Slenderman: Chapter 1

A/N: Slenderman is becoming a new part of my mind, where he's invading my dreams and ensnaring my imagination. His creator is a wonderful bastard, and I thank him for his contribution to the genre of horror. This story is my own twist to the tale of Slenderman, a payment of homage to Victor Surge. Enjoy, but remember to leave the lights on tonight. 　

I thought it was over. I saw it last when I was just a kid, maybe twelve at the oldest, then it stopped. Fuck, my chilldhood...thinking back on it now, I don't know how I lived with it. My parents never noticed. But then again, they never noticed much to begin with.

I think I was around eight years old when I first saw him. I was at a friend's birthday party, at his grandparents' place. They lived in the rural part of the area. Owned farmland out in the woods. I remember it was getting dark, but the adults had lit the torches and switched on lights. No one wanted to leave just then. Parents talked, us kids played. It was tag. We played tag, and I was It. My buddy Issac took off into the woods. He was always the slowest out of all of us, the easiest to tag. I ran after him, my other friends screaming and darting out of my way. Somehow, he pulled ahead, and I lost sight of him, but I could still hear his footsteps and his nervous giggling. It was dark in the forest, I could barely see two feet in front of me, but no way was I gonna turn back and look like a pussy in front of my buddies.

I swore I'd almost reached out and touched him when I noticed, faintly, that his footsteps changed. His strides sounded longer, heavier. His giggling had stopped. I stopped running, my heart pounding from more than just the run. Someone set off a firework back at the house, which we always did to mark the end of a party. Bright green light lit up the sky, and the forest. That's when I saw him. He was about eight feet high. Long arms, long legs. No face. Not even hair. I think I pissed myself then, or I did when he started reaching an arm out to me. I screamed like a little bitch and took off back to the house. All my friends were smiling and laughing, until they saw my face. Some started to cry. I don't blame them. My mom tore out of the house at the sound of my screeching, scooping me up, pissy pants and all, and just held me. I'd never been so glad to see her, and I had never been that scared before. I remember blubbering about a really tall spider-like man, and some of the dads going into the woods with flashlights and a form of blunt weapon, coming back with faintly annoyed expressions and shaking their heads. Too much sugar, they said. Just a hyper kid's imagination. That ended the party. My mom took me home, letting me choose the songs to listen to, coddling me. I was still shaking a little, I think. Scared my mom pretty bad. Poor woman.

I only saw him that one time when I was eight, but it wasn't the last time I saw him for five years.

Late at night, I'd always wake up around two in the morning for something to drink. I'd gone to the kitchen to get some water, not even bothering with the lights. I was nine, too old to be scared of the dark. I was half asleep, chugging a glass, when I casually glanced out the window over the sink. Thank god the glass was plastic. I dropped that sucker right on my foot, soaking my leg. But I barely felt it at that moment. I was too distracted by the blank white face that peered back at me. Suddenly, it was gone. Just vanished. I passed out. My dad found me at about five in the morning, laying in a puddle of water. He must've thought I had been sleepwalking. I just let him think that.

I don't remember my tenth and eleventh years, but when I turned twelve, I saw him again, and it still haunts my dreams to this day. I was riding my bike with my friends, Alex and his little brother Jael. Jael was whining that his legs hurt from all the peddling. Me and Alex, being two years older, just teased him and kept going. Jael gave up and went home. Without a little brother around to slow us down, we rode into the park, onto the bike trail in the woods. We pretended to be BMX riders, popping wheelies and not using our hands to steer. We stopped to rest, and it was getting dark. Alex had to get home, or his parents would get pissed at him for missing dinner. I wanted to ride some more, so I said goodbye, and continued on my way on the bike trail. My house was only a block or two away, so I could risk staying out a little longer.

My bike was an old piece of shit, and the chain kept slipping off every time I changed gears. I stopped to fiddle with it, and when I looked up next, there he was. Just standing. Right in the trees, not even five feet away. I froze. You know that sick feeling you get when you're scared out of your mind? Totally felt that right away. He didn't even move, but he still scared the living shit out of me. Then, he took a step forward. I ran. Oh, how I ran. Fuck the bike. Bike's not important. Surviving was important. I sprinted out of there as fast as I could go. I made the mistake of looking back. He was there, not even running. Walking. And keeping up with me. Panic, fear, complete mental chaos. I was sure he was going to catch me. I ran harder, even when my legs burned and my lungs wanted to explode. I made it to my house. Threw the door open, slammed the bitch shut and tore upstairs. My mom yelled at me for slamming, but I didn't care. I shut myself in the bathroom, about ready to puke out my lungs. I was shaking like I had Parkinson's, and one look in the mirror told me I was pale as a sheet. The fucker chased me. He fucking chased me. But I got away. After that, I didn't see him again. Until now. Six years later, I'm eighteen. And I saw him. Not even a week ago. In my window. I'm fucking scared.