An aside

I'm trying to track down this "Ark" Archangel and Ridley have mentioned.  If anyone's got any info, email me.

Yeah, that's right, you bastards, I'm coming for you.

argerg

seesmeseesmesees- haha just kidding.  Really, who writes that?  It's not very helpful or informative.  You might as well have written down Sesame Street lyrics for the good that cryptic message is gonna do someone.

More on Rise: No sign of him.  I will release the information he gave me in due time, but I'm a bit afraid to give that out to the public.  Some of this info could keep me alive, if it's secret.

They told me that the proxy's name is Ray Alberk.  He's a highschool dropout that lives in Boston.  His family has a history of child abuse and his father is in jail for it, along with substance abuse.  Older brother murdered, seems he started hanging out with a gang and got caught up in a fight.  By society's standards, a complete dreg, just the sort of person who'd fall through the cracks.

Why am I telling you all this?  Cause he's a victim too.  With a life like that, serving Slenderman could be seen as a huge improvement.

Tried to visit him.  Wouldn't talk to me.

Saw you know who again last night.  Tired.

Rise, where the hell are you?  You still have a lot to explain, like the whole stalking me when I was a kid thing.  I'd expect that sort of behavior from Slenderbro, but...Well, I guess you took your former boss's teachings to heart.

Tim ripoff showed up again.  He was standing in the supermarket when I went in for a drink.  Just kind of stared at me.  To quote Erfworld; "It was sad enough to be funny, but not quite funny enough to laugh about."  The REALLY sad part was that you could tell he thought he was terribly intimidating.  That hunched over stance totally looked like a fierce killer's crouch and not like he had poor bowel control, really.  And clearly his plan was so extensive and brilliant that it involved jumping me in a public area and getting dragged away from the cops.

When they removed the mask, he was like, a year younger than me.  Is anyone surprised?

They haven't gotten anything out of him.  He's staying quiet.  Got a couple nights in the station for that.  Not like it'll do much, if Slendy wants him out, he'll be out before the week is up.  But he might just thank the police for getting rid of a thoroughly useless slave.

Anyone else seeing similarities between Slenderman and the military's recruiting policies?

More on Dad

So during my fear-haze I made a post with no text about my Dad seeming to "know something."  Yes, I meant about Slenderman.

There was this look on Dad's face.  Like a horrible look of recognition.  While I was in the midst of fear my parents were really worried that I was like, mentally unstable.  Obviously I'm fine now, but there was something about the way Dad looked at me that made me think "He's seen this before."

I have to ask him about it.

Screw you, stickman

Geez.  I open this blog up by saying I'd like to cut the melodrama, then I go ahead and start talking about doom and gloom, just cause some loser with a whited out face came and went "ooga booga" at me.

The next time he appeared, which was 53 minutes ago, I had really had enough of him.  I forced myself not to avert my eyes and stared directly at him.  My stomach felt like it was going to rip itself apart, but I looked right at that monster.  He tilted his head in that oh so coy manner, and I told him, right off, that he wasn't getting anything from me.  Because he's not.  I'll repeat what I said to him- although, "ranted" would be more accurate.

 He can show up all he likes, he can send as many lunatics after me as he pleases, he can hit me with all the fear power he's got, but I won't give in to him.  I'm not backing down from this challenge, no matter how hard it gets.  I will oppose this faceless freak until he leaves us, the collective us of humanity, in peace.

Nobody can tell us we can't change our fate.  And no asshole without the creativity to morph a face onto his head is going to get the better of me.

Dad knows something

back

He's back.  He sees me.

He came right up to me.  I could see Him fully for the first time.  He's not..anything.  There was nothing.  Just fear.  Crushing.  There was nothing I could do.  All my bravado was gone the moment he appeared.  I don't know why I'm still alive.

There's nothing you can do against Him.  All we can do is cower, like the prey we are.

Some clarification

It occurred to me that you guys might've had no idea what I was talking about in the last post, what with the Princess and Story and all that other crap.

Hop on over here to get another side to this wonderful little story we're building: 

http://fabulousfiona.wordpress.com/

As for Ridley, he tends to hang out with Iscariot.  You know, the jerk that keeps trying to convert us to Slenderism.  I'm sure you've seen him out and about on one of the other blogs.

Update: Proxy free day.  It's been quiet, tango with Ridley in Boston notwithstanding.  I turned down an offer to go in to hang with friends today, I don't want to push my luck.  Even if Ridley's not that bright, even he would probably look up the next time.

Sorry, Roman.  Wanted to get him for your bro's sake, but I'm not strong enough.

Retract my earlier comment about gangster wannabes

It seems like I get attacked every time I head into Boston these days.  Maybe it's something in the water.

Same story as last time.  I was on my way to catch the train home, and my path led me through a less populated area.  There was a warehouse and some construction work, but it looked like they had all gone home for the day.  I was walking through, when I heard someone calling out my online handle again.  I hoped it was just someone who made an impossibly lucky guess about who I was from a friendly person who'd read my blog.

Spoilers, it was not.  Turning about, I saw a black guy of medium height.  He was dressed pretty normally, except for a leather jacket.  He was also packing a knife in his belt, which appears to be standard issue for proxies these days.  And he was a lot more talkative than the last guy.

"Yo!  How's it hanging, K-man?  Stayin' cool?"

"...Um, frozen.  Who're you?"

"Oh come on, dog, you know me.  I'm the frosty brother what's been postin' on your little blog!  You know...Ridley?  Riddles?  The R-man?"

And I'm not exaggerating here.  That's what he said.  Ridley...Archangel's friend.  Local psycho proxy.

"You're the bastard that killed Roman's brother?"

"Huh?  Oh, that little bitch.  Yeah, he was bugging me, so I split him open.  Simple and perfect.  Now, the Master ain't too happy that you've been poking into our new Princess' business.  Who said you could go in and screw around with true love, eh?"

I got mad then- not very usual for me.  "You tell that asshole friend of yours to stay the hell away from her."

He laughed.  "Dog, what, you in love with her too now or somethin'?  Get it through your brain, she don't WANT to be saved, y'dig?"

I didn't have an answer for him.  I'm not sure I do, even now.  Didn't have to give one, though, since he changed subjects pretty fast.

"So the Boss can't see you.  Sucks, eh?  I'll give you one chance, dog.  Come chill with us and I might not have to hurt you."

I pretended to ponder this.  "Hm, well, on the one hand, pain is bad.  On the other...I'm allergic to assholes."

"Aw see, why'd you go and say that?  Now I gotta gut you good and proper."  He started towards me.  I gave him my most winning smile and prepared to deflect him with the power of a diplomatic solution.

"You look like a tool, Ridley.  Did you get caught in the middle of Garment District on the way over or something?  Cause I mean, WOW, that jacket makes you look like a-"

Then he punched me in the face.  I think this is a bad habit.

Again, I'll spare you the details.  I got one or two hits in but I wasn't any match for him in hand to hand combat.  Like I said, I'm a weakling.  He gave me some bruises and then I decided it was time to bolt.  I kicked his leg as hard as I could, which slowed him down a bit.  I think I heard him rattling off every swear word he could think of behind me, but I wasn't listening.  I ducked into the warehouse and looked around.  There were crates...lots of crates.  And a catwalk up above, with an open window, and a fire escape.  That was my way out, if I could outrun Mr. Psycho-mantis back there.  I dragged a crate over to the door and set it in front of it.  Good timing, too, since as I was running for the stairs there was a loud crash.  It didn't take him long to force his way into the warehouse.

Dunno exactly what he did once he got in there, I wasn't really focusing on him until a few seconds later, while he was looking around for me, I guess.  I looked over the railing and saw him.  Yelling something about how I was a little bitch and I should come out and whatever.  I tried to think of a snappy one liner to yell before I did my thing, but nothing came, and besides, yelling it might've alerted him.

That was when I pushed a crate over the railing and directly onto him.

I didn't stop to see how bad it had hurt him, you understand.  I just raced for the fire escape and made it out.  I was around the corner and on the train before he had caught up.

Something tells me that if I sign up for Uncle Slendy's death platoon now, I won't be getting the corner office.

NOT going to die like this

Prelude: What the hell is that idiot girl over at Fabulous thinking!?  He's EVIL!  With capital letters!  Does he have to burn her entire town to the ground for her to get the point?  All because she has goddamn prince fantasies.  Don't say I didn't warn you when your organs are decorating his Christmas tree.

Rggh.  It might not sound like it, but I'm worried about her.  I guess it's none of my business.

On to my business then.  No sign of Rise.  His blog shows very little activity.  Is he dead?  that'd sort of suck, it seemed like he was at least not on THEIR side.

Maskboy hasn't shown up again.  I shudder to think of what the Big Man did to him as punishment.  One thing's clear: Now that he can't see me, for whatever reason, he wants me to die, majorly.  I think I'm in way bigger danger from proxies than from their boss right now.

Hey, what's life without a troupe of psychotic murderers on your trail, eh?

One thing's for sure: I'm sick of cowering.  I'm going to make it through this.  If that asshole shows up and can see me again, I'll stare right back.  And give him a fist to the face for his trouble.

How things went down

This happened Saturday night, for the record.  I was still awake, at about 1:30 AM (so I guess it was sunday, blah blah), when I happened to hear some noises downstairs.  I think it could have been the heat, but I was hardly about to leave it to chance.  Couldn't have been my parents, since they weren't home (and thank god, no way they wouldn't have heard what came next).  I grabbed a police baton (don't ask) and crept downstairs.  Sure enough, I turn the corner just in time to see my personal Masky descending into the basement.

I hesitated to follow him, I'm not gonna lie.  But goddamn it, I wasn't going to let him just come into my house with no consequences.  I stood at the top of the stairs, and flicked the lights on.  He was still halfway down and did a double take.  That was when I ran down and rammed into him with my shoulder.  He hit the bottom hard, let me tell you.

I chased, of course.  But he sprung back to his feet way sooner than I thought and knocked the baton out of my hands.  For a few seconds we just hit each other a bunch, but that wasn't going so well for me, he's way stronger.  So I took an...underhanded approach.  With an attack directed at...a biological weakness.

Okay fine I kicked him in the nuts.

Then I grabbed his head and rammed it against the wall, which, in retrospect, sort of scares me.  I have never done anything that violent to anyone before.  I must've been angry as shit.  Anyways, he hit the ground, bleeding, and I picked up his knife (which had dropped), and...didn't stab him.  Call me naive, call me an idiot, but I couldn't just kill him.  It wasn't that I wanted to be the better man or anything, I think I just don't have the stomach to kill someone.

He was groaning on the floor for a minute or so, but then he suddenly froze up.  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I looked at the screen door leading to the outside.

Guess who was standing there.

Yet again, he didn't even seem to notice me.  He looked right at the guy on the ground, and started towards him.  I bolted- even if he couldn't see me, the dude is scary as holy fucking shit.  Especially up close.  That's actually the closest I've been to him, and I felt nothing but cold fear from top to bottom.  I felt really sluggish too, like I was getting more and more tired looking at him.  I didn't stick around.

They were gone in the morning.  No clue when they'll try this shit again.

Might've just lost my chance to get rid of a serious problem.

You'll never guess what I caught

A little masked fish.

Protip: Don't believe everything you read on your enemy's blog, little masky.  I think the big man is sort of pissed at you for making him come all the way out here to save you.  And he still didn't notice me.

More details later.  Exhausted.

Some thoughts

I've reviewed a lot of the work of these "Sages," who, as far as I can understand it, are the ones who lead the fight against Asshole McTreefuck.  This was around last year, and once again, I appear to be late to the party.

Who knows what that small army of bloggers is up to now.  I think I'm on my own.

But really, how much stock could you put into Robert's Core Theory?  There's no way it was only our minds that made this thing.  We might have helped, the thing might feed off our fear and anger and such, but we could not have made him by ourselves.  We'd have destroyed the world long ago if this "tulpa" was for real.

It was good to give people hope.  Hope is several nice lovely nouns.  But take a look at what he intended.  The reason a story's a story is because it adheres to those guidelines.  But trying to give people roles isn't anywhere near a sure bet.    This isn't a story.  Not any other kind of story you can come up with.  Because it's real.  People try their hardest and do all they can and they die anyway, pointlessly.

Why am I being so depressing?  I admire the Sages, I really do.  I just think that if the survivors have any chance at all, we have to rely on ourselves.  What's been made clear is that this isn't an enemy you can fight with either your mind or your body.  He seems perfectly, completely invincible.

The riddle to solve is this.  How can you defeat an enemy that cannot be defeated?

And is there an answer besides "don't stop running?"

Now storms too!?

FUCK, now natural disasters are after me too.  There's a tornado warning in the county next to mine.  Friggin' tornadoes.

This is like the two massive middle fingers of God being pointed at me.

Also seriously, Rise?  Get your own account, man.  I'm sick of arguing with what appears to be myself.

Update

Alright, so the masked guy isn't Rise.  He is still crazy and trying to kill me though, so whatever he calls himself is somewhat irrelevant.  I've been awake more than usual for the past two nights, cause this is a very active and slightly more realistic threat than the tall asshole.

I lock all the doors, but I have no clue whether they can be picked or not.  I'm incredibly paranoid, so while my sleep methods might suffer, no other aspects of my health are likely to.  I check the bottom floor at about 1, and then at 2 I tend to go down into the basement to check there, armed with a police baton I had on me for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

I'm not going to go down without a fight, masked bastard.