Monday, December 6, 2010

Congrats boys. Glad you saved your damsel. Sorry I couldn't get myself down there to lend a hand, but you handled yourselves well. Jeff, I'm sure we'll keep in touch.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Who the hell is Norman Jayden?

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Three little pigs, out in the world.

One builds his house out of straw
One builds his house out of sticks
One builds his house out of bricks

The Big Bad Wolf is coming for them...

A pity they're not the trusting sort...

Friday, October 8, 2010


Wednesday, September 8, 2010



Friday, July 30, 2010

Status Report

Our men cracked the password. For those of you who are still tuning in, here is the report. Best you hear it from me than from someone else:


As of July 23rd, the warehouse building is inactive. Late in the night, a large fire tore through the building and destroyed 85% of its equipment. The remainder of the building is heavily damaged. From what we have seen, there was a fight of a large scale before the fire started.


Two bodies were pulled out of the warehouse, heavily burned. Through DNA testing and medical examination, we discovered the identities:

Albert Conaghan- Forensic specialists found three bullets lodged in the victim's chest, fired from what appears to be a 9mm handgun. The weapon has not yet been found. Medical specialists say he was dead before the fire started, likely from the aforementioned wounds.

Eric Riley- Body was found with one bullet in its stomach, this one a .44 magnum slug. The gun in question was found several feet from where the first body lay; the weapon is too burned to pry fingerprints off it, though experts are still attempting to. Medical specialists claim that he bled out while awaiting rescue.


The cause of the blaze is still unknown. Fire officials are still on sight for examination.





The exact whereabouts and condition of Ezekiel Strahm are currently unknown. It is likely he is somewhere among the rubble, but at this time we do not have definite knowledge.

During investigation of his house, we discovered a corpse hidden in his garage. The body suffered a devastating shotgun blast to the chest; time of death estimates to no more than a month ago. A weapon that would cause this wound was found in Strahm's house, the barrel indeed looking as though it had bee fired.

Because of this, and because of the possibility of him being behind the deaths of both Mr. Conaghan and Mr. Riley, Strahm is now considered a wanted felon. A warrant has been put out for his arrest, and operatives are hunting him down. If anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, please come forward immediately.

We understand that he has promised a tape of his exploits. As of now, we are still searching for this tape, although I am curious as to whether it exists. At best, it is probably too burned to be of any use, but time will tell.

Please do not leave any questions for me, as I will not be returning to answer them. Take the facts for what they are, and if anyone knows where Ezekiel Strahm can be found, speak up immediately.

Thank you for your time.

-Agent Fisk

Friday, July 23, 2010

Evening the Score

I've never been one for making blogs. If the guys in my department found out that ole' Zeke Strahm was pouring his heart out on an online journal, then all credibility I've ever had to being a male goes right out the window. Ironically, it was my partner Elizabeth- who happened to be female- that suggested I keep this up. You see some cruel things being a detective; keeping a journal of any kind was always cheaper than seeing a shrink for your feelings. And I've done it, but I never expected to be all emo or whiny on here.

But over these last few months, this blog has been an incredible place of comfort for me as I try to make sense of a life that is slowly crumbling to pieces. I've found people that understand what I've gone through, and for good or bad most of them have stuck through it. I've shown my best and I've shown my worst, and I may not be the most popular guy in the world, but at least I hope I've proven my worth.

You guys knew all along what was going on. I know I didn't always listen; I know I wasn't always appreciative. I know at times I was too far gone or just a big dick to be supported. But a lot of you guys kept through ir, and I guess...well, thanks for that.

I just wish there was something more I could do...but I think I'm out of time for that.

This morning, I got this letter in my mail. It didn't have a return address, other than the initials AC; I didn't need a coder to tell me what that meant. The letter said this:

Dear Mr. Strahm,

It is very unfortunate that Ms. Armeen met such a terrible demise. Tragic, but inevitable, it was. I think it is time that we talked, man to man, without any interruptions. Mr. Riley is still here; we are taking very good care of him. We can discuss his release, if you'd prefer; I think he has suffered enough. I think it's time we finished this without resorting to any more...violence.

I shall expect you to come around seven o'clock. Tonight. You know where I will be.

I await your arrival,


Looks like tonight is the night. Maybe it's Slender Man's will or just fate giving me a shot at redemption. Either way, this is my last chance.

I'm going back to the warehouse tonight. Maybe I'll find Eric and get him out without a hitch; maybe I'm walking to my death. But I have to try. I'm done being indecisive. My only hope is that Eric's still alive, and that they're not trying to taunt me with a corpse.

I'm leaving around 6:30. I've contacted the chief; he says he'll get help out over to me. I don't want to go in their alone; some back up, of any kind, would help me out a lot.

If you guys don't hear back from me in a week...well, then, I guess you are on your own.

...It feels weird now. I don't know what, but I guess I feel...alive again. I'm not fearing for my life right now. I feel like going in there and conquering.

But here is my message to Slender Man:

I know who you are.

And I know what you're doing.

You're going to burn for what you did to us.

Once I'm done skinning your little bitch boy Conaghan, I'm coming after you.

One of you isn't coming out of that warehouse alive at the end of the night.

I'm hoping it'll be both of you.

You can't win forever.

If not me, someone's going to kill you.

I promise you that.

And here is my message to the people out there, reading this, fighting him:

I know at the end of the blogs, they tell you that when the time comes that he comes after you, that you should end it yourself. Take your own life so that he doesn't take it.

Well today, I tell you the opposite.

Don't quit.

Don't give up.


Fight him as long and as hard as you can.

He may win in the end.

But don't give him the satisfaction of an easy kill.

Let the fucker work for his food.

You can't keep letting him think that just because he holds the royal flush that it means you have to just fold.

If enough people fight, if enough people give him a good run may be enough to finish him.

So please.

Don't give up.

Give it everything you've got.

If you have to end it before he gets you, then do it.

But give it your all before you do.

Give him one hell of a show before you do.

I'm taking a camera with me, when I go into the warehouse. I want to get Slender Man on tape, present it to the government. Get the word out. I know I said that word of mouth is how he gets stronger, but...people need to know. Government may help to stop it. If there's awareness, then people won't be meaningless victims.

That's my hope, anyway.

I've got a contact, outside of the police, that will upload the tape if...well, if I can't. If I go down and the camera is with may take time, but the tape will find its way. I hope, at least.

And I also have one final request...I know this may be a lot, but if you can...if I don't come back...

Tell my story to those who want to hear it. Tell them everything about me; tell them my bad qualities, along with my good, and let them judge me how they see me. People need to know what happened here; what I went through, what Lizzie went through. They need to know that there are people out there that are willing to fight Slender Man. Willing to get rid of him permanently.

Tell my story. Tell it well.

I've got to go get ready...I've got to get everything I need...

Keep fighting. Don't give up.

Thanks for reading, and helping.

And...well...I'll catch you guys on the flip side.

I love you Lizzie.

There...I finally said it.

Fucking cold-hearted bitch.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Final Thoughts

So, what did I learn from this?

Basically, Slender Man has been around forever, but was only primarily recorded during the 1500s and now. He must have done something then to garner such attention, just as he's doing now. And I know what's drawing him to people now. Alex's videos. Yeah, SomethingAwful presented him, but Alex was the first known person to record him and Jay posted them to the world. Now, thanks to the internet, there may be no stopping him from reaching out to the world.

What caused the 500 year gap has to be how information went around. There were no telephones then. No internet. The only known recorder of him disappeared. He could just drop off social radar. But now, it's too late. He's everywhere. He's like a fucking disease. The more people know, the stronger he gets.

He has teleportation, and time travel. A couple of you seem to disagree on the omniscience; I say, if he can time travel, why CAN'T he know everything? The guy's been doing this job for centuries; who's to say that everything he's done isn't based off prior knowledge?

Some of you have also said that salt or water could possibly kill him. I don't buy it; it's too easy. If someone could get rid of him just by throwing a bucket of cold water on him, wouldn't he have been gone way before now? I know sometimes the best way to kill something is the most obvious way, but even still, this is kinda reaching.

Too many people have died without fighting him. Some people never had a fucking chance, the poor bastards. Some are still out there...Prism and M and the it only a matter of time? Will they be found as well? Or will they be able to fight him off.

As for me, I'm seeing now the reason behind him getting me. He's wanted me for years. He failed to get me as a child. Lizzie too, if my suspicion is correct. So he takes some of his other victims, Sam and Victoria and Jessica, and he waits until it's time for us to play into his hands.

And that's all it was from the very beginning. It wasn't the kids he wanted. It wasn't Conaghan. Slender Man orchestrated it so that he could get to us.

We were supposed to die from the very beginning.

And now he's ready to come and finish what he started.

But so am I.

Monday, July 19, 2010


Okay, well...even with all of that explained, or as close to explained as I can get it...there's still one thing I don't get.


Where did she fit in? Why drag her into this? That's the one thing that I still can't wrap my head around; why did she meet the fate she met?

I can't help but think that if I hadn't let her read that comment on my blog, she never would have started researching. I mean, yeah, I showed her the first half of the Marble Hornets videos, but that was a different point in our lives, as well as six months before we started this case. I don't think that should qualify to her being a target. But showing her that remark? That definitely got her going.

And once you get her going, she doesn't stop. A lot of the basic websites, I found through her, and I can't even begin to think about what she found that I don't know about. I don't know if she ever found the blogs...maybe she did. Maybe she found out about all these people...but why not keep them for me?

Doesn't matter now, I suppose...

Lizzie said that the first time she saw Slender Man was at the carnival...but that's not really right, is it? She was acting funny before then too. We didn't normally fight that bad, not since I was starting out in the force. And there were little things, her obsession with the drawings, her obsession with the journal...I know I said that that was how she worked, but looking back on it, it was more than that.

Jesus, how bad did he get her at the beginning? Was it even him? Or was it just the idea of him, the warp that he seems to pull people into that make them want to know more?

But she's smart. She must have realized what it would do. Why else would she ask Eric for help? But she must have realized what that would do to him too, though... I don't know, I don't know, it doesn't make sense to me.

How long after the carnival did he really start stalking her? Barely a month later, she stopped coming to work due to sickness...must have been sometime then. But why didn't he come to me too? Why wait until after the warehouse? If I was in the house with her, wouldn't it have been easier to kill two birds with one stone?

She was right about Conaghan. He wasn't the real target. But did she know who it was? She said during our fight that she didn't think it was actually Slender Man, that it was someone using him as a cover...but was that really what she was thinking, or was she just saying it to calm me...

God, too many questions here. Lizzie never told me anything...and I never bothered to listen. Now she's taken her secrets to the grave with her.

I just don't get why he went after her...I know he wanted to draw me out, but she didn't deserve this...he was torturing her, if he wanted to draw me out, he would've just kept her...

Unless that theory of mine is true...and everyone that has ever been stalked by him now was stalked by kids...

...Did you see him back then too, Lizzie?

Is that why you got wrapped up in all this? if your life wasn't tragic enough...

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


One of the reports that interested me was the use of a proxy; a human that acts like a messenger or servent. Since Slender Man can't talk himself, he uses some humans to be his “voice.” The proxy can simply deliver the message, or do Slender Man's crimes himself, as to throw off anyone going on his trail.

Throughout all the Slender stories, we've seen examples of this. In Marble Hornets, it's the masked man. In Just Another Fool, it was eventually Logan. In Who are You it was visionsleep.

For me, it's Albert Conaghan.

Ever since his name first got dragged into the case, Conaghan's been nothing but a pain in my ass. For over a month he led us on a wild goose chase and when we finally caught up with him all he did was give a cryptic message. Now I understand more the motivation behind his doings. He was just the messenger for the real deal.

Alright, did you get dragged into this...

He told me that Slender Man had gotten to him six months prior to our conversation, so...back in November, that would make it. As honest as he probably was during that part of our conversation, my natural distrust of him is telling me otherwise. I have to be sure, though.

The other cases made against him over the years all indicate he is perfectly capable of kidnapping, rape, and what makes this different? Probably that they never found the victims this time. Either dead or alive, they were all found in the past, give or take one or two. But not now...

I'm guessing he's delivering them to Slender Man, directly or indirectly. He's made it so that the two look almost identical now in appearance. Both act the same he copying him?

He did make the real claim that Slender Man was his “angel of death”. I never took a rapist for a religious man...unless Slender Man is the one putting it into his head? Not all that unlikely. Maybe that's how Slender Man gets his victims to follow him? I don't know...I guess it varies on the case.

What I don't get is, why him. The Masked character, assuming it is Tim, he may be a jerk, but he's still a regular kid. Logan was just a lost soul, trying to find some inner purpose. “Visionsleep” was the protagonist, just a different form. All of them regular good kids, if somewhat flawed.

So why did he pick the convicted pedophile this time around?

Maybe it's because these characters are flawed. Maybe Slender Man offers them some sort of a purpose. But they must know it's a joke, right? Probably not...he is pretty powerful...

Maybe Conaghan was picked to lure me out. Slender Man knew what Conaghan did to that girl from my class; maybe he knew I would go to the ends of the earth to flush him out...was that his plan all along? To use Conaghan to get to me?

If it was, then I sure as hell bought it. Hook line and sinker. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I spent so much time going after him because I thought he was the grand master in this whole game, when in reality, he's just the puppet being moved around on strings.

I'm guessing, also, that Conaghan's the one holding Eric. He said during the interrogation that it wasn't Eric's turn yet. Which means he's still in our dimension, or planet, or whatever. But where could he be? In the warehouse?

...Behind the door, perhaps?

That kick I heard. Maybe that was him. Maybe that's where Conaghan's holding him. God damn it, I was right there, nothing between us but a fucking door...

...Conaghan's been awful quiet since that night. What's he been up to? I have been completely out of touch with everyone at the department since that night...I'm sure they would have told me if they finally caught him.

Which means they might still be there...What are you waiting for, Al?

Friday, July 9, 2010

Slender Man

Thanks for the help. I read enough to get my investigation underway. I know some are just games here, but every little bit helps, believe it or not. Sorry it took so long to post, but going through all the evidence is a process and I didn't want to post until I had something concrete to talk about.

Alright...let's get started. I'll divide it up into sections:


Based off the reports, Slender Man was created on some forum about a year ago. SomethingAwful forum; how appropriate. His roots, however, go back way longer than that. I can't account for how much of this is legit, but what I've gathered is this:

From a documentary I found on Youtube, Slender Man can go as far back as the Ancient Egyptians. His form popped up in hieroglyph on the wall, hell if I know what it was supposed to mean. Medieval times is when he seemed to pop up the most; around the time this “Der Ritter” woodcut keeps popping up.

I don't know what to make of these woodcuts. They may be showing something with multiple legs, it may just be one of those “what do you see” pictures. But the picture of a knight with multiple bony legs thrusting a sword into another knight's side would definitely scare the shit out of anyone back then. And the one where the tall knight is grabbing the child through the door while the parents do nothing but watch...

The story that gave me nightmares last night was the one of the mother in the woods with her two daughters and they encounter the Slender Man. His voice told her to tell her daughters to lay on the ground and kill each other, but one of the girls wouldn't do it and ran away. When the father came home, she told him what was happening and he went to try and stop it. At the end of the night, the mother returns with the heads of the sister and the father, and said that because she wouldn't do what he said, his punishment on her would be ten times worse. And then he takes her...

Story or not, it scared the shit out of me.

After that reports have him pop up all throughout history, but the medieval times and our current time is when he seems to have done the most damage, giving about a five hundred year time span in between. What is so important about these two periods of time? What was going on then that attracted him to Germany, and what's going on now that's attracting him to America? Not the Plague, that was two hundred years before its time...though I have to wonder how much damage he did then too.

There has to be something significant about that time period and this one...any thoughts?

At any rate, he could trace all the way back to the Stone Age as far as I know. Torturing humanity since the beginning of time...

It is unknown where he comes from. That seems to be the thing no one can agree on. Whether it's from another planet or another dimension, or...he was ALWAYS here, even before we were. I've personally decided to combine the three ideas: He's from another planet, in another dimension, and has been coming to our planet even before we were created. With that in mind, it's hard to imagine just how old he is...unless there's more than one. But I'm not going to continue that thought, because the thought of a million Slender Mans would scare the shit out of any grown man...


Slender Man, as we all know by now, is a tall, stick-thin man, apparently ageless, that stands anywhere between six and seven feet tall. He has no hair of any kind, and his head lacks eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. That's four of the five human senses gone right there, and I know he doesn't operate on touch, so process of elimination means he must operate on some kind of a sixth sense. What it is, exactly, I don't know. Maybe omniscience? That would make sense, given its...unusual abilities (more below.)

Aside from his height and lack of facial features, his most terrifying feature is his arms. They're long, they always seem to be palms facing up, and when he gets pissed off they turn into tentacles. And then he grows tentacles on his back. I think the overall number of arms he's ever had are ten, but it can vary, I guess, depending on how pissed off you get him.

Why the tentacles? My guess is it's kind of like the clown from IT. He makes himself out to be human, but underneath is something worse, something alien. I suppose only the people he's actually taken would know...something to ponder about, though.


Slender Man's powers are mostly guessed at, but general consensus seems to be that he possesses some form of teleportation. He has been shown at times to appear and disappear completely at random, which either serves to support this theory or indicates that he is very fast.

He also seems to have some sort of time travel ability; there have been a couple of instances of a person being somewhere one second, and then being somewhere else hours- or sometimes days- later, though they will not have noticed any passing of time.

It is this ability that leads me to believe that he also has some form of omniscience; he knows everything. Past, present, future. Things that have happened, are happening, or won't happen until much later. Perhaps this is why he works at completely random times and places; because he knows when, exactly, he'll be acquiring new prey.

Another ability also involves some sort of technopathy. He is known to jam up cameras and distort audio devices. That would explain what happened at the station the night Sam disappeared. It would also explain what happened to my walkie the night Lizzie...died. This ability may revolve around where he comes from, wherever that may be.

In addition, he seems to hold a hypnotic power over his victims; several have recorded themselves getting up and doing things that they don't remember doing. Hypnosis would definitely provide an explanation to several of these occurrences.


The only known symbol for Slender Man currently is the Operator symbol; a circle with a big “X” running through the center. Throughout our case, we came across enough Operator symbols drawn on paper to redecorate my entire house. As far as I know, no one seems to know what exactly it is, but the idea of it is simple: whenever it appears, he appears.

When we interrogated Sam, he said that it was his “mark”. A way to mark his victims, let them know that they're next. I'm still on the fence as to whether or not I believe in that. It would make sense if it was; again, whenever someone finds that sign, it usually means he is not far behind. But all the appearances of the symbol that I have observed thus far have been completely random...or maybe that's just what he wants me to think? Again, the omniscience may be what leads him to put the marks everywhere.

But then, why do people draw them? Maybe it's to mark themselves? Provide a warning to those that are next? Or maybe it's just a part of the hypnosis...I don't know. Anyone who has an idea, feel free to offer a thought.

Modus Operandi

Slender Man's style is as a silent stalker. Always he is hiding, just out of sight, so that if a camera is on the person operating it usually doesn't pick up on his appearance until they view the recording later. He seems to have a pattern of stalking them in public, then tracking them down to their house, peering through the windows, and then eventually making his way inside. The ending...well, there's no definite ending, I think it's just one of those things where you're left to your own imagination. Usually involving disappearance.

It's still not known where he takes the victims...either he eats them or he takes them to his dimension, or...I just don't know. It could be anything. No one's ever come back to tell the tale, so it's assumed they either die or end up in a lifeless state, like anyone who ever endured the Dementor's kiss.

At some point, I'm guessing around the time he's found your house, he'll use the hypnosis to lure you outside. What he does then...I don't know. Shows you things, maybe? I honestly can't vouch from my own experiences. I don't remember ever going outside to meet him.

Then again, there have been a lot of things going on that I don't remember happening...

To understand his workings now, I need to look over my case:

Victoria Krell: Probably the easiest victim. She lived out in the woods, plenty of places for him to hide and stalk her from. Low on the social ladder, so no one would really miss her if she disappeared. Outsider. Loner. All these things probably made her an easy target; he seems to take those who are alone.

Jessica Albright: This one still confuses me, in honesty. She was Krell's opposite in almost every way, and yet she ended up in the same boat. I'm still not entirely certain when she first spotted him, but he got his hooks into her. The message to me from the letters in her journal makes me wonder if that was him working through her, but another part makes me think that was her getting a message out to me...I don't understand how that one would work, though, unless he showed her who I was...

Sam Ford: Poor Sam. He just could not catch a break. He and his friends spotted Slender Man together, but he was the only one that the thing went after. I still remember the interrogation, how out of control he got. And right when he was safe, in our hands, he got taken.

The kids in the apartment: I don't know what to think there. They went missing a while ago, but the way they turned up leads me to believe that Slender Man wasn't really behind this one. Or if he was...well, then, he's a sick fuck.

Eric Riley: Eric, I think, is the exception to the rule that I'm going to post at the end of this entry. He didn't get really involved until Lizzie asked him for help. I remember he was getting sick towards the end; that should have been the big sign for me. Where are you, Eric...

The sickness, I think, is a result of the time traveling and teleportation abilities. Anyone who watches Lost or Heroes can tell you that both of those does a number on a person; tumors, aneurisms, internal injuries, the works. Perhaps it is this that gets the victims so weak when he finally takes them...


This is the spot where I look over the blogs you guys sent me and try to find something to help me. Now, unfortunately, I can't post everything from them on here. A lot of the more recent ones (ones posted in the last month or so) didn't make the cut, mainly because I needed to focus on those that have been around for a while. If there are some in the newer ones that you guys think I should know about, feel free to let me know.

With that said, I suppose the logical place to start would be:

Marble Hornets

This was the first publically documented account of Slender Man's actions. It raised the big questions, but as the series progressed it focused more on Totheark and the Masked Man and left a lot of Slender questions unanswered. Jay's not really on Slender Man's hitlist; not completely. After the visits to the house, it became apparent that his influence would take hold on him, but Jay was left mostly with the Masked Man to deal with. Alex is who Slender Man wants, but as to why that is, it's unknown.

Marble Hornets also raised the belief that Slender Man can only be seen through digital means, i.e., camera, cell phone, etc. Well, I'll tell you now, that's not true. I've seen him, and I've seen him in person with my own eyes. Maybe to other people, he can only be seen on camera, but he doesn't just show up whenever the recording button is one.

Alex, Jay...wherever you guys are now, I hope you're staying safe...

Just Another Fool

The first written account on a blog. To date, I'm still not sure if what Matt saw in Iraq was Slender Man or his mind going away from him, but the notebook he sent Logan certainly sent Slender Man Logan's way. Not long after, Logan went nuts, and Josh took over. Logan sent all these cryptic messages and warnings...definitely more Totheark than a Slender victim. Is it possible he was the proxy here (I'll get more into the role of the proxy in the next entry)?

Logan eventually killed himself...I assume. What about Josh? What happened to him? What did he encounter that kept him from coming back after going to the police station? I guess that's just another mystery we'll never know...

Always Looking Back

To be honest, I don't really understand this one. Can someone clarify for me? I read the most recent post after the author's note and what I read just confused me too much to look into it further.

Curious Little Girl

Another confusing one. She's being stalked by something else; don't know what it is, and I don't understand how it helps me.

Who Are You?

Another game, but this one raised interesting questions. James's constant under attack from Slender Man seemed to give him a dual-personality, this “visionsleep” or whatever the fuck it is. This is the only time I can recall encountering a split-personality result from Slender Man. Then there's also that box, which is another mystery that I guess will never be solved.

Another interesting this is Slender Man's arms. They change in number continuously. And it's never the same for each person; James saw eight, Jess saw four. I guess it all depends on how badly he wants you.

The blindfold is intriguing too. What powers, exactly, does it have over closing the drapes? Whatever it is, it worked...for a while. But I guess nothing's permanent, huh?

Rainbow Life

I sent a comment to Prism. She reminds me so much of Lizzie...I really hope nothing bad happens to her, but the way he is seeping into her poetry and her life...and she said people have died around her. Who, exactly? Her friends? Family? I hope she updates again soon, before it's too late. Hang in there, kid...


I gotta admit, these guys have some serious balls. Probably the only time I've seen someone that I think honestly has a good chance of holding their own in a fight against Slender Man, and that's the honest truth. At the moment, though, they need to keep their eyes on Chuckie Cheese (the scrawny kid that covers food...what? His face reminds me of a rat, kind of) there, because Slender Man seems to be doing the most work on him. Puff Ball might be after, then Billy Mays (yes, I gave them all nicknames, so sue me). I think they can hold their own, though. They just need to keep it together, and stay together, until they realize what they're dealing with so that they can fight it.


A tumblr one, but seemingly with connections to Everyman after her site was seen on one of their videos being looked at. The girl is pretty cute...either she doesn't acknowledge Slender Man or she's just not willing to talk. Understandable, in both cases. Hopefully they meet up, because I think she has a better chance with the HYBRID crew than being by herself.


These videos have Slender Man appearances up the fiery ass. I don't know how Milo lasted that long when Slender Man was such a strong presence in his life. This account backs up the theory that Slender Man can only be seen through the camera, but then how could Noah have missed it when he first posted the videos? Maybe it's one of those things Slender Man can pick and choose. Other than that, nothing too noticeable, other than an Operator symbol and Logan's name scratched in wood. Not sure what the latter means yet...

Discuss the Findings

I...don't even know what to make of this one. To be honest, I'm not sure it's something to really freak out over. Maybe I'm wrong. But we'll see.

The Tutorial

I like this one. The kid goes over what to do and what not to do. There should be a legit survival guide to this stuff. I don't know how much of it helps, but he's still kicking. My only gripe is that he has the balls to take a stab at me. Hey, asshole, I'm still here, aren't I? You think I'm writing this stuff because I think it's good literature? No. I've never myself called him that, and I don't plan to. So you just keep running and hiding like a good little boy, and I'm going to see if I can take this bitch down. Enjoy that fucking coffee. I prefer home blend myself.

...Sorry about the know how I get.

In my Head, In my Mind

This is the one that still angers me to no end. I know it's a game, but Jesus Christ, she knew how to kill him and she didn't tell us! I understand it would lead to death, but if you're going to off yourself anyway, that kind of puts the whole “taking the secret to the grave” into a redundant mess. Leave the way to kill him with someone who doesn't care if it kills him. I don't care if it's a game. It could have helped. You could have helped me. But now you're dead. Thanks for nothing.

Overall, though, they all pretty much go through the same thing. Slender Man keeps coming to get them. Some are gone now, some are still trying to fight. For some, it's only a matter of time.


My biggest theory is this:

Slender Man's theme, from the beginning when all this mess about him started coming to light, was that he targeted children. The documentary showed the kidnapping the man's son, and then the farmer's daughter. Both men killed themselves not long afterwards. Slender Man has known to leave victims begging for suicide, killing animals, and causing devastation.

If such is the case, then why are all these blogs and videos popping up of him going after people ranging from high school to my age and older? That doesn't fit into the meme at all. But the answer, I think, is a simple one.

He already tried.

I think- and this may just be me- but I think that every single person that has ever recorded something involving Slender Man had an encounter with him when they were children. For some reason- maybe they forgot about it, maybe they had a guardian who knew how to protect them, or maybe, in my case, they simply moved to a new location- he didn't get them then. But then they grew older, and Slender Man slowly crept his way back into their lives. My guess is, again, the omniscience; he knows when it will be that he takes them.

Again, Eric I think is the exception. Or maybe he isn't. Maybe he had an encounter too, and Lizzie's digging brought it up. But based on how quickly he was taken, I'm guessing he just got into the wrong situation at the wrong time.

As for the angel of death stuff, it's nonsense. People like to drag religion into what they can't explain, so when something alien comes to claim them, “angel of death” seems the most appropriate term to use. It's just a term. Like I said before, I don't think he does it because it's his job to. I think he does it because that's all he's ever known, or ever will know.

This is my deduction on the Slender Man. I may be right; I may be wrong. This may all be old news, but I may have found some things that are completely new. I did the best I could with what I was given. Take it for what it is, or leave it.

This is part one of my study. It'll probably be the longest part. Part two will be shorter, and should be up soon.

Today is my birthday.

I'm twenty-seven today.

Here's hoping I can make it to twenty-eight...

Friday, July 2, 2010

Getting My Head Back On Straight

It's amazing what you come to realize once you take your mind out of the bottle and get out of the house for a few hours.

This afternoon I took off for a walk, not really caring where I was going. Maybe I was hoping I would walk off and disappear from the world...I don't really remember now. But before I knew it, my feet- and it was MY feet, and no one else's influence, I'm sure of that- had led me into the woods. And I wasn't sure at first where exactly I was, or how my feet had taken me out this far, but then I relaxed when I saw that familiar two-story house in the middle of nowhere.

Yeah, that's right. My walk had taken me to Victoria Krell's house.

It's empty now. Her mom took off back in May, ran away with some trucker, or so we heard. I guess she figured we'd never find her daughter, so her drunken ass took off with the first man she came across. If I had thought it had been shabby before, now it really looked forlorn. Leaves were clogging up the gutter, the windows were dirty, and there was a hole in the roof, probably caused by a raccoon, that I'm sure had not been there the last time we were there.

Last time we were there...back when all of this first started...

I stared at the house, and inside I felt a deep feeling of regret. We should have found that girl. We should have found her, and Jessica, and poor Sam. They should all be home now, Victoria arguing with her mom, Jessica with her boyfriend on a Friday night, and Sam skateboarding with his friends. School's been out for a couple of weeks for them; they should be home enjoying it, not wherever they are now. They didn't deserve this. They were just kids. They didn't do anything wrong.

And then I started feeling angry. None of us deserved this. I went three months trying so hard to be their protector, but now I'm just like them- a victim. How the fuck did this happen? Now they're gone, and the world has moved on and forgotten them and I'm all that's left, all that is there to try and make sense of it. It's not fair. It's just not fair...

He's not fair.

And it's time I start doing something about it. I'm done just talking about it. I want, I want him dead. I'm talking about ripping his arms off and beating him to death with them. I'm talking about sticking my foot so far up his ass my shoe imprint gives him facial features. I'm talking stone cold, bury him six feet under dead.

And I'm going to do it.

I haven't responded to comments, but I have read. For those of you giving up on me, go right ahead. World needs plenty of hate. For those who still try to encourage, I thank you. I'm not the easiest guy to get along with, and I don't intend to change who I am, but...well, thanks, I guess.

But the consensus is the same: opening the door. I want to know what's behind it too, because I'm fairly certain it's someONE instead of someTHING. And someONE means there's a survivor, and I don't know how much time they have left.

But I can't just barge in.

Look at it this way: if you were a special forces team on a mission to retrieve a captured soldier, do you just go in guns blazing with no plan other than to run and gun and wing it? No, you don't. That just results in getting the whole team killed. You get your intel, you map the area, you make a plan, and THEN you go in.

I've got the plan, and I've got the map. What I don't have, though, is the intel.

I need to fully know what I'm up against. I need to know Slender Man, inside and out. I don't want to just go in there and be in way over my head. I need to know what I'm up against.

That's where you come in.

I've got a few sites that Lizzie was looking up, but they all pretty much say the same thing. I can find out the basics on my own. But I need to bring it deeper than that. And I know a few of you are into this Slender Man stuff like it's your job, so...

I need to find the blogs. There has to be others out there, like me, like Logan Renault, who are going through something like this. Some may just be games, some may be the real thing...I don't know. But I need to find them, and I need to see what they've gone through. Maybe they have something the experts have missed.

There has to be a way to take him down. There has to be something I missed. I need to see if it's out there.

I know it's a bit of a request, coming from me...and I don't doubt anyone who turns away from my request, but if you won't help me, point me in the direction I need to go. I'm a detective. I do my job based off the clues and the evidence presented to me. I think these blogs may help me do that.

So please, help me...because I want to get this son of a bitch.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010















you killed my partner...






Monday, June 28, 2010

Drink drink drink drink drink drink drink drink drink drink DRUNK

Wheeeeeeeeee, gotta luv tha gin. Ah luv mah gin.

Ah...ah normally dun drink it, bu...fuggit, yookno?


Oh heeeeeeeeeeey, Mr. Slendy-Face, thar yooooooo arah, peekin thwo mah window. Whydontcha join the part-ay, man? Have a drink, on meh....


Ah seen tha commens...“OPEN THA DOOR, ZEEK!” an all that. its THAT eeeeeeasy. It aint. It aint. It aint that easy. Yoo dont kno. Yoo THUBNK yoo kno. But yoo dont kno.

Here, Mr. Slendy-Face, pull up a chaih and has a drinky-poo on tha house.

Ya kno...honest...honestly...i dun laake yoo. Yoo killed mah Lizzie...Ah luved mah Lizzie, she was mah...mah only one, and yoo jut wehn yoo killed her. Yoo kill E-wick too? Ah bet yoo did, ah bet yoo killed E-wick tooo...

Mahbe ah sho...sho...should kill YOO. How bout that? Hows bout ah blow yoor fuggin head off? Yoo like that? Yoo like that ah blows yoor fuggin head off? Ah think yood like that...

Ahm gunna do that. Ahm gonna blow yoor fuggin head off. Juuuuust yoooooooooooooooooooo waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiitttttttt...


Friday, June 25, 2010

Little Miss Lizzie
was having a tizzy
while eating her curds and whey.
A long Slender spider
tried to sat down beside her
but then I came and blew the fucker away

...That's the story I'm working on right now.

It's still a rough draft, but...I don't know, I think it has a nice ring to it, don't you?

Name, Ezekiel of birth...July 9th, 1983...parents, Mark and Mary-Pat...occupation, detective...

The more facts I ramble off, the more I remember who I am. The more I remember who I am, the less He can take from me.

I didn't have many friends growing up. The kids in school always used to make fun of me because I was the kid with the funny name. Ezekiel...I don't know why Mom ever named me that why the fuck would she subject me to that kind of ridicule...even after I told them all to just call me Zeke the insults the jokes the cat-calls they just kept coming kept coming kept coming kept coming kept coming-

He's staring at me right now. I can feel Him looking in on me. Leave me alone, man, just leave me alone, I didn't DO anything, I...

When I was nine, I got so fed up with the insults and the jokes that I snapped and one time during gym class Jimmy Cavaco pushed me against the folding chair stacks and they all crashed on to the floor and everyone laughed at me and I didn't say anything and I grabbed a folding chair and I started beating him up with it and he was crying and pleading with me to stop and I didn't stop and everyone was just staring at me and why didn't I stop and two teachers had to pull me off him and they told me I could have killed him and I didn't MEAN to kill him and that's when I learned I had intermittent explosive disorder and the doctor tried to help me but he never believed me when I told him what was causing it-

Leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me ALONE LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME

They never listened. They never heard. They never believed me when I told them that a man kept coming into my room in the middle of the night. The Nightmare Man. The man who wore a suit and had no face and had arms that made it look like He wanted to hug me and He did hug me and He showed me these things and at first they were great but then they were not and He scared me and He knew it and He wanted to take me and I told my mom I said Mommy the Nightmare Man wants to take me away don't let Him take me Mommy but she did not listen she did not listen she did not FUCKING LISTEN!


One of my guns just went off.


Monday, June 21, 2010

Saw Eric in the mirror looking back at me. When I turned around, he wasn't there.

I think I'm losing it.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Went to sleep last night in my bed on the third floor.

Woke up on my couch on the ground floor.

Have absolutely no idea how I got there...or what happened in between...

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

For two nights He's come to my window and for two nights we have just stared at each other.

Can't really tell what He's thinking since He doesn't have a face to help me out.

He never comes during the day, when I'm out and about. It's always at night. Can't really say I'm surprised, though. That's when He always came before...

I try and stay awake as long as I can, but I'm coming on day three now and I know I'm going to have to sleep at some point, otherwise, this whole thing gets that much worse.

I keep finding myself amazed at how well I'm coping with Evil Incarnate outside my window. In truth, I don't really feel...well, anything, except empty. Maybe I just don't care anymore.

But I can see this getting a whole lot worse before it gets better.

Let's try and prove me right.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

He's staring at me, right through my window.

He thinks I don't see Him, but I do. I'm sitting in my living room, on my laptop, the only sound being the hamster spinning in his wheel, and now His face is just peeking through my window like a neighbor wondering if he could borrow a cup of sugar.

It's like looking at a full moon on a cloudless night. In the dark, He glows a bright yellow, and its effects are both eerie and somewhat soothing if you have no idea what He's doing.

But I know.

Because I hear this voice in my head, telling me to come out. “Come out,” it tells me, “come to me.” I never knew He could talk to you, but apparently He can.

I don't move. I just sit in my chair, laptop in my lap, glass of wine next to me, and I stare back. Stare Him down. My eyes don't leave His face, and His head tilts in that curious fashion, as though He finds me an odd specimen.

I feel like I'm staring right at the lion that wants me for dinner. Now I can understand why so many people fear Him; He has that kind of effect on people. Again and again, I can hear that voice in my head, saying the same thing over and over and over: “Come to me. Come out.”

And every single time I just mentally-and verbally- send Him the same retort:

“Fuck you.”

Saturday, June 12, 2010

On the Defense

I feel like I'm trapping myself into a box.

My house is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. I've got the windows all locked and the doors secured. Basement door has more locks on it than a bank. Looking around at it all now, it feels like my house is a Saw movie, and I'm the poor sap Jigsaw's tormenting.

My front door has, I kid you not, my handgun placed against the spot where a person's head might be, hooked up to an apparatus I worked on all night. If someone tries to enter without me knowing, they get one to the noggin. Against Him, I don't know how much work it's going to do, but it's a defense and I'll be damned if I'm just going to let Him waltz in without a fight.

My back door is defended somewhat similarly. The main difference is that it's a shotgun. Don't ask me where I got it, because technically, I'm not allowed to say. But it's wired the same way, only placed back some more so that it's propped up on a box. If someone comes in, they get a chest full of buckshot. That's the plan, anyway.

For the windows, there's really not much I can do except pray He doesn't know how to open them. He probably does. Wouldn't surprise me.

I considered buying a camera to tape myself as I sleep, just in case I get a late night visitor. Ultimately, I decided against it. There are just some things I would rather not know the answer to.

Don't think I just stay inside 24-7, though. I do get out. I go shopping for food. I go to the coffee shop and get my coffee. I take walks. I get out of the house as much as I can during the day. The defenses are for when I have to come home at night.

I stay in public as much as I can during the day. He can't get me in broad daylight. But at night, it's just me and Him, whenever He decides to come.

Moving is out of the question. I have nowhere to go. My parents have been overseas on a cruise for months now, and I don't expect them home soon. I have no other relatives nearby, and friends...who are you kidding, do I sound like a guy who has a lot of friends? I haven't talked to my high school friends in months. And it's not like I have any friends on the job...not anymore, at least.

No, this is where I stay. This is where I try and hold out as long as I can while I try and figure out how to solve this shit situation I've gotten myself into. Find a way to save myself.

For the first time since I was thirteen, I don't feel safe in my own house.

And the fact that He can do that scares me worse than anything else He can possibly do to me.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Chief's put me on suspension. With Lizzie's death and Eric's disappearance, he thinks I need time to pull myself together, take care of myself. So he put me on indefinite suspension with pay.

Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Inside the Labryinth

I'm finally calmed down enough to write this entry. The images from last night are permanently burned in my retina, so I can't forget them, no matter how hard I try to or want to. All that blood, all that panic...all that I saw...


We hit the warehouse at around seven forty-five. Small team; I was the only detective. We went in through the front entrance, two at a time, except me, who went in last. I would have rather gone in first...although now that I think on it, I would rather not have gone in at all.

We organized in the lobby, and again, I chose to go by myself. The adrenaline rush was giving me an added sense of awareness. I had my gun out, and something told me I would be using it before the night was over. So we split up, and I went through the right-hand door with my gun drawn.

Thinking about it now, the dying sounds of the team's footsteps was the most ominous and despairing thing I had ever heard.

I don't know what Conaghan was using this place for, but in all the major shipping rooms there's nothing in them aside from crates and barrels scattered all around, and paper flying everywhere. I forgot to check if this place was actually still operational or not. Guess it really doesn't matter now. I didn't see anyone around.

I had the flashlight in one hand, and my gun in the other hand, and I had the flashlight hand over the gun hand like you see in the movies. Both were up, the light to see where I was going, and the gun to scare someone into submission, and failing at that...well, it WAS loaded.

Those hallways were dark, and they kept branching off to other parts of the building. It felt like I was navigating the labyrinth as I made my way through them. Once or twice I'm pretty sure I ended up in the same room more than once, going in circles. I was getting pretty disoriented, and I had barely been in there an hour.

It was around the second hour or so that my walkie went off. I lowered my flashlight to grab it, and with the flashlight pointing at the ground I felt like I was surrounded by a void. I brought the walkie to my mouth to respond.

“Li...'s...n re...ond...”

Whoever was on the end must have had shit reception. I asked them to repeat it, but the second time was just static. I tapped it with the flashlight, and then this white noise blew my fucking eardrums up, so I finally just turned it off. I figured there must have been a tower down or something, I don't really know.

So I kept going, same stance as before. For some reason, this cloud of paranoia was hovering over my head, I just could not keep calm. My breathing was getting pretty heavy, my head was looking all over, keeping one eye peering over my shoulder just in case someone was following me. Felt like every five minutes I was turning around with my gun out to make sure I wasn't being followed.

I was more paranoid than normal. I don't even care anymore. I don't think I'll ever stop being paranoid ever again.

Three hours in now...was it that much? I don't know, time has gone out the window for me, it could have all been done in an hour for all I felt like three hours in, so I'm going to just go with that...

Three hours in, I finally found this door. I probably would have passed right by it if something hadn't smacked against it. It might have been a kick...the more I think about it, the more I'm certain that it was a kick. But it was this big iron door, with a simple knob.

I tried opening it, but it was locked. I threw my weight against, tried kicking it, it was not budging. Now I was sure something was back there- why lock something unless something was important in there?- and I aimed my gun to shoot the knob off when-

This loud scream echoed through the hallways. A woman's scream. At first I thought there was an officer down...but our group didn't have any women among us.

So I said fuck the door. Someone was in here- Conaghan apparently worked fast- and needed help. So I took off back the way I had come.

Only, remember how I said I was navigating a maze? I had no idea where I had come from or which way I was supposed to be going. I must have slammed into ten different walls, and the dying batteries in my flashlight were not making things any easier. At one point, I cut my arm on something, not sure left a nice little scratch, bleeding quite a bit. Not deep enough to get infected, I found out later, but that's besides the point. I'd lose the fucking arm if I could just get things back to normal.

I will never forget when I came to that fork. It was the way I was coming, then the option to either go straight or take a right. It didn't look familiar at all, and I should have checked my corners before I did anything, but I took the right anyway and...

Heh...I guess this is the part where you all say “I told you so”. I suppose I deserve it, but...I didn't think karma would bite me that hard. If I could take it all back I would, but...I suppose this is what I deserve, but...

I saw it. Him. Whatever the fuck you people call him, he was THERE.

I took that right and I brought my flashlight and gun up and there he was, standing right there in the middle of the hallway and at first glance I thought it was Conaghan...God, they look so similar...but once I got to the face, I froze. He stood at six, six and a half feet tall...maybe seven feet, I don't know, I didn't measure him. His face...well, he HAD no face, but it still felt like his eyes were boring right into me as his head was bent at that weird angle as though he found me curious. He wore that suit that looked like a formal version of Mr. Rogers' outfit, and his arms...his fucking ARMS...they were bent at that awkward angle that made him look like he was going to give you a hug. Although now that I recall it more vividly, his arms looked like they were...changing.

I couldn't move at first; it felt like someone had glued me in place. I tried to form a complete sentence, but the only thing I could really choke out was, “Oh, fuck ME.”

Then he took a step towards me, and I snapped out of it. I raised my gun and fired five bullets right at his chest, then turned and ran out of there like a bat out of hell. I don't know if any of those bullets actually hit him, I don't really care, I just got the hell out of there. He might have been chasing me, or he might have just been trying to scare me. I hope I never know.

I ran faster than I had ever run in my life. Every single horrible memory from my childhood came flooding back to me all at once; every ounce of fear for the dark that I had ever felt in my life, twelve years of it, hitting me like a tidal wave. I remembered things that I didn't even know had happened, remembered things that I had tried to repress my entire life. I ran and I ran and I ran and I turned every corner and hurdled myself over every obstacle until something tripped me. I rolled and made sure my gun was up and-

It was a body. A fucking body. Right in the middle of the hallway. She was covered in blood, and there were cuts and slices from her face to her feet. The knife was still in her chest, covered in her blood. She was still breathing, but it was raspy, and me tripping over her leg probably didn't help her much. I stood over her, trying to see her face, and when she looked up at me with those big Bambi eyes, I just...


She followed me here. Even after I told her to stay at the station where it was safe, she just couldn't let it go. That's what the voice on the walkie was trying to tell me; that she had come in and had taken off after me. Then she got lost, and Conaghan...came up behind her...with the knife, and...

I knelt beside her and cradled her in my arms. The knife was sticking right out of her chest, the handle resting against her breast, and I thought that it was in her heart. If that were the case, it would be too dangerous to pull it out. But with wounds like this...unless a doctor showed up soon...

I shouted down the hallway for a doctor, for the team, for ANYONE to help. Then she looked up at me and smiled, then muttered something that almost sounded like her throat gurgling. I leaned in to hear her, and she placed her blood-stained hand on my shirt as she whispered into my ear.

“It's your turn now...I'll see you soon, Zeke...”

She didn't say anything more. And as her hand fell off my chest I lifted my head back in time to see the last signs of life leave her once lively, once beautiful face.

I don't know how long I was there for. Minutes, hours...doesn't matter. All I know is when they finally found us I was kneeling, cradling a blood-covered corpse that had once been my partner, my best friend, covered in her blood and tears streaming down my face. Then they pulled us out...

We didn't find Conaghan. We didn't find Eric. We didn't find Slender Man. All they found was one officer dead on the inside, and one officer just plain dead.

I don't know what to do. I'm still paranoid. I can't get these thoughts out of my head...I can't get her face, or His, out of my head...

I'm scared took a couple of months, but I'm officially scared.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010



Monday, June 7, 2010

Conaghan took off. Fortunately, he didn't get very far. Intel says he's holed up in one of his warehouses, off the corner of Hope and Rutland Streets.

We're going in to take him down. My bet is, that's where he's got Eric too. Like Lizzie said, we find him, we find Conaghan, we hopefully end this thing. I'm optimistic about it; I'm ready to go back to life as per normal.

Lizzie wants to come too, but I'm putting my foot down. Yeah, she's gotten better in the last week since our talk, and if she hadn't freaked out this morning, I probably would have considered it, but since she did, I'm not letting her go within a hundred feet of the place. She pouted and protested, but I gave her a look that said if she didn't listen to me, I was going to tape her to her bed. So she finally agreed to at least stay at the station while we went.

Let's just finish this shit up already. I'll post when we've got the slimeball.
Chief said that they had a break-out last night, around one in the morning. Ten guys we were holding all made a break for it. I'm not sure how they did it, no one is sure, but it kept our guys busy trying to round them all up.

When I called, they had just brought in the ninth guy back to his cell.

Three wild guesses as to who's still on the loose.
Woke up to Lizzie screaming bloody murder. Fell off the couch, got myself oriented, and ran upstairs with my gun ready, for that just in case scenario that someone had finally gotten through.

When I got the door open, she was just kicking and flailing and screaming and kicking at the sheets, but there wasn't anyone WITH her. At least she wasn't being lifted into the air by an invisible force, but that was no comfort at the moment.

I holstered and shook her awake, trying to snap her out of it. Took me about five minutes before she finally opened her eyes and looked up at me as though she had just found out Hitler had risen from the dead and was about to resurrect Nazi Germany.

“He's out...His servant is's started...”

Eventually I got her to calm down, but she still repeated that, over and over again, for about an hour afterwards.

Something's happened. I'm going to call the station and see if something's going on that I should know about. What she's saying has me worried that...I can't think of it now. I'll let the chief tell me.

Today's going to be a busy day, I can tell.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


“The night of the carnival was when I first saw Him.”

That was the beginning of our conversation that transpired last night. We were playing rummy on her bed and I was winning when she suddenly sprung that thought on me. At first I wasn't sure what she was talking about, but then it hit me then.

She had seen something that night; something that I hadn't. I should have realized then what that was going to do to her.

“ saw this...guy?” I asked, wanting to bite back the words I had spent the last couple of months speaking out against.

She nodded, her face scrunched, looking like she was going to have another breakdown. She gets them randomly, and each time is ever more depressing than the last.

“It was when we were watching the fireworks...I looked over at you, and then I saw Him out of the corner of my eye, He was looking right at me...that was the night I realized it was no joke. And then when you COULDN'T see Him...that's when I knew He was after me...”

“Why? Why does he want you? What did YOU do?”

“Nothing. It doesn't matter. He takes everyone, no one is safe.”

I thought of all the victims- Victoria, Jessica, Sam, Eric- and I shuddered. That definitely seemed to be holding up.

“He's been visiting me...” she continued. “Every couple of nights...and He shows me what He really wants...”

“And what does He really want?”

She looks at me, and I automatically know the answer. Of course; it wasn't HER name painted on a ceiling in blood, was it? Stupid question.

“ always said that your childhood home used to scare you...did you ever see Him?”

I shook my head. “It was just the paranoia of a little kid living out in the woods, Lizzie-”

“For twelve years? Yeah, it's the middle of nowhere, but most kids get over it LONG before that!

I tried to remember if there was a time when I ever saw a face looking through my window, but it all came up blank. I remember noises, the usual twigs snapping and leaves crunching, but I never saw anyone really hanging around my house. Of course, in the middle of the night, it always SOUNDED like someone was outside, but we never had any incidents.

“Nothing ever happened.”

“But He was THERE. He showed me looking through your window when you were a child. He showed me walking into your room and staring at you, just staring...”

Now I'm certain I would remember THAT. If someone had come into my room, I was a light enough sleeper that I would have heard him.

She watched my face and knew that I wasn't going to remember anything any time soon. We sat in silence for a minute or two before I decided to press on with the question that had infuriated me since our fight.

“If you knew it was going to get this bad, why the hell did you keep digging yourself into all that crap? Why keep researching if you knew it would come back to haunt you?”

“At first, it was the excitement in me,” she explained. “When you told me what that one commenter had said, I was curious. Then when I remembered those videos you made me watch, I was fascinated by the idea of Him, the idea of this being that existed through what I thought was fear and I started reading more, learning more, figuring out what has made Him so feared all over the Internet. I wanted to figure Him out.

“What I didn't realize...even though other people have warned of it...was that the more you know, the easier you are to being one of His victims. And the more I knew, the more I got wrapped in...”

Jesus. She's comparing it to being in a gang almost. The further you get in, the harder it is to get out.

“When I realized it...I tried to avoid learning any” She sniffed and looked at me, guiltily. “So I asked Eric to help.”

My blood froze. Eric...

“I didn't mean for what happened to him...I thought if he just helped out a little bit, He would ease off of me...I was so focused on just getting myself off the hot list that I didn't realize that it was effecting him too, not until it was too late...I'm sorry, Zeke, I'm really sorry-”

I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to acknowledge it. Didn't want to think that Lizzie's snooping is what got our friend kidnapped...

“Lizzie,” I asked seriously. “Is Eric still alive?”

“He's not dead...yet...” Lizzie shook her head. “I don't know what they're doing with him, or what they're going to do, but he's still here...”

Some good news, at least.

“Lizzie...we need to find him,” I said. “And your little friend. We need to find both of them, and we've got to put a stop to this-”

She actually laughed here, and that surprised me. Felt like I had not heard her laugh in weeks. But it wasn't her usual laugh; this one sounded cold, way too cold.

“You can't stop Him, Zeke. Do you think He would still be doing this if He could be stopped?” she asked me. “Why do you think all the stories involving Him end the same? Marble Hornets, that incident with Logan all ends the same. He always wins. Sooner or later, He's going to take me too.”

“Well, I'm not going to let him.” I said, and she just gives me this look that makes me feel like she knows I'm going to fail, but I don't care. Slender Man, Conaghan, or someone else, they're not laying a finger on her, or me. They're fucking with the wrong guy.

She looked down at the bed. “As for where we find them...He'll let us know when it's time. He always does...”

And that was really it. I know you were probably expecting a longer conversation, but that was really the gist of it. It certainly explained some things for me, but also raised more questions. The answers to those, though, were something we'd have to figure out later.

I did ask one more question, though a different related topic. As I was tucking her in, right before she closed her eyes to pass out, the question that had always kind of been on the tip of my brain finally made its way out-

“Lizzie, why did you set me up with that blog?”

She laughed again, but this time it was warmer, more like the laugh I was used to.

“You get your feelings out in a journal better than you do with words or actions, Zeke. That's always been you. So I created it for you so that you could figure things out for yourself.” And here she gave me that look, that little mischievous look that always both annoyed me and intrigued me.

“I wanted to get you to admit that you were in love with me.”

I smiled and called her a cold-hearted bitch, to which we both laughed at. Then she closed her eyes and I waited until I was certain she was asleep before I left her to her dreams and went back downstairs to try and write this out.

I don't know what's going to happen...but I do know that when the time comes to find out, I'm going to give it everything I've got.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

What the Hell...

Well, I suppose everyone's read Lizzie's, I guess is the proper way of putting it.

I'm seriously considering bringing the shrink in. This is outside my area of expertise.

Maybe once it's all over. Last time I dragged someone into our personal business the guy went missing a week after.

I just don't know...

“Angel of death.” That keeps getting thrown around over and over. But I remember the angel of death from Bible studies, and this doesn't seem like it. The angel of death was sent down by God to punish the sinners and pave the way for the true believers, or some shit like that. Sodom and Gomorrah, the Final Plague, all that. Each time the angel was used it was to make some sort of religious point.

There's no religious point here. People are getting taken for...what? Some sick game...or something worse?

Alright, think, Zeke, think. There's gotta be something else there, something you're missing...

Well...hypothetically, if there IS a Slender Man...he's no angel of death. Maybe he can be viewed as that, but from what I've gathered from the Marble Hornets videos, he doesn't seem to have a specific goal. He just fucks with people and takes them.

I don't think it's for a purpose.

I think he just does it because that's all he knows how to do.

The last couple of days, he's been creeping into my mind, and as much as I hate the idea of it...there's something going on here that I can't explain, and I've run out of rational possibilities. This whole case has just been one mind trip after another, and Conaghan can't be responsible for everything...

I still don't believe. Not fully. But the logical solutions are getting fewer and fewer, and the paranormal ideas are growing.

And if by some random, unholy possibility that it IS him...can one little stick figure with a gun be enough to stop him?

Monday, May 24, 2010

I don't have much time.

My part in all of this is almost over.

And then Zeke will be all alone.

Conaghan's just the pawn.

I'm just the bait.

HE doesn't care about either of us.

HE has been after Zeke for a long time.

HE gave up once Zeke wasn't afraid anymore.

But HE is coming back now.

Once I'm gone, HE will go after Zeke.

Conaghan can be killed.

But that may not be best.

Because once he's gone, then there is nothing standing between Zeke and HIM.

Listen, my friends...after I am gone, help Zeke.

He will need help after I am dead.

He will need to know there are people with him.

People who can help him.

Eric is still alive.

Find Conaghan and you find Eric.

It's all in the same place.

Open the door, and you will find them.

The warehouse...that is where it will happen.

That is where it will all end.

I will go first.

Help him, please.

Don't let the angel of death come for him.

He's the only one who has ever protected me.

The only one who ever loved me.

Don't let him share my fate.

I don't want to die...

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Thought I saw something moving around outside last night. When I went to go check, there was nothing. Must've just been an animal or something.

Sure scared Lizzie, though. She started panicking and screaming, and it took everything to hold her down long enough to calm her.

I checked again this morning. Didn't look like any signs of a person around. No footprints or anything. Must've been a raccoon or a coyote or something. Pretty big animal, if I could see it from the window.

I don't know, that's pretty much the only thing of importance. Life's boring out here. Sleep's been hard...I hate living out here. I can't wait until she feels better so I can fall asleep to the sounds of cars and horns again.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Mr. Armeen

Chief called back. Said that Lizzie's dad hasn't been anywhere near here in a long time. After his probation was done (nowhere near long enough as it should have been) he moved out west and hasn't even made an attempt to check in with his daughter. Not much of a surprise; he didn't care before, he's not going to care now.

By now I'm sure you're all sick of hearing about her dad. I'm not a huge fan, as it has been blatantly obvious to see. But that kind of thing gets me mad, and for it to happen to Lizzie of all's just...

Listen- Lizzie's mom died when she was two. Suicide. I'm guessing she had spent too much time living with the bastard and couldn't stand another minute of it. There weren't any other relatives living nearby, so that meant that Mr. Armeen was left to take of Lizzie all by himself.

Personally, I'm amazed she's still alive.

It wasn't just physical abuse. It was mental. Emotional. Whenever she tried to pick herself up, he would tear her down. She didn't ride a two-wheeled bike until she was thirteen because of the things her dad was saying to her. She never tried out for plays or did sports or anything like that because she had it in her head that she “wasn't good enough”. He would call her every discouraging thing in the book: “no good”, “worthless”, “useless”, all that shit. It got to a point where she barely functioned.

Yeah, I know: Lizzie, not working excessively, not bubbly and not an annoying ray of sunshine? Perish the thought.

And of course, she saw the back of his hand a few times. Armeen was unemployed due to a disability on the work site, so they got by on welfare and Lizzie working since she turned twelve. As such, he would loaf around the majority of the day and expect her to do the housework and chores, and if they weren't done the way HE wanted it, guess who had to pay for it. Dishes not clean enough? Back of his hand. Trash not thrown out? One smack with the belt, IF she was lucky. Most nights she wasn't.

And the drinking. Because what story would an abusive father be without drinking, right? Not much, and not every night, but when he did drink, God help her if she was near him or got him angry. She wore more make-up just to cover black eyes, bruises, and split lips than she did to make herself look good.

By the time she was in college, though, she began to pick herself up. She made some friends, she participated in the Criminal Justice club, and eventually completed her major in CJ. She got into the academy, working two jobs to pay for it, and eventually made her way to the detective department, the greatest achievement she had accomplished so far in her life.

Her deadbeat dad didn't even bother showing up to her own ceremony.

She made a name for herself, got friendly with a lot of the detectives working there, became legendary for putting everything she had into every case she worked. If she proved herself there, then it made up for all the years of shithole abuse, she figured. She wanted to be the best, for once in her life. She wanted to be in control.

Cut to a few years later, when I joined the department. I was your typical rookie from the city; cocky, arrogant, thinking I had the answers to everything. Of course, I'm STILL like that, the only difference being that I really DO have the answers to everything. But boy, was I one gung-ho motherfucker. I believe Eric used to call me “Billy the Kid”, because talk was that I would probably shoot first, be a detective later. This was before I had made a reputation for myself, so all I could really do was talk big and make empty promises to rough up anyone who was talking about me behind my back.

They put me with Lizzie coming right into the office. And I have to say, I HATED it at first. I didn't know her, she didn't know me, she's a workaholic, I wanted to get out onto the streets and play Savior. We fought all the time, the kinds of fights like the one we had a few weeks ago. I swear to God, I must've requested a different partner at least three times those first couple of months. I could not stand that girl. Sure, she was hot in her own “I'm-six-years-older-than-you-but-I-act-like-I'm-seven” kind of way, but after two days- two freaking days- of working the desk with her, I was ready to kill myself. She was the most schizophrenic woman ever- works to the death, yet still acts like a child. She still does, though that's the part I love about her now instead of hate about her.

I don't think I could ever forget the night I met her dad. It was one of those nights that redefines everything you think you know about a person. Up until this point, I knew nothing about her family life, or even her personal life, and then afterwards, everything changed.

I had been working with her for about five months, and we had kind of lightened up on each other. Kind of. We had gone out with a couple of the guys from work, and then she was driving me home when her phone rings. It's her dad; he's waiting up on her. She talks to him for a couple of minutes, and I could tell this was not the conversation a parent and child should be having, but I kept my tongue bitten for once as she hung up and told me we were making a pit stop.

So she goes in, and I'm sitting in her car, waiting for her to get back. I must have been in there for fifteen, twenty minutes, and I start to get impatient and I'm about to call her when all of a sudden I hear a loud shout and something crashing against the wall. There's more yelling, and before I know it, I'm out of the car and bursting into the house, with my gun drawn, just as I hear a loud smack!

The sight in the kitchen was one that was burned into my mind. Lizzie was on the ground, her hand over her already stinging-red cheek, her nose trickling some blood, while her drunk-as-a-skunk father stood over, his fists balled. The breaking sound was a beer bottle being chucked against the wall. He took a step towards her, and that was the first time I ever saw her cringe in fear, and the sight of that just...something hit me deep inside.

That was the first time since I was a kid that I completely lost it. I tossed my gun to the side- why satisfy my rage with a gun?- and grabbed Armeen's arm, twisted him around, and punched him right in the face. I could pretty much feel his nose break against my knuckles as he fell backwards. Before he could retaliate I practically jumped on him, slammed his head against the counter twice, then just proceeded to beat the shit out of it, just like I did to Conaghan. Punch here, kick there, throw him against the wall at one point. I could barely comprehend anything, me punching him, Lizzie screaming for me to stop, Armeen trying to fight back but having no luck whatsoever and I just kept...wailing on him until Lizzie finally grabbed my arm and pulled me off of him.

That snapped me out of it. I just looked at the bloody hulk that was her father on the ground, the blood on my knuckles, and the stunned look on her face to know that I had blacked out for the first time in a long time. That was the start of my reputation; guys at the office knew that I really COULD kick their asses, and the talking behind my back ceased.

Mr. Armeen got five years probation and a restraining order stating that he could not come within fifty yards of his daughter. Like I mentioned above, he had moved out of state, and except for one or two drunken phone calls, he rarely ever pays her much attention. Not that she minds it. In fact, it was like freeing her from enslavement.

As for the two of us, I took her home after the cops took her dad away, and we talked. Really talked. And from that point on, we were pretty much always together. We worked together, hung out, went to restaurants and movies on our days off. I learned what she liked and didn't like and little ways to cheer her up, and she knew what ticked me off and how to defuse me if she felt I was going to get out of control. After a few months, the sex started up; we were wasted the first time and did it for fun, the second time was sober and just to experiment, and from there it was as regular as going to the store for food. But at the office, we were just Zeke and Lizzie, a mismatched pair, but a really good working force.

Rule Number One of our job: You always protect your partner, no matter what. I designated myself her “savior” since that night, and I've been doing a damn good job of it so far. I'm not about to let her down now.

She'd probably kill me if I posted this, but hey, she gave me the blog to get everything out, so here I go. Besides, you probably already figured most of this out for yourselves, so what's the harm in the full story.

Nothing else has really changed. I'm trying to ease up on the questions. I know her; she'll tell me when she wants to. I'm going to go and pop a movie in for her. Maybe that'll calm her down a little.

May post again tomorrow. Not sure yet. Stay tuned.

Monday, May 17, 2010


I've pretty much locked this house down so that no one gets in or out without me knowing it. Still don't feel too safe. It feels like age-old paranoia is coursing through my veins again, and it's very unwelcoming at this time.

Lizzie just lays in bed all day. I bring her food and try to talk to her as much as I can, but it doesn't do much good. She barely eats, and barely speaks. She's just so un-Lizzie and it's frightening.

I'm trying to figure out the drawing, but it doesn't really make much sense. I mean, it's a bunch of stick figures, so trying to pick an identity out by myself is difficult as anything else. I'll try to bring it by her.

I gotta say, if she did draw Slender Man, the guy pointing the gun at him's got some serious balls. Does anyone knows if that actually works, shooting him? I've always wondered why Alex or Jay never had a gun when they went up against those guys. One shot to the head, boom, they're down. Problem solved.

I called the chief to let him know what was going on. He seemed annoyed, but he agreed that I should stay with her, and said he'd get help over to us whenever he could. Lizzie doesn't want it, but I insist. She's got a pretty big house, and I can't stand guard all by myself.

Every time I see her, I feel like just crawling into a hole and staying there until it's all over. The last time I saw her like this was when her dad finally got taken away; not that he didn't deserve it, but it's never fun when your parent gets taken away.

Alright, well, I've got to go check on her. I'll update when I can, internet is not the most reliable out here, but I'll keep posting. Amazing how something I utterly despised is probably the only thing keeping me sane right now.

Just don't let that get to your heads or anything.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Okay, so, I don't know how many of you saw the comment I posted on the last entry, but I'm at Lizzie's house now and I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to be doing.

She called me the other night and told me to get over to her house right away. She sounded terrified, like someone had just broken in. She didn't even need to tell me twice, I was already in the car and on my way by the time I hung up.

I hate going to Lizzie's house in the middle of the night. Number one, it's pitch black out there, and number two, she lives pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Every time I'm there it's like I'm ten years old at my old house again, which is half the reason I never go. Nevertheless, there I was at ten o'clock at night, pounding on her door until she finally opens.

Lemme tell ya now, she has never looked worse. Her skin's almost completely white, her eyes are all bloodshot, her nose was raw from all the tissues and she looked so...helpless. That was what scared me the most. No matter how bad things always got, she was always the rock among the two of us, always looking for ways to solve any problem. To see her looking like this, like a prisoner awaiting a death sentence, scared the piss out of me.

“Lizzie, what's wrong?” I asked her.

She didn't respond. She just moved out of the way to let me in. I stepped into the house and...

I've told you before that the girl brings her work home with her. Well, this time she went overboard. All over her walls were those fucking drawings, some from Krell, some from Ford, and then...I don't know, there were some that looked new. This looked like it took weeks to put up. I had to wonder how long this had been going on for.

One drawing in particular still scares the piss out of me. It's a drawing of the Suit, only he's got eight arms again. There's a woman laying on the ground in a pool of blood with cuts all over her face like someone took a knife and went Michael Myers on her. There's another guy with his back against the wall, his hand over his gut like he's been shot. And then there's another guy- probably the only normal human still standing- pointing a gun at the creature, with a speech bubble pointing from his head that says, “I KNOW WHO YOU ARE”.

“Lizzie...what is this?” I asked her. “Are these...did you draw this?”

“Some of those are from the case,” she replied, and her voice sounded as bad as she looked. “Some of them...are mine.”

I turn back to her. She had started to cry; tears were streaking down her face, adding dirty red to an otherwise pale face.

“He's real, Zeke. He's real. And...He wants me too...”

She collapses against my chest, sobbing. I just wrap my arms around her, unsure of what to say, looking around at the craziness we had been surrounded with since day 1 of the case and which was now threatening to consume my partner.

I'm going to stay here for a little while to make sure she's safe. I'd rather be at my house, but she says it doesn't matter where she is, “He” will find her. So I'm basically going to fortify this house as best I can, in case someone does decide to show up and he's not friendly.

I know I'm usually the man of stone, but I gotta say, I'm pretty scared right now. Something's wrong with her, and I don't know what to do. All of her patterns match the victims from the case...but it doesn't make any sense.

If Conaghan's in jail...then who is doing this?

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Interrogation Part 3

(I storm back into the room, slam the door shut, grab the chair I had been sitting in, and slam it under the door knob to ensure that no one else was coming in. I knew I was going to get in a shitload of trouble, but by now I was seething; rational thinking had gone far out the window. I slam the report I had just rapidly filled out onto the table to make sure he saw it.)

S: See that, Al? That's a fucking legal form giving me permission to do whatever I want in here, and it has your name on it. You want to get your name taken off it, you start talking to me, okay? Now- (I slam a paper on the table) What's with the drawing? (I slam another one down) What's with the symbol? Who else do you have working with you?

C: This is a waste of time, Mr. Strahm-

S: Where the hell are the kids? Clock's ticking, you'd better start answering before we throw you behind bars for good this time.

C: (laughs) You have nothing to take me on-

S: Obstruction of justice. Stalking. Kidnapping. Rape. Conspirator to commit terrorism. Conspirator to murder. Now start talking. Where are they?

C: I told you, He has taken them-

S: (slamming my fist down on the table) Cut the shit! Where are they?

C: If you don't start listening to me, you'll never find them.

(Right about then, I finally punch him. Right in the face. Knocked him right off his chair. Hey, I did say the slip gave me permission to do anything I wanted)

S: If you don't start talking to me, you're going to need to eat through a straw the rest of your life. Where are the kids?

C: He has them.


C: I told you already-

(I kick him in the gut. As hard as I can.)

S: Getting REAL fucking tired of you ducking me, man. Now I'm not going to ask you again. Who is he? What does he want? Where is he? How do we stop him?

C: (laughs) You can't stop him. He wants all of us...especially you...

(I grab him by his collar and proceed to just beat the shit out of him. At this point, I'm in a blind rage. I know it's hard to tell through text, but if you heard the guy's voice and how he's talking to me you'd get angry too. I punch until my knuckles feel like glass, and then I drop him and deliver a few kicks to the stomach. I told you I get pissed; this is what happens when it goes past that point.)


C: Not long now-

S: (kick) WHERE ARE THEY?!

C: -until He comes for you-


(At this point, the chief and two officers finally get the door open after ramming every heavy object they can against it. Guarantee that broken knob is coming out of my paycheck. The officers pull me off the bleeding hulk that is Albert Conaghan and force me back long enough for me to get my cool together. Conaghan crawls behind the table and leans against the wall; he's still got that smile on his face and it takes everything I have to keep my cool.)

S: Put him back in the cell. Don't let me see him again until he's ready to talk.

(As I turn to leave, he takes one more jab at me:)

C: If I were you, Mr. Strahm, I would be less concerned with me and more concerned for your partner, Ms. Armeen. He has taken quite an interest to her too...

(Before the chief can say a word, I push myself past the two officers, flip the table over so that there's nothing between him and me, grab him by the neck, lift him up, and slam him against the wall with my arm spread across his neck to pin him there. I imagine my eyes have turned to a reddish color, I've never felt so angry in my entire life. The words that come out feel like some demon's speaking through me.)

S: If you so much as lay a finger on her, I will kill you where you stand.

(I hold it long enough to make sure the point gets across, then I drop him and storm out of the room without looking back.)

And that's how it went down. Needless to say, I'm in the doghouse. Big time. Chief's furious. I'm pretty sure the only reason I haven't been suspended is that I'm the only one working the case right now and I need to fill in the paperwork.

My office has never felt more lonely without Lizzie making jokes and cute faces at her desk, or Eric hard at work on something at his.

Yeah, Lizzie's still on sick leave. I've managed to keep contact with her this past week or so, after the interrogation. I swear, I must call on the hour, every hour, just to make sure she's okay. She keeps insisting she is, though she sounds more like shit with every call. I don't think she's been sick a day in ten years; maybe it's all coming back to haunt her now.

I'm not even going to try and make sense of everything Conaghan said. The guy is just gone. I don't know what the hell he's been smoking, but something in him has snapped. He's got something programmed in his mind that the rest of us don't.

I don't know. I don't fucking know. He still won't give up Eric's location, or drop a hint as to the fate of the kids. He must have someone else helping him, but apparently this person must be a close acquaintance, because he's not giving him up either.

I need to go home and rest. I'll post more later.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Interrogation Part 2

S: Why don't we start from the beginning. Victoria Krell. When did you start stalking her? Why did you start stalking her? You just see her walking home one day and decided she was vulnerable and insecure enough that she was worth your time?

C: I had nothing to do with Victoria Krell's disappearance.

S: Yeah, and I'm the king of Siam. Just because I say it doesn't mean it's true. Now we can sit here and do this dance until we both have blisters covering every square inch of our feet but one way or another you're going to tell me why you did it.

C: Again, her disappearance was not my business.

S: ...Alright...was this your business, then?

(I throw down a picture onto the table. The picture's an old crime photo from eleven years ago; a girl, fifteen, laying face up with her throat slit, a trickle of blood running from her mouth, a look of terror and helplessness on her face. Her dress was torn and her legs show scratches just under where the dress ends.)

S: You remember her? You remember what you did to her?

C: I remember her. I remember how horrible the trial was, but I also remember that I was cleared of that charge. They proved I didn't do it.

S: They proved you were good at bribing the judicial.

C: Mr. Strahm-

S: Your prints were all over that corpse. The tire tracks that led away from the scene came from your car. The blade that cut her throat, ALSO had your prints on it. Semen traced back to you, skin tissue under her fingernails matched quite well with the scratches on the back of your neck. Now are you going to keep telling me you didn't do it when I know you did, are we going to keep dancing around it?

C:...They proved me innocent.

(Fifteen second pause)

S: Fine. You want to hear another story, then?

C: Humor me.

(Twenty-three second pause)

S: Her name was Ashley Silvia. She went to my high school, she was in my class. We were freshman then. I was supposed to go on a date with her that night. Our first one. I thought she had stood me up, but imagine my shock the next morning when my mother showed me the papers with her picture on the front. Ruined dating for me for my entire time in high school. Is that enough of a story for you, or should I continue?

(Thirty second pause)

S: So I'll ask again. What did you do to Victoria Krell?

(Ten second pause. He shifted a little bit; squirming, I hoped.)

C: I just provided the message that He was coming for her.

(There was that “He” business again. But the way he said it was different from the way Sam said it; he wasn't afraid, or if he was, he kept it well hidden.)

S: Oh, come on, not this bullshit again...

C: I trust Mr. Ford has already told you about Him-

S: No, he just said “HIM” over and over again as though I was supposed to know what he was talking about. If you're going to do it too, then excuse me while I go and get some more coffee because I am in no mood to play that game again.

C: Do you believe in the angel of death, Mr. Strahm?


C: I only want you to listen while I talk. The information I have for you is crucial. It will help you to survive Him, but only if you listen.

S:...Alright, Mr. Conaghan (sits down) let's hear it.

(What follows next is probably the most well-thought out tale of fiction I've heard in a long time. Also probably the most ridiculous. But I got to give him points for creativity at least.)

C: Maybe in the past...I did some things for a...recreational purpose. Maybe I went about it with no strategic goal or thought processes of what my actions would cause to the outside world. But things...things have changed since then.

It was six months ago, when He first came to me. I was in my apartment, preparing myself for bed, and as I stared out the window I saw Him standing there staring up at me. I thought maybe someone was spying on me...but then I heard His voice in my head...calling for me to be his disciple. I didn't understand at first, but then He showed me things...wonderful, horrible things.

For three days, He came to me. And each time, He showed me more beautiful images, and through these images I learned of his goal. From where he comes from, there is a need for humans. For food, for play...for supply.

After that, I understood. There is a greater purpose to life, and that is Him. We all go about our lives, thinking we have control over what happens to us. We are disillusioned. Only He has control. And when it is our time, He will take us. And He has entrusted people like myself with the mission of telling people when it is their time. Their time to be taken, to go to his see the horrors that the universe has that cannot be found on this earth.

So you see, Mr. Strahm, what you assume is wrong. These people are not disappearing. What we assume about our reality is a lie, we have neither the brainpower, nor the courage, to see-

S: (banging my fists on the table) Oh, cut the shit! What the hell are you babbling about?

C: I'm telling you what you wanted to know-

S: No, you said you wanted to talk, you said you wanted me to listen, you're talking, but you're not SAYING anything! Say something! Don't give me a story about how God told you to kidnap people for some sick fucking game!

C: God? (laughs) There is no God. But this... (serious again) it is something you should know. He has called for you specifically.

S: Who?

C: The angel of death, of course.

S:...Okay, now I'm pissed off. You're making no sense, you're going Jehova's witness on me, and if you don't start anwering my questions in the next five seconds, I can't be held responsible for what I do to you.

(Twelve second pause)

S: Where is Eric?

C:...He is in a safe place.

S: With the others?

C: No. It is not quite his time yet.

S: Where?

C: I cannot reveal his location...just yet.

(Thirty second pause)

S: That's it. You want to play hardball? I'll play some fucking hardball.

(I leave the room at this point...but I'm not quite done yet)