Nothing particularly noteworthy happened over the last week, until today. It was raining quite heavily this morning but when I looked out of my window after I woke up I saw two dry foot-shaped patches on the pavement, as if someone had been standing there until just then. It had been raining for a few hours so whoever it was (if I'm not just imagining things) was there for quite a while.
I'm not sure what to make of this. Perhaps there is some other explanation.
Thursday 28 April 2011
Thursday 21 April 2011
How it all began
I shall now start writing as if the events of the past few years are happening to me anew, though obviously I will be remembering, so I have the benefit of being able to include what I want in a post, without having to post only at the end of an adventure, risking all and not being able to warn others. By publishing my story, I hope that I can warn others of the dangers, and provide help for those already being stalked.
It all started one April. Without further ado, allow me to begin…
I spent today at a friend's house, it was pretty misty on the journey back, just like in those Slender Man stories; I half-heartedly looked for Slender Man in the mist but of course I didn't see anything. I was apparently a little irritable (my friend had complained of that, too), but I thought it was just tiredness. I'd surely be better after a night of sleep.
The next day, I felt very nervous, jumping at shadows and the like. I don't know what got in to me. Probably just overwork, even though I didn't feel particularly tired, these things can happen. I decided to lay off the mythos stories for a while, and concentrate more on my studies, to hopefully eliminate the work-induced stress. I spent the rest of the day working on my studies, nothing particularly noteworthy happened until the evening.
Later, my mother noted that I had been doodling a lot whilst reading, which I was surprised to hear as it's not my habit. I picked up the piece of paper upon which I had been drawing but saw nothing, everything was scribbled out to the point of being unrecognisable. I couldn't even tell what shape the drawings were supposed to be. I noticed as I held the paper that my hands were shaking. Stress? Must be. Surely that could also explain the doodling, nervousness, and irritability. Whilst I have a lot of work this week, I decided to take a day off for my health. It's impossible that I can take my A level exams to the best of my ability in this condition.
Tomorrow I'm going to go for a walk, maybe go into the library and have a look to see if they've got some books I requested.
It all started one April. Without further ado, allow me to begin…
I spent today at a friend's house, it was pretty misty on the journey back, just like in those Slender Man stories; I half-heartedly looked for Slender Man in the mist but of course I didn't see anything. I was apparently a little irritable (my friend had complained of that, too), but I thought it was just tiredness. I'd surely be better after a night of sleep.
The next day, I felt very nervous, jumping at shadows and the like. I don't know what got in to me. Probably just overwork, even though I didn't feel particularly tired, these things can happen. I decided to lay off the mythos stories for a while, and concentrate more on my studies, to hopefully eliminate the work-induced stress. I spent the rest of the day working on my studies, nothing particularly noteworthy happened until the evening.
Later, my mother noted that I had been doodling a lot whilst reading, which I was surprised to hear as it's not my habit. I picked up the piece of paper upon which I had been drawing but saw nothing, everything was scribbled out to the point of being unrecognisable. I couldn't even tell what shape the drawings were supposed to be. I noticed as I held the paper that my hands were shaking. Stress? Must be. Surely that could also explain the doodling, nervousness, and irritability. Whilst I have a lot of work this week, I decided to take a day off for my health. It's impossible that I can take my A level exams to the best of my ability in this condition.
Tomorrow I'm going to go for a walk, maybe go into the library and have a look to see if they've got some books I requested.
Monday 18 April 2011
I will be the first to say I was a skeptic.
I am not one to entertain (what I consider to be) silly fantasies. I enjoy reading horror, fiction, and fantasy, but I don't believe any of that stuff, or I didn't, anyway. I am Jack Moore, and in this blog I will tell you my story of something terrible which changed my life forever. Is this thing Slender Man? I don't know. I don't know what to believe any more.
Firstly, I shall start with a little introduction to myself, whilst keeping the specifics hidden (you know my name and will shortly know my country, that is enough). I am from England, where I have lived all my life. In my teenage years, I developed an affinity for horror and gothic fiction, particularly the works of H. P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allen Poe, which I could read over and over again. It is there, I think, that things first started going wrong. From Lovecraft's cosmic horror came an interest in magic and gods, to which I devoted a few years of study, and during those years I came across many such entities which the Internet had spawned, though my last find was the Slender Man.
In case you do not know, the story of the Slender Man is a simple one. There is a tall, thin, faceless man in a suit. He is always hiding in the shadows, usually in fog or wooded areas. He steals away children and stalks the occasional victim, often driving them insane, causing memory loss, or killing them. Often a story will involve all three of these to some extent. He is usually accompanied by "proxies", humans that serve him for some unknown purpose. The origin of the Slender Man is unknown, his motivations are unknown, and he is terrifying.
Now, as a Lovecraft fan, you can assume (and rightly so) that I was overjoyed by this! Of course I didn't believe any of this nonsense, it's just a shared mythos with some cool stories, right? And so I probed deeper into the mythos, learning as much as I could and reading many stories, I couldn't get enough of it. Then things started happening.
I started to become irritable and snap at people I knew, I was stressed for no apparent reason. I developed a fear of the dark, something which had until that time never bothered me. And, in time, I began to feel like I was being followed. Overwork? Repressed childhood fears? Paranoia? All of these could be explanations; a psychologist friend assured me that overwork can cause such symptoms and that I should take it easy and things would get better in time. I did. They didn't.
I am writing this in one of my more lucid moments, in the asylum where I am now kept to prevent me from harming myself and others. Through this blog I shall relate my story concerning my experiences with the Slender Man.
Firstly, I shall start with a little introduction to myself, whilst keeping the specifics hidden (you know my name and will shortly know my country, that is enough). I am from England, where I have lived all my life. In my teenage years, I developed an affinity for horror and gothic fiction, particularly the works of H. P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allen Poe, which I could read over and over again. It is there, I think, that things first started going wrong. From Lovecraft's cosmic horror came an interest in magic and gods, to which I devoted a few years of study, and during those years I came across many such entities which the Internet had spawned, though my last find was the Slender Man.
In case you do not know, the story of the Slender Man is a simple one. There is a tall, thin, faceless man in a suit. He is always hiding in the shadows, usually in fog or wooded areas. He steals away children and stalks the occasional victim, often driving them insane, causing memory loss, or killing them. Often a story will involve all three of these to some extent. He is usually accompanied by "proxies", humans that serve him for some unknown purpose. The origin of the Slender Man is unknown, his motivations are unknown, and he is terrifying.
Now, as a Lovecraft fan, you can assume (and rightly so) that I was overjoyed by this! Of course I didn't believe any of this nonsense, it's just a shared mythos with some cool stories, right? And so I probed deeper into the mythos, learning as much as I could and reading many stories, I couldn't get enough of it. Then things started happening.
I started to become irritable and snap at people I knew, I was stressed for no apparent reason. I developed a fear of the dark, something which had until that time never bothered me. And, in time, I began to feel like I was being followed. Overwork? Repressed childhood fears? Paranoia? All of these could be explanations; a psychologist friend assured me that overwork can cause such symptoms and that I should take it easy and things would get better in time. I did. They didn't.
I am writing this in one of my more lucid moments, in the asylum where I am now kept to prevent me from harming myself and others. Through this blog I shall relate my story concerning my experiences with the Slender Man.
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