Slenderman, Slenderman Read online

  Only now did he slow his pace, gradually coming to a halt at the edge of the school grounds. He’d come quite a long way, right up to the farmers field, which was separated from the school by a row of trees, beyond which was a small lake, already glassy and dark. There were no lights this far up (the school’s Astroturf pitch being the only area that had floodlighting, and anyway, practice was on Tuesdays and it was Thursday today).

  Well, technically this was a shortcut. He didn’t often take it as the farmer was quite firm with the school about people on his land, and the headmaster had warned all pupils that they faced detention if they trespassed. However, no-one seemed to be about, and even though he’d figured it out, he didn’t much feel like walking past the classroom block.

  As he stood still to catch his breath, Daniel looked down at the ground, and wondered what was affixed to his left shoe. He picked his foot up and wiggled it about, but the thing didn’t come loose. So he reached down and pulled it off.

  It was a short length of tape.

  VII

  As Daniel made his way through the row of trees and towards the path around the lake, he had that strange feeling one gets when there is a suspicion you are being watched. He looked around but at first glance couldn’t see anything.

  But then there was a movement from under the tree. It’s the farmer thought Daniel. Two choices - run for it, or use his charm and apologise. The second was in all honesty the best call - the farmer no doubt knew his land better, and would certainly be able to run faster than Daniel, especially as he was pretty tired from his rapid flight a few minutes before.

  “I’m sorry, I think I’ve taken a wrong turn.” He said, but the figure just stood still by the tree.

  “I’ll turn back now - ah, yes - I can see the school now; that’s where I was headed.”

  Still the watcher was silent.

  Daniel started walking back towards the line of trees. As he got closer to the figure, he noticed something unusual. He was tall. Very tall.

  In fact, that couldn’t be the farmer! This man was twice as tall as he should have been. And thin. Very thin. Very slender.

  “Oh my God, it’s you” Daniel cried.

  But the watcher made no sound. He just reached out a long, thin arm and pointed at Daniel.

  VIII

  Daniel turned around again, and blindly ran. He didn’t care where he was running to, he just had to get away from this figure. He had taken maybe twenty steps when he dared to look behind him.

  The Slenderman was taking long strides and was quickly gaining.

  Daniel redoubled his efforts and put everything into his legs. But he wasn’t watching where he was going, and as his right foot came down onto the ground, it felt wet.

  Daniel stopped. The lake.

  He stepped backwards, and the Slenderman was right over him. He grabbed Daniel with his long, thin arms, and bowed his head close to the boy’s own. All Daniel could hear was a hissing, a kind of whisper. He didn’t dare to listen to the words that were being said.

  He just managed to wrestle himself free, but could only stumble back into the edge of the lake. As he fell to his knees, surging out of the depths came a horrible figure. With weeds for hair, arms with flesh hanging off them and sharp incisors, Jenny Greenteeth reached out for him.

  “What is going on?”

  “I am here for you, child.”

  “But... but... I don’t believe in you!” he stammered.

  “Oh, sweet boy, that is no problem whatsoever.”

  “I don’t understand!”

  “You see, you created us, so we believe in you”

  And with these final words, Jenny Greenteeth dragged Daniel down to his watery grave.

  Slenderman, Slenderman

  When man of slender visits you,

  nothing on earth that one can do.

  In well he’ll hide, or watery hole

  and he will eat your mortal soul.

  so if thou seest the man so thin,

  pray you don’t see him again.

  For he is not from world we know,

  He cometh from far down below.

  On his bed of dirt from grave,

  from his dank and silent cave.

  He watches you yet has no sight,

  he taketh you away at night.

  so as you walk through wooded glen

  or past a glassy lake,

  beware the suited watcher

  with body thin as rake

  your nightmares will not cease,

  death your one release

  from demon known as Slenderman -

  with him you can’t make peace.

  He sees you yet he hath no eyes,

  he feels you with his mind.

  His arms are long and deathly cold

  like branches intertwined.

  And you may run and you may hide,

  but Slendy will be there

  in the very place you least expect

  his fingers through your hair.

  he’ll extract your liver, grab your heart

  and fiddle with your lungs.

  Despite the fact he has no mouth,

  he’ll nibble at your thumbs.

  Oh Slenderman, Slenderman

  why do you visit me?

  Why do you bury my spoilt form

  beneath an old yew tree?

  Oh slender, slender, Slenderman,

  Please make the final cut.

  Let me escape to welcome death,

  on this life door be shut.

  Becoming Famous

  I

  “Mom, can I vote for Amy Smith again?”

  “No, darling, you’ve voted fourteen times and that’s enough. Do you know how much our phone bill is going to be?”

  “Aw, but I really want her to win.”

  “What’s she actually famous for though?”

  “Well, she’s always in the papers and the magazines.”

  “Yes, but it’s not like she’s a singer or an actress - or even a model. She’s just a celebrity - it seems to mean nothing anymore.”

  “You’re just behind the times, mom.”

  “I probably am, sweetheart, but you still can’t rack up our phone bill even more.”

  “Will you vote for me when I’m famous and on the show?”

  “Of course honey, but you’re not going to just become famous, you’re going to have to do something! I paid for those acting classes, but you quit after just three lessons; I signed you up for singing lessons at school but you preferred hanging out with your friends. You’re beautiful to me - of course - but you’re not tall enough to walk the catwalk...”

  “It’s too much like hard work though...”

  And so the conversation continued between Claire Delaney and her mother. It was just another Friday night, just another reality TV show, and just another bunch of vacuous Z-list celebrities hawking their private lives in front of a half-bemused but half-hero-worshipping audience.

  Claire’s mom was right, of course. None of the men or women on the show really had any talent to speak of. But Claire was correct as well - it seemed that one no longer needed any of the traditional skills to make it in the entertainment industry. You just had to hang out at the right places, be seen with the right people, and that was it - you were on the cover of Alright! Magazine.

  It should be clear from the snippet of conversation above that Claire wanted to join this ‘celebrity elite’. Every day when she went to bed she would dream of glitz and glamour, of being able to afford (or better still, be given) the latest designer dress or handbag, of being invited to the premier of the next big movie, of walking the red carpet with a boyfriend who made her the envy of girls the world ove
r.

  Claire’s mom, being quite grounded though, didn’t allow her to hang out at clubs - much to the annoyance of Claire herself. Admittedly, she thought, she was only fourteen, but she felt she was old enough, and surely that’s what mattered. One of the girls at school reckoned she could get Claire a fake ID, and - with the right dress - she reckoned she could pass for eighteen, the age at which clubs where she lived in London let people in.

  But Mrs Delaney wouldn’t have any of it, so Claire consoled herself with her fantasies and her dreams, and eagerly awaited the day she became an adult, wishing away her teenage years.

  II

  “I can’t believe Amy Smith didn’t win!” said Sally, Claire’s closest friend.

  “I know, she looked sooooo good with that tiara on. OMG! Did you read what Matty Duval said about her in Bonjorno though? Apparently, before she went on the show, she kissed David Noisebecker at one of his parties - and he’s supposed to be going out with Jim Duncan. If that’s true, what’s Jessie Planter going to say about it?”

  It was Monday, and the girls were catching up on the weekend’s gossip. This line was delivered at about a hundred-and-fifty miles an hour, and to be honest it wouldn’t have made sense to most people listening. Claire and Sally prided themselves about knowing everything there was to know about what was going on in the world of Big Mother, America’s Next Amazing Catwalk Star and Celebrity Come and Eat at My Table. To anyone else their conversations were pretty much nonsense, but they knew what they were talking about. If you could have looked inside their minds, you would be viewing a scene like that of some major murder investigation headquarters, with hundreds of photos pinned to a wall, string connecting them in intricate ways, mini notes scribbled under each one highlighting the relevance of their appearance there. Yep, Claire and Sally were experts in their field, and knew everything about everyone of note.

  As the bell sounded for the end of lunchtime, they packed the magazines that were laid out in front of them back into their bags, stood up and lazily made their ways to the classroom block.

  “If you become famous, would you still be friends with me?” asked Sally.

  “Totes! And you?”

  “Definitely. We’re best friends forever, right?”

  III

  As they walked home from school, they were joined by Bethany, who Claire and Sally tolerated, despite her lack of knowledge on all things ‘celeb’.

  Talk was - as always - of what was going to be on TV that night. The three major soap operas were discussed (“Do you think she’ll keep the baby?”) along with a critique of the actors and actresses - nothing to do with their acting ability of course, just about who they were seeing and what they had worn outside of the confines of Tribeca, Alfred Square or The Red County...

  “Who are you going to vote for on The Country’s Got Talented Celebrity Singers?” said Sally.

  “Well, it’s got to be Dannii Johnsensen because she was modelling Delucci until last year, and they have the best bags!”

  “No way! What about Grant Armitage? He’s going to be worth sooooo much money when his father dies, what with his chain of businesses.”

  “Ooo, I didn’t think of that. Maybe I’ll vote for both of them...”

  “How about waiting until they’ve actually sung?” asked Bethany.

  There was a good few seconds of silence.

  Claire then burst out laughing. “LOL, Bethany, why does that matter?”

  As they approached Claire’s house, she smiled at Bethany, reached into her bag and pulled out six or seven magazines.

  “Here, take these, they’ll help you decide who should win.”

  And with that she said her goodbyes and went inside. It wasn’t that she was being cruel - she genuinely believed in the world she so wanted to be a part of. It seemed totally illogical to her that anyone could see it any other way. But this obsession with fame wasn’t a bug that everyone shared, and as Bethany idly flicked through the magazines she now held in her hands, she wondered if Claire’s obsession wasn’t taking over her life.

  If Bethany had listened carefully, it is likely she’d have heard voices from inside Claire’s house;

  “Mom, where’s the phone, I need to vote as soon as the lines open...”

  IV

  That night’s show was absolutely one of the best that Claire had ever seen. The judges had had an argument, with one throwing a scalding hot cup of coffee at the other one. It didn’t hurt the judge however, and amazingly her hair and make-up was perfect a few seconds later... but Claire didn’t stop to wonder about that.

  And the dress that Dannii Johnsensen was just divine! When Claire went to bed, she just lay there in the dark dreaming of wearing it; dreaming of hundreds of photographers jostling for position trying to get the best shot of her pouting for the camera as she paused graciously to give them an ounce of her time as...

  And with that she fell asleep.

  The next morning, it was the first thing on Claire’s mind. She couldn’t wait to talk to Sally about it, and look through the magazine adverts which would no doubt tell them how to get the look - but for a fraction of the budget.

  She had overslept. Well, actually that wasn’t strictly true. Claire had woken up when her alarm went, but had just lain in bed thinking about celebrities, dresses, photographers and adoring fans. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to face the real world, it was just that the duvet was sooooo comfortable, and the daydreams were sooooo nice.

  Eventually, Claire grabbed some breakfast (only one slice of toast, got to watch the figure if you’re going to look good in a dress like that...), packed her schoolbag and shouted goodbye to her mother.

  “Try to keep your head out of the clouds dear, there’s exams coming up next month!”

  “Sure mum, see you tonight” and she closed the door behind her.

  V

  She was over ten minutes late leaving the house, which meant she wasn’t going to catch up with Sally and Bethany. She didn’t exactly rush, but walked a little faster than normal - she didn’t want to get detention and have to stay behind at school; that would, of course, interfere with catching up with the teatime soaps.

  As Claire took each step, in a dreamy way she found herself thinking “I wish that I was famous; I wish that I was famous” with the ‘wish’, the second ‘I’ and the ‘fam’ coinciding with the moment each foot touched the floor. She smiled to herself, and wondered if she could turn it into a song - maybe then her dream would come true!

  “I Wish that I was famous. I Wish that I was famous”.

  Claire realised she was saying it out loud, and was a little embarrassed, but saying the rhyme as she walked seemed fun, and she tried out different pitches so see if the song idea had any merit.

  “I Wish that I was famous. I Wish that I was famous”.

  I’m sure that you know the way these kind of stories work. Because it just so happened that a mischievous and extremely tall voodoo professor was walking close to Claire (disguised in plain clothes of course - it doesn’t do for someone like that to be too obvious - at least, that’s when he doesn’t want to be seen).

  With a few mumbled words (well, let’s be honest, a voodoo curse), he smiled a toothy smile and carried on as if nothing untoward had happened.

  VI

  “I Wish that I was famous. I Wish that I was famous”.

  As Claire said her rhyme, she became vaguely aware of something unusual. At first she couldn’t think what it was, but then noticed that people were looking at her. She figured this wasn’t unexpected - she was, after all, talking to herself.

  But it was more than that. Claire became a little uneasy. They weren’t just looking, they were staring.

  Claire stopped, and glanced around. There must have been about fifteen people all just focusing on her.

  “Why
not take a photo, it’ll last longer.” she said.

  And with that, an old lady said “That’s great, thanks!” and actually took a snap of Claire on her phone!

  Claire didn’t know what to do - she was totally confused. Then a very young boy - who with one arm was hanging onto his mother, and with the other was pointing at Claire - said “You’re Claire Delaney, aren’t you?”

  “Ummmm... yes...?” said Claire.

  The boy’s mother then got her phone out, and also took a picture or two.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Those clothes look amazing on you!” said the old lady, and took a few steps towards Claire.

  Claire looked down at the white blouse and black skirt she wore to school every day and started to move from being confused to being worried.

  “It’s just my school uniform” she said.

  “Yes, but the way you wear it!” said a newcomer, a middle-aged lady with huge glasses.

  Claire looked around her and noticed everyone was standing a lot closer to her now.

  “What’s your favourite colour?” said one person.

  “Light blue, why?”

  “What star sign are you?” said another.

  “Ummmm...”

  “Where do you go on holiday?”

  Claire was really worried now. At least four of the crowd were within arms length of her, and she didn’t like that. She heard a church bell strike the hour.

  “Look, I’m late and I really have to go...” and with that she ran to school as fast as she could.

  VII

  “Glad you could grace us with your presence!” said Mr Gordon.

  “Sorry sir, I won’t be late again.”

  “Not to worry, I’m just glad you even come to my lessons!”