DaMn/SaVe

He Waits outside my window, shivering with an anticipation of ill intent.

The time is coming, the clock is working it's way into the final hour.

Such silence from me is only guaranteed through the fact that I am hard at work, concocting an attempt to shatter the veil of fate and slip through the cracks of a descending reality.

I've long since left behind the world of which you believe exists, opening the eyes inside my soulless corpse and revealing the second plane in which one must travel in order to become a god.

I hear his crooked fingers tap the pane of glass between us with excitement.

Months have passed since my loyalty was forcefully anchored to a mother who I wish to reap.

I belong a rook in her chess game now.

Lest I can rack this crippled brain and shake loose the final pieces to this puzzle of freedom.

Success a twist in time itself.

Failure an early grave at the hands of my adopted brother.

Tap... tap... tap...

This Scarecrow has a few wicked tricks left up his sleeve.

And I'll be damned if I don't make full use of each and every one to escape this ever twisting trap.

...

Come my crows...

Tis Time To Feed.

A degenerate caricature of broken bones and ink stains.

Cybernetic trickles of static blood traveling the distance given by metallic veins.

Granting life to the technical apparatus sitting silently across from me, a hardline injecting freedom into the cracked laptop still struggling to keep a whisper of a soul inside it.

My eyes glow red against the glare of blinding L.E.D.

A crooked claw branching out to type in a few specific keys before slamming triumphantly down upon 'ENTER'.

A razorwire smile rips across my ragged face, a static drenched screen strains itself to ignite my barren desktop. Desperately loading two programs that sit centered a pitch black background.

One a txt. document whose innards shalt never be spilled.

The other one a gateway, an icon,

Google Chrome.

A thousand sullen kisses upon the brows of all I've slain.

A million words to change a fate?

A scripted page to warp forever?

Is reality merely a scene by scene endeavor? Directed by a puppeteer with a multitude of curved claws?

God.

Ha, I'd spit in his face, or perhaps shake his hand.

I've mutated the very essence of my being, destroying every little tiny bit of myself and allowing absolutely nothing to take it's place. I'm nothing a higher power could willingly want to control or damn. A nonchalant maverick lost in a mindset void of fear.

Just a broken visage of what one shouldn't be. A coalition of thought and revert progress.

I've ascended evolution whilst simultaneously descended into madness.

A contradiction that still has the morals of a dead man.

Slenderman.

Scarecrow.

What are the use of words anymore when they only go unheard?

If a man sings a requiem to bring back the dead, but no one wants to hear it...

I prefer to be a beast.

Less responsibility that way.

I believe I'm falling into a state of decay. When the choices I made and the path that I've chosen are simply reaching their end and the only thing that will soon remain is the final product.

Me.

Meeting of the Blind.

I'm lurching towards an unintended destiny. My form a sickening protrusion jutting out from against the crusted ground that cracked and shattered beneath each damning step. The lack of a face hidden beneath the thick, yellowed bandages that cover every festering inch of skin. Cliché straw hat hanging precariously atop my exposed head, neck stooped low, allowing my hunched shoulders to stand higher than my chin.

The trees around me shuffled with an melancholy glee, leaves shuffling uncomfortably within the dead breeze that followed my echoing footsteps into the deeper reaches of this haunted place. Rare did my blind gaze avert itself from the matter at hand, I pressed forward, through a dense foliage and refused to let the complicated path ahead become lost to me.

The thick tangle of trees before me seemed to almost back away in fear of my close proximity. The occasional brush of a branch or trunk that had been a tad too slow to escape my touch revealed crude carvings etched into it's hide. Most prominently that accursed inert circle...

Eventually the ground beneath my feet gave way to a thick sheet of fallen leaves. I could feel the same exact leaves I tread upon begin to swim and squirm excitedly inside of me. It felt almost of the butterflies many small children so foolishly believed were the cause of there nervousness. It sparked a twinge of nostalgia in my nerve endings and I merited a soft chuckle at the stupidity that used to become me.

I kept my pace along the path, the leaves beneath my toes swimming around me like a sea of ashen fish. I found myself quickly approaching the end of the trail, the power that seemed to start like static in the air growing closer and I immediately knew I had found who it was that I was looking for.

The trees around me crawled away anxiously as I strode into the clearing that housed a massive ebony colored tree, it's million towering branches stooping low beneath the weight of an innumerable amount of soft black leaves. I kept treading towards the center, passed the low hanging branches and pulsing leaves and into the inner sanctum held safely within the caress of the possessed leaves.

A trunk as thick as the largest redwood stood proudly before me, it's strong, powerful roots stabbing deep into the fertile dirt like a thousand fingered hand grasping for a hold upon sanity. I straighten my stance, hearing my twisted bones snap in protest inside me, and I slow my stride to a halt a few feet before the tree.

After a few quiet moments rest, a feeling equivalent to that of a trickle of liquid metal running down my spine alerts me to my adversary's arrival. His tall, slender limbs barely making a noise as He takes His place beside me. I could feel that empty gaze staring down upon me with an almost boiling rage.

I take my time to pop a few more bones before returning a faceless stare of my own. Our hatred of each other burning the very realities between us... Little would have stopped us from tearing the other apart had we been forced to stand alone in each other's company for much longer, unfortunately, it was then that... she... arrived.

Fearborn.

At last I've come to realize the error of my way...

Within the shape of torment and self pity, I threw myself into a well of despair, tightly ensnared within HIS slender fingers. I allowed myself to be played like a toy. Tearing a swath of terror in the wake of HIS footsteps. Leaving a sea of blood and tattered limbs behind me in an almost comical charade of purpose and self worth.

But you cannot best that which cannot be bested. Lest you find yourself gripping the fraying seams of your eviscerated organs. Drowning in the horror of HIS ever empty face.

But don't fret my little darlings. For I've found a rather elaborate loophole that I find to be quite..... intoxicating...

Stretching my fingers and bones til they crack. Slitting open this pasty chest and removing all that makes me mortal. Leaving not but skin and bone. I'm becoming quite frantic as I struggle with the lack of lungs and veins. A curved rusted hook a makeshift sewing needle. Stitching... stitching... stitching shut...

Remove my eyes and lips and tongue. Cleft the nose off with a knife. Feel me bleed until I'm dry. Then stuff me whole with thick black leaves.

Keep on stitching shut my face... or lack thereof... with a thick black twine that burns and clings. Feel a smirk fall flat and dead. And chuckle with a twisted glee. Stretching, stretching til bones scream. RElishing the inability to voice my pain.

I have thus become unmade. Adorning rags and scarecrow hat. Twisting and twining with each proud step. I spin around with arms outstretched as black pus pours through seams in streams. And I feel the leaves squirm inside of me.

Oh little children, boys and girls. Avert your eyes from your false fear, and lay them upon HE WHO JUST DESERVES IT!

Be wary.

The very ground you tread upon is laden with raven leaves.
A constant reminder of the constant terror you are forced to endure on a regular basis with no clue as to whether or not your freedom to live will ever be realized.
For as long as you hold the hand of that with torments you.
Forever you are damned to be a puppet amongst the menagerie of broken toys.
Bleeding a frothy scarlet from betwixt the shattered bones and hastily sewn flesh that only ever allows humanity to leak through in the forms of tears and lament.
Fix me with your gaze and promise the mornings coming.
Promise that out of all the pain I have been forced to succumb to will finally slip away like the very love I've hoped to protect.
I'm menacing within my own outstretched arms.
Each finger a riddle that refuses to tip off the child as to it's ailment.
He beckons for meat and sufferance.
I've given him just that.
And yet through all the boundless treacheries that fate can steal away into your lungs.
I'm left shivering in a cold sweat that never seems to take it's leave.
For I am an eternal curse.
Draped upon the boundaries of tHis world and the next.
Come sit with me awhile.
I believe these injuries are only ever skin deep.

Fuck Me Dead Head.

Sunny skies and bloody eyes and silent screams of murder.

Still whispering is the breath that resides within these ruptured lungs.

A helping hand hidden beneath a mask of broken glass.

The very mention of eventual freedom lost upon this degenerate mind.

The small sheep who've come and gone.

REjoice.

For the Scarecrow never dies.

Slip.

Whispering a collage of cascading sentiments into the ear canals of this rotten skull.

I'M SCREAMING BUT I CANNOT HEAR MYSELF ABOVE THE VOICES!

I'm breathing in the shards of all my broken bones.

Feeling them rip open my throat with a barrage of slits and slashes.

I WANT TO BE. YET I CANNOT SEE.

He watches. He waits.

He knows everything we do and more.

To outsmart Him is to outsmart the very reality you live in.

Don't make my mistakes.

Don't follow down the road I carve.

It only leads to self destruction.

And into HIS OPEN ARMS.

Behemoth

Splayed out upon my bed. 


The slight rise and fall of my chest hypnotic within the stillness that encompassed my room.


Suddenly a sharp laugh escapes passed the confines of my lips and emanates into the air.


I was replaying the moments of my triumph over and over inside of my head.


Fast forward, Rewind, Slow motion, Pause.


The memory of how easily my claws slipped voraciously through his flesh red lit within my mind.


I laugh again. The sound like nails scraping alongside a chalkboard.


I killed the fucker.


I, still restrained by mortal ties. Overwhelming and defeating my foe.


By god I could still smell his blood inside my nostrils...


My ears perk. And I immediately sit up.


Am I playing tricks on myself again?


The shuffle of leaves outside my window.


The crunching of..... footsteps?


Slowing I slip to my feet. Quick, silent strides towards my window, I rip open the blinds.


My window was blanketed in a sheet of thick black leaves. Seeming almost to throb with breath.


I could feel my eyes widen, my pulse quicken, the legion of voices within my head begin to scream.


How could this be?


Before I could explore the possible answers towards this question, a fleshy giant of a fist explodes through the window, impacting with my chest and thrusting me back into the opposite wall.


Dazed I quickly struggle to my feet as a more primal voice echoes louder than the rest of the voices in my head.


Fear.


I quickly glance back towards the window just in time to see the giant log of an arm rip it's way back out the window, revealing an enormous brute looking back towards me. 


No face.


And with a quick wave of his arm, the rest of the wall is removed in large heaps of rubble and glass.


The monster before me stood taller than my house.


And the thick, writhing muscles that made up his limbs and body...


I was obviously outmatched. Out performed.


Out of time.


A quick jab sends me through the wall behind me and into the street.


The breathing black leaves poured from the sky like acid rain.


I manage to struggle to my feet once more to see the monster set Himself before me.


Throwing my mind to the wind, I change my posture and stare back up at Him with burning eyes.


The smallest hints of fiery tendrils licking the ground around me.


"Well now, seems we have reached a tad of an impasse."


Those words flowed as fluid through the cocky smirk that split wide my face.


A long and violent growl was my only response. And the massive beast's thick muscles ripple beneath His tightly laden flesh.


I nod to myself.


"So here we are."


The ground explodes beneath my feet as the beast begins to rush forward.


And I respond in kind.

Grand News.

He's Dead! He's Dead! That parasite is dead! I ripped off His arms one by one by one by one. And yet He did not bleed! SO I tore out his heart. And crushed it within my grasp.

He shook. He trembled. Oh boy did he shake. All over the place. spewing blood in my face.

At last he lay still then drifted away.

As ashes to ashes. He is now dust.

I, the Scarecrow, have done what no one ever could!

I killed Him.

I fucking killed Him.

By god....... I need some tea.

Rottings.

Exemplary example of what it takes to screw in a lightbulb.

Should the timing be ascertained as being inadequate, I apologize.

But the future is waning. Drifting by in a gentle gale, dragging all hope and potential and leaving behind a burnt trail of memories and regrets.

If one sets themself apart from the norm.

In a suicidal attempt to defeat the dreaded nightmares that encompass his soul.

Only to realize that the ramifications of such a monstrous confrontation would shatter him down to his very core.

Leaving nothing but an outline of ashes laden across the smoldering ruins of one's former glory.

To put two and two together you must first be provided the tools to do so without being stripped of purpose.

Given reasons. Logic. Refuse to peruse the confines of latency or creativity.

What if there's more to each two than what we see from afar?

When you think about it.

Two plus two equals one.

For you are combining two separate forces, into one single entity.

If I'm a two.

And He's a two.

Then when we collided.

We must have become one.

My previous hypothesis was incorrect.

It was lacking very many aspects.

humanity.

creativity.

I was never twisted within the outstretched arms of a monstrosity.

I was never in the presence of my own malformed personas.

It was all me.

All me.

And with that realization. Another is born. One much more grotesque than anything else I could EVER have accepted.

I am The Slenderman.

Finality.

The darkened end is nigh.

Whether my demons prove stronger than the nightmare before me.

Or He consumes my screaming corpse bit by bloody bit.

Who knows.

I'll tell you when I have His rotten corpse at my feet.

A Truth So Darkened.

A spatter of truth splayed upon my open mind. Casting a reddened outlook upon the rotting world before me.

If you cast aside the very things that eat you alive, what is there to stay and keep you human?

I've pondered this very excruciating detail for a while now.

Throwing myself deep into the throes of nightmare, was it a good choice?

Ha, like I can go back now anyway.

All I can do is.... regret?

To fight fire with fire. Does it truly defeat the enemy, or does it defeat the purpose behind destroying that monster to begin with?

Because all I'm doing is replacing one beast with another.

And I doubt stealing the throne of one such as Him could happen without quite a bit of reluctance from all parties involved.

I am but a prince to this unholy King.

Consider that I can even destroy Him to begin with.

What then?

I take his crown? Cast my own dominion over all He had at His disposal?

I'm simply replacing a cancer with an even darker illness.

Is this where I've gone wrong?

To... destroy any chance of being human... to destroy something... and become it?

Disturbing to think...

What if I'm not the first?

What if this... Slender Man... is but a title?

To be held by the nightmares of their times?

And every so often one of the tormented rises higher than the rest...

Proves to be worthy of inheriting the title...

The curse...

What if by ripping the heart out of my enemy... I'm only damning myself to take over the reigns of this neverending nightmare?

And losing myself....

Forever.

Warmth.

How does one numb himself to the world around?

Watching these little sheep scurry and rush towards a tragic demise...

I should hate them.

I do hate them.

With a fiery passion.

Spitting poison at whoever dares cross me with a plastic smile pasted upon their clay faces.

Oh how do I yearn to make them all drip red...

But why...

Just why?

Can one little sheep pierce this rotten heart?

Is it.... emotion... I feel?

Unlike the boiling rage that seethes beneath this pale flesh... it's... warming...

Especially when she smiles...

Hmm... I'm thinking I need to separate her head from the rest of her body.

She.... frightens me.

Anger.

The perforation of contrasting powers makes for a wicked nightmare.

I was so close to Him. So fucking close.

His arms were tearing at me. He was afraid.

Afraid.

Fuck His fear was so delectable.

And I was making Him feel it.

He can feel. Oh yes He can feel.

My hands were inside of Him.

Ripping. Tearing. Snapping. Killing.

The people around were quite taken aback by my.... unannounced arrival...

But they didn't mind when I started cutting through them to get to my prey.

Our colliding dimensions resumed their destruction of everything around us.

I felt like I was battling my destiny atop the brink of the void.

It was exhilarating.

Until some fuck decided it was time to cut our meeting short...

He got away. AGAIN.

And I.... I am angry....

You Tease.

What if madness is naught but a symptom towards sanity?

Like the double faced coin used to decide if you'd live or die.

Is life a simple gamble?

Each day a shuffled deck?

Or a pistol lacking one in a playful game of russian roulette?

Each step taken that glistening trigger pulled.

Click.

You made it to the dead end job you have because you're useless and no one else would hire you.

Click.

Your boss degrades you for eight hours with no help being stemmed forth from your collegues.

Click.

You're returning to your rotting excuse for an apartment because you lack the pay to live somewhere halfway suitable to inhabit.

Click.

You sit on the edge of your empty bed because every woman you approach looks down upon you like the pathetic scum you are.

Click.

You put the gun in your mouth that you bought with your measly paycheck.....

Click.

A saving grace in the weight of that pistol. Only contrasted by a handful of blanks.

Damned.

To hear the sound of a bullet finally being sent coursing through your brain.

You yearn.

You plead.

You beg.

But don't worry little one.

Scarecrow is here.

And I brought you a nice little bullet...

Torment.

Standing face to face with my own mortality.

Marionette pushing the silver laced nuzzle into my eye.

Sweat is beading down his brow.

Gasping for breath. He wants to pull the trigger. He needs to pull it.

But he can't.

I find myself laughing as tears flow from his eyes.

Finding an arousing pleasure from what it is he wants to do, I grip my pale fingers around the long slender barrel and raise a serrated smirk before shoving the barrel into my mouth.

I play with my toy.

I grant him just enough freedom to just barely begin to apply pressure upon that hairline trigger.

But stop.

The pain in his face.

My god I've never seen a man struggle so hard.

And fail so miserably.

My glowing eyes watch him intensely, a macabre joy prancing about my shriveled heart like a sociopath on a playground during recess.

And seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours...

At last he collapses.

I let him fall.

Into my arms.

Back into my mind.

His final gasping breath echoed a raspy, "Why?"

My reply?

"Because I can."

Hear this Mannequin.

I'm done playing with myself. The time for games is passed.

It's time we meet face to face.

One.

LAst.

TImE.

String.

A kaleidoscope of blood and feathers.

An angel's taken it's final breaths.

Silence falls upon bloodied rags as breath's drawn no more.

Erased.

Naught but a sodding memory to dwell forever within the confines of this unhinged mind.

Feed it a fucking cookie every now and again to give it a perpetual sense of purpose so it'll keep it's bloody trap shut.

Now to take a few more moments to come to terms with Marionette and all affairs should be in order.

And I can continue my unfinished 'transaction' with my business partner...

Wrapped in wings, an asphyxiated angel screams.
A liar's tale.
Keeping with the theme of things.
A thieve's landing upon your lips .
Casting a glow.
The deed's you sow.
Loose lips to sink the ships.
A simple slit to do the trick.
I doubt the demon's seem to care.
Caught with nothing but thin air.
Given time and stolen grace.
The devil's children granted face.

Hmm... I hear my vocals screaming again.

I need the thread and needle...

Response.

It's unfortunate, but I've found myself backstepping my potential victory to deal with the stragglers within my head.

Ragdoll.... Marionette... Fell back into silence after I had eviscerated Dummy and then aptly assimilated him back into my mind.

Time has faded the memory, henceforth giving them the strength and determination to attempt to 'repair' me like I'm some broken toy.

I was 'this' close to fulfilling my dream. Now it's shattered and I'll need to respond to my fractured grey matter before I can get the duct tape and put it back together.

Razors and wolves, a voracious plot.
Cast down from heaven with all sins forgot.
With devils slain and Satan reborn.
We are left wretched and broken and worn.

The gears within my mind are working the cogs of thought and spinning together a plan to murder myself. And bring forth a..... salvation of sorts.

The Slender Man, unwitting member in this play of bloody puppets, the centerpiece, a mannequin.

Oh how divine. It is a nice representation of him.

Now let's make Him play dead...

Encumbrance.

I'm stitching the feathers of countless fallen angels into the thin layer of flesh that encases me.

I do believe I'm dying. Yet I'm only embracing the concept of eternity rather than shunning it.

What would it be like to die.... when you're already dead inside?

Does anything happen... Or does it all just...

Stop?

Nothing within this life gives me much reason to loathe the coming silence, but rather, fill the void with a curiosity for it.

The adherence of that final breath dwelling within this skull of mine ceases to plague my thoughts with it's icy tendrils. Contorting each thought and memory into a question.

Will I miss this?

And while I have allowed myself to be consumed by the nightmares that haunt our every day. Allowing it to change me far passed any point of return.

I still can't answer it.

This existence has been nothing but one painful parody to the next. Eagerly clinging to the fraying fabrics of my life in the hopes that once I conquer this challenge I will open the doors into a better tomorrow.

Tomorrow only ever promising sleet and a dead battery.

If anything the Slender Man has given my life a purpose I wasn't certain it had.

That... will to live.

To finish something before that final breath exits my body and shuts off the lights behind him.

A mortal can only exist within a state of existence so trying for so long before finally giving in to encumbrance.

My only goal is to be holding the Slender Man's still beating heart in my bloodied hand before that time takes me.