Saturday, August 4, 2012


I have to go. This blog, this account...

If someone listens to the Whispers again, if someone rises to come after me, this will be the first place they'll come.

Maybe I'll see some of you again. I doubt it.
Stay strong, runners. If there's a way to kill these things, one of us will find it.
- Arthur Pierce

Friday, August 3, 2012

Going Back, Part 2

Okay. Time for some honesty. I've put this off for the past week not because I haven't had an Internet connection, but because I don't like to think about what went on in that house. I just hate the damn idea of going back there, even in my head. I don't even know why I'm doing it now; maybe it's this compulsion thing I've heard about, where I need to write about what happened. Maybe I just need someone else to know.

... But who the Hell is going to listen, anyway? Heh...

I waited outside the house until dark because, well, if someone had been in it when it was daylight out they would have seen me coming. I was hoping for an element of surprise, and... well, I got it.

I approached the house about thirty minutes after sundown. No lights on inside, nothing to tell if someone was in there. Didn't like that at all, but whatever. Went in through the back door, into some sort of kitchen. The place looked kind of nice for an abandoned house, actually. The floors were a bit dusty and some of the cabinets had fallen off, but it wasn't like what you'd expect the inside of a house like that to look like. Not... falling apart, I guess.

Did a quick sweep of the house and didn't find anything at first. Not a sleeping bag, a backpack, nothing. I thought that maybe I was wrong, maybe amiwhereallcry/the hobo was somewhere else. But lo and behold, I was wrong: There was a door in the living room (I guess that's what it was) that I had overlooked during my initial look-through, with stairs leading down into what I thought was a basement. After a few minutes of hesitation, I went down.


It wasn't a basement.

I don't know what happened, I just don't fucking know I somehow ended up there and fuck I really don't want to talk about it.

The stairs were... normal. What you'd expect. But when I reached the bottom... It was like I had stepped into another place. I don't know if that's what happened. I don't know I don't fuck if I know.

It was some sort of den, like an animal's. Nothing you'd expect a human to build. a;BLGFKBS

How do I fucking describe it to you all? I

damn it

there were bodies on the walls, but they're fucking staring and blinking and still fucking alive


kids bodies among the rest.. fucking hell... some even looked familiar to me, oh hell did i do that??

frozen exrpessions of pain and terero


I can't say another word about it. No. Not about them. No, I fucking won't. You can't make me talk about them.

There were... passageways in the walls, going a long way away. Some were in the ceiling... but I dont know how they could be up there because its a fucking basement how the fuck do passageways go into the damn ceiling. And there were bodies along the sides oh you thought about it aigain you idiotr


Holding myself together. Tell the facts. Don't let emotion get in the way. Don't let it control you.



We're ok? Good.

Followed one of the passageways, following a noise a noise that was like a shrill sound that you get when pressing a mic to a speaker or something like that. Hard to follow, hard to concentrate. Smelled so bad. stench of death is real and down there its turned up, i Swear. Keep my eyes on the subject, don't look at the walls, thats what i Told myself, you know/ but had to crawl through a tunnel and there were things on the floor og nonon




I found the noise. I don't know what was making it, but the source of it came to a sort of chamber area... And... i watched for a few moments. couldnt take my eyes of f them. there were people there, all wearng different things. not like a cult where they wear robes. just different attire. The y were all staring at different things too but I don't think they saw my. I recongized one immediately though, tthe painted hobo but without the paint and

it was Charlie

I knew he'd been it the whole time but without confirmation i didn't know and i started to hate him and oh no it was never his fault he just wanted to have a fucking normal life you bastard

I walked up to im

none of the others stared at me but him, he knew who i was the minute he saw me.

But he was like the bodies he couldnt move and his whole face was contorted and shit and he kept repeating the same thing over and over.

i couldnty leave him there, to just dwell there until that fucking thing sent him out to kidnap others to place them on the walls until he became one himself. hes my friend.

but his mind is gone, dont you see? the thing that fucking thing the thing with the eyes it broke his mind. not a proxy, a gatherer a fucking ant is what charlie was.

thats what we all are to them, we're bugs just sent to do things before being stepped on

charlie had a knife n his beltt

i killed him oh please forgive me i killed him because there was nothing to do


do you blame me? I couldnt let it continue. not for what they were doing. if i stop one, maybe i could stop the Entire thing. Maybe i don't know but we can't save them.

the sound stopped, and that thing crawled out of the floor claws and all. i couldnt stop it, i know, i'm just a human but fuck that thing ill take it out yeah take some you son of a bitch

stabbed it right in its eye

and then nothing.


Woke up a little while later in the house. Door to the "basement" was still there, but no way in hell was I going back down there. I took off. Took off fast. Didnt stopp running until i gbot to town.

i needed some comfort, so i stayed in a cheap motel.

And here I've been, most of my cash depleted because I don't ever want to stay on the road again. But I have to soon.

I know it wasn't a dream. I still have the marks the thing gave me, one right along the arm. Not too deep, but it's not healing correctly. I don't think I killed it, either, and if I did then something else will take its place. But I hit it. "If it bleeds, we can kill it"

One monster down (I hope), and one monster coming to get me. And soon, too. I've been looking through Charlie's research on Farstrider, and I'm going to keep reading through it to see if it can be killed. I'm not optimistic about it, though.

Thinking about making a new blog soon. I don't want to be on this one anymore, not after hearing what Charlie said. This would serve as too much of a reminder of what went on.

I didn't tell you, did i. but why would you want to hear it damn it you brought me back there to that place.

he kept repeating the same thing over and over.

"I am where all cry."

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Going Back, Part I

First off, sorry for the delay. Not sure if it's the bad connection or blogger, but I haven't been able to log on for a while. Secondly, I apologize for the post the other night; I was in no danger at the time. See, I've been on the road for several days, and I decided it'd be in my best interest to take the long way around rather than meeting Farstrider in the middle. It didn't really help since the line started curving in my direction, but I managed to get here without incident.

Before I got back to town, though, I needed a way of stopping them from stalking me. Or, at least throwing them off my trail. I've thought about this for a while now, and I think it's time I told you all. I don't believe the Rake and the other one can work together, or, at best they don't like competing for the same victim. I decided to test this out by making a post where it seemed like Farstrider came after me. Since I'm pretty sure amiwhereallcry/hobo is connected to the Rake, my theory was that it'd back off and I'd be able to sneak up on our good friends back in town.

Well, it seemed to work. I didn't see the bastard for the rest of my trip, and... Well, I'll get to that in a minute.

I arrived back in town a few days ago. Things seem like they're the same, like they're going back to normal. One thing that stuck out were these FBI guys in the area, but I'm going to ahead and guess it's because of the kidnappings that I talked about a little while ago. Since the kidnappings went over the state line, it's within their jurisdiction to step in.

Media isn't talking, either, but that's nothing new. I'm sure I've said this before, but I'll say it again: Either these creatures can somehow unconsciously tell people to ignore violent crimes, or someone is covering the disappearances up. And since those FBI guys are in the area, the second reason is becoming more and more likely. Paranoid? Maybe, maybe, but ever since reading some of the other blogs... well, government cover-ups don't seem like they're as far out as they used to be.

Right. Onto the meat of the story.

I went to Charlie's house two days ago, around noon. His parents were away or something, maybe on vacation. I got in through one of the back windows. It wasn't unlocked, so... yeah, I had to break the window. I know what this sounds like, guys, and before you go calling me an idiot for breaking into a house in the middle of the day, let me point out that at least I'm not breaking into abandoned houses in the middle of the night.

I was only there for a few minutes. I had to get the "research" that Charlie had done last year. I believe I mentioned it a while back because I thought Charlie had been seeing Farstrider. Well, it wasn't in his former room; all of his stuff was missing. Hell, even the room looked like it changed. I checked in their basement, though, and found a few boxes of unlabeled things. And, as a stroke of luck, I ended up finding the stuff Charlie had been looking at.

There were a few 'paranormal creature' books, a blank notebook with some pages torn out, and a polaroid of a guy walking out of a building. It's too blurry to tell and I haven't seen him in ages, but I think it might be Sarah's dad when he was a bit younger. I don't know why Charlie had that, and at that moment in time it wasn't my concern.

I found what I was looking for after checking the books: A list of directions to the house where I first saw Farstrider. Charlie was never one to remember exactly where something was, especially if it was in the middle of nowhere. If he was acting as an accomplice when he was living with his parents, I knew he must have either committed the place to memory or wrote down directions. It was a shot in the dark in my case, but I had to find out. Turns out, the place isn't as far as I thought. It was a while away (close to three hours if you're walking), but I was expecting half a day's journey there.

I made it there around four. It wasn't a very bad hike, though the forest gave me the creeps because... well, I shouldn't have to explain why. Anyway, the place still freaks me out even in the daytime. I didn't want to go inside, you know. I want to be done with creepy shit... But I did go in. I had to. And now I wish I hadn't.

I can't type the rest right now. I want to because I need to tell you all what happened, but not right now. I can't concentrate and I feel like I'm going to throw up again.. I might move tonight. Too close for comfort.

Until next time.

- Art

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

notagoodideanotagoodid whydidicome towards it oh fuck me what shit nonononononaieghe3u2tgn

I can see you now.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Independence Day

I haven't really had a successful day.

You know from my last post I tried to kill myself. Didn't work, though those cuts I got from the other thing started bleeding... Which is weird, because they're just scars. Or supposed to be. I don't know. whatever.

Then my cash is starting to run low. Gonna have to use it more conservatively from now on. Maybe it's for the best.


Its times like this when I miss the simple things in life. things yoiu dont think about after awhile. Like airconditioning. Holy shit, it's hot. Its almost midnight and it feels like it's 100 right now. And then theres my ipod. Or music in general, really. I miss it. whenever I would get really emotional or something, i'd listne to stuff in order to calm my mind. Didnt matter what it was as long as it had a good beat. I'd sing to myhself but I have a terrible voice.

Found a better wifi connection earlier today, so moved what i had over here. It's next to a kind of warehouse abandonedish place, whatever the hell you call it. signal is pretty good, so I'll stick here for a while. Not like itll matter in the end.

Managed to go through some of the other blogs that are subscribed to mine. A few don't have any blogs, but doesnt matter. The ones that do count.

Like Rachael. I reaed her's first. Not sure why, but i did. Made me even more despressed. Another person dead.

Looked at a guy called the Philosopher, or something like that. don't know what he's up to except for writing a book. Wish I had the time for that. I think its about bears though, so have fun with that, dude.

another was this blog called the Refugees. I thought maybe they were in the clear, but towards the end they got fucked big time. Peter and Natalie... Damn. Im sorry for you all. I know that doesnt mean much fcoming from a guy like me, a person who hasnt really had someone personal die, but you keep your heads on your shoulders. Keep running.

Last one was the detective I mentined a while back, the one i called a fake. Fuck... i feel so bad for that. he probably didn't see it, but i feel like i'm disrespecting his memory. i'm tempted to go and edit it out now. Damn it.

I can see why so many people liked him, gave them hope. yeah, Zeke was a little over the top. But he brought something to the table, fighting back. something i don't even have the backbone to do anymore. If Zeke cant survive... we're basically screwed. if what mary or whatever the hell her name is said is true, we're screwed anyway. no way of killing Him. no way at all.

i want to test my theory out, the one i posted a while back. I don't know if itll work though, and i dont want anymore blood on my hands.

heh.. wish i could get a chuckle out of myself. hacen't laughed in a while. maybe I'l get lucky and Riddles will say something on here. unless hes dead. he's a proxy, too, but what the fuck, who cares anymore. only proxy that tried to kill me is the hobo, and im not sure if he was even trying to kill me. or if hes a proxy at all.

Just came back from the roof of the warehouse. I was ready to jump, I really was. But something held me back. I couldn't do it. And then I looked over to my right and saw the other one. It was sitting on the ledge, looking away from me, and I couldn't tell if it was it or not at first because of the poor lighting. Just a hunched-over outline.

Then it turned towards me and I saw those damn eyes...

It's always the damn eyes that get me. Not the fucking Krueger claws or the Smeagol skin. No, it's the fucking eyes. I can't describe them, but the feeling I got afterwards... It was almost like that feeling you get when you go into your bedroom and found someone's moved your stuff around. That sense of violation.

I don't claim to know Farstrider's motivations. Some claim he's the Angel of Death, some think he's the Devil. Some think he's just a fucking alien, or just a being from an alternate dimension that likes to screw with humans. Whatever it is, no one knows for certain what His motivation is. No one can know for certain if he's necessarily good or evil (though I'm guessing a lot of people are leaning towards the latter).

But there's one thing I know for certain: This thing, the one people call the Rake... It's evil. No, it's not just evil. It goes beyond that, goes beyond the meaning of evil. If there was another word to sum up just how fucking evil it is, that word would describe it.

It took Sarah's dad and turned him into bits and pieces. I'm fairly certain that it brainwashed Charlie and made everyone except me forget about him. And I'm pretty sure it did the same to everyone I knew, as well.. But it doesn't stop there. If from what I remember is true, how I used to have nightmares about a bogeyman in my room before we moved from New York, then this thing has been there my entire life. Farstrider? Yeah, fuck him, he comes for you when you're a kid and if you get away you get off easie-peasie until later. But this thing I'm sure didn't go away. No, because it's fucking evil. It's always watching, making it's move. You don't always see the pieces moving, but they're there.

So, right. I'm there on the roof, watching this thing for the first time in months. The cuts I got way back when are starting to act up, but I don't give a shit. I stare at it for a few moments, terror-stricken like some are when they come face-to-faceless with Farstrider.

I don't know why I did what I did next. Maybe it was just some part of me that had been buried for a while resurfacing, or maybe I was pulling a bluff.

I started calling the thing names.

I don't remember any specifics, so don't ask any questions on that. But I just remember this look it got on its... face. It was really subtle, and I may have imagined it, but it looked to me like it was confused.

I took a step off the ledge, keeping my eyes trained on it. It kept watching me, its head starting to turn in a way that more than creeped me out.

And as I took those steps, thoughts came pouring into my head. The depression I've had for a few weeks, the thoughts of ending it all but not being able to... I'm confident it's that thing that was sitting on the ledge. I don't know how it does it, but it did.

And by simply showing up, it made all of that go away. I'm more determined than ever to fight these things. I'm just a kid, but I'm willing to give it all I've got in order to take these things down. If I don't - if anyone affected by these beings don't, then all of the people who have died fought for nothing.

So, my first order of business?

I'm coming after you, Charlie. Or whatever you are nowadays. I know you're still out there, and I know you're waiting for me back there. And if you honestly think that a being that has a knack for impaling people on tree branches is going to stand between me and you, you're going to have a rude wake-up call.

Oh, and if the Rake or one of its slaves are reading this right now, I have just one message for it:

Nice job fixing it, motherfucker.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Bad news. I tried taking a piece of glass across my wrists, but it didn't work. It was sharp enough, too, so I don't know why it's not working. Right now, I'm going to blame Him. He seems to be the only person right now that I can blame beside myself.

Monday, July 2, 2012

When I was twelve, my grandpa passed away. This wasn't the first time I'd experienced a relative's death, actually; another grandparent died when I was a bit younger. But it wasn't the same, because as a kid I didn't realize what death meant. Back then, it was just a bad guy getting his just desserts, or one of the good guys disappearing until they could bring him back. But real people aren't superheroes. We can't come back, and what's after that is final. We're dead. End of discussion.

So, when I was twelve, my grandpa passed away. That's the first time I realized what death was about. How it could be there, just like that. But my grandpa was older than dirt, right? So that meant I would live a long time. Well, joke's on me, I guess. I know I'm going to die eventually, because that's what happens to people like me. We make a blog, we try to run, and then bam, we're dead. Dead, dead, dead. That's what happens to us, to all of us, and there's no escape. It's a loop that just keeps on repeating, over and over, and there's no stopping it. People reading this that aren't hooked on this overall story will be soon, they might make their own blog, and then they'll die, too. I'm killing people right now, aren't I? Great. I'm a damn murderer. I'm already responsible for several other deaths, though, so why not a few more?

I think the saddest thing, though, is dying alone. My grandpa died alone, you know, and that's because he had a heart attack while grandma was shopping. No one was there to comfort him when he died. And then you have to take into account all of the people in the world who have died like that. A hiker that got lost in the woods. A homeless person who couldn't get anything to eat. A person who got into an accident in the middle of nowhere.

The one thing that those things have in common is that the people have a chance of getting out of it. The hiker could be rescued, the homeless person could be taken into a shelter, and by some miracle the person in the accident could get to the hospital. But there's people like me, people who are being hunted by these damn things... We have no chance. There is no one coming to save us. No matter how long I run, no matter how hard I try to evade them, nothing is going to work.

There's something I didn't want to mention in my last post. I was looking for news in my home town a few weeks ago. There's nothing there about me; no mention of me missing, nothing. It's like I dropped off the face of the earth.

Just like Charlie.

But there was something on the news. A few miles away from my town, a kid disappeared. Five. I think his name was Bradley. Amber alert went out, but no one's seen him since.

A few days after that, I checked the site again. Another kid disappeared, this time a few miles away from the other town. A girl named Cynthia, seven. She was shopping with her mom and wandered off a few feet away. Mother couldn't find her after that. Cameras did pick up a man, though; a guy in a suit. Here's the thing - the guy's face looked like that of the child killer they caught near my town. Yeah, you remember that guy, the one who made me think Farstrider was after me. There's one problem: The killer is in jail, so police think maybe they got the wrong guy since the disappearances have started happening again.

A week after the girl disappeared, Bradley's body was found on the side of the interstate. Limbs were broken, head turned around. Another kid disappears, and everyone starts freaking out just like they did last year. But somehow, none of this reaches the national news. Weird.

This pattern has been repeating for the past few months, and while a lot of the children aren't showing up, at least two other bodies have been recovered.

I looked at a map, started connecting the dots. The disappearances are all in a line.

A line that's headed straight towards the town I'm in.

I don't know why He's doing this. Maybe to make me paranoid or anxious. Maybe to torment me. Probably to torment me. Definitely. He knows I have no chance of getting away in time, not with the ground He's covering. I'm running out of time, and I have no plan.

Maybe I should go ahead and end it. That's got to be better than what He has in store for me.

Sunday, June 17, 2012


The network I was leeching off of went down a few weeks ago, and just a few hours ago it came back on. Since I'm in a relatively safe place, I didn't want to move and risk getting caught.

Anyway, I promised I'd tell you what happened over the past few months, so here it goes.

I don't remember much about what happened the night I ran. I can get a vague outline by reading the post from that night, but other than that all I can remember is darkness and trees. If I encountered anything later that night, I don't remember it.

I woke up in the early afternoon and found myself in a town about two states away from where I lived. I had this long scab on my arm, too, but it didn't look like someone had cut me. I think it might have came from landing on a stick, but I probably won't know for sure. I did have my belongings with me, so whatever managed to move me was nice enough to let me keep my stuff. It's a lot tougher than it sounds, though. I'm able to wash my clothes at this place in town, but that doesn't stop them from being beat up. My shoes are about ready to fall off my feet, too.

It's not that I can't buy clothes. I could if I wanted to. I just need the limited amount of money I have in my wallet for food, and even that has almost ran out. I do have a debit card, but I really don't want to use it because it'd be easier for someone to find me that way.

I guess my savior in all of this has been these yard sales. Around here, every Saturday someone is selling a bunch of junk that I can use. I've already replaced a few of my clothes for only a couple of dollars, and I'm going to guess that it'll probably be a few months until I need to replace them again. Not all of them fit, of course, but you have to make do with what you got, right?

Right, anyway, getting back on topic. I was expecting to see the monsters coming after me as soon as possible, but it's like they've lost my scent or something (although to be honest, I'm probably tempting fate by saying that). There's been some weird stuff that's happened, but nothing to do with me. A few disappearances, really, and those were in another state.

I guess the weirdest thing has been picking up on things that I haven't seen before. For instance, that monster I talked about in my last post... I mentioned how I didn't believe the person at first, but I continued to read about it until I did my homework. Normally, I would have just blown them off and went about my day, but in the position I am in, I don't know... It's hard to put into words. I guess I felt sorry for them. I wanted to help, but being just text over the Internet isn't very helpful..

Just letting you know, I'm not running. I've thought about it, but I figure it costs a bit too much to keep running from town to town. I'll stay where I'm at; nice and safe-like. Once the things get here - and they will get here - I'll consider running, but I have to have a plan first. That night, I didn't have a plan and I almost had  an abrupt organ transplant thanks to the Suited Surgeon.

In the mean time, I'll try and update as often as I can, but don't expect too much. If that wifi goes down again, you might not hear from me for a couple of weeks again.

- Arthur

Sunday, May 20, 2012


Every time I open my eyes, I'm afraid I'll see them. One with nothing to hint at its motives, the other with those cold, calculating eyes.

While Slender Man's appearance seems to have reached a sort of memetic status, the Rake's is a lot more debated. I've read stuff that says the claws are like some sort of glove, and others believe they're natural. From what I can tell by the thing appearing to me, they're not connected to any sort of glove. But the stuff that says the Rake is pretty much a hunched over, pale-skinned being is true. But the eyes... good God, the damned eyes. They're what I remember most about the thing. Some say they're all black, but... that's not what it looked like to me. They looked almost human. But they seemed... old, like they'd seen too much. And there was something to that gaze... an edge to it that makes me cringe.

I've been playing with the differences in my head for a while now, trying to make sense of them. Why do some people claim they can see a face on Slender Man while others see nothing? Why do some people think the Rake is just a brutal being rather than a clever hunter?

I think it all comes down to this theory I've read called the tulpa effect. It pretty much means that if you believe in something enough, it'll come into existence. Now, I don't personally believe in this myself, but there are aspects about it that make sense.

For instance, believing in something is pretty much what happened to me. I got so paranoid, I started thinking that Slender Man was coming for me (Little did I know, something else was already hunting me). Then... poof, shit hit the fan. But I don't think it necessarily brings the being into existence; if that were so, there'd be so many monsters out there, we'd be overrun. That brings credibility to the theory that one being exists.

So, why the difference in appearance? Does that show the mental health of the person being tormented? Maybe.

Over these past four months, I've had a lot more free time than I normally do. It's allowed me to find things that are normally overlooked. For instance, I found an urban legend of sorts about a monster over in North Carolina. At first, people claimed that it had its origins in Native American culture, but that was added for credibility reasons.

According to the original poster, the story originated about ten to fifteen years ago. Apparently, there was this demon with wild spikes, bulging eyes, and patches of skin stitched onto its own body. Now, here's the weird part: This demon could turn people to stone over time just by touching people once. Holy shit.
I was ready to skip over it, but the original poster continued to say that lately the story had been appearing again, but in a much darker fashion. A girl named Beth contracted a disease called "fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva", otherwise called FOP and Stone Man Syndrome. Oh, that's interesting, isn't it? Stone Man Syndrome? You are damn right it is, because Beth progressively got worse at a rate that's unusual for someone with FOP. She died a year later, but if she had her way she would have killed herself a long time ago because she was in constant agony.

But not from FOP; oh, no, that's not it at all. Whenever she was around a large amount of people, such as a city or a decently-sized town, she'd claim that she was hurting in spots that made no particular sense. For instance, one time she claimed that her entire head felt like it was being cleaved in half... and at that moment, there had apparently been a car wreck where someone had half of their head taken off.

Then, there was another person who lived in another part of the United States. He had been on vacation in the region where the story had originated, and during his stay he had apparently been attacked by a homeless guy who had dreadlocks, big glasses, and patches pretty much everywhere on his person. Read the description of the demon again if you don't understand what I just said.

A few months later, the guy contracted FOP and ended up dying almost a year later, but not before claiming he had pains in pretty much every place on his body. His doctors couldn't find anything wrong with him, though...

Maybe the original poster was grabbing at straws here, but isn't it kind of strange that two different people, both in the same region and around the same time, ended up getting this very rare disease with both having weird psychological problems? Combine that with the similarities between the demon in the story and the homeless guy, and it seems incredibly fishy.

Okay, back to my main point (sorry for getting sidetracked): These monsters exist, but they're not confined to specific descriptions. For Slender Man, it's the tall, thin exterior; for the Rake, the pale skin and the claws; and for the demon I just told you about, it's the wild hair, the bulging eyes, and the patches that cover it.

Now, ability-wise, I think that these creatures can be capable of almost anything, but because we give them an identity, they're restricted to it. So, when we believe that Slender Man exists, one person may believe he can burn shit to the ground while others believe the exact-opposite. So, the creatures behave accordingly.
So, what does this mean? Well, it means that if this theory is true, maybe these creatures do have weaknesses and we just haven't thought of them. Okay, sure, some have tried thinking of ways to kill the Slender Man, but none of them have worked because for them, the being was created due to a specific description... namely, the creature being unstoppable.

So, what if someone was introduced to one of these monsters with the belief that they could be killed a certain way? In essence, they'd create a monster that they could kill... and get rid of the problem for us. I'm not going to try it myself because I've already killed enough people, but it's something to think about for the people attempting to destroy these things.

Tomorrow I'll try and make a post about what I've been up to, but no promises. I know I said I'd do it today, but I had to get that out of my head.

See you all tomorrow.

- Art

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Safe (?) and a Recap

You know, I've been staring at this brand new laptop screen trying to think of something to say. "I'm back!" sounds a bit too childish, and ignoring what has happened is kind of a jerk move. Since my sanity is most certainly questionable, I might be better off recounting what's happened to me throughout this year.

That has the added benefit of bringing everyone up to speed, too. Awesome.

So, about a year and ten days ago, I started this blog with every intention of trying to help my writer's block. It worked for a little while, and I eventually attracted a bit of a following! That's when the weird stuff started to happen. I noticed that a few of my followers were into what I previously thought was an Internet meme: The Slender Man. I started to get into it, even started writing my own little short story featuring the faceless creep.

Not my brightest idea ever, but how could I know a lot of crap was about to happen? I didn't know about the shitstorm that was about to happen in my town. The first major event was my friend's dad disappearing, only to reappear and get killed soon after. I think I know what killed him, but more on that later.

Throughout that period of time, kids were disappearing. Though I found out later that I was so wrong about Slender Man taking them, this still had a tremendous impact on my psyche at the time.

The next thing I know, I'm having these dreams where I'm a kid again and finding bones in presents and shit like that. There was this one dream that had me going to a house in the middle of the woods, and later I found a place exactly like it. And that's when I had my first encounter with the damn monster. This was my first encounter with the Slender Sonuvabitch, and it was actually my only encounter for quite a few months. But that didn't stop me from being terrified, now did it? It didn't stop me from 'warning' people that their children were being abducted by a nicely-dressed bogeyman. Not many believed me, but some did - and that's when the disappearances started to happen. Disappearances that I caused. Yeah, that did a number for me, didn't it...

And then Charlie disappears off the face of the earth. I'm being serious, too! I talked to our friends, his parents, anyone that had any connection to him. It was like I had imagined him...

Oh, and some asshole named 'amiwhereallcry' started putting up anonymous comments on previous blog posts. (This was before he made the account he's been using to hijack my blog.) I started to connect the dots, and thought that maybe this son of a bitch was my own personal 'proxy' (the name for people controlled by the Slender Sonuvabitch), the painted hobo. Someone tried pretending to be him, and next thing I know, amiwhereallcry puts another video on his YouTube channel saying "not to do it again". Ever since then, no one's pretended to be him. I have a really bad feeling that someone who tried to screw with me ended up dead, so that's another life added to the count.

Then the motherfucker burned down my house. I don't know which one of them did it; it could have been the Slender Man and his "magical powers" (my God, that sounded so corny it brought back memories of The Sorcerer's Apprentice; DAMN IT!), or it could have been the hobo. However, I noticed that the dickhead with the warpaint on (no, really) seemed to be protecting me.

Oh, and did I mention the whispers? The damn whispers that almost drove me insane? Yeah...

Once people started disappearing, it had a ripple effect. Some paid more attention to what I said, and they went bye-bye, too. My fault, again.

So maybe that's why I feel like I deserved the attack around Halloween. You see, the thing that was causing the whispers - this ugly bastard people call the Rake - assaulted me and put me in the hospital for a few days. It wasn't anything major (aside from losing a lot of blood, which is kind of major? Not sure), but it still freaks me out.

Around Christmas time, I wanted to take a more offensive stance on the issue. I discovered that the whispers I had been hearing were a kind of subliminal messaging, trying to make me forget about... well, everything. Mostly just the other monster, though. And that's when I got my bright idea to tape the whispers and see if they worked on people that are being affected by the Slender Man. You know, maybe I could stop what I had started, right?

Then I had to announce it to the entire bloody world, leading to one of the final events of this wonderful chapter I like to call "The Fall of Arthur Pierce":

I was driven out of my home as I was being hunted by two paranormal creatures, one of which I planned on using against the other, while the other being kind of pissed off that I was about to cut off its food supply.

So, there you have it. A whole year's worth of stuff that's been going on in my life.

I plan on making another update tomorrow explaining what I've been up to and how I'm still alive, but until then...

- Art

P.S. Don't worry about the last post. It's a scare tactic being used by amiwhereallcry in order to draw me out. Trust me, my family and whatever friends I have left are safe.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Come out to play.

Family and friends continue to look, but no trace can be found.

But he has not been taken. Not yet.

Find him. Find Arthur, and this game can end. Find him before more die.

Arthur, would you sacrifice your family and friends to save your own life?

You have two weeks before the first is taken.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Not sure if this thing is working or not. If it is, then you all are reading this after I'm gone. Well, not sure if gone is the correct term. Dead, disappeared, whatever. All that matters is that I'm gone.

I'm being hunted. No matter where I go, no matter what I try to do to defend myself, they're coming for me. Ever since I made that last post, that painted hobo has continually appeared outside. And the whispering doesn't stop. It's there every night, and each day my resistance weakens.

I fear for my family, so by the time this is up I'll be gone. Maybe dead, if they get me, but I don't need that bugger going after them.

I do have some relatively good news, though. The taped whispers that I mentioned previously work. I sent it to someone who had seen Farstrider around them, and wait what the hell did I just say? No, slender man. Not Farstrider. What the hell?

I'm starting to lose my damn mind.

Oh, look at that. The tall son of a bitch is standing right outside my window. I'm on the second floor. The stories are true, then. Wow. I've never gotten a good look at It because It's always been either far away or in my dreams. Up close and personal, though, is a different thing.

Piss off, you bastard.

Not sure if it's picking this up, but I'm starting to hear voices. Not sure if It's causing it, or if I'm just going crazy. They seem familiar.

That's right, I can see you! Piss off!

Funny thing is, I thought this bastard wasn't coming after me because the other thing was after me. I guess I was wrong. Isn't that right, asshole?

Looking back on it now, maybe the Rake was just softening me up for this moment. Maybe all this time, it had other plans in store for me. Plans for every single outcome. If I resisted, Farstrider would get me. If I didn't, the Rake would get me.

I've played it close to the edge, but now I've strayed too far. They're coming for me.

Wow, I'm depressing myself. Better to go out with a bang instead of sitting here waiting to die.

I recognize the voices now. Each and every one of them is someone I've hurt. All of those people I helped Farstrider get. All of them are blaming me.

Or maybe It's get messing with my head.

No, no, no, no.

I need to get those whispers online. I need to. I need to help you all. How do I do that without It disappearing out of my sight?

I'm dead, or worse. I need to go. I need to get out of here. If I turn my head, though, It'll be gone. I just have to get to the door.

Okay. Turned my gaze. I can't see It now.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Why is this hallway so fucking dark?

I need to stay quiet. Parents will wake up if they hear me. I think I'm packed enough to get out of here. Maybe I am. Maybe.

Living room is also really dark. Anything could be hiding in those shadows. Oh, this is not good, this is not good, this is not good.

Okay. Almost out of here, and I haven't seen any of them yet.

In the car. Made sure to check the tires and the backseat, plus the sides of the car. Didn't want to get jumped again.

Okay. I think I'm in the clear.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Right as I turn on the fucking headlights? Are you kidding me? That's like a cheap horror movie scare. Fucking painted hobo.

Is this thing still recording? I don't even know anymore. I don't think it's a good idea to keep this running while I'm driving, but talking to myself is helping me concentrate right now. Odd.

Anything could be hiding in the treeline. Keep steady, Art, keep steady.

There It is again. Hi, asshole, are you stalking me now?

It's like It keeps teleporting in front of me. What a fucking cheater.

Don't try and run into it, don't try and run into it. Doesn't work.

Holy shit!

Okay, the radio just blasted on at full volume. Scared the shit out of me. It's acting weird now, not sure what's going on.

How the hell am I almost out of gas? That's bullshit! Absolute bullshit! I made sure to fill it up!

No no no no no.


There's no way out of this, is there?

All I can do is wait here and die. Not much of a way to go out.

I can see It now. It's just standing there at the treeline. I almost didn't see it at first, but it's like one of those where's Waldo things. You skim over it, and then you look back and see what you were looking for.

I need to make a run for it, guys. I need to. It's really my only way out. Sooner or later, It's going to get me in here.

I can't keep this recording any longer. I'm sorry everyone for everything I did.

Here goes nothing.

Friday, January 20, 2012



My senses are gone.

Allow me to introduce myself.
I used to be human... am I still?
I am a courier for those you fear.
The whispers.... They changed me.
You run and you hide, and some of you even fight.
I thought giving in would stop the torture.
In the end, though, it all ends the same.
It didn't. I can't run now, can't fight.
You are marked from birth, and set for slaughter.
Now, They're using me for... what? I don't know.
You cannot outrun the inevitable.
Sometimes, it's like a dream to me.
This is obvious to some of you; to others, it will become clear very soon.
I see my family... They have forgotten me.
But I did not come to restate a message preached time and time again.
My friends... They do not answer when I call their name.
Some of you have already answered the Calling.
Only one fights, but I fear I've doomed him, too.
Most of you are too ignorant to obey.
He believes he is at fault for my research. 
It need not end with death and destruction.
That name... in my head. Farstrider, Farstrider...
All They ask for is your immediate surrender.
It's His name, isn't it? The being without a face.
Soon, the dominant species of the planet will no longer be humans. Your very existence will be insignificant to Them; you will be a fly in their sight.
He had no identity until we gave Him one.
At best, you'll be excellent pets - but only if you serve faithfully.
And we humans, the bastards of life, forgot to give Him a face.
They have crossed countless realities, and they have noticed yours.
Maybe He's pissed because of that.
Some have already crossed the gap.
I focus too much on Him, when I serve another.
And if you thought that running was the appropriate answer to Them, death will be the only escape from Those who cross next.
I can feel that presence in my mind... The claws tearing my mind.
But even death may die.
I do not feel pain; in fact, it's almost... pleasing.
My time draws to a close.
A kind of escape; a dream. 
The first message has been sent; the second is hidden in plain sight.
I feel so empty. I fear that when I am next seen, my mind will be gone.
I return to my place.
And the sad part about this is that it isn't even the beginning.
I am where all cry.
If anyone gets this message, I am Charlie Al Wymer... And I'm sorry for all of this. Don't give in, like I did - fight. I am so sorry.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Final Update (Maybe)

Happy New Year. Yes, it's a little late, but better late than never, right?

Write. That's what I started this blog to do - to write. And boy, have I been writing constantly for the past few months. But not about fiction, about my life. Strange, isn't it? But I'm thankful that I've been doing just that, because I would be dead if not for this blog.

It all started with that Slender Man fellow. Oh, sure, I've only seen him twice, but he's affected my life more times than I can count. I don't think I need to tell you about how I screwed up, do I? Anyway, keeping him in my life has just made it more terrible, this is true; however, it's also kept me alive. Thinking constantly about him, being paranoid that he'll come creeping through my door... That's placed him in my life, whether he wants to show up or not.

And the other one, the Rake, doesn't like that too much.

I've had a theory for about a month now that involves why Slender Man hasn't actually appeared to me on multiple occasions. Despite going down the path of a few other bloggers (Find out about Slender Man, be paranoid about Slender Man, start seeing Slender Man constantly, eventually die), it's never progressed to that third step. A part of me wants to believe that I'm not his type, but it's something more than that. As soon as I started researching him, the other one came along shortly after. It's like I can only have one of these beings hunting me, and the Rake called dibs first.

Which actually makes sense; I was talking to my parents the other day, and they said I used to be frightened by the monster in my closet. Now, I'm sure every kid goes through this, but my parents claimed that it got so bad that my personality started to change into something filled with rage. We eventually had to leave New York state and come here (did you really think I was going to tell you where I lived? Dream on). After that, my younger self wasn't frightened anymore. I don't remember that this at all, and probably with good reason - forget about burying it in my subconscious. I didn't do that.

The Rake did.

I've been hearing whispers in my sleep for the past few months. Half of me will wake up, and I'll hear something close to my ear. It's something unintelligible, but still affects my mind. Look, I'm not sure how it works, it just happens that way. Every night this happens, I'll wake up and my memory will be dimmed. It's almost like someone took a marker and started drawing right on top of my memories, replacing what's already there.

The changes were subtle at first. I started to forget small things, like my keys or my school books. And then I started to forget Charlie; then I started to forget Slender Man. The Rake has been wanting me to forget about them, because they're tied to the happenings in my life. And if I ever forgot about them, if I ever got rid of the memory of another monster coming to get me, I'm sure that the old monster in my closet would come back to finish the job. It's like they both can't share the same prey.

Reading back through this blog, though, strengthened my memory on Charlie and Slender Man. I remember them, though not the specific memories. And... that's what's kept the Rake at bay. He was only able to attack me when I had forgotten to update this blog, I bet.

And I can't keep my life hooked to this, I just can't. Eventually, something will happen and everything on here will be erased, or I'll get into an accident and end up forgetting about this. And as soon as that happens, I'll be dead. I'll be monster food.

So, it's better to strike back with what time I have left, right?

I can't beat the Rake, but I have an idea that might just stop Slender Man for good. The Rake's been filling my subconscious with forgetting Tall, Dark, and Faceless, right? So, why not use that to my advantage? I have that tape recorder, and it's been picking up on the whispers. If I had someone else to listen to them, someone who had been affected by the monstrosity, perhaps they'll forget him. I've read theories that the more you fill your mind with him, the stronger he is; what if the more you forget him, the weaker he gets? Almost like a... reverse tulpa, I guess?

All I can do is try. This is literally my last chance to try and atone for my actions. If I can help out everyone else, if I can weaken him to the point where there's a chance of getting rid of him forever, I'll try it.

The chances of this working are slim (no pun intended). I've an opportunity to try this on someone, so within the next few days, that's what I'll be working on. But you can bet that this isn't going to end quietly. They're going to try and protect themselves, and they'll kill me if they get the chance. So, that's why this is most likely my final update.

However, should another post arrive on here, it'll most likely be from my phone. A friend of mine (and no, I'm not giving out their name) has been able to create a speech-to-text program for it, and it'll record my last moments, should they occur. I've got it set up to where it'll automatically send to this blog, so you all will know if I've succeeded or failed.

I thank you for reading this, and the other parts of my blog. Some of you have been undeniably helpful, while others... not so much.

You all are the reason I kept going back, hoping for someone to help me. But I suppose the truth is, you can only help yourself at times like these. I'll try that, and if it works, I'll help everyone.

I'll help everyone...

Listen to me, rambling on. I'm ending this now so that I can get back to work.

I hope there's a next time, but don't count on it.

- Arthur Pierce

The dreams of a mad man. 
Keep calm, carry on.
 Farstrider is coming.