Monday, 26 September 2011

Messenger's Report

I’m here to report the death of Ryan “The Glass Man, Esq.” Barret.  Killed by “Ferus”  A few trackers were sent out the other day to confirm the death.  Found his body inside a makeshift iron maiden.  Everything seems to line up with Ferus’s account of the events (see previous link).  As they were surveying the scene, Ferus appeared, gun trained on them, forcing them into a death game.  One of them gets to live and complete the report, the other dies.  First to disable their opponent wins.  Bit of a Prisoner’s Dilemma scenario, I guess?  Frankly I didn’t see the point, but whatever.  I guess some people just enjoy betraying their own side or something.

Anyway, that’s really about it.  The rest of the account has already been detailed pretty heavily by Ferus himself on his own blog (see previous comment about seeing previous link).  

Blog’s over, people.  Nothing to see here.  Move along.

-Don’t Shoot The Messenger-

Wednesday, 21 September 2011


It huRts so much
FerUs is kILling me. ikn0wthis.
Even with the bleEding and the cutTing, he hsn't killed me. PoisOn. GaSoline is poIson.
It hurtS. So badlY it hUrts. MOnster iama monsTer andsoisheandsowas Ryan. I was Ryan. He was Ryan. Ryan is dead.
Iamsodead. It's eAting me insIde.

Monday, 19 September 2011


Just for a minute. Need water. First time since... since I left Rayne and Lauren, I think. He's always too close. Barely had time to post last night. I knew time was up when the building started burning.

He's not... normal. I guess that's obvious by now, but... He's very good at what he does. Like me. So much like me.

I don't want to die. That would only leave him. All that would be left is him. I can't let that happen. I'll die before I let that happen...

Maybe I should have used better wording.

How do I feel? Like shit. How is my outlook? Bleak. Status of almost everyone else? Unknown.

I don't want people to remember me like some kind of animal. I did what I thought was right. I tried my best. I really did., but now I know that it isn't going to be enou

Oh shit.
hrem5q =-,n ut 8m huli6'0

I apologize. We'll be busy for a while.

Friday, 16 September 2011

A Story

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\there once was a boy name Ryan Barret.
He was happy. He had friends. He may not have been popular, but he was liked by all.
Sadly, he was foolish. Like so many before him, he chose to delve into the darker side of life.
He found something worse than he could have imagined.
Not believing it to be true, he told his friends and as a result, he had inadvertently killed every last one of them.
When he learned that one his last remaining friends intended to kill more this way, Ryan made a decision that ended his life.
Adrian had to die. And Adrian did die.
But so did Ryan Barret.
When he met with the monster on the eve of Adrian's death, the monster brought Ryan into his Field and tore his mind asunder, leaving nothing but chunks and shards within Ryan's head... and a message.
He was Ryan no longer. What was once a pseudonym became his identity. He truly was the Glass Man.
The Glass Man wandered for weeks, killing his attackers, real or perceived.
Eventually, he learned of the Sage, Zero, and his own killings. The Glass Man thought he needed redemption, so he set out to kill Zero and those that thought like him.
But the Glass Man's thoughts were not his own. The monster wanted Zero dead, but truly the Glass Man did not.
Aided by a businessman named Manteo and his employee, Alex, the Glass Man eventually found Zero. Before the killing blow was delivered, however, he realized the deception the monster had placed upon his mind, and he let Zero go free. Alex, having lost contact with Manteo, parted ways with the Glass Man. The Glass Man still misses him.
So the Glass Man was alone, and again he wandered.

When the monster tore Ryan asunder, he did not throw away the pieces he had taken. The monster was clever. It knew what could be used. So it made a new mind and, for this new mind, it made a new body. The creature it made was called Ferus.
When Ferus was unleashed from the monster's Field, he began to follow the Glass Man, perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps out of jealousy for his untainted body. Whatever the reason, when the Glass Man was finally alone, Ferus made himself clear to him. And, for reasons the Glass Man could not understand, he was afraid.

The Glass Man fled from Ferus, and during this time he met Rayne and his friend, Lauren. Rayne accepted the Glass Man, but Lauren did not. In the end, Lauren was right, but still the Glass Man stayed with them.

Then one night, the Glass Man dreamed. And in his dream, he met Ferus in the monster's Field. And in this Field, Ferus explained to the Glass Man who they were. Ferus then removed his mask.

Have... have you ever seen a mosaic? Bits and pieces, burned and scarred but seamlessly put together, forming a larger image. An eyebrow from one, a grin from another, a wink from a third.

Indeed, in Ferus's face, the Glass Man found his own.
And much to his chagrin, he also found those of his friends.

Thursday, 15 September 2011

Oh god...

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god.

I know. I know who he is. He... I can't. I can't... he can't be...

I'm leaving. This isn't right any more... I can't just... It's not right. It's not right!

Lauren, Rayne, I'm leaving right now. Don't bother trying to find me. Just run. Run and run as fast as you can.

He will kill you!

Sunday, 11 September 2011

Moving out

It's getting cramped here, not enough space to move. So I'm moving out to a place with a bit more... freedom, yes, freedom.

Here it is, ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've all been waiting for.

Saturday, 10 September 2011


Fuck them. Just...


They don't realize that this is a war. A war that needs to be fought. A war where people die. Where people kill.

So fuck them. They would be dead if I hand't been there. Rayne would be lying in a fucking ditch, because as much of a "survivalist" he might be, it wasn't his fucking cargo pants that saved him, it was me.

They came out of nowhere. Alleyways are always the best place to hide, but we always forget that someone else might also be hiding in there.

There were... I don't know, six of them. Wearing masks of different motifs, each thinking they would be the next Totheark or Morningstar. Well, maybe one of them might have, but that's distinctly in the past tense.

The first one ran at Rayne, knife in hand, and Rayne... Rayne fucking froze. The guy would ripped the guts out of him if my knife wasn't already wrist deep the proxy shit's neck. The second one took the logical step and went for me. He swung a baseball bat and gave me a pretty solid hit in the jaw. This time Rayne was the one to respond. Four red circles appeared in rapid succession on the proxy's chest, puncturing his lungs. He was out for the count.

The other four started running. I wasn't done, and if Rayne or Lauren had thought for one goddamn second, then they would have realized the proxies weren't either. My own gun rose, the shells Rayne had so readily supplied shredding the closest one's abdomen. Three left. Lauren screamed something. I fired again, sending chunks of brain and bone flying against the wall. Two left. Now Rayne was shouting too. Bang. One left.

"It's over, man!"

Another shot. Too far to be a kill. Hit him in the shoulder, but it was enough. Not everyone can deal with pain. I certainly couldn't when this started. The last proxy keeled over, landing on his side, clutching his arm.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Lauren this time. Staring. Judging. I showed her that I can stare too. No more complaints.

The proxy lay whimpering at the other end of the alley, his blood slowly draining onto the pavement. I could hear him as I got closer.

"Okay, man! Don't kill me... I... You win! Okay! You win!"

Closer. Open wounds where the fragments had torn through skin and flesh. Idiot. He could have walked away.

"You don't have to do this! This isn't my fault... I have a friend who's-"

Almost there. Rayne whispered something to Lauren. Lies.

"Shit... Shit... Shi-"

I put my foot on his throat and aimed downwards. Rayne finally decided to speak.

"Stop, man. It's over. Just stop. It's not right."

We looked at each other for a very long time. I dropped the gun. Everyone sighed.

Then I stomped.


I know they're looking at me right now. Naive. They thought it would be all fun and games, interspersed with little happy battles where the bad guys just get away. Well they don't and they shouldn't. I don't know how long I can last here. Stop. Staring at me.

Saturday, 27 August 2011

Have you ever wondered what Slender Man would look like on TV?

Thursday, 11 August 2011


I answered the phone, then dodged into an alley while asking the others to wait.

Rayne, Lauren and I had been on the road for over a week. Rayne is getting along fairly well, but Lauren... Lauren is not looking too well. Makes sense. I was even very poor condition after I first left home. Sweats, vomiting, malnourishment. It's to be expected, but still...

Yes, the phone call.

Ferus. Of course it was Ferus. No one else knows the number. It may actually be his phone. Strange. White with blue casing. One would expect red, something morbid or grisly. No. White and blue. Almost something I might pick.

Of course, I'm deferring.

Ferus spoke for a very long time, and I listened. Dear god I listened. When it was over, the alley felt much smaller. After I emerged, Rayne walked towards me.

R: Who was that?
G: Brian's dead.

A long pause.

R: ... WHAT?
G: He's dead. Dead.
R: How?
G: Ferus got to him, of course. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned him by name on my blog. It might not have changed much, but...

Rayne collapsed onto a bench, his eyes wide, staring into mine.

R: What... what happened?
G: ... There was talk of flaying...

Lauren: It means he took... he took his skin.

Lauren stared at me. Pale, malnourished and overall weakened, but still she stared straight at me. I don't like her stare. I don't like it at all. Rayne looked in shock between the two of us before also settling on me. An inquiring look was on his face, almost the opposite of Lauren's. He needed confirmation. I nodded.

His face drooped. I've never seen such a thing on another person, at least not to this extent. He held his head in his hands, shaking, quivering.

G: I... I'm sorry-

I swallowed. This I couldn't handle. Dozens of proxies stabbed, shot and burned while begging for mercy , but I couldn't handle this. So I left.

Water tower. East side of town. If you want to find me, Rayne (or Lauren), I'll be there.

Ferus, I will skin you alive. Maybe Brian might appreciate that.

Sunday, 31 July 2011

You all disgust me.

Things aren't the way things should be. There is no fear where fear should be.
How could you turn your back so quickly on your duties; your responsibilities?
The lack of professionalism baffles me. You are not what you claim to be. You are nothing.

Nothing worth keeping.

Friday, 29 July 2011


Wednesday, 27 July 2011

I have nightmares.

And they're not about Him any more.

Standing in the Field. Screams echoing from the horizon. The smell of burned flesh lodged in my nostrils. No sun, but a constant amber light illuminating all with no visible source.
Eight meters away is Ferus. His shoulders shake, as if he's trying to hold in laughter. A funny joke, maybe. A bad one, likely. He begins walking towards me and as he approaches I notice that the grass is peeling away under his feet to reveal bleeding and blistering skin, not unlike his own. He continues to walk, his shirt matted with sweat blood and something I don't even want to describe. When he finally arrives, standing less than a meter away, his hand moves to the bottom of his mask.
Then I wake up.

Rayne's friend is named Brian. I don't think he likes me very much. I can understand him. Rayne was likely allowed into his home under false pretense (likely some kind of work on the house... fumigation perhaps?), an equally good excuse is thought up for Lauren, and then I show up. Whatever story Rayne made for me doesn't work, because there's something about me that just isn't quite right. The attire? The mannerisms? Perhaps "the cold eyes of a killer"? Regardless, I have trespassed on his property and he is likely trying to think of a reason not to kick me out.

When we first met I was eating from a box of Fruit Loops. His box of Fruit Loops. I only realized he was there  due to the curious absence of noise.

"What are you doing in my house?" The tone was obviously threatening.
"I'm Rayne's friend." Bad move.
"Who the FUCK is 'Rain'?" His voice rose to an almost hysterical pitch.
"Guy. On couch. Brought other friend." There was visible relief on his face, though not complete.
"So... what's your name?"
"Glass Man." I took another spoonful of Fruit Loops. He waited to see if I was joking. When he realized I wasn't, the tension rose again.
"What happened to your head?" I'm still not in the best condition.
"Ask Lauren." His eyebrows lowered.
"I asked you."
"Lauren hit me over the head with a lamp. Sorry about the lamp."

"Uh, Brian?" Rayne had obviously just been woken by the conversation. Brian was less than amused.
"We need to talk. Right now."
"All right." Looking like a married couple that had crossed each other during an evening with friends, they left the room.
I kept eating my Fruit Loops. Brian has been watching me ever since.

Sunday, 24 July 2011

The only way out is death.
As a result, the only way to survive is to constantly avoid death...



Wednesday, 20 July 2011


Meetings are always interesting.
I've been very tired as of late. No sleep (that's fucking right, Ferus), a lot of running, occasional fighting. One very, very close call on a bus.
It would be nice to say that's over, but of course that would be wrong. There is simply three of us against a madman with incredible strength and a sharp wit.

I knocked on Rayne's friend's door at 2 AM. Ringing the doorbell would have been too loud... far too loud. Rayne was of course the first to answer, as he was asleep on a couch in the living room. He had given the guestroom to Lauren.
When you're a tall man such as I, it's always a shock to see how small people you've come to respect are in comparison to yourself.  Rayne stood about 5"9' with shoulder length dirty-blonde hair. When he first looked at me his hand went immediately for the gun in his pocket. I realised that I looked like exactly the kind of person who would show up on your doorstep, force his way in and stab you to death, shortly followed by everyone else in the house. So, aiming for survival first, understanding later, I kicked him in the gut. He sprawled onto the floor floor, reaching for the gun he had dropped. I knelt on his chest (a little trick I learned from Zero... just goddamn it), whipped out my knife and put it against his throat. His eyes went wide.
"Rayne, you idiot, not everyone is trying to kill you."
A look of pure recognition and embarrassment overtook his face.
"G... Glass?"
Then something heavy hit me in the back of the head.

As annoyed as I am and as much as I feel like shit right now, I have to commend Lauren on how quickly she heard the scuffle downstairs, grabbed a lamp, snuck down and clobbered Rayne's perceived attacker.

Does not make things any less awkward, though.

Saturday, 16 July 2011

Interview with a happy man

The good days are over, but then again they always were.
Did you write that, Glass Man? It certainly sounds like you, but you deny it.
Hmmm, writing in your sleep? I thought you never slept. I thought you were always in control. Losing that control? Does it hurt?

Or maybe I posted it, but that would hardly help would it. Because it still sounded like you.

To my loving and adoring fans (that includes you Dante, you adorable thing), I give you a wonderful opportunity. Ever wondered what makes me tick? Well now's the time to ask away. I always love a good chat.


Thursday, 14 July 2011

What is the nature of a mind?

Is it a single entity, poised to control the body and bring forth thought?
We are too contrary.
Is it many entities aiming to dominate, hiding behind a facade of unity?
We would all hear the voices.

What happens when a mind is torn to shreds? Do the remains sort themselves into good bits and bad bits or are they just bits, as neutral in their morality as a newborn baby or a discarded shoe. What happens when the bits come together, trying to fill in the blanks. Do they form something beautiful or ugly? Or is it just another "thing"?

What happens to the missing pieces?

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

How many times do you need to die before you realize the truth?

Monday, 11 July 2011


I suddenly realized that I ought to check the phone's camera.

I found two things. The first is this image:
Then this.

Sunday, 10 July 2011

Slender Man

Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man Slender Man

You all love your names for him. Torturer, Beast, Father, Construct, Thief, Master, Monster. There was a time where you all knew one name and feared it. Slender Man. But you were still wrong, because that wasn't the right name. You will never know the name. The name that will destroy you.

My eyes are his eyes.

Tuesday, 5 July 2011

A Phone Call

I have seen better days by far.

A cafe, small place with WiFi access. Enjoying a smoothie bought with quarters and broken dreams. Looking at attractive girls... they probably think I'm a serial killer, which wouldn't be too far off the mark. Then some kid walks up to me. About 14 years old, wearing a red shirt and backward baseball cap in typical 14-year-old poseur style. I was expecting him to start asking me if I had stolen my laptop when I saw his face.

Terror. Complete terror. I have never seen someone more afraid in my life.

"He wants to talk to you."

There was a very long pause before I answered:

"Who does?"

The kid's eyes bugged out, "HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

Eyes turned towards us. It's not every day when you see a kid yelling nonsense at a vagrant. I shifted uncomfortably.

"All right, and how does he intend to do this?"

He proffered me an iPhone. Feeling tired, I shrugged and took it. The voice on the other end was deep, rough and slightly nasal in quality.

"The Glass Man?"
Laughter emitted from the phone, "Yes, yes I am!"
"What is it you want." The crowd stopped watching.
"I'm sure you've already guessed by now."
"I'm in no mood to be humored."
A brief pause.
"It's really simple: I want to kill you."
A slightly longer pause.
"That doesn't make any sense to me."
"Really, why not?"
"Because when you killed Masky the other day you could have easily found and killed me."
A coughing fit on the other end. This man has health issues of all sorts by the sound of it.
"Well played. I do want to kill you, Glassy Glass Glass Glass, but I must prove that I'm better than you."
The last few words were strangely emphasized.
"Why would that be? Why am I your perceived level to surpass?"
"You're not getting that answer today, Glass Man. The boy is going to leave the phone with you. Tell him he can leave now."

I looked at the boy and nodded. He ran.

"What did you do, Ferus?"
Laughter, deep and throaty.
"I gave him a call too. Told him I kidnapped his parents and sister, which is of course true. I'm calling you from his house right now. When he comes home he'll find them... in a somewhat improved condition, if I should say so myself."
"You son of a bitch."
"Not quite, Glass Man, not quite."


Saturday, 2 July 2011

I once saw a movie where a man kills people. About midway through, he manages to get a nice little couple. He tied them both up, then knocked the girl out. Then he cut the boyfriend's head off... It reached a point of brilliance when he took out the girl's guts and stuffed in her lovey's head and waited for her to wake up.

It was nice to see, but so much better to do myself. The reactions, the looks on people's faces... it's better than gold, sex and chocolate combined. Oh my I am having such a good time ripping.

Look for me. You will fear me more than anything.


Monday, 27 June 2011

I will hurt you.



Oh god who the hell is this guy?

I'd decided to take a rest in a boarded up apartment building. It was nice, you know, to finally be able to rest my legs and catch up on everyone else. I'd managed to find a nice cot, which I was lying on while reading up on... Dante's blog, I think.

Then I heard a door open downstairs.

It was easy enough to find a closet to... I guess hide in. Imagine my sense of relief when it turned out to just be a regular proxie. Pretty normal guy. About five foot eight, wearing a black hoodie and a doll mask. I was just about ready to open the door and cut his throat when...

Oh goddammit he can move fast. He was just suddenly there. One arm holding the back of the proxie's neck and the other one... plunging into his gut. Then he just pulled. Shit he just fucking disemboweled him with his fucking hands.

The masked guy was just screaming. Dr. Welder just plunged his arm back in, lifted him up then drove his other thumb into Masky's throat. There was a sickening pop then silence.

He dropped the body to the ground, then sat on the bed. I had my account open on my laptop. He knows about all of you now. He knows who I'm going to meet up with and where.

And then he just stood up and left.

Oh god I need to take a shower and sleep but I can't sleep he'll kill me if I sleep he'll reach into my belly and pull out my guts I can't sleep Ican'tsleepican'tsleepican't

Thursday, 23 June 2011


They've been trailing me for the past couple weeks. If I had taken time to sleep I would be dead. I actually have no idea what state I'm in right now. Climbed a water tower, seemed like the right thing to do.

There's only following me now. He... he doesn't look healthy. In fact, I'd be surprised if an inch of his skin isn't made of scar tissue. Burn wounds... healed cuts... hell, even a couple of open gashes. He wears an A-shirt and cargo pants. The guy's built like a fucking barrel. That's about where my description ends, because his face is always covered with a welding mask.

I feel sick saying this, but this guy scares me... he doesn't have any weapons, and he hasn't attacked yet, but whenever I see him he's either looking straight at me or walking towards me.

And then blood pours from his mask.

Saturday, 11 June 2011


Lots of fucking proxies.
It seems that, now that I've shown Mr. S. that I'm no longer playing ball, he's sending as many as he possibly can to kill me. Of course, it hasn't worked, but it means I can't write as frequently. So, to those who have sent me messages, I will contact you, but right now, I'm on the run. The Glass Man is on the run.

3 shells left. I'm going to have to improvise more.

As a bonus for your patience, here's some personal info: I speak fluent french.

The Glass Man, Esquire

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

Fork in the road.

Alex and I parted ways this morning. There were no harsh feelings. He had his job to do (help me kill Zero), and since it seems that it isn't going to be fulfilled any time soon, he's heading back to Manteo. We shook hands.

And now I'm broke. Again. And directionless. And a little tired.

I'm not quite sure how to feel about Zero right now. I guess I no longer want to kill him, but that's just the tip of a hugely complicated emotional iceberg. In addition, well, it turns out my motivations weren't my own.

So it's going to be wandering for a while. Supplemented with scrounging. And maybe if I hit the food bank I might see Maurice. Here's a hint, about 6 foot 4 with reddish blonde hair, glasses and a highly pronounced facial tick.

If anybody needs me, I can be contacted at

The Glass Man, Esquire

Sunday, 5 June 2011

An ending.

Last night. I don’t know, 1AM?

I found him. I finally found him. I’ve been joking that I’ve been playing “follow the operator symbols”. This time, it was a game of “follow the bodies”. This only lead so far, but it’s easy to track someone when all you have to do is ask: “did you see a guy wearing a monster mask?”.

When I found him, he was walking through an alley. I slowly caught up to him. I had a nightstick that I acquired from my dealings with Manteo. I crept closer and closer, but he never turned around. I clubbed him over the head with the nighstick and watched him fall to the ground.

He wasn’t out. Not yet. He clutched his head. “What... the fuck man...” I kicked him twice in the ribs.
As I prepared for a third kick, he grabbed my leg and attempted to pull me to the ground. He almost succeeded, but then I brought my other foot down on his arm.

I looked down at him. “There are things that need to be done. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

At these words he punched me in the knee and stumbled to his feet.

“That’s not proxie talk.”

I walked slowly towards him, “Of course it isn’t. I have a feeling they’ve somewhat enjoyed the show you’ve put on for them. I, on the other hand, haven’t. I warned you, Zero.” I began to raise the nightstick, “I’m glad you didn’t listen.”

He smirked. “So you’re someone I’ve wronged then...” He was slowly backing away. “Alright, I knew this’d come, but I still have something to do before I die. You can kill me afterwards.” He put up his fists, “But not yet.”

“Excuse me if I don’t trust you to continue on your merry way. Unfortunately, I’m the only one who wants you dead for the right reasons.”

He sprang forth before I could react, tackling me to the ground. He punched me twice in the face before attempting to wrestle the stick away from me, his knee on my chest. He is a heavy man. I thought I would pass out right then. Coughing and spitting, I managed to raise my fist and punch him in the hip until he fell over. On my knees, I beat him repeatedly over the head with the stick.

I felt disoriented. It took half a minute before I could pull myself to my feet. A cut on his cheek, he managed to make a quiet whine before rolling onto his stomach.

“One parallel between us, Zero, is that neither of us enjoy human suffering.” Two more kicks were all it took to end it.

The garage I brought him to was empty. Alex and I had paid a visit to it earlier in order to assure it. A plethora of tools were scattered over the repair floor, none of which I intended to use. I propped him against a corner and waited, gun trained on his chest.

It was an hour or two until he woke. His eyes instantly gravitated to the barrel of the gun.

“... So this is it then... Well, I had it coming, I guess...” He locked eyes with me. “So who are you, anyway?”

“A half-hallowed with an indignant sense of righteousness.”

“Well that’s cryptic...”

It was my turn to smirk, “Really? I was quoting you.”

Against all expectations, he started laughing, “I barely remember last week, let alone something I must’ve posted on a blog... Heh, so you’re a blogger, and you’re pissed at me. I can get that.” He looked up at me again, “So... watcha waiting for? It’s not like I can wrestle a firearm...”

It finally dawned on him, “Aww shit, okay. I get it now. Glass... that’s who you are, aren’t ya?”

At this point I began to lose my patience, “The reason I haven’t killed you yet is that there are things that need to be said!

Zero just stared at me, “Then say what you need to say... how you conquered a vile man, how your focus on me helped save you from succumbing to evil... how you’re some big hero for gunning down a rat...”

I contemplated this, “I’ve never taken pride in killing. It needed to be done... I chuckle sometimes at the parallels. You’ve always had your bleeding tree. I’ve had you. We’ve both been willing to go up and beyond to do what we thought needed to be done. Difference is, I was right.”

He looked down for a few seconds, “... And you saw where my obsession led me, to destroy the Bleeding tree... But I’m betting that your fervor to kill me... that’s more of what kept you from succumbing.”

No. This wasn’t where I wanted the conversation to go. I riposted, “The thing is, Zero, nobody really cares about your Bleeding Tree. The only person it’s ever bothered is you... Kay... Yes, and Kay too. I think that she attracted its attention by helping you. Regardless, you’ve killed innocent people in order to save yourself, and then tried to con the rest of us by claiming to work for some greater good.”

He swallowed, refusing to look me in the eye, “Maybe... but it IS an evil, Glass, and maybe, just maybe it’s connected to the other monster... the fact that the Tree was waiting for me, when I wanted to fight It. The bodies the monster hangs upon it.” He looked up again fixating on the gun, “We don’t know how to kill the monster, but I thought maybe we could kill this at least.” He wiped some of the blood from his cheek, “I’m not too sure of anything really, anymore. All I know is that the Tree nearly killed me, Glass.”

I frowned, “You’re somebody who I’ve always thought had a lot of sympathy towards others. What I think you really lack is empathy. I don’t think you really understand pain, Zero. Pain that makes you go mad. Pain that rips your soul from your body and slashes it to bits before ramming it back in. You’re lucky, Zero. You’re really lucky that I’m not going to show you...”

A week smile emerged on his face, “I don’t know pain?” He wiped his face again, “I don’t know the pain of loss, realizing I’ve been tricked into killing a girl... or... seeing people cry out to me, begging me to help the when I’m just as helpless as they are?” A tear snaked down his face, “To be on the run from monsters, to be mindfucked into doing the bidding of a fucking tree? To realize every step of the way what I am doing is pure... unadulterated evil, and...” He stood up, “And I couldn’t stop it? To know that I’ve ruined lives?” He began to shout, “I DON’T KNOW PAIN? FUCK YOU, GLASS! I’VE SUFFERED FOR MONTHS BECAUSE OF THAT FUCKING TITLE!” He raised an accusing finger towards me, “AND JUST BECAUSE ITS NOT THE SAME PAIN YOU FELT, DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY LESS FUCKING REAL TO ME!”

I cocked the gun, “I would like you to know that, though I’ve wanted to kill you for some time now, I personally did not harbor any ill will towards you. Until you suddenly decided to stop. I can understand someone who’s been killing due to a deranged fantasy. But you... you just up and decided to stop! What made them so different, Zero?” My voice raised to a shriek, “What made killing them so goddamn different?

They had a child.

I froze. My arm dropped to my side.

Zero slumped to the floor, “I didn’t see him until I was done, he was down the trail a bit, and the... then I saw him approach. And when I realized... I screamed at him to run away.” He whispered, “I couldn’t bear to have him see what happened... what I did.”

He looked up again, his face a calm mask, “And you tell me, I don’t know pain... I saw it all happen, and I couldn’t stop myself until after it was done.”

A minute passed, and then I said the only thing I could think of:

“... The first thing you notice in the field are the screams. They aren’t the screams of the dying. They’re the screams of people who want to live. When it starts, you feel that you aren’t alone, but it only makes things worse because you will never, ever be able to see the others, or even know if they’re real... Emotions become sick. You feel sadness so deep that it burns. Joy so cold and hollow that you feel you will collapse into yourself. Nothing is pure... You never know anymore if what you feel is genuine. If what you think is real...”

Zero looked up at me, confused.

I continued, my vision beginning to blur, “Brainwashing is an interesting thing, Zero. There is never a feeling that what you’ve done is wrong. You can’t imagine having ever been different. When He changes people, He makes them feel that they’re on his side, that he’s always been their protector and not their doom. He’s a clever bastard. He figured out that it was too easy for people to fight an enemy that declares allegiance to him from the beginning.”

Zero stared at the ground. I stared directly at him, starting to sway, “Zero, it wasn’t you that gave me the strength to resist him... It was him who gave me the will to fight you... fuck!” I couldn’t breathe. I leaned on a tire pump for support.

He stood up, hands raised, “I have it coming more than most... but I need just a little time to decide what I need to do, to make things a little better for the others.” He took a step sideways towards the door, still facing me, “You can kill me, Glass, you can kill me right now, I deserve it, but otherwise, I have to find my place, my balance...” He turned away and began to slowly walk towards the door.


He froze, then looked to the floor, “Go ahead”.

Facing the wall, I took a long pause before speaking “... If you somehow survive this, and you haven’t found your salvation, you never will. Because I will kill you. Painfully. Go.”

I heard him exhale, “Hmm... I’ll be waiting then. Goodbye, Glass.”

And he left.

Thursday, 2 June 2011

So quick

So quickly you all forget what he's done. You think that he can achieve salvation because he's sorry.
You disgust me. And if his crime was rape as opposed to murder? Would you all forgive him then?

He is a murderer. He killed those who could not fight back. Those who's only crime was to have delved too deep into what they thought was an amusing story.

If he had killed someone you knew, would you be ready to forgive?
Objectivity is what we need. Subjectivity is the enemy.

Sunday, 29 May 2011

I'm so tired. When the adrenaline runs out it's as if there's nothing to live for. So what if I killed a group of proxies. Just victims killing victims, and it's not even as if there's a shortage. I just want it to end. no matter how it turns out I just want it to end.

In the 1960s there was something called Project MKULTRA. Citizens from both Canada and the US were exposed to various hallucinogenic drugs, resulting in at least one death. the goal? Mind control. when you've captured their minds there's nothing left. you've won.

so many people say that He's a thing of chaos. they're wrong. he's the symbol of order, a new and terrible order that no one can escape. he's going to get every one of you, one way or another. we're all just waiting for our own private apocalypse, and it wears a black business suit.

Thursday, 26 May 2011


Last night was fun. I don't know where Shady is but I have the vague feeling that I've contributed in some way.

The proxies? They expected someone to be hiding behind the door.
They weren't expecting me to shoot through said door.
After a clusterfuck of blood and steel, I exited with several flesh wounds.
To Maurice: I think a couple of them might still have been alive. Let's hope He offers healthcare.

Anyways, I have a certain ex-sage to hunt in Pennsylvania. I don't know if this objective is my own or His, but either way I think it's best he be dead. And who knows?

I may just burn him.

Wednesday, 25 May 2011

À l'attaque!

Left Alex at the hotel.

Skipped happily through the woods, following the trees with (X)s on them.

Now Executor, you freaky bastard, if you're reading this I think it's by time you checked on two of your agents. I think their names were Warrant and Right. You people really need to learn something about modern warfare, i.e. projectile weaponry.

Oops, got to go. I hear more sons of bitches coming my way.

Tuesday, 24 May 2011

Man up

I don't know what the hell to believe in any more. I don't know what thoughts are mine and what actions have been of my own devising.


I'm getting out of here, Torturer be damned.
Next destination: New Jersey. The Shady Lady requires assistance.

Alex better have the fucking van ready.

Sunday, 22 May 2011


Oh god I wish I wasn’t having a good day if only this was a bad one then I could ignore things and move on and maybe not have to sleep as much and forget and not be able to remember good god.
I don’t know what’s happened the last few days. I was sleeping or gone somewhere or comatose but I don’t know I really don’t know.

Can’t remember what happened before it started. I was driving somewhere (but I DON’T FUCKING DRIVE). It was quiet. The road seemed like the road was pulling me along like one of those toy racetracks instead of the car pushing me forward. Then he was there. Just for a fraction of a moment he was there. The car hit something I couldn’t see. I crashed through the front. I blocked my face with my arms oh fuck there’s cutsonmy armsfuckfuckfuck.

Woke up. Quiet. Overcast. Slightly damp.  No wind. I was... back home. On a road through the woods near my town. I knew the way back so I walked. It took longer than I expected. When I made it into town it was quiet. There was no one. No one. I emerged from the road near the mall. The doors weren’t locked (why should it have been it was a Friday haha). There is nothing creepier than an empty food court. Again I saw him, further down the main hall. Of course, I legged it.
There was only one place I could go. Did I mention that I was living with my mother when this started? I just realized I don’t know what happened to her. I wasn’t reported missing. I walked home.
Eery. It’s eery to see the place you grew up as a lifeless husk. The subdivision was vacant. The playground I played in as a kid was motionless. Again. More running.
My house. The place we moved when I was six and my brother was eight. My fucking house. It was so beautiful. So beautiful with a big (X) on it. I opened the door and I saw the field.


Tuesday, 17 May 2011

HapPy bIRthday tome,
HaPpy birThdAy tome,
HAppy BirthDay to Ryan,
HapPy biRthdaY tome.

Wednesday, 11 May 2011


The trip to WaldOboRo was someWhat uneveNtful, allinall. When Alex andIgotto MaNTeo's "saFehouse" there wasn't much tosee.

Oneofthemenhad obvIOusly shot the other inthe head. He, in turn, was disembOWeled and hanGing upsIDe down from the cEilIng fan. I don't know, maybe I've just reaCHed a point where none of this suRPrises meany more. While Alex rusHed tothe batHRoom, I manaGed to recoveR ManteO's intel from the emptY-headed courier.

So here I am, back atthe hotel atteMpting to read a blood-soakEd lettEr writTen ina larGely forGotten NatiVe AMerican tongue while my chAuffeur/boDYguard is hitTing the town in order to foRCefully induCe retRograde aMnesia on himSelf.

Howis eVEryOne else?

Monday, 9 May 2011


Time to fill all of you in. After haviNg limpeD away from BelfAst, ManteO told me to reTurn in order to retrieVE some items left formeat the bank. This severeLy friGhtened the young telLer atthe desk, asnot only wasI covEred in blood, butIwas also aday eaRly. I should read more thorouGhly. After assErting whohad sent me, I beCame the proud owner of a backPack, a change of cloThes, ten shells, 2000$ and a chauFfeur/bodYguard named Alex (hewasnotinthe safe). I am curRently stAying at a nice hotel. MAnteo, whoisin fact a buSineSsman runNing a proTectiOn ring for those who have been inFected, has agreeD to fiNance my miSsion. Iam cuRrently awaIting an importaNt pacKage, which is as aMbigUous asitis late.

Bring it, Zero.

Saturday, 7 May 2011


ManTeo. I receIved a messAge from mAnteo urGing me to come to BelFast. When I aRrived I was told to kill a man named Wade SImmons. Wade SimmONs was a Zero folLower. I woulD like to reiTerate that sofarI have not seen a DIrECT link betwEen Zero and these peopLe, thoUgh they are evidentLy inspireD byhim.

When I conFIrmed MaNteo's inforMation onhim I went tohis place of work. A shoe shop. ApParently the first. When I walKed throuGh the door Wade beraTed meand said that the shop wasnota homEleSs shelTer. I shot himinthe knee. MantEo told mean exaMple wastobe made of Wade. I agReEd.When I began to clean mySelf off three hours later, Iwas hit from behind.

ManteO had told meof Wade's friends. They were not happy tosee Wade inthe condITion hewasin. They kicked me. Alot. The floor was very dirty from earLier. Then one screaMed.

Him. The TorTurer. I crawleD towarD the back door. Blood sprayeD the floor for a third time that day. Two of Wade's men traMpled meas they ran out the back door. I looked back. Onewas hardly recogniZAble. He was... reAching into the other. AsI made it into the back room there was one last scream. All that was left wasmeand Wade. I must getoutof BelfaSt. There istoo much blood.

He is followINg me.

Friday, 6 May 2011


Enjoying myself. Feeling REALLY GOOD. Finding money on the ground means I can eat more than garbage and food bank tomato sauce.

On the subject of Zero, I'm going to clarify things. No, the people I burned to death were not being directly ordered around by him. If anything, he was more of an object of worship than a leader. This pissed me off severely when three passed by discussing how he was our only hope etcetera etcetera (man I am feeling GOOD today).

I've looked good enough to be able to hitchhike today. I'm now in Portland. More urban, but nice sea air to breathe and park benches to sleep on.

As for you, Manteo, I've opened up communications. Let's hear what you have to offer.

I hope this day never ends.

Thursday, 5 May 2011


Last night was intEresting. WalKing steadiLy with a compasS aimed southwest. ShadoWs meldinG toGether. SometiMEs it seemed like him. Often, itwas. Then I would run southwest. Iam fine. Eyes occaSionally seem to inVert, but otHerwise fine. 

CurreNt locaTion: BridGewater, Maine. Zero is going togo throuGh Maine. Itis just a mattEr of knoWing where in Maine. Iamnot going in withOut a plan. I have ideas. UNorthodoX ones but plans noneTheless. Asan addEd advaNtage, the woNderful RobeRt Sage has desTroyed Zero's sword.

Iam going to find him. When Ido, no more will die beCause ofhim.

19 shells. 10 bodies. Let's add anoTHer.

I like Maine. It remiNds meof home.

Wednesday, 4 May 2011


HeaDing acrOss the boRder toniGht. Large foResTed area. Fewifany sheLteRs. It's going tobefun.

What isitI want? ImMeadiAtelY, tosee Zero dead andthe world slIghtLy safer. Itis daNgerOus enoUgh wiThout a madmAn killIng foran unjUstIFiable cause.

I want tobe able to sleep more than three hours a week. I want tobe able to look at a tree andsay: my, what a nice tree. I want tobe able to look throUgh windOws witHOut the fear of seeinG the gates of hell open before me. MosTly, I want to forGet. ForgEt that I've kiLled ten peOple withOut a shred of reGret. I want to forgeT what hapPenEd the night I went to kill AdriAn and wound up dying myseLf. I want to foRget that the world isnota place where safEty isthe deFault state. I want to forGet that I once hada fUTure that wasnot inunDatEd with death.

I want evERyone to fOrget.

Tuesday, 3 May 2011

The FaCtory

Near the CanAda-US boRder. HeaDing south.
Found anold teXtile mill. AbaNdoned duriNg some legal dispute, probaBly. Near a forEst, soitwas just a maTter of time befoRe soMeOne was sent. A prOxie. Let’s call him Henry. Henry juMped meinthe woods with a shoVel. Hewasnot exPecTing meto bite hisearoff. I clubbEd him with the shOvel beFore he could reCOver.

There has been somEThing I have wanTed to test fora while. What happeNs to caPtive proxIes?


Henry has been inthe coRNer of a small, windOWless room for three hours now. When he first woke upand realIzed that hewas tied toa chair, he was not hapPy.

Henry: You fuCking basTard! I’m going to kill you!
Me: Hello.

(Long pause)

Henry: They told meyou were messEd up. I didN’t reaLIse He let nutJObs get away.
Me: SaNIty is reLatIve ifnot non-EXistant. Weare going todoa test. Areyou fine with that?
Henry: NoIamnot fuCKing FINE with that! Letmegoyou ear-eatiNg pSycho!
Me (sighing): It appEaRs only oneofusis going to learn a lessOn today.

(I drag the chair into the room)

Henry: What the fuck areyou doing?!?
Me: TeSting a theOry.

(I close the door)

Henry hasyetto disaPpear. It seems that I was right aboUt blind spots, butI haven’t yet solved my quesTIon.

ExcuSe me while I shoot Henry.

Friday, 29 April 2011


3AM last night. DIfferent town.

OpERator sYmbols. Whenyouseethemyouknowyouarenot aLone.

They gAtHered every night in an abANdoned shop downtown. Noone pays atTention tothe wretChed onthe sTreets.Wehaveears.

Theydidnot exPect the windoW to crash inwarD atthe heiGht oftheir leaDer's speech.
Theydidnot exPect my firEbomb tohithimintheback.
They didnot expeCt tofindthebackdoor bLocked bya dumPster whentheyfledfromthe flaMes.

I heard the screAms. Arms pusHing, reaChing out. Thiswasnotwar. Thiswas JUsTICE. I waTcHed itburn until the siRens cametoo close. Ileft. Theroof began to coLlapse when imadeitablock aWay.

TheywerenotHIS folLoWers. Theywere theSage's.

Iwillno loNger remaIn inaCTive. Iwillnotlet thoSe who apProve ofhis slaUGhter go unPUnished.

Nowisthetimetomakea choiCe. Iamyour eneMy oryour friend. Thisisyour deCIsion.

Wednesday, 27 April 2011

A MEssaGe

2AM last night.

I'vebeen luRking aroUnd thiscityfor3daysnow. Havebeen waTching the local park. Seems tobethe right place tolookoutforhim. Ididnotseehim.
I found somEThing betTer.

I have'Nt hadmuch exPerience with prOXies (exCept maybe themaninthe alley). HowEver, intheparkihadthe chAnce to learn much. Three ofthem. ALways gatHering intheparkat night to awAit orDers fromhim. No oRdeRs hadcomeforsometime. Theywere beCOming nerVous. Onesaidso.

You shoUld allbe aware thatmy laPtOp is mymost prECious posSessiOn. Even so,all things mustbe risKed. I plaCed itnearthe opPositE endofthepark. Seta timer for two minuTes. There is noThing that attRactS them fasTer than disTorted sKinNy pUPpy tracks.

The tHree ofthem waNdered over, relieVed. Their mesSage hadcomeatlast.
iwas their MESsAgE.

I stepPed from around thetree. The first shot missEd. Acar alarm wentoff. One shOuted. They sCatteRed. Ishotthe shouTer intheface.
When a sHotgun shell fired froma raTher wonDerFul weaPon hits someOne from short range, theyareno loNger pretty.

I tried to shoot a seCond. ForGot tocockthegun(idiot). When I maNaged to shoot, itwasfromtoofar, butit stIll gavehimalimp.
KNives are alWays haNdy.

The third hid inabush. Witha sword. I kiCked himinthebackofthehead. Onthe grouNd, I broke hisneckwithmyfoot. I couLd haveshothim, butIhad alReady used three shelLs. DisCipLine isthekey.

Idonotwantmy moTives qUestiOned.
When Iam acCused of being hispawn, reMeMber this.

Sunday, 24 April 2011


ReINtegration tabLet.
It seems that eveRYone is looking athim. JusTIfiable. Whenanew faCtor is adDed toany coNflict allsidesmust ceaSe actiVities. whoSe sideamIon? it would be ratHer cyniCaL tosayIamonmyownside. Iamonthesideofthe diScards. thOse whowillnotorcannot serVe the tORturEr, but aretoo twIsted toworkwiththe "ruNners".
Iwillkill thoSe who thREaten me. Iwillkill tHose whowishtoharm. ButfornowI wandeR.

Subject: "The Glass Man, Esq." Status: Semi-stable. Abilities: Moderate. Emotional status: Strong. Threat level: High. Intelligence level: Moderate to high. Potential: High. Danger: High.

Iam stRong. Iam thREatening. Ihave pOteNtial. Iamin daNGer.

Thelastismosttrue. Myipod brokE thursDaY. No distrActions from the torTUrer. Ihavebeen seeIng him. neITher ofusseem plEased. there aremany sharp obJects inthe sTreet. Itisnotfuntobe dRagged. Must alWays findhigh placEs torest.

one adVantage to losINg useofipod. TraDed forTHIS (notmy photo):

Toomany sWords. Gunsare safer.
25 shells. 25 bodiEs.
WatCh me.

Saturday, 23 April 2011

On MaSks.

YesTErday Iwas inTerRupted.

Young man. EaRly tWentieS. WeariNg amask.
Itwas green. Somekindof halloween mask. Hewas standing overme. HolDing somekindofclub. Thought iwas asleep. INEVERSLEEP. Icuthis achilleS tendons from under him. He screamed. I stood upand kicked himintheface twice.

Masks. peOple always wear masKs. it seems anoNymity isthegoal, orsomekindof pROtection against him. there isno protecTion. Masks hideyou. They turnyouinto someone else. Someone youwanttobeorneedtobe. Masks make you sTronger.

The second timethemaskcameoff. hehad brown hair. Didn't notice eye color (howcanyou?). I pulled outthe knife. His pupils diLated. he started tobeg. i knelt down and stabbed himonceinthegut.

Masks arean illUSion. They makeusfeel invuLNerabLe. This never lasts. Whenyouwearamaskyousaythatyou cannot die. thatyouare uniQue. thatthe rules donot apply toyou.

He screaMed. I stabbed him again. he began to whine. I twisted. blood poured fromhis mouth but still he BEGGED. i slashed him again and again. whenhe started to scream again i stabbed himintheneck.

Masks make you the eneMy.

Wednesday, 20 April 2011


iwishtomakemy adDress.

itismy proFOund beli=ef thatweareallmad. noonecan enDurE whatwehaveandstaysane.
What UNnerves meis tho1se whotryto JUSTIFy theIr mADNess.
Iam speaking of zerosage.andhisilk.

zERosage isa mURDerer. his foLlowers sycoPHan=tic sadiSts. allturn aGgainst the coRrupt=ed. the kiLLErs ofmany toRMent the kill6ers offew.

It seEms the corrUPted mustbe pu=rged. iwillnotdie. tHose whowishtolive,donotrun:kill.


Saturday, 16 April 2011



Woke up. FouNd blooD on kni=fe. notgood.

ReGgenjoce: dDisappoIn4ted. "phase" was MISleading. archiVing works onpagenow. strange.

sHAdowx=iRenna: Not pROXxy. wHether influenced unndEtermined. asffortrust: what elseisleft?

wipEd Knife off. wenttofoodbank. idon't look tHRough windowws anym3ore. nicerthatway. slLeeping on mall roof tonight. listENing to mus=ic rigHt now. mosstly INdustr8i=al. strangelyfitting.


Thursday, 14 April 2011


SlEeping in the stree-=ts is not fun. Very notfun on ggrounD level. He is always watching.
Eating. SleePing is nice. livingisnotnice.

tHere are otHHErs in the strreets. Not his peopPle. justpeople. we do not Talk.

InVENTTORy: coatknifelaptopipodearbudsglassesclotheshatredkeysforhouseeyesearstwobatteriesvisionshatredhatand35centsmoneyisnice.

regGen haas my attTent9ion. Tried RESearach. None of his bLogs hhave good arcHiving. Hard to nAVIga7te. ImpOssible to find start. nowasking:whoareyou?


Wednesday, 13 April 2011


ShoRt words helptowrIte. us2ing them. BETter thAn code. Annd r3eVVisionS. I wander. Not far, back roads, same town. cHarge comp when I cAN.

Have I eaTen? no.

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

expLAnatIons MaRk ii

I didn't kill Adrian.

He was already dead when I picked open his front door Wednesday(?) night. The steak knife (god I'm stupid I'M STUPID) I had brought was useless. When I opened the door to the room he was in, I didn't find a body.

Not a whole one, at least.

His ribcage wasn't even there. All there was... All there was was a fucking spine. His intestines were strung everywhere, like fucking confetti. And his eyes... they weren't gone. I wish they were but they weren't. Hiseyeswerefollowingmeohgodtheywerefollowingmeohgod...

I knew I had to get the hell out of there. I didn't know if it was proxies, or him or fucking Cthulhu but I had to get out of there. So I ran. I ran to the front door, expecting a quick escape, some kind of ride out of hell that never, never came.

When I opened the door, the field was there. He wasn't in it. hewasbehindme. You see I had to go in there I didn't want to but he made me go in there I... So I went in. And he followed me.

So when I left, later... Let's just say he was so deep in my mind that he decided to take souvenirs. He fucked me up. He may have fucked me up much more that he did to Adrian.

My senses felt like they had been turned 90 degrees. Nothing was familiar, I couldn't think strait. I don't know if I was even thinking at all. I think I might have broken into my house to steal my laptop. Then I ran. Not very far, but far enough.

I ran into the woods. They looped in on me, but I never saw him once. And I wrote. And read. The only things that seemed normal were on the screen. When I looked at photos and videos they came through to me without some weird-ass Machinist-Matrix glaze to it.

Most people, when they start going nuts and becoming Slender-shits claim that they don't remember having written their messed-up posts. I do. I wrote every one of them and I remember thinking every single last one like it was yesterday. The coding... just seemed natural. It was the only way I could write anything without it looking like a cat jumped on my keyboard.

"Then why is this message so clear?" I don't know how many times I'm going to have to look it over before I post it, but I know one thing:

The title's STILL going to be fucking messed up.

Monday, 11 April 2011


rReco=vering. Will TtRy t9o makkeposstwiithoUtc odiNgg Tomorrow.


Friday, 8 April 2011


Not0ky..HEwasinside-m3.n0tforlongchangedthings.wwinddodwsevvrywhere.whwatididoheDOTOME amistillaliveiiosithishell.


Thursday, 7 April 2011

01001001 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01110100 01101000 01100101 01100101 01101110 01100100

45 76 65 72 79 20 64 61 79 20 79 6f 75 20 6c 6f 6f 6b 75 70 69 61 6d 74 68 65 72 65 2e 20 49 61 6d 74 68 65 67 6f 64 79 6f 75 64 6f 6e 6f 74 6b 6e 6f 77 2e 20 57 61 6b 65 2e 75 70 2d 3d 30 39 38 74 68 65 65 6e 64 74 68 65 72 65 69 73 6e 6f 65 6e 64 74 68 65 72 65 69 73 6e 6f 65 6e 64 2c

Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Dear god...

I'm going to do it. I'm going to kill him.
Adrian... he's not a proxy. He's not confused.

He's doing it on purpose.
I confronted him in the halls (you cannot imagine what the bus ride was like next to him). And here's what was said.

G: You've been spreading it.
A: What?
G: Don't do that... Don't DO that. You know what the hell I mean.
A: I really don't.
G: You've been telling people about... him.
A: Oh, you mean like you told me? Yeah, great job, man.
G: You bastard, I didn't know! You, you've been through it! You know what telling means.
A: Yes, it means less time he'll be spending on me.

I'm going to kill him. He's using people as freaking distractions! As bait!
I gave him my warning. He laughed at me.

I'm going to kill him.

Tuesday, 5 April 2011


Frank's gone. Disappeared last night from his bedroom. Police are doing a search, asking questions around the school.
Nobody's said a single word.

I've started coughing. When people talk about it, they never say how much it hurts. I feel like I've inhaled razorblades.

And if that weren't enough, Adrian's spilling his guts to people online. I'm scared.
I may have to kill him.

Monday, 4 April 2011

That's it

I'm screwed.
Noland's a dead end. Was expecting some kind of guru or something. Got some confused little kid with abandonment issues.
As for my anti-SM army? It's like trying to herd cats. Adrian asked me what the hell I was talking about (he's twitching, not a good sign), George basically told be to screw off, and almost everyone else is avoiding me like the plague. Frank's in, but probably not for long.

God, I just need to figure out a way to fight this. I'm sick of staying up all night with a flashlight pointing at the corners of my room. I'm sick of windows. I'm sick of losing time. I'm fucking sick of seeing him everywhere.

As for what I've seen going on lately, the most significant event is Zero becoming a goddamn psycho. Good for him. A madman is what we need. The fewer runners there are the better. Of course, I'm not going to let him chop me up and steal my bones, but that's just self-preservation.

I'm already dead.

Sunday, 3 April 2011

No more

He dragged me. Up. The damn. Staircase.


I need answers. Hellfire's indicated me towards somebody called Noland, but from what I've read, he can grow tentacles from his back. For some reason I find that disconcerting.

When I get back to school tomorrow I'm mobilizing. It's time to make an anti-SM army.

Saturday, 2 April 2011


I guess that up until now I haven't really explained much about who I am, and what's been happening to me (in specific).

I'm 18. I'm graduating at the end of this school year. I live in a small town.
I became infected about three weeks ago when my brother told me about Marble Hornets.
I've lost about a week in time since, and I haven't slept.
I'm starting to see Mr. S. in ways and places that shouldn't be possible. He's in the movies, on TV, in my freaking mind.
And I've been seeing windows. I've already mentioned one (how lucky I am to have a forest in the back yard), but they've been cropping up everywhere. Just square holes  with that hellish field (not a meadow now that I think about it, those are too pleasant) inside it on walls, in the distance, one time in my bedroom door. And he's always standing in it.
I've read accounts here and there, but haven't had the time to learn nearly as much as I should.
Arkady's trying to kill him with blunt objects.
Setoth's trying to kill him with spells (I'd normally laugh at this, but it seems to be working to a certain extent)
Zero tried to kill him, and we all know how that turned out.

I need to know what I can do. I can't just sit here and wait for him to step out of the frame.

Friday, 1 April 2011


They're circling around. Round and round. Every morning, every day.

Today I watched American Psycho.
Did the cameraman see Mr. S. when I did?

Zero's back. Surprised. Rumors of disembowelment must have been greatly exaggerated.

I'm losing time. I'm always losing time. Yesterday was the first day I've remembered for weeks.
Doors are left unopende. But waht of windosw


Thursday, 31 March 2011


Today I woke up at 6:45 AM. I hadn't slept well.
I departed for the bus at 7:43AM. It picked me up two minutes later.
Next to me sits Adrian. Adrian was the first person I infected, mainly because of his close proximity after the weekend I had spent learning about Mr. S. He became as excited as I was after watching the tapes. Through him, I'd estimate another five people were infected.
Behind me sits George. George became infected after listening to Adrian and I talk about Mr. S. too many times. I think he wants to kill me.
We sit in silence as the bus moves down the streets.
Craig, who sits in the seat next to Adrian and I's, is uninfected. He watches us with vague disinterest as hard rock pumps into his ears.
The bus arrives just before 8:00AM. I walk to my locker. I'm greeted by Eric, who has the locker next to mine. I pretend to be batshit insane. It's an inside joke.
After the normal pleasantries are exchanged, I walk down the hall to Frank's locker. Frank, Eric, Craig and I have been friends for years now. Frank is losing it. He obviously hasn't slept in days and I think he's becoming desperate.
He's the only one who will talk to me about it. George stares at me in hatred a few lockers down. Adrian is maintaining a manic state of euphoria in order to convince himself he isn't going to die.
Frank and I discuss the Operator Symbol. We decide that it's too risky to use.
Frank is going to disappear soon.
I go to my Film and Video class. I made a clay model of Mr. S. two weeks ago, before things became real. I can't destroy it because the others in my class think it's too cool. They would start asking questions if it disappeared. Tyler writes a surrealist rant while Tim sings a Spiderman spoof about Mr. S.

Slender Man, Slender Man
Friendly neighborhood Slender Man
He'll take your organs big and small
Look at him he's fucking tall,
HEY THERE! Here comes the Slender Man

I want to kill him, but it's my fault. I wrote the song.

In history, we watch Ghandi. This is pleasant.

In chemistry, I see Mr. S. out the window. This is not pleasant.
In calculus, Eric and I exchange memetic jokes (we are alone in class, our teacher is at another school teaching the course via webcam). I erase the operator symbol on the whiteboard.

The ride home from school is uneventful. As is the rest of the day.
Now that I'm typing, a regular sight has crept up on me again.
Outside, deep in the forest, there is a window. A square hole in the darkness.
Through the window is a dark meadow, as if lit up by a porch light. The meadow isn't there in the morning.
He's standing in it.

Wednesday, 30 March 2011


Hello. I’m the Glass Man.

I’m going to Hell.

Many in my situation would argue that I’m already there, but what I’ve done... It’s quite frankly unforgivable.

I’m not a badass cop who’s ready to kick ass and take names. I’m not an ex-legionnaire in the army of darkness. I’m neither sage or guardian, warrior or scientist.

What I am, you see, is a bastard.

I’ve infected up to a dozen people, even though I knew the risk of what I was telling them. I watched them drink up my tales of horror and mischief. I spoke eagerly with them after each one watched the footage. And I thrived on it. I loved it.
Of course, I couldn’t be certain. It hadn’t been long enough to know that what I had heard was true. That by hearing it, I had become infected.

And now he’s watching me, and everyone I’ve told is going to die.
I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to be alone.