The End

Itsy bitsy spider thought he could climb the waterspout.

(in this situatfion the watersupout is thee manl ine the dtie)

I'm going to be frank with you here. He was really asking for it. Can't say he went out without a fight,

B

R

A

V

E

?

but in the end, what did you expect to happen? This is the

(oh god oh god oh god i canb see him he's right tyhere why can't any of you)

tall man we're talking about here, Mr. Big and Tall, and who would ever dream that some kid who likes purple and talks in a fake accent

 (piggy wants to play)

could ever win? He was sitting on his fucking couch watching Candle Cove with his goddamned nice, he really did love her, when the branches descended on him again,

 (thosh aawful tendtrils so colde)

 and for somebody who liked to carry around a book of fairy tales he did go out bravely. I still have

(EVEN THOUGH I HOPE THAT HE IS DEAD

i could not wish such a terrible

(F)

(A)

(T)

(E)

such as living 

with such a sight

upon another) 

some hope for him though, even though by the time IT was done with him

(the ((SLENDER MAN)) that is)

(see him he's right at the goddamned window)

he was carved with symbols and words and his niece was dead and cold in his arms.

(THESE SYMBOLS⦻⦻⦻⦻)

Although I may appear Enigmatic

(FOR THAT IS THE NAME OF ANOTHER)

I am not - I am just like you. I am waiting for the boy we all knew to come back

(oh grama what big TEETH you have)

and for, of course, a night of peaceful and dreamless sleep.

(because IT feeds on dreams)

?

it was always after the part with the wishing well that i hid until the song was over

the monster tree

When I returned home after all the chaos and pain I opened my laptop.

My desktop had icons pasted over the whole thing. Every one opened the same image.

Clearly, Piggy sucks at Photoshop.

I found Shiloh at the mall. Even though he spotted my hidden camera, he let me record the conversation. Which came back as pure static every time, uh... "He" was alluded to.

Fuck that. its name doesn't get capitalization. Or a gendered pronoun.

Oh screw that too. Clearly giving it any sort of special pronoun puts it on some pedistal and frankly I don't think I'm at the position to criticize said pedistal.

Not that the static matters. It was lost in the water at the place, with my phone and wallet and everything else. My parents, thankfully, are alive, and doing fine. Just shaken up because I was gone for a month. I've steered clear of the internet since then. I don't blame Shiloh or his "guardian" (oh right. it really turned out to be some schizo split personality but who really cares in this whole game anyways?) for what happened, but I sure as hell don't want to mess with him or anything else again. He seemed to need help, but I think his needing help was all part of the plan.

Let me tell you first off that all that "hollowed" shit you read in the Slender Man Mythos online is not real.

I don't know what happened while I was gone and I don't care to. But what I do know is that "it" doesn't care much about any human being at all. The minute I laid my eyes on its true body, not some faceless man in a suit but instead some impossible melding of shining flesh and wriggling bone I lost my mind. Not in the Lovecraftian sort of way, going mad from a revelation or sight.

There's something wrong with it. It's programmed to screw with your head.

For a month I stayed in one place, or god knows what I did, dreaming. I dreamed of my past, mostly. And I remembered. I remembered in startling detail.

Piggy was not an imaginary friend. Piggy was the nickname of my baby brother. Parker.

Then it happened on November 22, 1998. Just like that damn picture created by our photoshop wizard hinted at so long ago. The known sex offender Arthur Lich kidnapped him.

He was a freak. I don't remember anything at all about him - other than the fact that they called him "The Big Bad Wolf" because of that mask he would wear as he lured kids in. Lured them in with balloons and a smile... lured me in despite my parents' warnings over the years to stay away from such a man.

But I gave in, and he took Parker. Piggy.

But in my dreams and in my memories there was always something wrong with him... he wasn't quite... human at all.

So is he... you know. Tall Dark and Faceless? Oh fuck it. If I'm going to get submerged in this alternate reality game shit I might as well call him what he is. The god damned Slender Man. Or is he something else entirely? Despite the month-long plague of memories and emotions, I still am in the dark.

And now that picture.

I guess I'm supposed to go to the place. That cancerous tree me and David used to visit when we were kids. The Monster Tree.

But not now. If I can avoid this I will. I'm not going down the same path as Shiloh.

Piggy. The Big Bad Wolf. The Slender Man. Grant. What do they all have in common?

I'm sleeping with a twenty dollar bill under my pillowcase with the lights on. Maybe being a smartass will ward off evil.

Tomorrow

I'm going to meet Shiloh and his "guardian" tomorrow. I'll try to get a video. Hopefully nothing... bad happens.

Still no updates on the code. It's harder to crack than one would think.

Cracking the Codes / a Creepypasta

SOURCE?

What kind of source? At first I thought it was referring to the source of my problem. But thinking over "Piggy's" cryptic nature, I wondered if it could be more of a code than anything. It's now pretty clear that this thing can mess with me by writing on walls, and if I've learned any genre savviness from my ARG excursions it's that the enemy can mess with your source code.

Your... source code.

And that is when I checked the page sources of all the entries with that tag. Lo and behold, hidden in the HTML in comment tags were the following messages:

melodramatics and unneccessary ramblings

"he's watching me now. Just keep that in mind. He KNOWS. He SEES."

-A victim, somehow?
-Somebody imitating me?
-Me?
-Shiloh?

The Birthday Party:
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6j-yz8PGFFS25J9kuiLg0jL34TKzKiDfv3-z9AVB1Z3hZaZ_19zz2wCE5ImKOKNHxdq4NLfc_fx9QfFCqHYd9nTVbMYWj5NGsWDRrKigYOJUf25dSl3v8n_PQWc4KQc-iWgtLbz12vs/s1600/YouKnowWho00.jpg

It leads to this image:

There was no "YouKnowWho01.jpg" or anything of the sort uploaded. So this image is alone. Still, this confirms "the birthday party" is somehow involved. The purple and "whosafraid" repeated in the background are a bit disconcerting.

I'll keep out for more "source" posts, if "Piggy" keeps using them, that is. Does it want the codes to be cracked?

Still no updates on the crayon message. This one is really creeping me out.

---

There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.
As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredibl detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, the hunter awoke -- he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

Written on the Walls

Today around 4:00 P.M. I entered the closet. I think the video speaks for itself.



Piggy was the name of my childhood imaginary friend. Wrap your mind around why the hell that name was written in there. I have no idea. This is turning insane. I'm going to try to make sense of it all. And I'm also going to stay in the light. Goodbye, sleep.

Message:

"Piggy wants to play.

ytaat tlaag ywyitintly"

It's written in crayon. If anybody else thinks this is a code, I could use some help.

Some observations:

-It's written in different colors. Perhaps this is a factor in the code, or just there to throw us off.
-"Piggy wants to play" is obviously not code. Or is it? Either way, that's plain English, which could be some part in cracking the code.
-It may not be a code. It's written in crayon and it's the name of my childhood imaginary friend. And it's written in what seems to be the hand of a child (too high up?) so perhaps it IS just jibberish.

I'm going to look further into this and into "source."

Additionally, I am meeting Shiloh and his "guardian" at a Chicago-area mall Saturday. I'm going to need to sort things out, gather questions to ask. I need to make this visit worthwhile.

Where Insomnia Turns Nightmare Turns Reality

I don't think I was supposed to call Shiloh.

I also don't think I should turn my lights off at night. Or try to sleep. Or sleep in my room.

Last night.

I was trying to fall asleep, as usual. Watching some weird-ass kid show on TV that looked years old, it was nightmare fuel enough. But then came the scraping noises. At first I thought they were ordinary. But they grew louder, emanating from the wall behind my head. Something was in the hall, or the closet. I turned off the TV and started listening harder. Was this something to fear? I felt like it. I tried to assure myself it was nothing. The wind blowing through and moving stuff around. It was too peaceful outside for that though.

So I sat paralyzed in bed at god knows what hour of the night, not sure what the sound was or where it was, seeing only the worst possible monsters coming to life in my head. Turning the TV off was a bad idea, too. No light, and now I was far too terrified to turn it back on. The scraping seemed to slow then. And then it stopped entirely.

I sat in the dark and silence thinking it was over. Dawn would come, and it would all be over.

Then the closet light went on. Thing is, it would have been far less scary if I had a closet light. Faulty wiring or wild animals or burglars can't turn on lights that don't exist. And flashlights don't logically light up purple. It was safe to say that this was unnatural, and also safe to say that holding back the bile that built up in my throat and darting out of my room and down the stairs was a logical course of action. I spent the rest of the night locked in the bathroom holding a plunger and a pair of scissors for self-defense.

I haven't ventured into my room yet. I also haven't told anybody -- would getting others sucked into this whole thing make it worse?

I'm checking the closet today. In daylight. I'm not living in fear forever, whatever might have been in there.

Blogging in Style... Close Encounters of the Worst Kind

Enter the Insomniac

Nights and days blend together in one sleepless homogeneity.

I can't tell the border between sleep and waking anymore.

This is what it wants.

It wants me to dream.

In my dreams in the little hours of sleep I get, I hear one word whispered over and over again. And yet I can't ever remember it when I wake.

A word that, to me, sounds like fear.

No Leads

I'm thinking of asking my parents about this birthday party thing. Stuff is really getting out of hand. But I don't want to stir up anything, I'm going to try digging a bit deeper.

I've been on my guard more lately. Adele is back with my aunt and uncle - I can't have her around with all this insanity going on. I have a strong feeling that this is about me, and about David, and maybe about Simon, but either way it's not a good idea to get a little kid involved.

The insomnia has been worse too. Now, I know my screen name is "InsomniacPrince" and all, but I've never taken the title serious. I've never missed more than a whole night of sleep more than once in a week. Now there's full-fledged paranoia creeping up. And it causes the burning-eyed, dry-mouthed tiredness that all the coffee and pills in the world only makes worse. I ward off the shadows by reading and playing video games way more often than usual, but there's never any focus.

I don't know what I'm dealing with, but I also know I was foolish to think it was gone.

Another thing - I was reformatting my blog out of boredom and where the hell did this "source" tag come from? Last time I checked, it was called "madness." This means one of a few things.

-Forgetfulness or amnesia-like symptoms? Maybe I just forgot...? Insomnia might be the cause of that.
-Server error? What would give your entries a new tag?
-Hacker? Why would they just change an entry tag though? Wouldn't I get either spammed or, uh, riddled with operator symbols and AltERnATing CaPS NoNSEnsE EntrIES? Ahaha. /nervouslaugh
-Something else totally off the wall?

I don't know. Maybe if somebody out there could help me, one of my watchers? It'd be appreciated.

I'll be on my guard. Until next time, don't sleep without me.

That sounded weird.

the birthday party

Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.

--

I think things are starting to make sense now. No more of the running around nonsense. I'm remembering things.

Simon? David? Are you reading this? Do you remember my fifth birthday party?

Please respond.

Shiloh? Are you reading this? Who are you?

David, Evelyn, be careful please.

In Which I Examine the Fear Incarnate

So here I sit in my advanced trigonometry class, my deep-voiced professor rambling about mapping trigonometric values or some such nonsense, half the class speaking loudly and unabashedly, the rest playing tetris on their laptop computers, a few actually note-taking. And here I sit, writing a blog that nobody reads.

I am here today, blogging instead of drawing graphs, because I want to discuss something without video logging it (since it turns out formatting and uploading is kind of a bitch to do).

Credit Joshua Hoffine

What is fear?

It's been described as one of humanity's most natural emotions. It is divided into different types - personal fears like dying alone, primal fears like heights and water, fears from experience, et cetera. I'm sure there are official names, but I will refer to them in my own way. In addition to this, there are different stages of fear. There's terror, a kind of paranoia or suspense, knowing that there's a monster under your bed. There's horror, seeing the monster with its fangs dripping flesh and blood and being too paralyzed with fear to scream. There's a sort of fight-or-flight fear, the adrenaline-kicking sort of rush.

Fear is there to protect you, basically. When you see something harmful or something that psychologically reminds you of something harmful, you fear it. When you expect something you fear, you become terrified.

What greater power would there be than to become fear, to paralyze anybody you looked upon?

This is possible.

I do not know how.

All I know is that I've looked fear in the eye, and I survived. Am I insane? I don't think so. But they do say the truly insane believe themselves normal. I don't really know what should believed anymore. I'll make more observations later. The bell is going to ring.

oH GOD thE PaIN (psyche!)

Ahaha.

So it's been a while since I last blogged. I don't know, maybe. I'm too lazy to open a new tab and check when that last update was (please slap me for typing that). But I was just surprised to discover that Blogspot is no longer blocked at my school. I'd like to take this study hall procrastination session to tell you everything is going smoothly. The spring has begun, and I've had no problems with my personal bogeymen.

I also figure it's about time to explain what all of this paranoid (?) blogging means.

December. I was going through a bit of a tough phase. Bogged down with work and school and all, and to top it off I've got my paranoid niece to worry about. I lost contact with David, and took refuge in horror movies and the internet. I lived on Mountain Dew and black coffee. And that's when he appeared.

He being... well, I don't think it's necessary to say, knowing what my obsession was in October and November. I'm talking about the Slender Man, dummy.

But let's just say I was wrong. Too much creepypasta-writing and too little common sense led me to this delusion, the delusion that I was being followed by some faceless Eldrich horror. The paranoia didn't last long. Eventually, I dismissed it all as the stories getting to me. So naturally I stopped believing.

And what do you know. Slendy disappeared faster than I could whip out a twenty dollar bill.

And in his place came the terrible nightmares. I might post some of my dream logs later, for those with an inclination to psychoanalysis. But in short, let me just describe them as surreal and terrifying. I started jumping at shadows. Everything that scared me at night scared me in the day. My worst nightmares were real. At first they were Slender Man, then they became, I dunno. Ghosts. Voices from Hell. Candle Cove and Pokemon Black for a while. And I knew this was all mocking me.

So I decided to play mind games with whoever was watching me. My parents, being the awesome people they are, actually allowed me to go on a several week-long trip, taking a bit of school off to gather my thoughts and see the world. And in the process, I aimed my thoughts at turning my worst fears into real things. Tangible things. I read books on serial killers. I watched some gory, squick-filled movies. None of the abominations you can't touch. Only real things. If something can kill you, you can kill it. If it's human, it has the capability to die too.

I'd like to skip the next part for now, if you don't mind. Too much work to make up. But let me tell you - my demons can now fully be considered thwarted (for now?) and the triumphant victory goes to Jacob Owen, nothing else.

Once I manage to wade my way out of the mess I made by leaving school and work, I'm starting my online video series. "The Project." I hope to put my experiences to scientific work.

Until next time, goodbye.

An Unlikely Update