The Faithful

Not long after I started writing about the Chosen, I woke to a migraine I had never thought possible. I dragged myself out of bed, stumbling my happy ass to the bathroom to make the difficult decision from contacts and glasses. I splashed some water on face, brush my teeth, yadda yadda, and finally looked up in to the mirror to brush my hair. Instead of my glaring face staring back at me, I saw a pale,withdrawn figure with teeth like a shark's smiling at me and waving slowly. I screamed and scrambled backwards, tripping over the rug and falling backwards into the tub behind me.

My tailbone ached like a motherfucker, and I drug myself back to my feet, looking around for the shark boy. No one is there. Everything is perfectly still. In fact, the entire bathroom shows no signs of my embarrassing little incident. I see nothing, and reassure myself to the fact that I've been sleeping too little and working too much. I go on.

I used to write every few days, rarely going four days between each post. After that, I couldn't go two without feeling the compulsion to write more. And more. And more yet. I begin to worry that perhaps I need to take a break, and once more deny any ill feelings I might have had. I begin to have nightmares that feature our friends the Boogeymen, and lose more and more sleep as the days go by. I doodle strange and menacing messages in the empty space of slips of paper that were scattered throughout my home. I start writing, by accident, that I need to run. run. run. run run like you never have before. Remember, please god remember.

I freak out, and begin to reveal my worries, one at a time, to other people that had encountered the scary things that go bump in the night. Their answers were surprisingly few, and vague. Without an actual Fear meeting to encourage these things, my confusion and conflicting emotions were chalked up as over-exposure to the people I was writing about. A vacation was suggested, to which I readily agreed. Certain events at the time made me believe this was the best possible idea, and I took it. Or tried to, rather.

Bad things happened. I became more miserable and withdrawn, manic and depressive alike in the same days. The day I returned from my miserable 'vacation', I found in my mailbox a solitary envelope, postmarked and dated with no return address, addressed to my pen name. I had a minor meltdown, and finally willed myself to open the envelope that scared me so badly. Inside was a polaroid. The picture was of myself embracing a young girl in some odd costume, and the words on the letter were few and oddly familiar. They simply stated "Do you remember yet?" I flip the polaroid over after reading this, and see another phrase written in tiny, cramped writing. "07/14/2011." 

I assume the date on the back was the date it was taken, though this makes little to no sense to me. My birthday was a simple, boring day that I sat at home and celebrated by myself. This was something like a month before I had even encountered any writings of the Slenderman or the Fears, and I began to worry for my sanity. In the picture, we were standing in front of the home I live in now.

What's the point in my telling you this? Well, I'll get to that. Just remember... I told more than a few lies, and was afraid of more Boogeymen than I ever told you. Lonely hearts will poison the best of minds.


  1. and lonely minds can poison the best of hearts.

    i learned that from experience years ago. but thats irrelevant.

    before i leave dia, i just wanted to say thanks.

    for not caring. not caring what people wanted to see.

    but instead telling them what was actually there.

    now, i go roll dice and play with fate. if all goes well ill talk to you again soon.
    if all does not, ill possibly talk to you in the great ever after.

    keep going dia.
    we need more people like you.
    whether you know it or not.


  2. Be careful, Dia. Mirrors can reveal more than what we think. And between two mirrors, one can view an eternity.

  3. Oh, now, you two act like the world is ending. Oh no, a whole world is opening up in front of me, I just have to pick which door to open. Well... that, and hope I don't pick the one that opens into the Empty City! ^^;

    But on a more serious note, I have a blog to go erase a few things from. It looks like someone's starting to pay a little bit too much attention to details and well, I can't have her giving away ALL my secrets yet. Toodle-oo!

  4. The more you understand the more doors you have to choose from, it doesn't even matter that so many of those doors lead to dark worlds after a while. It's like a game how many doors can you open, before you find one you can't close. And you're erasing things, I rather wanted to look back over the past from time to time, I just hope I got enough information the first time through.

    See you around


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