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.