The Slender Man (19 page)

“No…” I try and scream, but it’s distorted, and I can’t draw
the breath to continue. I lose control and panic. I open my eyes again and
notice something. I’m underwater. I thrust myself up and have to cough water
out before being able to gaspingly draw a much needed breath.

Was it just a dream? No this entity works with dreams. He’s
a living nightmare. What just happened was him at work. Maybe I fell asleep
when I closed my eyes, and slipped underwater, or maybe he forced me into a
trance. I don’t know, but I hurry up and do what I came here for and scrub as
much nail polish off my skin as I can. I have to use my nails to pull it off my
skin, and by the time I get it all off my skin is red and tender from the
scratching.

When I finish I climb out and look around at the water mess
I made when flailing about. How could my parents not come to my aid when they
heard that commotion, unless the monster masked it somehow? I notice in the
steamy mirror that I’ve missed a few spots particularly in the hair area, but I
let it go. I ponder the dream I just had.

“What do I do?” I ask myself. There’s a knock on the door.

“Alyssa, the sheriff wants to talk to you,” says Mom.

“The sheriff?” I ask.

“Yes he says it’s important. Will you hurry up? He’s on the
phone,” she says.

“Alright.” Instead of blow drying my hair I wrap a towel
around it and walk out of the bathroom. Garbed in nothing but two towels I take
the phone from Mom and head down the hall to my room. I almost faint when I
look at the damage I caused. No wonder my parents freaked.

“H-Hello?” I answer the phone, realizing the sheriff is still
waiting.

“This Alyssa Redwood?” asks Sheriff Fraser.

“Yes sir,” I answer.

“I have some news. It may be good or bad, but it involves
you.”

“Uh-huh?”

“We found Mario Douglas,” he says.

“The bus driver?”

“Yeah, one of our men arrested him outside the woods. Listen
he doesn’t seem to be himself, and he keeps saying your name. We want to bring
you down here and see if maybe he’ll give you some answers. If he’s just
jabbering on, well, it can’t hurt. Would you be willing to talk with him for
us?” he asks.

“Well yeah. I mean if my parents are okay with it,” I
answer.

“I already ran it by your Mom. She said you may not be
feeling up for it,” he says.

“Oh no, that was- something else.”

“Alright then. We’ll see you soon,” he says.

 Mom is standing in the hallway. She doesn’t say anything,
but I can tell she heard my end of the conversation.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” I say. It takes me a while to find a
matching set of clothes among the torn and broken hangers in my closet, and
it’s not that I’m being picky, it’s that I threw a really big tantrum. I’m
somewhat embarrassed, or at least I would be if there weren’t so many more
important things to be upset over. I settle on white tank top some jeans and a
jacket. I put my socks and sneakers on and brush my hair out so it’s detangled,
if still messy. I’ll deal with it.

 I leave everything else, not even sure if there’s anything
I still have that I can put on, seeing as I probably destroyed every cosmetic
item I own. It looks like Dad isn’t coming. He’s in the living room chair with
a half-empty bottle of Shabbat wine next to him. He’s not a heavy drinker so
he’s probably drunk himself unconscious by now. If only I could escape with
sleep...

Mom, Bubbe, and I all head out single file to the car. I
look around, but don’t see, or even sense the entity. For some reason he’s
dropped his ‘round-the-clock watch on me. The drive to the police station is
quiet, but full of tension. My thoughts are focused on Adam and Adam only, and
by the time we get to the station, it takes me a second to remember why I’m
coming here, Mr. Mario. Maybe he has some answers for me. If the fiend really
did have him, and he’s out now looking for me... well this has to help me in
some way right?

Deputy Yew, grim as ever, is waiting for us outside the
station. He nods when we walk up the steps and guides us in. When we enter the
station, there are over a dozen eyes on me. Some of them are giving me
quizzical looks, and others confused. Some are sympathetic, and others have
hopeful gazes. I think I even catch a few accusing glares, as if Mario looking
for me means I’m involved in some way. Regardless, everyone including me wants
answers.

Deputy Yew leads us back to the jail area. The metal
detectors go off when he walks through, and even when I walk through, probably
because of my belt, but no one stops me. It’s not the time for formalities. We
get down to the jail cells, and the single occupant waits in the cell furthest
from us. I feel that I can’t walk fast enough to get the answers I want, but I
don’t want to run. When I get to the cell, I see Mario hunched like Gollum on
his bed. “Mr. Mario,” I say. He looks up.

“...Redwood. Alyssa Redwood,” he says as though he’d already
been saying it. He locks eyes with me for a moment and stops speaking. He’s
still in his hospital gown, although by now it’s torn and dirty, and he seems
to have aged ten years since I last saw him. His gaze fades from crazed to
angry. “Only, Alyssa,” he says, pausing between the words.

Deputy Yew gives me a quick look to make sure I’m okay with
it. I nod at him. He in turn nods to the sheriff and they escort my confused
mother and Bubbe out of the holding area. Deputy Yew stops down the hall a
little way to at least provide supervision while giving as much privacy as
possible, and it looks like that works for Mario too.

“Alyssa,” says Mr. Mario.

“What happened to you?” I ask. He looks down at the ground
and suddenly his face turns into the saddest child face I’ve ever seen. He starts
crying a bit.

“I don’t know,” he mutters.

“You don’t know, Mr. Mario? The accident? You were missing
from the hospital.” If he doesn’t remember, then maybe he won’t have any
answers for me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know,” he mutters. I’m starting
to feel a little disappointment, but I try a different approach.

“Why did you ask to speak with me?” I ask. He pauses his
crying, as if remembering something.

“He told me to,” he answers.

“He? Who is he?” I ask, although I know who he’s talking
about.

“The Slender… he’s the Slender Man. He told me to. He let me
go to tell you,” he answers.
Slender Man?
I think. Is that really his
name, or what we call him? It certainly fits.

“Why? What does…
Slender
want?” I ask, dubbing him
with a nickname. “What does he want you to tell me?”

He rocks back and forth a bit. “He has your Adam,” he says.

“I know, but will he give him back? Will he give my b- my
Adam back?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“He’s mad at you. You shouldn’t have left. You’ve, angered
him,” he says. I try to think of the best thing to say next, but he continues.
“You stole from him, so he stole from you.”

“He let you go to tell me that?” I ask. “What does he want
now?”

“He wants you. Only you. You stole from him. Now he wants
you.”

“But he already wanted me, and Adam! He already tried to
pull me in and-”

“But you escaped!” he interrupts loudly. I can see Deputy
Yew about to rush over but I hold out my palm. “You won’t escape again,” he
continues. “What if I leave? He won’t have me then,” I bluff.

Mr. Mario starts laughing, and then starts crying. “He’s not
going to let you go. He’ll follow you.”

“But what about Adam? If I let him take me will he give back
Adam?” I ask quietly as to not alarm Deputy Yew.

Mr. Mario ponders the situation.

“He wants you to come to him. If you don’t come to him,
he’ll take you,” he says.

“That’s his message? Come to him or he’ll take me by force?
What happens if I come of my own will?” I ask, leaning against the bars.

He slowly gets up and walks over to me.  His face six inches
from mine, he says.

“He wants to play a game. If you come to him... he’ll play
nice. If you run from him...” He stops and walks back. “If you run from him,”
he tries again, but he puts his hands to face.

“Don’t run from him. If you run then both of you will
suffer... worse,” he explains. He crawls into the fetal position on the floor.

I look away, considering what he’s just told me. Does…
Slender
want a rematch? What does he mean by game? Is he just going to toy with me and
then capture me? How can I trust him? I can trust that he’ll follow me. That’s
one thing, but he wants me to come to him willingly... again? Does this mean
I’m doomed?

“I just want to see my brother again,” I say, more to myself
then Mr. Mario.

 “He’ll be there. The Slender Man has him. He’ll always be
there,” says Mr. Mario.

“How do I bring him back?” I ask.

“How do I bring my brother out of that world without killing
him? Do I cut a branch from the tree? Or…?” I ask.

He looks up at me forlornly, as if he’s calculating whether
not he should answer me, whether or not he’s
allowed
to. Finally he
speaks.

“The Slender Man… he gains control by hurting and breeding
pain. He feeds on the suffering of his victims. He feeds on misery and pain… So
bring him joy, and life,” he says quietly.

Joy and life?
I ponder. I hear static creeping up on
me. It starts off quietly, but then I hear Mario screaming loudly and
convulsing on the floor. He’s flailing wildly, but even though I know what’s
torturing him, I can’t see it. I step back as Deputy Yew rushes to unlock the
cell and get inside. By the time he does, Sheriff Fraser and another officer
have already caught up. The static disperses as they reach Mario.

“Get me some paramedics!” shouts Sheriff Fraser.

Deputy Yew, thumb on Mr. Mario’s wrist shakes his head.

“He’s dead.”

Mr. Mario doesn’t deserve what happened to him. Slender
killed him, but the police think he may have had a heart attack. They’ll have to
wait for a coroner’s report. The look on Mario’s face shows me that it was no
natural heart attack though. He was scared to death. He couldn’t remember who
he was or what he did. All he could remember was the Slender Man, and my name.
He probably didn’t even know who I was, but he gave up what little life he had
left to give me a bit of helpful information. I’ll be sure to go to his
funeral, if I survive that is.

Now I’m sitting at home in Bubbe’s room. Bubbe talked Mom
into waiting until tomorrow to take me to see Doctor Filbert, and I don’t even
think Dad’s awake yet. I’ve just told Bubbe what Mr. Mario told me. She shakes
her head.

“I knew something was wrong, from the moment you jumped in
the hospital,” she says.

“I saw him then, and it was obvious that you had too, but I
didn’t say anything. I dismissed it like some village idiot, and now it’s gone
this far. He’s taken Adam, and now he wants you.” I hold her hand.

 “There are things I could have done differently too Bubbe,
but I didn’t,” I say. There are tears coming from her eyes, the first real
tears I’ve seen from her in a while.

“If we’d have gotten out of here sooner... I can’t help but
think we’d be okay. Maybe not that poor girl Shana, oh no we couldn’t have left
her, but if we’d gotten you to safety immediately. I should have known- I did
know, but I didn’t say anything, and I’m sorry for that,” she continues.

I can’t let her blame herself for this, not at her age.

“Bubbe, I’m going to do something about this. Mr. Mario,
just before he died he said to bring joy and happiness to weaken Slender’s
hold. It had to have meant something because Slender killed him right after,
like a punishment or to keep him from telling me more, but what does that mean?
Do I literally have to go to him joyous and happy?” I ask.

She thinks for a moment, but I don’t think she’s composing a
wise answer to my question. I think she’s lingering on the fact that I’m
planning to go out there. “Bubbe, I have to. I told you what Mario said. I’ve
been marked ever since I escaped his world the first time, and now he’s angry.
If I go to him now I may have a chance to retrieve Adam, and if I don’t it will
just be worse for both of us.”

“I know that! Don’t you think I know that, child? I don’t
want to hear it anymore though. You can’t expect to reason with pain when
reasoning won’t help,” she cries. I haven’t heard Bubbe actually yell like that
in years. I only hope Mom didn’t hear it, because I bet she hasn’t either.
Bubbe bows her head.

“Joy and life... it makes sense because if he feeds on pain
and breeds death, he is no friend to life,” she says.

“But what does that mean for me? I can’t go in with a smile
on my face, at least not an honest one.” She looks up at me.

 “But what makes you feel joy, laughter, and full of life?
And what brings those feelings to Adam. What do you have in common?” she asks.

I can’t tell if she’s hinting at the answer, or if she’s
thinking aloud, hoping I will find an answer. What brings me joy? I remember
painting my nails with Shana. That brought me happiness, but when she
disappeared I didn’t have anything. All I had was “...my guitar,” I say aloud.

“Your guitar,” Bubbe repeats.

“His favorite song is the prayer Adon Olam. The upbeat,
happy tune to that song always brought a smile to his face. Even when he was
sick, or upset, he always loved that song.”

I nod slowly.

“That’s why I always played it. You don’t think…”

“I think it’s the best answer we’ve got so far,” she says.

“But last time I don’t even remember having the axe when he
pulled me in, how will a guitar make it through?”

“It might, but at any rate he didn’t take your voice did
he?” she asks. I shake my head.

“I think if you play your heart out on your guitar and sing
your brother that song- I think that might be the only joy and life that passes
through to his shadow world.”

I feel my stomach churn as the memories of the last time I
was there come to me. I keep dwelling on the idea that I won’t succeed, and
that I won’t even make it there, but now he’s practically- no he’s literally
invited me to come in. He’s insisted that I come of my own accord. I bet now I
could walk up with a chainsaw and he wouldn’t hurt me till I reach the tree. I
doubt it would do me any good though. “When, when do I do it?” I ask. 

She looks out her window at the night sky.

 “I don’t think he’s going to let you sleep through the
night,” she says, brutally honest.

“Alright then,” I say, voice cracking. I hate the idea of
going back out there, but not as much as I hate the idea of leaving Adam there
to suffer. I hate everything right now, and I especially hate the fact that I
can’t even cry it out, because that will only help him. His static presence
rings through my ears. He’s probably overheard our entire conversation. He
probably hears every thought coursing through my mind right now.

Bubbe stands up and I feel her hand on my shoulder. I look
down and see she’s holding something in her other hand, something I haven’t
seen until now.

 “I found this thrown on your floor,” she says. My eyes
widen in shame as I see what’s in her hand. It’s the Star of David necklace she
gave me, the one that’s practically ancient treasure. She didn’t even pass it
down to Mom and here I am throwing it in the floor.

“I’m sorry, I-” I say, trying to apologize, but I silence
myself as she clasps the necklace around my neck and hugs me. I hug her back
tightly.

“I’m sorry you have to do this. I feel like it’s my job to
stop you, but I know there’s no other way. I wish I could go in your stead, but
just promise me something,” she says.

“What?” I ask, crying.

“Don’t make me lose both of my grandchildren,” she orders. I
nod.

“Alright good-”

“Don’t say goodbye either, because you’re coming back with
Adam in your arms,” she says.

I nod again. Right-O.

“What about Mom?” I ask.

“Didn’t I say you were coming back?” she says. I laugh a
bit.

“Go get your guitar.”

I let go and slowly walk to my room, planning out my
actions. Surely I’ll at least get to see Adam while I’m in there, and all I
should have to do is escape with Adam in my arms. If he wants me so badly, then
he’ll probably try to attack me instead of Adam if we run together. Last time I
felt that he could only take one of us at a time, and he and I both know that
I’m the one he wants. I pick up my guitar and take one long look at it. It’s
worn, but the light brown body is still very shiny, despite being completely
covered in finger prints and smudges. I’ve only ever had to change the strings
once.

I sling the guitar around my back and slowly creep
downstairs. I can see Dad is still on his chair, and I see Mom’s legs from
around the corner, and a big blanket dangling to the floor. She must have
crawled in with him, lights on and everything. I blow them a silent kiss and
creep out the door. I shut it as quietly as I can behind me.

I walk down to the end of the driveway and turn around. This
might be the last time I see my house. I take in the beige coloring and look up
to see my broken window, but with the curtain you can’t see inside my room. I
guess that’s how I didn’t know it was broken until now.

I turn around and head straight for the woods. I only stop
to go through my routine of stretches at the end of the sidewalk. I’m not
planning on running in, but I bet there will be a lot of running involved in
getting back out, and now would be the worst time of all to twist an ankle,
although my stretches haven’t prevented me from stumbling before. I take my
time, and I can feel Slender’s impatience with me. I get my hamstrings, quadriceps,
and even my arms in twenty second counts. I wish I hadn’t pick jeans to wear,
because they will really limit my flexibility.
It’s not too late to go back
and change,
I think but shake it off. That’s just a way to delay the
inevitable.

I march into the woods, as confident as I can be. I’m not in
very deep before the woods begin to get very dark, only moonlight guiding my
path. I wonder if it will be darker in the shadow world, because at least there
I have light radiating from my own body, although it grows dim very quickly
when Slender has me.

As I find my way up the first slope I hear something in the
distance. It’s a scream. There’s a girl screaming in pain. I shudder, and move
on. I almost want to close my eyes but I won’t be able to find my way to the
tree if I do.

I hear another scream, it’s coming from far behind me now.
It’s male this time, but I still don’t recognize who it belongs to. Slender is
trying to drop my morale. I won’t let him. As I hear a third scream, this one
ahead of me, I pull my guitar from my back. I have to walk more carefully as to
not hit it against the trees, but it’s worth it.

I pick a scale and repeat it. It’s more of a string skipping
exercise, but it keeps music in the air, and I don’t have to worry too much
about messing up the tab from a song. I keep playing the notes and then I hear
another scream. I have to close my eyes for a few seconds at this one. It’s so
long and drawn out that I find myself playing random notes on all strings in
order to drown it out. Lionel’s cries of agony ring out. Slender knows this one
is bothering the most, so he keeps playing it.

I have to play a song now, a happy one. I try to think of
most of the music I listen to, but a particularly happy song seems to escape my
mind at every corner. I flip through bands in my head.
Chevelle?
No.
Avril
Lavigne?
No.
Paramore?
I can’t find one. I know so many cheerful
songs, but they seem to be blocked from my memory. It’s as if he’s in my head,
making sure there’s no joy. I’ll fight it. I begin playing a random riff. I
don’t know if it’s one I’m pulling from one of the forgotten songs lost in my
subconscious, or if I’m making it up as I go along. All I know is it’s a
mellow, soft-acoustic song, and as I play it, I can barely hear the screams.

The screams play louder, no they’re closer. Now it’s both
Lindsay and Lionel- brother and sister, screaming. I wonder if he’s hurting
them together. Does Lindsay have to watch her brother writhe in pain? I shake
the thought by playing more loudly.
I’m almost there,
I tell myself in
my mind, even though I’ve just barely crossed the halfway point. The screams
are louder and more frequent, and it’s as if I hear the screams of every child
I’ve known him to take - excluding Shana and Adam.

Leanne and Jason ring out, followed by someone I don’t
recognize, followed by Lionel. Now he’s so loud he is drowning out my guitar. I
won’t let him. I pluck the strings loudly and off-key, not with the intent of
the song I’m playing, but just to mask the cries.

I reach the final slope, and the cries are cut off all at
once. It’s as if someone abruptly hit pause on a simultaneous screaming track.
I don’t hesitate, although I’m progressing slowly. I don’t fully know what to
expect, but as the tree comes into view, my heart fills with dread. I do the
best I can to pull up anger, but I just don’t have enough of it in my system.
No! I
need
joy, I
have
to be joyous.

I reach the top of the hill. The tree has gotten much
taller. It must be twenty-five feet in height, and not half a foot wide. I get
where the term
Slender
originates. It still has those two low hanging
branches that are almost as tall as the tree alone; the arms, and then the rest
of the branches, all stemming from the back and all pointed up. There are more
of these than there ever were before.  I know that we are right-the branches
are somehow representative of the children he takes, and Slender has been busy.
I count fifteen branches now, not including the fallen one next to the axe on
the ground.

I feel a continuous stream of static. With the static comes
numbness, but slowly. I feel goose-bumps as shivers run through my body, but I
pretend to not notice. I walk up to the tree, face to face, and I am about to
play the guitar when I think of the boldest thing possible. I turn around with
my eyes closed, and lean with my back against the tree. “Time to be happy Adam,
I hope you’re listening,” I say.

I take a deep breath and force a smile, and then I begin
playing the tab for Adon Olam. As I play I feel the static get closer. It’s not
necessarily stronger than before, but it feels closer. All of my muscles tense
involuntarily. Is he right here? I slink down into a sitting position, still
leaning on the tree. I feel something touch my arm. It’s feels like a hand with
long, slender fingers. It’s coming from behind me. I shiver. I’m practically
vibrating by this point, but I continue.

I begin singing in a tremulous voice.

 “Adon... Olam...” I feel heavy fluid trickle down my nose.
“...asher malach,” I continue, but my body is starting to go numb. I feel
another hand grab me gently, as if just to tease me, and the way the static is
slowly pulsing, it’s almost as if it’s breathing down my neck instead of
laughing. I take another breath, trying not to hyperventilate.

“b’terem kol... y’tzir nivra...” I mutter, but my voice
cracks.
Stop being afraid. Don’t be afraid damnit!
I keep playing,

“…L’et na’asah, v’cheftzo kol...” I feel unbearably drowsy
as Slender’s static aura engulfs me, pulling me through, burning.

“…azai melech, sh’mo nikra...” and I fall over... limp.