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)?