Slender Man Chronicles

He only exists because you think of him
Try not to think of him


Published by Rev. L. under on 10:02 PM
Fog and smoke and liquid night roll over me and I feel that little electric twitch of being watched. That little tingling feeling on the ridge where the skull meets the spine. I don't know what is back there. I don't want to look. I hear a slight noise, like a small animal moving and breathing I know it's him but I won't look, I won't.

I see the shadow stretch up in front of me, impossibly long, too many limbs, too many angles and I won't look. I can't. Even if I wanted to. Instead I quicken my step. The shadow grows longer and I go faster and I'm running now and sweating, breathing heavy and dear god he's right behind me I can almost feel the fingers snatching at my collar and I run and run and I can see my front door and it's closer and closer and I hear the ragged sounds from behind me and I find a little more strength and I run.

When I hit the front door I turn around and look. The street is empty but at the edge of the light, I see a shadow move and I know.

I have merely bought myself a reprieve.


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