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