come back all the time when in contact with the Slenderman?"

KK: "Yeah, but there's also the problem of her not looking anything LIKE my mother. I'm the spitting image of my mom. Well.....I USED to be, anyway. Andromeda looks nothing like me. And she's British."

Me: "Wonderful. They come in all flavors, do not they?" I try to mutter this under my breath, but something tells me it came out loud than I'd hoped. "So, what, she's another Proxy? How many of them are there?"

KK: "No idea. And I think she's a Revenant. I watched her tear my sister's limbs off bare-handed. Normal people can't do that. So yeah. Long story short, I tried to play action hero and got smacked down. My rescue plan failed, Christine was tortured and murdered in front of me, and I was beaten, tortured, and left to die."

Me: "You seem to be the type to go for revenge."

KK: "Why bother? I got my ass handed to me. And honestly, I can't afford to criss-cross the country, hunting that bitch down."

Me: "Financially or emotionally?"

KK: "Financially. Besides, it doesn't really...." She trails off, staring over my shoulder at the entrance to the restaurant, her eyes glazing over.

I turn and look around, trying to find whatever has her scared. "What? What's wrong? KK! What is it?"

KK mutters under her breath, "Nothing...just thought I saw someone dead and gone..."

I'm shaking at this point, rather worried for the both of us. "Are they there now? Who did you think you saw?"

KK: "Christine. She was watching me. (muttered, still staring out the window) I need vodka. It makes the hallucinations go away. All the eyes, all the darkness, the dead that are on my soul....it makes them all go away."

Me: "Would you like to cut this short? I... I do not think Christine is here, KK."

KK: "I know she's not. I see her, but she's not there. Funny how the brain can contradict itself that way."

Me: "I think your "hallucinations" go a bit farther than the run of the mill shadows on the wall."

KK: "Maybe. But it doesn't matter. They'll come for me someday, I'll bet. They'll wipe out what little of me is left and make me pay."

Me: "What, you expect it to happen? do not you think they've done enough?"

KK: "No. They haven't. It doesn't matter what I do, the eyes are always watching me. Always judging me.  I'm so blind, because my eyes are among the watchers. All I can see is myself, and watching nothing but yourself makes you blind to everything else."

Me: "I'd say look outside of your world before you lose what's left of your life to them. But, I do not know what the fuck I'm talking about."

KK: "No.....no, you do not. I need alcohol." She pulls a bottle of vodka out of her purse, downing half the bottle at once. When she finishes she corks it again, and looks back at me, her eyes slowly un-clouding.  "There."

Me: "Is that what it takes for you to stay sane these days?"

KK: "Pretty much. A Stoli a day keeps the crazy away."

Me: "Is there anything else you aren't telling me? Or anything you particularly want to tell me?"

KK: "Like what? And I never SAID I was sane. You just assumed I was."

Me: "Coherent, then. I do not know what's in your head. I'm still kind of hoping you won't kill me for some random slight against your character."

KK sighed, and began to mutter to herself. "Why does everyone assume I'm THAT hair-trigger?" She begins to speak directly to me. "I'm not going to just randomly kill you. I'm not THAT kind of insane. Look, I do not know what you WANT to know about me. My childhood history? My hopes and fears and dreams? My favorite color and sex position? There's not a lot to me that doesn't involve pain and horrible memories. I'm not a good person, or a nice one, or someone you'd want anyone to know you were friends with."

"The only thing I am is a survivor. A predatory animal. I'm not claiming that's a good thing, but it's what my life has made me. I'm almost incapable of real warmth or emotion. I'm borderline insane. I killed my own father. Granted I had a good reason to do that. But you see my point? I'm not like the other bloggers who act like they're these nice, normal people. I'm not them. I'm something else entirely."

I've been looking down for most of her relevation. I do not know what to do or say, and everything feels awkward. I know I'm going to fuck up, and I do it anyway. "I do not expect you to be a wonderful, sunshiney kind of person. Life isn't all love, hope, and rainbows."

KK: "Good. I'm glad you understand that, at least."

I finally look up.  "But you need to understand something. You do not need to treat me like some kind of interloper, or like you have to constantly look over your shoulder with me."

KK: "YOU need to understand that I'm like that with EVERYONE. I have no ability to trust."

Me: "I'm not one of those sunshiney bloggers. I might act like it most of the time, but I'm not. And I'd like it if you didnt treat me like I was."

KK: "I'm not. But I do not trust anyone. You can't earn my trust because I do not have any trust to be earned."

Me: "I do not care about trust right now. I care about respect. I do expect you to give me that. I have no problem walking out and never seeing you again. I will sleep just fine tonight. But I do not want that. So what's it going to be?"

KK: "NOW who's trying to act like a hardass?" She seems amused, though not smiling. I get the strange feeling that her new "smile" makes it rather difficult for her to truly smile.

Me: "You aren't the only screwed up person in the world, KK. You just have the outside to show for it."

KK: "I know there are more screwed-up people. I know there are people who are more screwed up. But you know what? I've never met one. Other than my father. I suppose I could say this is all his fault."

Me: "Good thing he's dead. This isn't a goddamn pissing contest, KK. Did you WANT to tell me about your father, or do you have a point to prove?"

KK: "(irritated) Tell you what. I'll tell you about my father if you get off your fucking high horse. You want me to talk to you, you have to stop acting like I'm being an unreasonable bitch."

Me: "I'll do that when you stop acting like I'm out to get you or some other shit. you are the one that started with the "I'm a scary bitch" high horse. I just responded."

KK: "And when I tried to drop it, you kept right on going. Goodbye."  She starts pushing herself toward the door, clearly angry and really offended for the first time in the interview.

Me: "Look, wait, please. Please stop. I didn't mean it, okay?"

KK spins the wheelchair around, angry as fuck, every word being bitten out. "BullSHIT you didn't mean it. You meant every word of it. you are STILL assuming that I'm like everyone else, that I'm pretending to be a hardass for whatever reason and that if you just act HARDER I'll break down and turn into some weepy little girl you can sympathize with. It's not going to happen. This is what I am. I used to be more. I used to BE a nice person, at least on some level. I'm not anymore. Now, bitterness and venom and survival instinct are all I have. If you can't understand that, then fuck you."

Me: "I do not think that. I do not want you to be some weepy little girl. You can be someone else, just like a Proxy can change. I'm sorry if I pushed you so hard. I really am. I do not want to act like a hardass, or get into an argument, or make you storm off.  I just want you to for once calm down. I haven't even seen the Slenderman. If there's anyone you could even slightly relax around for that reason, it would be me."

KK: "Yeah, I know. That's why I THOUGHT this would be a nice conversation. Instead you've been nothing but haughty and judgmental. I'm TRYING to be nice. you are getting more niceness out of me than anyone but Derek has seen in a long time. But instead of seeing that and accepting it, you keep trying to take more and more."

I sigh, trying to figure out what the fuck I can do to fix the clusterfuck that was the situation. "Can we just start over personally? Please? I sure as fuck didn't mean to upset you."

KK looks like she's about to bite my head off, but rolls back to the table anyway. "Fine. Let's start over."

Me: "Look, is there a way for me to make it up to you? I'm Dia, I'm a writer, and oh yeah, I fucked up."

KK: "I'm KK, I'm a writer, and I'm fucked up. As for how you can make it up to me....that's not something you'd want to do, I'll bet."

Me: "Depends on what it is."
KK: "Are you a lesbian? Or bi?"
Me: "Actually, yes. Is this relevant?"
KK: "Not really, since I know you won't do it, no matter what I say. We can move on  now."
Me: "-sigh- you are doing it on purpose now."
KK: "No, actually, I'm not."
Me: "Did you want to talk about your father, honestly?"

KK: "Want" isn't the right word. I'm kind of compelled to when people ask. Like maybe sharing it around will make it a little less horrible for me."

Me: "Then go for it. If it helps you, we can talk about it. Technically, we can talk about whatever you want."

KK: "Okay. My father was a preacher. Yes, that makes me a preacher's daughter. I'm actually the middle child of three. All girls. Dad was a fine, upstanding member of the community in public. In private, he was a sadist and a pedophile. He was doing various sexual things to us ever since I could remember, and I can remember back to when I was 4 years old."

I begin to fidget and try not to cry. I fail rather terribly. "When.. when did it stop? When did you finally break free?"

KK: "When I was 16. I finally had enough money for a bus ticket. I had family out here in Portland, so I bought a one-way ticket. No luggage, not even a change of clothes. Oh, and did I mention my father would inflict pain on all three of his daugghters just for the fun of it? And that my little sister is dead, buried in our backyard in North Dakota?"

Me: "No. No, you didn't mention that."

KK: "Yeah. Christine was the oldest, but she....well, she broke when we were still kids. She stopped fighting it. I never stopped. Something in me wouldn't allow me to. Probably the same thing that keeps me going now."

I had a hard time wording what I was about to say. "What was it? Do you know? Or was it just a part of you that wouldn't let go, despite the pain?"

KK: "What, that thing that wouldn't let me stop fighting? (shrugs) I guess I'm just a little more animal than a human has a right to be. Or else I'm just stubborn. The more someone tries to break me down, the harder I fight back. I just.....I guess Stephen King put it best. In the novel "The Stand", Larry Underwood's mother says there's somethig in him that's like biting on tinfoil. I have that same quality. I just do not stop."

Me: "That's a wonderful trait."
KK: "I guess.... Sometimes I wish I COULD give up. It'd make life a lot easier and simpler."
Me: "What about Derek?"

KK rolls her eyes at this. "Not THAT kind of "give up". I'm an atheist. I do not want to die. I just mean I wish I could pull up stakes and walk away from all this. Move to sunny California or something."

Me: "Why can't you?"

KK: "I just....I can't leave until it's over. I can't run away. Running away is cowardice. Running away is giving up, being weak, leaving yourself open to attack. I do not run. I do not run I do not run I do not run....." She repeats this under her breath to herself, like a mantra.

Me: "KK! It's okay. It's okay now, even if it's just for right now."

KK quickly shakes her head, trying to clear the cobwebs from her head. "Yeah. Right. Sorry. That happens sometimes. Brain damage. My brain gets stuck on one thought, like a skipping record. Other times I'll forget what I was saying, or doing. My memory's starting to go out too. And my motor control kind of sucks anymore."

Me: "Isn't there a name for that? I do not remember anymore..."

KK shrugs her shoulders here, with a bored expression on her face. "I dunno."

Me: "I used to research things like that because of the company I kept."

KK: "Hmm. Sounds interesting. I just know it's from taking one too many hits to the head."

Me: "That's... really, really bad. I'm surprised you didn't wind up a vegetable. No offense meant, but... people do not normally survive what you went through."

KK: "I know. I'm ludicrously hard to kill. Want to hear the short list of things I've survived that should've killed me, ESPECIALLY when you add up their effects?"

Me: "Please?"

KK: "Shot twice in the chest and once in the neck, stabbed seven times in various important organs. Drank straight-up bleach. Seventeen suicide attempts by various means. Two rounds of double pneumonia (drug resistant). A three-story fall, during which I bounced off a fire escape and scraped my face against a brick wall while falling at roughly 30 MPH. Four times being hit by cars going at high speeds. Oh, and nearly having my face blown off by a malfunctioning firework. Though that one probably wouldn't have been lethal, just disabling. Like I said, that's the short list."

Me: "I expected a lot more, to be honest. I'm kind of happy the list is that short."

KK: "Yeah. Those are the things that I KNOW should've killed me. There are probably a few hundred other incidents that COULD have killed me."

Me: "A few hundred? Just what kind of life did you lead before the Proxies show up?"

KK: "A shitty one. My family out here didn't want anything to do with me, so I lived on the street. Actually, I just met Derek a few months before all of this started, and that was the first real bright spot in my life."

Me: "How did you meet him? What happened?"

KK: "I think he already told that story on my blog, actually. Basically, he heard my noisy breakup with an ex and came down to see if I was okay. Things went from there."

Me: "Ahhh. That isn't as insane as the rest of your life, at least what you've told me. I'm glad you have him."

KK: "Yeah. He's a good influence, I guess."

Me: "What do the two of you plan to do now?"

KK's eyebrow shoots up, and she gives me a strange look.  "Do I look like a girl with a plan? I'm like a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it."

Me: "What about the mailman?"

KK: "There isn't one. We pick our mail up at the post office."

Me: "Damn it. That would have been a wonderful mental image to carry around."

KK chuckles here, just a little. "Maybe.  How old are you, Dia?"
Me: "Twenty years old."
KK: "Hmm...."
Me: "What is it?"
KK: "Just thinking about how much difference 6 years can make."

I begin to laugh. "You are right. But... just think of the difference one year can make. Then apply that to about a third of my life."

KK's tone changes, sound as serious as I imagine possible. "I won't get to find out. One way or another, Dia, I'm going to be dead before my 27th birthday."

Me: "When is your birthday?"
KK: "June 10th.
Me: "What do you mean by one way or another?"

KK: "I mean either I'll have died of AIDS or some infection or general body dysfunction, or Slender Man or one of his minions will have killed me, or I'll have killed myself because the hallucinations are just too much."

Me: "No regrets?"

KK: "A SHITLOAD of regrets. Pretty much NOTHING but regrets. But thats life. And when I'm dead, I won't remember them."

Me: "That's a hell of a way to live."
KK: "It's all I've got."
Me: "Well, I guess that is it, unless you have anything else you want to say...."
KK: (head shake) "Not really."
Me: "Soo... what now?"

KK: "Now, I guess I go home and you go home. Unless you want to come back to my place and have sex all day." Again, maybe serious, maybe joking. I really do not know how to read this chick worth a damn.

Me: "I do not think your husband would appreciate that."

KK: "Why not? We both slept with Christine. We have an open marriage, and we're both really good about it."

I begin to blink rapidly, halfway believing I had heard incorrectly. "Your sister?"

KK: "Yeah. My sister."

Me: "Okay. Give me a second for that to sink in."

KK sits back, silent. I suppose she was trying to give me my space, but that's just a guess.
I take a moment here, trying to breathe and count to ten. I wasn't sure how she'd react to what I was about to say. "How about we save that for the second date?" I grin to myself and start laughing, halfway expecting her to make fun of me for what I had just said.

KK: (flat) "Are you saying there'll be a first?"

I shrug, still laughing at the absurdity of our conversation. "I'll count this as the first. Talking about death and destruction does wonders for the libido."

KK: "If you say so."

Me: "Tell ya what, next time, I'll even bring flowers." I begin to gather my notes here, somewhat confused as to everything that just happened.

KK: "I do not like flowers. Bring a book. If you are going to bring anything, that is."
Me: "I have King, Koontz, and Narnia, among others. Peace offering, then?"
KK: "That works. Do you have Different Seasons?"

Me: "I have Everything's Eventual. There's quite a few stories in there you should read."

KK: "Alright."

I finish gathering my notes and stand up. "Til next time?"

KK: "Yup. Til next time." She heads for the door, and begins to wheel herself away down the sidewalk, apparently not caring about the rain.

I mumble to myself, "No one knows how to say goodbye anymore..."

I walked away after that, clutching my papers to my chest like they were my lifeline. In a way, they were. My perspective of the Fighters and the victims had changed enormously in the little bit of time I spent there with her. The notes that I wrote down (when we weren't arguing over rather ridiculous things) are what I used to make this post. I can't tell you what I was expecting, I can't tell you even what kind of restaurant we were in. I vaguely remember there weren't that many people, and that the waiter seemed to stay away from our table as if he were just as afraid as I was. Maybe she told him to stay away, to keep the distractions at a minimum. I frankly do not know, or give a damn.

All I can really tell you that's truly important, now that everything is said and done... is that I'm no less afraid. And that now, meeting her, I know I walked myself into a very fucked up situation. KK.. I wish she hadn't been hurt the way she had been. I wish I hadn't been such a snooty bitch. And really, I just wish I'd trusted her a little more. I.. do not really know if interviewing her was the right thing to do. I'm glad I did though, for one reason. I got to see a 'friendly face' in all this... and I got a reality check I do not think I would have gotten otherwise. The kind that you get when it's too late to fix it.

8.26.2011

Morningstar

The Morning Monster Hunter, better known as Morningstar.

Morningstar began as a sadistic killer who had trouble enjoying himself in a society that regarded murder as taboo.   Star went by the name of Luke Cifer, though reacted rather violently to being called "Lucifer." One day he discovered a picture of the Slenderman, and became obsessed with Him from that moment forward. He believed that the Slenderman was his savior, and began to accumulate any and all information he could about Him in an attempt to contact Him. He caught up with Him, and asked to join him. His turning process was painful, yet somehow managed to keep his memories and a great deal of creativity.

For the next few months, he acted in a typical psychotic fashion and mentioned various proxies and victims he intended to play with. Among those mentioned were Redlight, Ava, and the Blake brothers. He amputated Blake's fingers, but yet allowed him to live and keep writing. Sadistic bastard. He spoke about a boy's death, and a proxy by the name of Recessed ordering it to happen. Star began to relapse into Luke at random intervals. You see, Luke wasn't as dead as Star likes to pretend. In an entry of binary, this was deciphered:

"Helpi hear his voice always whispering to me i do not want this anymore please help save me oh god anyone please i just want to be me again i will repent my sins i will confess my crimes i am sorry i am sorry sorry sorry sorry help me please oh god"

After his relapse, he began to need the mask he had scoffed at previously. Luke was punished for relapsing, and went on a temporary leave of absence. After some posturing and insanity, his handler Valtiel hacked his account. Valtiel posted and told Star's followers to choose for him: death, or a life as a Hallow. Later, Valtiel returned to say that Star had been re-Hallowed, and would be allowed a greater degree of autonomy. His converts would become sleepers, and he would become a "Berserker."

At some point Morningstar tracked down Michael Blake and repeated his brother's torture upon him. He then ran into a few friends, visited the families of a few victims...and had a particularly bad run in with the government. He had a small relapse, though it is quickly dealt with. For a while, he collaborated with other proxies and got into some pretty pointless fights. The beginning of his post "Insufferable Pricks" is rather funny, though. By the way, have I ever mentioned the love/hate relationship I have with binary? It is easy to decode (love), but extremely painful to look at (hate.) Star used this code several times over the course of his blog. The Runners better love me for this.... Anyways, the translation involves Star's dead brother:

"oh god it's face it's face those eyes those eyes crimson sapppppp smelled like death woundswoundswounds BLOOD leakedout slowly MAKE IT STOP LOOKING AT MEeeeeee bodies hung in it's branches Terry was there why are you there brother I"

Star and his lackies began to experiment on Runners, with varying results. They tried testing Zombie Powder, and played with dropping anvils on someone's head. This was a direct "Fuck you" statement resulting from a previous commenter referring to him as a Saturday Morning Villain. They also tried an experiment that would make proxyification "much easier." In the same spirit as the anvil experiment, they tied a Runner to train tracks (for science). The humor makes this so much easier to read. Thank you Star, for having a sense of humor. Both experiments failed miserably. Morningstar seemed to have a good deal of trouble with Hesperus, which he believed to have killed/deleted. A comment from Hesperus (in binary, swearing to kill the Slenderman) got Star in quite a bit of trouble, and well... someone else had to take over, since Star was absent.

One of his colleagues, Malacoda, began to write in Morningstar's abscence. Not long after, he was reassigned to Canada. He proceeded to bitch about how cold it was, the Canadians, and Canadian bacon/syrup. Thank god for humor. Around May 1st, Morningstar recovered from his infection and was able to return from his solitary confinement. He then announced the death of Reach. A few days later, Star made a grand speech about how stupid Runners are, and celebrated the greatest Proxy there ever was; Zero, the Runner that killed more Runners in his time than any other creature before him.

Morningstar asked me to make sure to point this out: flaming baby baseball. This sparked a comment/flame war beneath it, which I only skimmed. I laughed that people thought their comments would change anything their 'monster' had done. Yes, he did these terrible, awful things. I get it, he's a horrible person, and I hate it too. Cry, wipe your tears, move the fuck on. If you mourn every death related to Slendy as if they were family, you are going to send yourself to an early grave. Period. I sound callous for this, but stupid actions based off of too many emotions and too little common sense get Runners killed all the time. Lots of torture and mayhem later... he managed to catch Naomi and Bianca in a trap, though only Bianca died.

While waiting for a weapon, the Killdozer, to be built and shipped to Canada a Runner by the name of Mitch killed a friend of Morningstar's. Star retaliated, which got even more of his friends killed. He finally attacked the mansion, and he ranted a little about burnt flesh. Unfortunately, Hesperus showed up again, and asked to be forgiven. Morningstar proceeded to panic after one of his colleagues noticed it and threatened to bring it up to their "Boss."

Elaine generally fucked Star's life up for awhile. Eventually, his idiotic puppets fucked up an operation. At least two died, and they nearly got Morningstar killed. It's fucking sad when your team's incompetence is what fucked up the mission and you can't even do anything about it. At this point, I'd have been willing to leave behind Angmar, too. Stupid fucking idiot. Let's see... there's a post I actually refuse to read because of how ridiculously archaic the wording is. Oh yeah AND IT'S ALL IN CAPS! TURN OFF THE GODDAMN CAPS LOCK, MORNINGSTAR!

In the next important post, he mentioned KK's relative dying by Andromeda's hand. He and his crew proceeded to beat/maim her until she was in the condition she is now. I hate that part, actually. Not to mention the 'smile' Morningstar gave her. Trying to rip off the Joker, eh? No bonus points for you. Be creative and stop crippling Runners. Getting them to nearly off themselves does not make you responsible; it makes you an asshole that likes to play with his targets too much. He then proceeded to crash the infamous Take the Myth wedding and poison all of the food. His disguise was... lacking, apparently. Everyone managed to see through it, and the explosives he planted? They caused some splinters. Konaa managed to make a new enemy by hurting Nee-chan. I especially liked this quote:

"Nee-chan seemed to be outmatched upstairs, so Darkhorse and Gleeman managed to get her out alive by providing cover fire and then dragging her out of the ROOM FULL OF MARINES... Nee. Sweetie. You know I love you and all, but... That was an idiotic move. They had guns, you had a knife. Listen to the Master on this one... You should have ambushed stragglers in the fight outside and silently killed them with the knife."

He started freaking out over Redlight's reappearance while he was in NYC, and mumbled on about Prosper being effective enough so that he could be lazy for awhile. Then, he just went back to being an insane follower of Him; talking about blood and guts and random other things about sinning. He then kidnapped a Runner, who doesn't exactly do the damsel in distress thing. Though, very funny use of nicknames. The Runner escaped because one of his minions was a complete moron. Star received visual proof Redlight was not, indeed, dead. He received what was basically Miracle Grow in syringes to go 'have fun with.' It apparently caused a fucking TREE to grow and consume a body as its food. Not pretty.

Well, Morningstar became a little pissed. Redlight died and Morningstar panicked because his last instructions were to end the world with the syringes. He wound up changing his mind (thank god) and decided to use the syringes for his own brand of fun. He also started looking for a new title (I suggested Darth), and had a newfound hatred for Ronald McDonald. I can't blame him. I fucking hate clowns myself. In his last post, he caught a group of Runners and... tortured them, creatively.

THANK GOD THIS FREAKING POST IS OVER! Ahem. Yeah. This is it, except for speculations about what his upcoming "operations" are. But, I'll leave those up to you. Now, to go get some Advil and forget this ever happened. Flaming baby baseball, my left foot. Thank god he doesn't know where I live. >_<

Edit: By the way, for new people on the 'scene' that is my blog: I have a new treat for you. A sort of tl;dr for you is this: A song that strongly reminds me of Morningstar. Well, before he decided to turn a new leaf and be suicidal and all that. - 9/10/11


8.23.2011

The Manufactured Newborn's Birth

The Manufactured Newborn is the youngest of the known Fears. Its' beginnings are unknown, but the first glimpses of its earliest form were that of a pocketwatch. This pocketwatch was thought to be capable of killing the Fears, which made it a very valuable commodity to the victims of the Fears' destruction. A teenager by the name of Owen Norris was the first to find it, thinking it a discarded personal item. Unfortunately, this brought the attention of the supernatural community upon him. The first of them to notice was the Srgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. (Yes, I know it's a pretty ridiculous name. It's supposed to be. It isn't the real name, and I can't find out what it is for the life of me.) To save space, I'll simply refer to them as the Lonely Hearts. The Lonely Hearts were extremely interested in wiping the pocketwatch's existence from the world, and from people's memories. Peter Rivers, a member of said organization, was assigned to kill Owen because of his contact with the watch. Before Peter could succeed, he was fired.

Well, once Peter was fired, he became a wild card. His family were the creators of the Lonely Hearts, and with his kick from their organization, he was also disowned by them. With all that free time on his hands, his conscience began to bother him. He knew what would happen to Owen if he didn't step in. He couldn't stand to have an innocent child's blood on his hands. Once he realized that, he decided to go and try to save the kid from getting killed. Around this time, Hunter received an old letter from Peter apologizing for the death of his family. In his desperation to avenge his family, he tracked Peter back to Portsmouth. Portsmouth, of course, being the town Owen lived in. While Hunter was tracking Peter, a criminal Rivers helped put in jail was hired by the Lonely Hearts to kill Peter. The criminal, Maxwell, got in touch with Hunter claiming to know where Peter was. They met and Maxwell persuaded Hunter to steal the pocketwatch from Peter and Owen.

Hunter caught up with Peter and Owen and stole the pocketwatch. Before Hunter could successfully kill the Rake, Maxwell ditched him and began to travel towards New Jersey. So what did Hunter decide to do? Oh, only team up with Peter, the guy who he stole the watch from originally, to go and track the bastard down to get it back. Now, along the way, Hunter stumbled upon a little girl by the name of Charlotte. This girl also happened to heavily resemble his dead daughter. She looked and spoke as if she were the victim of an abusive home, and begged him to help bring her to her grandparents house to escape. Hunter unsurprisingly took pity on the girl, and decided to bring her with him. She asked to go see a local diner before she arrived at her grandparents home. She raved about it enough that Hunter, having a serious soft spot for the girl, caved and agreed to take her. Peter was suspicious as hell about it but couldn't talk Hunter out of going.

They show up at the diner and began to eat.  About halfway through their meal, Steward and his lackeys showed up. Steward, you see, was given an invitation from a puppet of the Wooden Girl to show up at the very dinner Hunter, Peter and Charlotte were at. Why? "To meet the doll." If you've ever had any experience with the Fears, you'll know what's coming next. Steward had a history with Charlotte, a history that Peter should have damn well known about before he ever showed up. The Steward walked up to the table, and began to speak. Now, what happens next is rather confusing and conflicted. Everyone at the table heard something different from what the others heard. Some heard death threats, some heard cryptic messages, whatever, it was all a clusterfuck that wasn't real. The Choir had shown up, and decided to play with those present by changing what each person heard. Maybe they were hoping they'd all kill each other? They all drew their weapons and everything became still. Steward chastised them for wanting to shoot him in front of children and well, Peter invited him to get the fuck out.

While all of this was going on, Charlotte took advantage of the situation and tried to stab Peter in the throat. Peter tried to retaliate, and this set off Hunter. He started screaming something about not hurting his baby girl and attacked him. While the two of them were busy fistfighting like schoolchildren, Charlotte slipped away and invited Steward to go speak privately. Steward's lackies Glorius and Acedia were assigned to keep the hunters busy while they got away. Well, they succeeded. They also succeeded in getting their asses kicked by Hunter. They did, however, escape before he could manage to kill them. Hunter was hurt pretty badly from the fight, and Peter wasn't strong enough to carry him out of the diner.

As he was trying to pick Hunter up, a man walked into the diner. One of Steward's enemies, Sleight (a man driven by the Compulsion), had come to rescue them from the aftermath that was soon to come. The Lonely Hearts as well as the police who were being called to the scene of the shootout were close by. Peter and Hunter could barely walk, much less explain to the police why they were shooting Proxies in broad daylight. Sleight dragged them through a Door into the Empty City, which brought them to a nearby hotel room so they could heal and get away from the chaos. Shortly afterwards, the investigators Baker and Bellman showed up to question the witnesses. The witnesses, also affected by the Choir, gave them extremely conflicted answers. Only two of them got the damn thing right, but that's neither here nor there.


Sleight, Hunter and Peter show up at the amusement park, Land of Make Believe. He directs them through a Door into the Empty City to "save on time", and on the other side they see a crowd of hooded people shooting at Maxwell. Hiding on the other side of the merry go round, were Baker and Bellman. Steward had no problem recognizing their presence, but for whatever reason kept quiet. When Maxwell ran out of bullets, Charlotte glided towards him and surrounded him in what looked like miles of transparent strings. He tried valiantly to shake off the strings, and pulled out the pocketwatch to use on his attackers. Instead of his using the pocketwatch, it wound up using him as the blood sacrifice necessary for its birth. As the pocketwatch sank into his skin, the Fears began to appear for the show. The Slenderman, the Wooden Girl, Archangel, The Choir, the Rake, and the Eye all appeared to watch the birth of their new brother. Once the pocketwatch reached the core of his body, Maxwell fell apart like rotten fruit, and from the remains floated a metallic looking fetus. All of the Fears that were present fled with the fetus, or the Manufactured Newborn rather, leaving behind their small army of bodyguards.

Steward caught sight of Sleight after the Fears vanished, and gave chase. Sleight, for once not being a complete idiot, opened a door into the Empty City to escape. Steward followed after him, barely avoiding the mess his Master and His companions had left behind. The miniature army were rather brutish members of a group by the name of the Timberwolves. Well, apparently the Timberwolves were pissed as hell at being left behind and began shooting at Hunter and Peter. The two of them split up in what was basically their only option at surviving. Hunter wound up climbing the ferris wheel and shooting at the mob until he ran out of ammo. Just before he was about to fall to their attacks, the Rake showed up and slaughtered the Timberwolves. Peter, well, Peter wound up 'dying.' A rip in the sky opened up and the sky reached down and grabbed him, pulling him up into nothingness. We found out later that Peter became an Agent of The Fears, but that's another story entirely.

Amidst all of the drama going on, the investigators thankfully managed to get the hell out of there before they got shot. They began to travel in search of another Boojum (Fear) they had heard sightings of, and during their travels noted their being followed by a nondescript white truck. Driver not visible. When they arrived at the town of their choosing, they ran across newspaper headline about a childkiller that had been brutally murdered while serving his time. They questioned the cellmate and surrounding prisoners, but got nothing until the day before his cellmate's death. Apparently, he wrote a letter describing the Boojum and its gruesome details to the two of them, and begged them to try and stop it. The letter also told them the Boojum would never stop.

Frightened out of their wits, they called the 'feds', the SMSC. This task force was apparently a government agency focused on dealing with the Fears and their destruction. Once the SMSC showed up, Carol and Frank found out that there had been sightings of these murderous 'toys' from all over the nation. And so, the various different officers and their backup surrounded the prison the murder had taken place. They waited for perhaps an hour or two, having been told the creature had been sighted and cornered. Suddenly, the prison imploded upon itself, and out crawled the creature. No longer was this Boojum a tiny creature, the thing was the size of a car and monstrous looking. It looked to have consumed spare parts and various body parts from around the prison to make the mass they saw before them. With the prisoner's heart beating in its chest, it was a nightmare to behold. The Newborn fled from the gunshots to perch atop of the prison's fence, and tore open the sky. Behind the rip, a terrifying engine-like tower of gears, parts, and flesh was to be seen. This, this thing behind the sky was the Manufactured Newborn in all of its glory. Once all was said and done, the Fear was nicknamed by the two as the Cheshire Cat, for the ability to disappear and reappear at random, vanishing into the hellish place that its main body was located.

To my knowledge, the Manufactured Newborn has not been seen since. Then again, if you saw a monstrous little child consuming blood and machinery to grow, would YOU tell someone about it?

8.21.2011

The Messenger, and The Executor

These are two Proxies that are most assuredly on the other side, yet for one reason or another dabble in the lives of others rather heavily. I decided to write about the two of them because they have quite a bit of influence in the lives of those I've come to know recently. Also, they're pretty damn interesting. Nothing says inspiration to write like Proxies that spark your curiosity.


The Messenger

The Messenger, generally referred to as Messi, is a bearer of bad news. He is Punch Clock villain, a man tasked by the Slender Man to inform the deceased's following that they are gone. To shatter hope? To inform? To just plain fuck with the people that are still alive? I don't know. He claims to be twenty seven years old, of regular stature and features, and to live in the New York area. He works for the Slenderman in order to protect his brother from death. He claims to be a True Neutral, though I know better by now. His companions seem to be regular people, when they aren't killing. What do they do, exactly?They hunt, they track, and they kill those you lot call Runners. They aren't particularly remorseful about it, either.

In the beginning, he had Caper and Poe. Their job was to track Runners. They made accounts and blogs to gain information, and trust, about the other side. They would find locations of where the unsuspecting people were, and other people are sent in. Devious little bastards. The worst part of this deception is the fact that most of the time, these Hunters (and their blogs) go uncaught. They continue to write and operate as though nothing happened. Caper was a funny, like-able man with Multiple Choice Past. His pasts, while funny, drove Messi damn near bonkers trying to decipher and find the truth in them. It would seem to me that with each story, he told at least a little of the truth. A tiny smidgen of maybe. Poe, well, she doesn't like to talk about herself. She mainly stayed at Caper's side, and helped Messi figure out when he was lying, and when he wasn't. A good companion and friend, if a little quiet. Formerly went by Annabel.

Anyway, back to the story. He started doing interviews with the people he worked with, I think mainly to help keep himself sane. If I were being honest about the whole thing, it was also to help defeat the apathy and the boredom that comes with a job like his. Waiting around between deaths has to be such a bitch. The Messenger found himself working alongside former victims of ol' Slendy called the Husks, and wound up explaining their nature quite by accident. These unfortunate people were the turned Runners, the victims that were forcibly dragged into the Slenderman's employ, the frightened and the scared that had no choice in the end. In the process of being turned, they lost the majority of their personalities and memories. This loss drove them over the cliff into insanity, and they clung to any story they could to give themselves reason to exist.

Realizing this made Messi come to the realization that most of those that worked for the Slenderman were regular people, that had their lives destroyed one day. It also served to send him into a minor depression. The death of Zero made him pretty happy, though. One day he began to tell a story, one that seemed unrelated until nearly the end. The short version was this: "Alan had a little brother, Kyle, that got trapped up in the mess that was the Slender universe. Slendy started coming to stalk Kyle, and Alan made a deal with the devil. "I'll work for you, just as long as you leave Kyle and everyone around him alone." You can guess who Alan was.

Not too long after that, his friend Caper died because of his defiance of the Slenderman over a young girl. The young girl that he had been tasked in earlier entries to find. When he found the information of where and who she was, Caper couldn't give it to the Slenderman. He risked everything to protect her and destroyed all of the relevant information. His soft spot got him killed, and I wish it weren't true... because I genuinely liked Caper. It's difficult as hell not to care about the people that do His work. Caper's death devastated his partner Poe, and caused her to retreat in much the same kind of depression that Messi had begun to sink into.

Someone came along after that that served to help bring the Messenger out of his funk. Ah, the introduction of Nee-chan! (I'm sorry, when she's not being a murdering bitch, she's one of my favorite proxies.) As far as I can tell, she brought some much needed energy and happiness into the Messenger's life. Nee-chan is a young girl that runs around in a Sailor Moon type costume holding a plushie of the Slenderman. Wonderful. She used to be the Messenger's roommate, but... shit happened, and she traded with Poe. Now she rooms with Screwtape, a rather messed up individual. Nee-chan is apparently a Hunter. Hunters, if you hadn't guessed, are like the assassins that work under the Fears. They're the ones that get their hands all bloody.

Nee-chan seems to have a fascination with knives, which I'm going to safely assume are how she butchers the victims she's sent after. Nee-Chan crashed a rather popular wedding, and nearly got herself killed for her effort. She did, however, manage to kill one of the grooms. Nee-chan's real name is Erika Lyons, though a rather heavily threat was given towards anyone that called her anything besides Nee-chan or Eri.


The Executor

At first glance, the Executor looks to be a bit of a glorified errand boy. He takes His order to His children, targets, and Hunters. He has the ability to enter dreams, and implant the seeds of ideas, orders, and contracts within our minds. He seems to need to be present for the better part of his victims' dreams in order to stay inconspicuous, and avoid alerting their minds to the presence of an intruder. He confesses to using this "dreamwalking" as his only sense of fun, and shamelessly uses it to his advantage.

Out of all his little 'pets,' he seems to keep two around despite the occasional death or dismemberment. They are referred to as Proxy 85 and Proxy 269. Proxy 260 is also known as Prosper. Prosper is probably one of the oldest pets of his employ, and seems to have gone through a few design changes over the years. Unfortunately when this happens to a pet, it generally means  they become even harder to kill than before. Why is Prosper a favorite? I don't know, nor do I particularly want to find out firsthand.  Proxy 85 is supposedly a new creation of the Executor's, yet he's more knowledgeable and less stupid than the freshly turned proxies normally are. Proxy 85 has recently been traded in Shady's place to someone that goes by the name of The Avatar. The Avatar is a part of a wonderful little group named the Vindicate. This group obviously had some kind of plans for Shady, but whatever they were, they weren't made public.

He refers to his victims as ticking time bombs, waiting for the ideas he implants in our minds to go off. He also heavily implies that he leaves behind a kind of compulsion for some of the writers that are connected to the Slenderman, but never comes right out and confirms it. As for himself, he implies that he is damn near immortal in his work for the Slenderman. Soon after Shady began speaking to Trinity, the Executor kidnapped her to try and break her for information. At the time, he wanted to use her as an example of their, and His, power. That idea backfired tremendously, and wound up biting him in the ass pretty badly with its repercussions. He tortured the Lady at various intervals, but somewhere in the middle of all that she earned his respect. Well, that and killed  a few proxies that were stupid enough to underestimate her.

She managed to escape after what seemed like months within her own head, and had what looked to be no help in doing so. Most interestingly, when the Lady escaped she had a brand on her shoulder of the Slenderman's mark, and she chose to bring the mask the Executor made for her. What only served to make it stranger was the fact that this mask was one he forced her to wear, and she for some reason became attached to. The events that surrounded Shady's escape (mainly her seeing far more of him without a mask and their surroundings than he had ever planned on) scared him badly enough to make him move his base of operations.

Victor disliked the amount of power the Executor wielded, and gave chase around the world after him in an attempt to consume him. The Executor normally made copies of himself by consuming the souls of his victims, and yet, that was the fate Victor was trying to hand him.  A colleague of his, the Wildman, got caught by Victor's tentacles and was consumed instead. The Executor managed to escape by the skin of his teeth to a beautiful cave in the Mediterranean, where he has begun creating more copies to replace those consumed by the Faceless King. He spoke of lying low for awhile, yet came to break that promise to himself not long after that.

Soon afterwards, he began to play mind games with Mystery and her family. Somewhere in the middle of July, he decided to personally visit Blackwater at an expedition in the Alps. This expedition was also connected to the creators of the Defenders Against Slenders blog. Guess who?Their general purpose was to help do research and recon for the DAS founders, but this particular jaunt off into the wilderness was one they had been warned against. Surprise surprise, the Executor showed up and hurt them pretty severely. Why? Basically to prove he could. Besides regrouping, I'm not sure of what his intentions or his future plans are. What I have here is the results of my own, personal research into his life and those associated with him. Feel free to correct me.

8.19.2011

The Dream

Last night, I had a dream so vivid I can still feel the chill in the night air. The images of the things I found and saw are so bright to me, so surreal. I dreamed, mainly, of a man. He was tall, thin, and had long blond hair he kept tied back. He had a smile that came easily, and was so self conscious. He had scars all over his body, you see, and he thought he was worthless because of them. I thought he was beautiful.

I originally met with him at the request of a friend. I followed him to his home, and asked him for a commission. Somehow, I wound up staying until long after dark talking to him. At the end, he took a memento of mine, and looked at me in surprise. He spoke of echoes, and of searching for my pendant for a long time. He turned it around, and opened the front, like normal. But then, he touched the back, and this strange lock appeared like it had always been there. He smiled, for it looked like the combination was difficult, but all he had to do was push a small piece of the lock, and the back swung open, just like the front.

I was astounded. I have had this memento for years, and once I got back home, I realized something. There was no reasonable explanation for my memento having that extra space. It was smaller than the extra "hidden compartment" he found in the back. I was tempted to examine further, but instead I closed it back and gave him a hug. The woods around his home suddenly seemed dark, and frightening, and I realized the time. We made our goodbyes, and I headed home.

I looked inside the memento again once I was home, and found myself back at his home, inside of his living room no less. He was curled up on his couch, asleep from watching some minor television show. He moved, and I hid. I knew I wouldn't be able to explain why I was there, and I thought he would be angry to find me. I admit, I followed him as he went through the house. Something was important, something off, about this man. He had so many scars... I couldn't count them all. I wondered how there could be so many beneath those clothes of his. And suddenly, I stepped back the way I came. There was no pride in watching him shower.

And so, I came to visit him nearly every day. I mostly saw him when he was aware, though there were a few times I couldn't help myself from spying on him. He became my friend, my confidant. Those I had originally gone to see him for warmed to him slightly, but didn't take joy in being near him. I couldn't see why. To me, he was like sunshine. I made the mistake of meeting his friends, and more so, of spending too much time with him. Somehow, though he knew nothing of them, his friends came to know of what I write. They took me one day, so many hands pulling me, making me fall and hurt myself. They just didn't care. They brought me to a theater, I think, through back alleys and shadows.

They asked me about my keepsake, the one he smiled so easily over. To them it was so important, and to me, it was only a way to see him. They spent much time with me there in the shadows, in the theater behind the curtains and the costumes. I don't remember much of this part of the dream, besides that it hurt, and I woke when they returned me. All I know is I still had the memento when I came back, and then sunshine. But no, not the sunshine I dreamed of. This was not a man I loved, but merely an innocent one. Innocence to me, is just so rare. It's addicting to me to be around those that still have it. That haven't lost that which is natural to us, through pain or strife or conflict.

This is all I remember, but I won't put it with the psychos or the victims. No, I'll put it to a separate page, a separate post. Even through all the fuzziness of looking back on my dream, I realize it was important. I realize the things that were in it. The Chosen, the Hunters, the puppets, the victims, though I guess that last one would mostly be me. I think I dreamed of these things because of what I write, because of how much time I've spent researching these things lately. But on the off chance I'm wrong, I invite anyone that's willing to interpret my dream as they will. It is pure truth, for the skeptics, and not merely a story I might write for the satisfaction of being a part of this world. I have no reason to want to have these people follow me. All they bring is pain and destruction. No, that is not why I write. I wanted to write of this person I found in my dreams, and I didn't want to forget. Dreams are so easy to forget, and to me... to forget him would be a crime.

Flee From These

There are a few I've found so far, that if it's possible, don't even go near them. Don't speak to them, don't deal with them, and if you have to, put on your spurs and your best steel toed boots. You're going to need them.

First up, Gallows-Tree. He likes to go by the name of Gallows, the morbid little skeleton. He's a fucking psychopath, and that's just from reading what he's written on my posts. He's relatively new, and considers himself a killer. He has a Hollow, Graves, who does his bidding that he likes to play and kill with. Oddly enough I am rather pleased to see he proved a piece of my advice correct in his first few posts. That long hair makes for easy reins when someone's after you. Lives in or around a cemetery, thankfully far from civilization. He has recently proved his connections to the Executor to be true. Heed my advice, and stay the fuck away from him. He's had a bit of trouble from the police lately, apparently an agent knows who he is and who he works for. The agent is most likely trying to lure him out by making a trap out of the policemen in the area.

That would mean Victor Sells is next. He also goes by King, as a sort of nickname for his following the Faceless King. He's a bit.. scary.  This is his wife, the Oracle. He is supposedly a part of a Faustian deal with the Slenderman. He speaks in rhymes and riddles, and almost always in poems. Victor was a medical experiment for the Nazis. These were ordered by a notorious Josef Mengele, also known as the Angel of Death. This angel caused the deaths of the majority of his village by performing grisly and inhumane experiments on them. Those that survived came with the Angel, to be used and abused and tested upon so more atrocities could be committed. His wife, unlike the others, was said to have died by the gunfire of overeager soldiers.

He is very protective of his games and those he plays with. He refers to those that follow and read his work as the Chosen.What surprises me is that he gives them a choice of whether or not they want to participate. It's a little surprising considering that most of our enemies have very little honor. As I read through his work, these actions of his seem eerily similar to those of the doctors that held him captive. The doctors wanted test subjects to work upon, and wanted to pacify the general populace at the same time. They came up with the idea of a "lottery," a selection of men and women to willingly offer themselves as guinea pigs. They referred to these candidates as the Chosen, and gave them the benefits of extra rations and lottery immunity for their children.

The man that created the serums that killed so many was also responsible for the choice the people had in being a part of the tests. This, he said, was to insure full cooperation once the benefits were known. Knowing these facts, Victor frightens me all the more. To have been able to adapt to his conditions, and use the tactics of those that experimented on him speaks of his intelligence. He has of late kidnapped the before mentioned ShadyLady, and returned her to her comrades. Strangely enough, the lady seems to be in better spirits than before. What difference was there between Robbie and Shady? Why does Victor seek to protect the compound and friends inside? I wish him comfort, if it is possible for him, after over 70 years of pain.

I have another honorable mention for you. He is the Mad Ventriloquist. A storyteller that refers to himself in the third person. His form of coping seems to be staying drunk and isolating himself. He believes every story should be told. I put him in this list because associating with him is still dangerous, despite how highly I speak of him. This danger is mostly because of David and his petty attempts, but I'll get to that later. He does not advocate death at every turn. He believes, as I do, that the puppets are not to blame for their Master's commands.

I would also like to correct a small oversight some have been saying. Not all proxies are willing. Being a Proxy merely means you have "free will." Yes, you can blink without being told to do so. That does not mean that you want to kill, or deserve to be killed. There are those that have changed their ways. I am proud of these. I do not advocate taking a life unless yours is in jeopardy, or the soul in question is so entrenched in evil it takes joy in its actions without the Master's commands. Once you have taken a life, you take the choice into your hands. Years of life, of light, of choices made and mistakes created are done away in a moment. I see kindness where others see a lonely road. So sue me.

Back to the Ventriloquist.  He speaks rather frequently of a Minori, a policewoman he was once assigned to help. Minori was a woman that meant very much to him. She is a woman that frequents his dreams and is in nearly every entry of his notebook. The Ventriloquist had a friend, David, that went with the man in the suit. I suppose he became one of the Slenderman's followers. A shame, every time that happens. This David of his has assaulted his home and his friends, and is mainly the reason I still say he is dangerous to be around.

The Ventriloquist's true name is Ronan, a gentle man who sings and plays the piano, whose allegiance is rather foggy. After more reading and research, I have found that TMV is not quite who everyone thought him to be. He has mafia connections, and had a rather suspicious last conversation with Minori, the woman he was assigned to protect. He alludes to the fact that he is mostly neutral, and that he and David have a rather emotional relationship for friends. I'm not even describing what that could mean, I don't want to get shanked.

8.17.2011

For Those Watching

I want to apologize for the information I fucked up in my earlier posts. Anonymous and a few victims have managed to correct my oversights, thank god. I originally wrote all of this to keep track of it inside my mind. I left out many details and crucial events in my lists, because I already knew them at the time. Now that other people need it, it's apparent that I need to start writing for an audience, instead of using this selfishly.

I will write more detailed information on the Hunters. If I find willing informants, I would like to keep a running account of the conflicts that are currently going on. I know it will be difficult.  That's where my 'friends' come in. I've already edited several posts across my blogs because of information from those that knew better than I. If you have anything to speak up about, do NOT be afraid to do so. The more these posts are actually needed, the more I will write. End of story.

My next blog will be about those I have let slip through the cracks. They are actively involved with several Fears. Or, in a few of their cases, are simply the Fears' errand children. It should be coming tonight. I will label each post from now on to reflect what is inside, as well. Eventually every entry in my posts will be categorized. Hunter, Runner, Psychopath, Pet, etc. I will surely fuck something up if I don't get help. I am not going to be held accountable for what happens because someone didn't speak up when they needed to.

By the way, I have a special message for those that are following me anonymously. Yes, I know you're there, go ahead and step forward. If you have found me, the Fears know about you. Stop hiding and make yourself useful before you get yourself killed hiding in the shadows.


To clarify: I need help. Just reading Trinity's posts have made my head hurt terribly. Who is Victor Sells? Why was he able to find me when Mystery did? Why are there Siblings? Who is Ronnie, and why was it good for Shady to be kidnapped? It's hard to read through every post in such tiny print, when posts seem to come every day. Enlighten me if you can.



Edit: Holy fucking shit damn. I just stumbled across the youtube community of these freaks. They like to take VIDEO of their fucked up shit?! I'm just... I'm at a loss for words right now. Apparently I have alot farther to go before I can stop reading. Or watching, as it now seems.

8.07.2011

More to be Wary of.

This list of mostly of those that are only victims, or associated with the Fears. They are nowhere near as dangerous as those I've mentioned in the past.

Carol Baker and Frank Bellman Also known as Baker and Bellman. This pair, whom I assume at first glance are hunters, have hopefully only gone on vacation. The last time they were seen active was July 8th. I'm starting to think they are dead. They have links to the SMSC, which is apparently an organization that Meredith is involved in.  They seem to refer to the fears as Boojum. Thanks to the ever vigilant anonymous, I now know why.

"Because the Baker and the Bellman are two characters from "The Hunting of the Snark," which is about a group of people hunting, that's right, a snark. Except the snark turns out to be a boojum, which looks exactly like a snark except that if you look at it you will vanish completely away. Because the snark was a boojum you see."  They were present at the birth of the Manufactured Newborn, with the newly dubbed nickname "The Cheshire Cat." This Fear was born from a device known as the Pocketwatch, an item that was once highly coveted by those that wished to fight the Fears. It was said this device had many powers, destructive and protective alike.

Neville I'm going to go ahead and assume he's been made into a puppet by the Wooden Girl. In all of the posts this boy made, he went further and further into her world. His blog originally began by reviewing episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Slowly, he began to discover "easter eggs" that exposed him to the world of Punch and Judy, and the Dance of Fortune. Neville also happens to have seen the death/forced suicide~ of Ruggio Maggiero, via a message found inside of the DVDs. He dropped off of the radar once he broke his DVDs, but obviously, if you come across him, he is definitely working for the Wooden Girl.

Rick I am exceedingly proud of Rick. He has fought the Harlequin's strings, and as of right now, is free. Whether he will remain so or not is still a mystery. `Jess, who has been suffering at the hands of the Fears, has finally died(?) to the Intrusion. Candle Cove has apparently heavily influenced him.

Scribe Sigma The authoress of The Archive, Samantha Mayhew has been in touch with the Fears since the age of 6. Apparently the Blind Man most notably. Not exactly the most truthful of sorts.

Jordan/DJay32 DJay32 earned my respect a long, long time ago. He should have yours as well.

Jeanette Her friends have been followed and fucked with by "Mr. Smiles." Girls have gone missing (and in Vanessa's case, dead), and the man she's referring to has eyes with no soul and enough teeth to make a shark jealous. And oh yeah, he's in a straitjacket. She's be strangely absent except for little posts here and there, and in the time she's been in the Southwest, she's been hunting. Good luck to her.

bill Reather/Breather A guy in charge of watching the cemetery belonging to the Srgt. Pepper government agency. I'm honestly surprised that he and Hunter didn't cross paths the night Hunter ran from the Rake and was mysteriously saved from the zombies by the Slenderman. You'd think that the caretaker of a cemetery would noticed someone rifling through his shit, looking at his computer, and oh yeah, giant hordes of zombies. And damn it, 1234567 All Good Children Go to Heaven showed up again. Edit: this fucker's been taken over. He is officially off of the victim list. DAMN IT!

I decided not to write about the Empty City today. Why? Because its rules keep changing. There have been survivors and Doors that have allowed people back out. Therefore, my analysis has completely changed. More on it later. By the way, for those wondering, don't ever walk through a suspicious Door. Especially one that appears where it isn't supposed to be.


Edit: Also, apparently, Peter's gone completely off the fucking deep end. Or, whatever has taken over Peter. It's hard to keep track when they don't give you names that mean anything. Apparently he's taken on that group of teenagers he was looking for, and is threatening to hand the rest to EAT or the Convocation. Stupid bastard. Shoot everything in the face. If it doesn't die, you're fucked. This and this are apparently hints as to what he is up to. I don't know which group of teenagers he is talking about. Follow the links, see the descriptions, and if you know who they are, warn them. And fast.

8.01.2011

Every Fear Has Pets

They almost never work alone. Like our Wooden Girl has her puppets, so too do the other Fears play with humans. There are the mindless ones, the dead ones, the ones that have some choice, the ones that are like their friends, the ones that kill off the ones that know... there's a long list. Even the victims normally end up serving them somehow, whether by dying or turning to their side. In finding the reports of the people who have encountered the fears, I've encountered those that scare me nearly as much as the Fears themselves. The scariest ones? They're the ones that you can't predict. You don't know how much they really know, or what they're really up to. So here's who I've found so far. Keep one eye open for...

The Steward: This guy scares the bloody hell out of me. He's one of the most obvious pets, and one of the ones that I refuse to look away from. Why? Not only has he done a Face Heel Turn from victim to bad guy, but in my opinion, he is one of the few victims that fought the hardest down to the last second. He's in contact with most all of the Fears, has no problem whatsoever killing those that threaten the Tall One, and he still looks completely normal. No frozen face, tentacles, or obvious strings for this guy. Oh no. He's just a well dressed guy that does the bidding of his Master with a smile on his face.

Edit: Steward recently became a failed sacrifice to the Rake, thanks to the Slenderman's offering being interrupted by gunfire and lots of distractions. He's being overcome by the Ichor, or at least, was the last time I checked. That favor EAT did for him is coming back to bite him.

Second Edit: For those that take the time to read this, here's an update: Joey's dead. He went out with a fight. And you know what? He went out as a human. People can, and will change.

Achromatic Morality: I don't know much about this lady, besides the fact that she comments with "inside" knowledge on many a victim's blog, and that she met one poor woman before she opened a Door. She's been linked to more people than I care to say, and knows enough abut the Mythos that I would watch her almost as closely as the Steward.

John Kramer/Sleight/the Eye/Judgement What the hell ever you want to call this guy, he's been fucked over by the Fears. He had contact from the Cold Boy and Slenderman from the time he was 7, was dumped in the Empty City to be eaten alive, and apparently managed to escape as yet another fucked up entity. If you see this name, run as fast as you can. He has no hesitations killing anyone he thinks is connected to the Fears.


Kobalos: Claims he's only a teenager. I think he's either nuts or is about to be. He knew about the PuppetsFool before it began, and has been connected to alot of (now) dead people. Be careful with this one. He has apparently acknowledged my presence. He seems to exhibit signs of a victim, as those that are around him seem to die off rather quickly. Doors to the Empty City are starting to appear as well. Seems to care about this kid, as well as Nate. Whoever it is, they're a little unhinged, by their own admission. Ethereal needs help, badly.

Iscariot Archangel Easily recognizable by the tentacle for his head. Simply put, if this guy follows your blog, speaks to you, or comments, you're most likely fucked. He is so wrapped up in the Tall One's shit, he'll probably get you killed before you can even tell him Howdy Do.

The Executor: He uses pictures of a man with an Operator symbol where his face should be, and yet that is only a deception. He uses his victims as a kind of snack food, using them to make more copies of himself, or to make puppets. A rather nasty way to make cannon fodder, but eh. Not my place to judge. He's also a bit of an asshole. He works directly for the Slenderman, a fact that I should have mentioned in the past. So far as I can tell, he also gives good advice. Trinity seems to have a long standing hatred for the man, for kidnapping and torturing a woman she loves, that goes by the name of The Shady Lady.

 As far as a I can tell, when he's being kind he is either playing with his food, or amusing himself. I recently found someone he seems to have a respect for, and my viewpoint of him has changed somewhat. Thanks to Shady, I'll be doing more research on him as soon as I finish editing this. For someone looking for what to do with him: Stay under his radar, and don't fuck with him. He doesn't have very much patience.

Okay, next piece of advice: If their last name is Rivers, stay the fuck away from them. There are three that I have been able to find. They tend to betray each other alot.

James Rivers His blog may not tell you much, but trust me, just look at his comments. Notably a brother of Peter Rivers. He is a hunter of those connected to the Fears. Not exactly a choosy lot about it either. Also, a suspicious phrase has appeared in his work. 1234567 All Good Children Go To Heaven  This phrase has been spotted among those that are about to die, possibly a code or cypher?  He is a part of: "Srgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" 

Peter Rivers A traitor, apparently. His brothers, from what I can tell, hate him. He is definitely connected to the Arch Angel and the Dying Man, and is (supposedly) dead and has been taken over by a higher power. Most definitely someone's puppet now. He went through the Empty City with the Slender Man, and is connected to Owen Norris, the writer of The Shower Scene. Also Hunter, and that puppet of the Wooden Girl's, Charlotte. These people are all so intertwined... it's frightening. And apparently, the Steward is right up in their shit. Of course.

John Rivers once again, the phrase 1234567 All Good Children Go to Heaven was found. I'm unsure as to whether it was found on Peter's blog. I've done a little research into the phrase. Apparently, it's from the Beatles song You Never Give Me Your Money. John is a part of the organization: "Srgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band"  

Owen Norris Poor kid. Yet another one of the victims that has tried to rise up against the Fears. Connected to Peter Rivers, the Dying Man (or Grey as he was called in this instance), and Slendy. Also connected to Hunter, who is believed trapped. This kid managed to survive the Dying Man's attack by a special mask given to him by a friend, Peter. Hopefully he recuperates in peace. Though, unfortunately, the Steward is supposed to be paying his area a visit soon. ANOTHER 1234567 All Good Children Go to Heaven phrase was found in his work.

Edit: Apparently Owen has been overtaken by Grey, better known as the Dying Man. I gotta confess, that scares the living hell out of me. Too many victims are being made into cannon fodder these days.

This is nowhere near all of them, but I don't feel well at the moment. I'll have to lay down for awhile, now. If anyone sees these and has suggestions on who to add, or any information to add in general, let me know. Later for now.