A night's ride/Wait what?

I'm not sure what I'm to write about, I mean, I logged on to rant about an attempt to ruin the Nova (and kill me, of course) and I get the story of Zero vs Slenderman in a plethora of variations. That sentence is probably messed up, but I'm still shaken.

Anyway, two days ago, the goddamn Solstice that so many bloggers thought to be some grand event, I decided to play it as safe and possible and stay on the move through the entire night. I readied enough caffeine to make an elephant fly into space, and I mean caffeine, not coffee. I got a good night's sleep during the day, just in case. (At a college dorm. You wouldn't believe how easy it is to convince someone, that you were partying with them the night before).

Anyway I', driving through the middle of Nowhere (Nowhere, Illinois, I guess, but I could be wrong and it could be Nowhere, Missouri) and some guy on motorbikem not even a proper chopper, just a speeder-thing, drives onto the road in frot of me and stops. I break like crazy, and hear a cople of thunks on the floor behind me. I notice the old man's sledgehammer was hidden beneath the front seats, and it's head is covered with black stains. My mind goes immediately back to the idito on the road, his bike now facing me.

Then I hear two more, behind me, MX's I think. All three drove up slowly towards my car. I just knew they were the remaining "party poopers". What I did then was not nice.
I started up the car and accelerated, ramming the guy in front of me. The ones riding cross bikes sped towards me, so I pulled the handbrake. They flew and I never saw them before. As horrible as it is, they were the ones my conscience is reminding me less about.

I got out of the car, holding the hammer, ready to strike. I found him under his bike, cover in blood, eyes wide open, looking at me with eyes full of both hope and terror. He was from the party.

"I don't want to do what he says... I don't wanna..." he muttered. Tears mixed with blood on his face.
"End... me..." he asked.

I trembled. This one wasn't a threat. I had no need to strike, but that sad gaze of his had me glued to the spot. I just stood there, twitching, glancing in every direction, expecting to see Slendy, or the cops... or both. And this guy is there, under his stupid racing bike, begging me to terminate his existence.

I finally fixed my eyes on his face and I kept standing there, staring at him, wondering, was he Slendy's victim, or somehow mine.
And he begged me.
And I crushed his head on the pavement, immediately covering his corpse with puke.

I wrapped him up in some spare clothes and shoved him in the trunk. I drove around all day after that, buying a enough trash bags (or a big enough one) to contain the carcass and a shovel to bury it.

In the evening I finally got it. I drove to some lonely bit of road, drove off of it went a couple of miles and started to dig the grave. All the time I felt uneasy, but in a different way. When I finished digging and turned to the car to get the body, I understood.
The fucking Slenderman was standing next to the trunk, staring at it.
He noticed me and, I don't know, phased, I guess, to the other and of the car, still staring at where the corpse was.
I opened the trunk, took out the body, threw it in the hole and started filling it, casting glances in Slenderman's direction every now and then.
And he just stood there, watching.
Sad burial, really, just the two guys that killed him.
When I was done Slendy faced me. I gripped the shovel with all my strenght and he just disappeared.

I got in the Nova and drove out, rays of dawn hitting my windshield (or some other poetic shit). I dropped into a motel, fell asleep as soon as I entered the room and I woke up irregularily, if frequently, to cry my ass off and puke some more.
I hate bile.

And here I am.
I may begin to hate myself soon.

A few less

So the guys at Unfiction, who are themselves lucky enough to look at this as a game - a story badly written to no-one's amusement - have deemed me a sociopath some time ago. At first I wanted to protest, but after what happenned yesterday, I'm not sure I'm entitled to.

Apparently, I'm in Maine right now (anybody who makes a Stephen King reference will be tied up and fed to the lions) and I found what seemed to be a recently abandoned house. While I was trying to pick the lock (creepily, I am getting better at this, although nowhere near as good as to practice on anything that belongs to anyone) I found out I was wrong. I felt someone's hand on my arm. I flinched and turned around, fist raised, ready to punch anyone who was there and leg it.
The guy in front of me must've been something around 80. He smiled at me.
"I'm not gonna ask what is it you're running away from, but I will ask you to let me use the key, lest you break the lock."
He was eerily friendly, and completely unafraid of the kid (well, to him I must be one) who just tried to break into his house. He invited me in and told to stay the night.
I figured, hey, if he wants to kill me in my sleep, better him than the Slenderbitch.

The house was nicely furnished, I guess in some kind of style, but beats me what it was. The grandpa treated me to some hot tea, and a bit of roast. I got a room all to myself. For the first time in ages I was guest rather than intruder.

And then the night came. You see, (I say, as barely anybody reads this) I still have the maze dream, or rather variations thereof. Sometimes it's a different kind of maze, sometimes I make it to the center, sometimes the guy on the bed isn't there, sometimes the thing at the desk isn't.
This time, evrything in the center of the maze was as I saw it for the first time.
The monitor's message read: "You should get moving".
I asked why.
"Right foot".
I looked to my right foot and attached to it, coming through the door, was Slendy's tendril.

I woke up with a start and saw him standing beside my bed, and between me and the door.
I rolled out of bed and darted towards the window (the guest room was on the ground floor), opened it quickly, and jumped out.

That was a bad idea for two reasons:
-fucking cold
-party pooper brigade was already out there

I didn't see any opening I could go for. Not with them focused on me.
Then I heard a gunshot and the old man's yell "Pete! Run!"
The guys all turned their heads at the shot, which provided a well-needed distraction.
I looked only after I passed them and it was necessary to see them. Two went for me. The rest went for the figure of gramps standing in the front door, holding a rifle.

Then I did the stupidest thing of the week - I ran into the garage, hoping that I could go through it and "regroup" with the old man before they overrun him. Stupid me. I heard a couple more shots.
It wasn't dark in there, it was pitch black. I tripped over something and stumbled between what felt like two cars and fell on what seemed to be a pile of miscalleanous tools. I saw the outline of one of my pursuers getting near me, so I grabbed the first thing I could put my hands on and swung. A door slamming.
That thing, as it happenned, was a sledgehammer. Judging by what height I swung at, I probably hit knee. As I got up the other of my two attackers also wanted to try his luck. I swung higher this time.
I think I hit his head.

I left the garage and went for the front door. One of the guys who attacked gramps was on the snow, clutching his leg and bleeding. Tracks of three others indicated them deciding to perform a tactical retreat.
Then I remembered who I left inside
I opened the door immediately only to face gramps.
"I just called the ambulance and cops. Young man, get dressed. You need to run."
As I got dressed and packed my stuff he walked into the room. He tossed me something little.
A bundle of car keys.
"I packed you some food in the trunk and some cash for gas in the glove compartment, it won't last for too long, so you could use an honest day of work to fuel it every now and then."
I was completely lost for words.
"Seriously, take the Chevvy, it could use a good run. And you're not the first who's running from something. Also, unfortunately, not the last. Don't worry the kid I shot is unconscious, locked in a room upstairs, all patched up and waiting for the squad car. Which should miss you just barely if you hurry."
I asked about the guys I hit in the garage.
"There was no-one there."
I said I had a stupid question to ask, which he immediately answered.
"Nope, it's not an Impala, sorry to disappoint you. Strangely popular recently.  The Impala, that is."

I got the car and while I was on the driveway, the bearded gramps waved at me.

So now I'm on the road in what happens to be a green Chevrolet Nova.
And I wonder...
Did I hit the guy on the head, or did I just imagine it?

See you on the road, guys.

Price of Freedom...

...is a damn good piece of music. I've got it looped on my mp3 right now,  as it came to mind when I saw what happenned to that Robert/Greentlight person.

I hope he'll be fine - he went through worse shit than I ever did and while he wasn't the genius some made him out to be, he was quite smart, even if he wasn't right in the head.
Or maybe because.

I'm tired. And I keep dreaming of the maze. Only I can't find the way to the center anymore.

And then there's the regular ditching of the "party poopers" who keep finding me with a resolve worth of praise. If it's theirs.

I feel like a character in a badly written story - everything I know of myself , past and present, feels artificial and my current predicament feels like an obligatory tragedy that the protagonist should overcome in the end.
Shame I'm only a bit character who's probably being controlled by some evil, demented puppet-master.
Anyone who got the reference is officially a nerd.

I see all this happenning and I really wish I could help somehow.

This is all so fucked up. Most people would want it to stop.
I just want it to get better.

Signing out,
-Pete

Stupidity leads to nightmares

Okay, seriously.

Last week, after reading Zero's Fool's Errand/Tales of Projectile Vomit I blew my top.

I got to my hidey-hole, packed my stuff and skipped town, with enough rage to make the Goddamn Juggernaut jealous, stomping like  that was going to accomplish anything.

I had a simple plan: I expected him behind the next potential safehouse's door. That was the extent of it.

I got to the next town, I found the nicest possible safehouse, I went in.
There he was, in all his tendrily, gaunt, faceless "glory".

I lost it, I swung, aiming to sock him in the gut, if had anything like that.
As you can guess that didn't happen. Or maybe it did, I'm not sure, I felt like something was wrong, then he was standing behind me instead of in front and my punch didn't connect.

I went berserk, yelling, screaming, trying to hit him with everything in the house.

I wore myself out with that and as I stood there, panting, trying to catch my breath and glaring at him I asked in defiance:
"Aren't you going to do ANYTHING?!?"

Big mistake, but probably not as much as trying to attack him directly. Only then did I notice the tendrils crawling from him, along the floor, up to my feet.
They shot at me.
Before I could move they were already gripping my face.

I blacked out.

I had one of the most FUCKED UP nightmares then. It

Fuck, gotta fly, I'll finish this in a few hours.

Someone tell me what happenned this week, it's like the entire world has gone mad!

EDIT:
O-kay, first let me note how crazy you guys must be to go PLANNING an attack against that thing.
I know I wasn't of sane mind when I attacked him, but I was rage-fueled.

But back to myself. I recently, which is to say, fro the last two days, find myself followed by someone else than our tall and lanky not-friend. The guys from the party. The ones he hovered behind.


 That's why I had to log off. I noticed one of them, so I had to lose the bastard.

And I was going to describe the nightmare.
It started on a huge-ass field of grass flowing in the wind at night. You know, one of the really cliche movie-kind. I walked through the field, confused and afraid, for what seemed like hours. I felt suspicious, like I was being watched, so I turned around and there he was.
The Slenderman.
Vividly remembering how pointless it is to try and physically assault the monster I did the natural thing.
I turned 180 degrees and ran like fuck.
When I stopped for breath I was already in a building.
A maze of all things. I proceeded through it, it changed from a regular labirynth, through a maze of mirrors, a maze of doors and to a maze of moving rooms. After I don't know how long I made it to the center, a small room.
In it was a bed, on which someone was sleeping, face covered, but the snoring kept me reassured that it was no corpse. There was also a desk  with a computer linked to a huge screen. In front of that desk sat...someone.
He/she typed on the screen: ImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorrymyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault and so forth and so on.
I asked "What is your fault?" - the answer was a POV video of Slenderman wrapping himself around the camera and whoever was holding it. Umpteen seconds later it showed him... convulsing, I guess, then slouching.
And then another one sprouted from his back. What came of this I can only describe as a Siamese Slenderman. It reminded me of that one one scene from End of Evangelion, in case anyone saw the darn thing. The video ends.
I try to change the subject so I ask who the guy asleep is.
Monitor answers:
"eesrofflesruoY"
See For Yourself, eh?

I pick up the sheets and the person sleeping looks eerily similar to me, only with little details different. You know, haircut, I don't wear glasses, things like that. I gasp at this.

I ask "Who are YOU, then?" and the person turns around and I see...

A nurse leaning over me, as I wake up in a hospital bed. Three days after the incident. In the next state.

So yeah.

Signing out,
Pete

P.S.
What the goddamn hell is it with all those (titles or shit)?

Behind doors

Something happenned recently that I don't like one bit, but maybe I'm becoming too habitual.
A couple of days ago, when I got to the town I am at now, I found what seemed to be the perfect safehouse - a house, quite sizeable, whose owner was talking to his neighbour out front about how he's going on a vacation with his family, how he left the keys at the usual place and how cousin such-and-such might come by to look at the house, but it's doubtful. Seriously, don't ever have such conversations out loud in front of your house, someone less friendly than me could be listening in on it.
The "usual place" was under an empty flower pot near the door, the plan was to call the cousin (family member's phone numbers are usually deceptively easy to find around the house and people with flu sound all the same) and detract her from calling, but in the end I didn't stay there.
That's because as soon as I opened the door I came face-to-face with the faceles abomination, like he knew I was going to be there and waited for me. I froze for a moment and then saw these...tendrils crawling around him on the floor, slammed the door and made a new track record for running a hellishly long distance.
"Okay" I thought "that one was just too good to be true" and went about looking for shelter as I usually do.
He was behind EVERY, FUCKING, DOOR, THAT, I, OPENED, THAT, DAY.
I finally decided to spend the night at a homeless shelter (by now I look the part somewhat), but I managed to find a suitable apartment yesterday, not quite as stocked as the first one would be (i guess), but it does it's job.
I don't know how related that is, but once I settled down I got a heavy case of "the notebooks" - I just filled two notebooks with gibberish, the usual "HE WAITS FOR ME" bull and (X)s in record time. They're burning away right now - they no longer have any purpose and God forbid anyone, especially a slender-free anyone, sees them.

Anyway, I think I'll keep spending my days at the library until I see him there, since he hasn't shown up inside for some reason.

Okay, I'm signing out,
-Pete

Sages

Here I am, running from a faceless horror, guided by a person whom I have never seen.
I am told to seek help from a Hermit and Three Sages. And what happens to the Sages? They stop being Sages, with one most probably dying, another sealed off on the far side of River Styx, and the third nearly fatally assaulted.

Luckily enough, Robert seems to have nominated three new Sages to fill their shoes.
http://weavethecauseway.blogspot.com/
http://worstjestever.blogspot.com/
http://despairpalesbeforeme.blogspot.com/

I hope these three will be able to help.

Also, if anyone is interested, I haven't seen Him since the party and this unnerves me somewhat. In the last weeks I used to encounter him quite often, and this seems to me like "calm before the storm" scenario far too much for my pleasure.

Any helpful advice is welcome, from anyone at all. How can I prepare myself for the incoming encounter, or even defend myself successfully if He attacks me directly? I feel it in my gut that it'll happen, I need every edge I can get.

Aftermath

First thing's first: the party was okay, great even.

There was a lot of dancing, some singing, a couple games, and at the end I had to run like I never ran before, but I'll get to that. Also, if anyone sees photos of a guy in that costume spinning hula hoops on his arms, that's me.
My costume got a few startled stares, a mix of criticism and appreciation and at least two different people stated they'd prefer nobody to come as our dear faceless horror.
For half the party he himself was nowhere to be seen, although when I was participating in a game where we had to select three random songs using a media player on shuffle and then dance/sing/whatever to them, all three times I got, after a quick distortion, Don Mclean's "American Pie" (I love the song, but what the hell?).
After a while I saw him, but he wasn't just standing there, like he usually does, nor was he making his way towards me. He stood behind some people, one at a time, leaning towards them as if he was whispering something to them, after which they'd cast a quick look in my direction and get back to whatever they were doing.
After doing this to half a dozen people he disappeared and the party went on normally. At the end made a mistake - apparently I made out with someone's girlfriend, which caused some of the party's participants to want to kick me to the curb, so I did what I learned to excell at - I ran (and running on stilt-shoes is not easy). Funnily, my pursuers were the same ones that tall-pale-and-faceless stood behind earlier. They were quick on their feet, but I managed to shake them.
When I got to my safe-house I locked it all tight and immediately fell asleep.
After waking up I found a note: "Remember them, because they remember YOU". This made me decide, that the smartest thing to do would be skipping town, which I did.

I got a few "regular" sightings in the meantime, and I'm worried about his ability to overcome people's minds so quickly. The costume was not a good idea.

Signing out,
Pete

Risk

I feel the need to try something out, despite how hazardous, disrespectful and utterly stupid it may seem.

There's going to be a big Halloween party going on in the neighbourhood I'm currently in and I'm pretty sure I could get in. I intend to go, you probably guessed it by now, as tall-pale-and-faceless.

The point is, see if he appears to me, and whether his behavioral pattern changes - I sincerely don't believe this will protect me in any way, but he MAY see it as a form of defiance or, inversely, a form of submission. You never know. And besides, it's a party, you know, fun, music, girls. If he doesn't appear it'll be swell. If he does, it might be an occasion to learn. Surprisingly it's win-win.

Also, I wanna say something more about risky behaviour when it comes to me and mister happy - whenever I act defiantly he seems taken aback (or it may just be that jerky way he moves, but I'd rather be optimistic), that is, whenever I decide to run past him instead of away from him, or whenever I try to stare him down. It never accomplishes anything practical and it certainly doesn't stop him, but I'll take whatever little mental victories I can get.

Also, the moral for today is:
Banana juice is the greatest!

Signing out,
Pete

Powerless

I had, just now, an epiphany about how powerless I really am against the faceless abomination that stalks me.

All I can do is run. Sure, I sometimes find refuge in defiance, running towards and past him, like I did not care, but that's just buying time.

I run, I extend the time of my life, I survive. But there is no meaning. I cannot fight back, hell, I can't help anyone.
I can't even give a useful piece of advice or think up the right thing to say in a tense situation.

I realized this, I realized hard, when seeing how things are going in-between Jack and Stephanie, and Sandra, Lya and Matt. A few simple words would have made a world of difference, but I did not send them.
Why?
Fear of responsibility, I guess. Or just plain fear. I don't know really, and I should seriously have done something.

I sometimes wish that there was something I could do except running.

Signing out,
Pete

Sleep notes

The notes were the beginning.

Over a month ago, you see, I started finding post-it notes stuck to my monitor. Notes with URLs to several blogs, most prominently M's "Tutorial".
Then I got the login details for "yousurvivehim@gmail.com", wich belongs to "K-OS Survival", who posted some rather outrageous claims on the "Tutorial" via such a note.
Also, a lot of messages like "Help them!" or "Run and survive". I thought they were bullshit and any sane man should disregard them as a prank on behalf of his friends, right?
One problem: the notes would always appear when I was sleeping, even napping, so either I had a stalker with perfect stealth skills, some kind of guardian angel, or I was writing the notes myself somehow. Neither of these possibilities sits well with me.
Then the creepy happennings started. No, I didn't start seeing a strange tall person in formal attire, that is, not by then. I did, howver, start finding dead birds on my doorstep. A sparrow, a pigeon, a crow. That, as I put it back then, was some fucked up shit.
Then I received the last note before encountering the faceless. It read: "You don't exist. Ask the landlady. Please forgive me. -K-OS". So I casually chatted up the landlady and, well, I found I never had a roommate. My parents were apparently covering the rent, but I couldn't then and I can't now, no matter how hard I try, remember their names.
Then, when I went to my school I found that it wasn't there. The note started sinking in. I turned to go back to the apartment. I saw Him, standing across the street, just staring.
I ran back home.
I took whatever money and potentially useful things I could take and I ran like fuck.

I still get the notes, usually as an early warning, and I grew to trust them. May be a mistake, but they've saved my skin a few times when the threat was, well, more natural. ("The owners of this house are coming back tomorrow morning, you might want to skeddadle" that sort)

Today I got a note saying: "It'smyfaultit'smyfaultit'smyfault" over and over in really big letters (for a post-it note, anyway) and "He couldn't digest. Help Sandra."

The only Sandra I know of is the one in H(a)unting and she seems to have disappeared according to Matt.

Great. I'd love to help, but I'm not a Hero, just a runner.

Signing out, Pete

Wow, a Blog, how I hate that word.

My name is Peter Biggs. Pete to anyone who cares.

For a couple of weeks I've been avoiding any unnecessary use of the internet, hoping it would help my "problem" and while it did keep it at bay for a while it is not a perfect deterrent, so I turn to those who might be able to help me. Or so I'm told they can.

Those people, as indicated by an unseen person who got me into this mess, are called: "M", and "The Three Sages" consisting of Robert, Jay and Shaun. Are you guys out there?

Also, despite the title, I don't think I'm going to make many references to Kingdom Hearts within this blog, as it's supposed to illustrate part of my problem.
All I remember of my life seems, by all outside accounts, fake.
My roommate? Apparently I never had any and my folks are covering all of the rent.
My school? No such building.
A couple more of such indicators coupled with the problem that I share with some of you, well, I started to run.

One thing I never noticed before: free internet is abundant.

Well, gotta fly, as it seems I might get another fit of my sickness in a short while.

Signing out.