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.

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.