A Slender Chance

"Marvel what?" I asked my friend, furrowing my brow.

"Marble Hornets!" she corrected me. "Just look up "entry #1" on YouTube, and then watch it. Trust me, it's awesome. Tell me when you finish them!"

I was indifferent at the time. I've seen my share of creepy videos, so I thought nothing of watching another. So some guy reviewed a bunch of tapes that captured evidence of a supposed "Slender Man." Big deal! The videos could very well be false, with the technology we have nowadays.

I must admit, though, this Slender Man guy seemed pretty legit. I mean, he was creepy enough, and the way the cameras freaked out around him was cool. The videos made me jump and scream a few times, which I love. That's a sign of a good scary story!

That was then, though. Now, my life has changed. And by changed, I don't mean something little, like a new hair style, or breaking up with a boyfriend. I mean changed, as in forever.

"I watched them all in almost one night!" I exclaimed to Katrina the next day. "They're so awesome! I'm going to finish watching the rest of them today."

"I told you!" Katrina replied with a smile. "Did they give you nightmares?"

I scoffed. "Are you serious? No way! I don't scare that easily!"

I didn't admit that the videos had kept me up until three in the morning, laying there in my bed, frozen in paranoia.

I adjust the straps of my backpack so it hangs more comfortably on my shoulders. Deciding not to take the bus home today, I walk across my high school's baseball diamonds to the park that was right next to them. It was a quaint little park, with trails winding about through a forest, turning into a big loop. I enjoy walking here, looking around at the trees, breathing in the smell of nature.

I usually don't ride the bus home from school, if I can avoid it. My mom makes me take it in the morning, but sometimes I go against her will and walk to school, anyway. It isn't that I have anything against busses. It's that I have everything against the people who ride the bus. Specifically, my bus.

Missy Carson, the most popular girl at my school, happens to ride my bus, along with part of her little posse of posers. Missy is tall, slender, and has perfect skin. Her dark hair hangs down to her waist and lacks a single wave. Her blue eyes shine bright, and her teeth are whiter than paper. Her chest… well, let's just say that she's well endowed for a junior in high school. Oh, and she has the singing voice of an angel.

I, on the other hand, am of average height. My blonde hair is impossible to straighten, and I suffer from constant breakouts of acne. My legs resemble that of a boys'; I find shaving extremely tedious and unnecessary, because I don't ever wear clothes that reveal my bare legs. I have the breasts of a twelve year-old, and forget about perfect teeth.

You could say that Missy and I are polar opposites.

Anyway, back to the bus thing. I make a point of sitting in the very front seat for a reason. Missy and her friends always sit in the very back, so verbal abuse from her on the bus is minimal due to our separation. However, that doesn't stop her from throwing various items such as pencils, crumpled paper, and the occasional pudding cup, at my head. This is a usual occurrence: Picking on the gothic freak nerd.

So, I choose to commute to and from school by walking or riding my bike, whenever it is possible. I always walk through the park, because the trail ends right across the street from my neighborhood.

This was one of my safe places, away from the bullies on the bus, and the bullies at school.

I take my headphones out and wind the cord around my iPod, then pocket the device, so I can listen to the birds and other various sounds. There are only a few people on the trail today. Maybe I'll walk the loop a few times before heading home.

Unwrapping a piece of gum, I pop it into my mouth and chew, savoring the minty flavor. A branch cracks in the forest to my right. I look, but see nothing out of the ordinary. I shrug and keep walking, taking note of the dark clouds gathering overhead. It will probably start to rain soon. Perhaps walking the loop once will do, for today.

I'm about halfway done with the loop before I hear footsteps coming up from behind me. I assume it's one of the joggers that frequent the trail, so I move over to one side so they can pass. They don't pass me, but I still hear the footsteps. I look over my shoulder, and see no one. Odd. Maybe they just went off on one of the rough unpaved trails that go deeper into the forest.

I suddenly get a very strange feeling. It's the feeling of being watched. I glance around me in all directions. No one is in sight. I still have the feeling. A few drops of rain fall onto my face, and I see the dark splotches of water beginning to dot the pavement of the trail.

At a steady jog, I make my way toward the end of the trail. I conclude that my feeling of paranoia is due to a lack of sleep and the ominous darkness of the rainclouds. The rainfall increases, and within a very short amount of time, it's pouring. I flip my hood up to shield my head from the water, when I get that feeling again.

I suddenly begin coughing for no reason. I stumble to my knees, hacking as if I was choking on something. I struggle to catch my breath, when I see something out of the corner of my eye. Glancing over in that direction, I see a man standing about six feet away from me. My hood blocks my line of sight, so I only see him from the knees down.

He is clothed in what looks like a black business suit, and his pale hands appear to hang down past his knees. Long arms, I note in my mind. I'm still practically hacking up a lung on the ground, and I still don't know why. I see the feet of the man walking toward me with an odd slowness. I figure that he's walking over to me to ask if I'm okay, but he's taking his own sweet time. Closer, closer…

My cell phone rings. I cough once more, and apparently the fit is over. Noticing my gum is now gone, I think that it's the cause of my choking. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jamie!" It's Katrina.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Wanna come over to my house for a while to work on our group project for English? I was going to ask you after school, but you weren't over by the busses."

I clear my throat, which is now a bit dry and sore from all of the coughing. "Uh, sure. I'll be right over."

"Okay. See you soon!"

"See ya."

Click.

Realizing that I'm still on my knees, I stand shakily, clearing my throat again. I turn to my right to reassure the man in the business suit that I'm alright, but I stop short. He isn't there.

Nobody is.

"What do you mean, 'I think I saw it?'" Katrina stared at me, perplexed.

"I mean I think I saw it!" I repeated again.

"That's insane. It was probably just your imagination."

"Don't you think it seems a little to coincidental that I was walking alone, I start coughing, and I see a guy in a black business suit with really long arms?" Now that I said it aloud, it sounded kind of stupid.

"Look, Jamie, I'm not saying you didn't see it. I just trying to debunk any other possibilities. We're supposed to be skeptical about things like this. Your eyes were playing tricks on you."

A week has passed since my odd experience in the park on the way home from school. I've taken Katrina's advice, and I'm looking at things from a skeptical standpoint. It still doesn't stop me from having a sliver of hope that I actually saw the Slender Man.

I don't know why, but I've become sort of obsessed with the whole concept of it. An entire folder on my computer is set aside for pictures of it, and I've dedicated hours of reading fanfictions, legends and theories about it. I find it very intriguing.

In fact, I've started doodling in my notebooks during school. I've drawn little stick figure versions of the Slender Man, and a couple realistic pictures of it. Just for the hell of it, you know? During a teacher's lecture, I find myself drawing Operator symbols in the margins of my paper. I notice and always erase them before turning in the paper, but I can't stop drawing them.

On one such occasion, my oh so dear friend, Missy, noticed. She leaned over, rudely peering over my shoulder.

"Hey," she said, "What are you drawing?"

I'm never rude to Missy. There's no point. So I tell you. "It's called the Slender Man."

One of her perfectly waxed eyebrows arched. "What the hell is that?"

I took the liberty of explaining the legend to her in a nutshell. She stared at me.

"What?" I ask after a moment.

Missy smirked, her glossed lips shimmering in the dull fluorescent light. "You're such a freak, Lamie."

Lamie. I hate that pet name. I resisted the urge to slap her stupid face.

"This is why nobody likes you," she jeered, ripping the page I was drawing on out of my notebook.

I didn't make any move to retaliate, even though my hands trembled slightly with anger. Missy proceeded to show her little group of followers my picture, and they decided to contribute to my art. At the end of the class period, I received a crumpled piece of paper on my desk. Opening it, I saw that I was my picture, with a few alterations. Missy, or one of her friends, had added a rather large phallus (complete with male fluids) to the Slender Man drawing, along with enormous female breasts. The words "freak", "stupid", "bitch" and alike terms were scribbled all over the paper in red pen.

I set my jaw in rage. I hate Missy. I hate her and all of her stupid friends. They get so much joy out of tormenting me. I hate them.

Switching my iPod on, I put the headphones in and set out in the direction of the park. It's a lovely Saturday afternoon. A great day for a walk. I select the radio app on my iPod and turn it to my favorite station. Stepping to the beat of the song, it takes me only a few minutes to reach the park and start on the trail.

As I walk, try not to stare directly into the forest. After re-watching the Marble Hornets videos yesterday, the Slender Man was still fresh in my mind. Some of the trees resembled it's slim body and arms, and some of the vines hanging down from various plants looked eerily like tentacles reaching down for me.

I turned up the volume of the music and sang along with it quietly to distract myself from my thoughts. No sense in freaking myself out. I've walked this trail a million times, and nothing bad has ever happened to me. Why would it start to happen now? Apparently, self induced paranoia is one of my special talents.

Passing the quarter-mile marker on the path, the music starts to get a little fuzzy, as if I am walking out of range of the radio waves. I flick my iPod, knowing full well that doing so won't do crap, but it holds some sort of consolation as the music clears up. Continuing my walk, I enjoy the songs that play. After a few minutes, however, the fuzziness returns, stronger than last time.

"What the hell?" I mumble to myself, stopping to examine my iPod. I have an excellent signal here, and I can't think of a reason why there would be so much interference. Suddenly, the noise explodes with full out static, making me jump. I stare at the screen, perplexed. Where it normally reads the name of the song, the artist, and other details, there was now a bunch of odd symbols. It looks like the "Wingdings" font on Microsoft Word or something. I try changing the radio station, but the screen and the static remains the same.

Just as I scroll to select one of my own songs, the symbols in the song name change to words. I furrow my brow and read the name of the "song."

SEES ME.

And the "artist" name has changed as well. One character shows, one little shape that I've gotten to know so well. A circle, with an "x" marked through it.

The Operator symbol.

My heart drops into my stomach as I see this. I blink hard, and look at the screen again, just to make sure that I am seeing this correctly. Sure enough, I'm not hallucinating. After a moment of standing there, dumbfounded, I hurriedly shut off my iPod and shove it into my pocket. I do not want to look at it's screen anymore, for fear of what else might appear on it.

I am overcome with a nauseating wave of paranoia. I try to dispose of it by filling my mind with doubts and reassurances. It's just my imagination. I'm freaking myself out. Someone's playing a trick on me. I'm being delusional. It was a glitch, a fluke.

Breaking into a run, I hurry down the trail, going back the way I came. Every few steps, I swear I hear something running after me. I throw frantic looks over my shoulder, but see nothing in pursuit. Suddenly this park doesn't seem very safe anymore. At least, not at the moment.

Entering the small public restroom, I take a few deep breaths and splash some cold water on my face. I don't dare look at my iPod. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something etched into the wall, among with countless other marks of graffiti. Drying my face off with a paper towel, I lean closer to get a better look at the words. They seem to be carved into the wall by something sharp, like a blade of some sort.

RUN. HIDE. HE WILL FIND.

I get goose-bumps at the eerie words. However, most bathroom graffiti only makes sense to the person who wrote it. Upon further examination, I see that there is a big "x" over the group of words, like someone tried to cross them out. Glancing at the surrounding graffiti, my eyes widen with realization. I take a step back, to get a fuller view of the wall. Around the words I read, connected to the "x", is a circle.

"Oh my god," I whisper aloud.

There is a giant Operator symbol on the wall. In the wall. Someone took time to carve this into the material of the building. I feel sick to my stomach, but I don't want to go into one of those tiny little bathroom stalls. I run outside, towards my neighborhood.

This is getting bad. This can't be just a coincidence anymore. Something is wrong, and I need to get away from it. Whatever "It" may be.