Sensory overdose

Now I'm sure I'm dreaming, but I can hope I sleepwalk enough to reach you people.

I am back at the motel, at least that's where the roads led me, time and time again. This is just all beyond me... when did I fall asleep? Was I ever awake?

I ask myself why I'm even asking you about this. Odds are, none of you will read this, but I think this at least works as a bit of a vent.

It's like I'm in a bad game, you know? Copy-pasted surroundings, bullshit story, horrible protagonist...

And the goddamn monster outside my window.

I've no idea why he won't just come in and destroy me. I know he can. Or maybe he already has and is toying with what's left.

Or maybe I'd have to wake up for real. Or dream for real.
Fuck.

I wish this would end somehow.

How many times it was...I can't explain.
I've posted this so many times.

I went to the hotel back then, but no one was there, no one at all. As if everyone had disappeared as I walked through the door. I waited. I rang the bell.
Then they came in.
The "party poopers" from Halloween.
One limping with a smashed knee.
One with his head bobbing, smashed from the side.
One with his head gone, and only a stump of a neck sprouting from his torso.
They were slowly pacing my way from every direction. Shambling, like fucking zombies.

I didn't care if this was real, Slender Man's mind trick, me finally goin bonkers, or anything else.
I ran towards the entrance and rammed through the door.



With all due respect, I'm not going to try my luck with zombies.

Straight into mister Hobson's, my employer's, storeroom. I knocked down a box of books and he came in behind me.
He looked at my face and handed me package from one of his shelves.
"Here, it's cold outside." he said.

In the package was a pair of warm leather gloves, a woolen cap and a scarf. Grey, with a glint and shimmer, as if they were silver. I put them on, stepped out, sat down in the Nova and stepped on the gas.

And then I woke up. My meeting in the hotel was still due, after a day's work.
So I posted this and went to work. And mister Hobson gave me the gloves, scarf and cap during my coffee break.
And at the hotel...well...the same thing happenned, only instead of running out into the storeroom, I ran outside the store's front door, with mr. Hobson behind me, saying "Go on, lad. I can manage. Run!"
And as soon as I stepped on the gas, I woke up.

I can't count how many times this has happenned.
So many scenarios were there, though, with little differences - sometimes the guys would look just fine, sometimes spectral, sometimes Slendy would be with them, sometimes instead of them, sometimes it was the middle of the day for some reason, sometimes early morning, sometimes I tried to fight, sometimes I would get beat down before reaching the door and just barely make it out, but a few constants remain:
Me, Mr. Hobson, his gift, the Hammer and the Nova.
I broke the loop. I did not go to the hotel this time, I set the blogger to post this at some time later. I don't know if this will reach anybody, but I'd love to wake up after going to sleep for once.

I'm on the prowl again.
I'm going slightly mad.

Quick update - on the prowl.

Jack has made no contact all since I arrived in Denver. Maybe someone got to him before me because I made him compromise his location. If I did then fuck me. I'm still looking though, I'd perfer to have more on how they look. All I remember is that Stephanie's blond and that's not much help, but I guess she's not in town. I'll keep looking, but I need to stock up on some funds and while I may break and enter to have a place to sleep (don't ask me where I'm spending nights now) I draw the line at stealing, or rather before.
This means that the store that needs a stockboy will have one tomorrow. I got some razors and shaved, so while I still have goddamn mop on my head my face looks halfway presentable.

And on something of a mental note - except the "Jack and Stephanie gone" things seem to be looking up, no faceless monstrosities or masked men seen since I came to town, potential job, and nightmares are shorter. This all is too good to be true, so I'm worried that it might be all just a dream, and God knows I've been having some mighty vivid dreams lately.

To Jack: Still prowling Welton in my free time, on foot this time. Look for a six foot tall man-child with a dark blond mop on his head.

To anybody else: I doubt this makes it any easier for Slender Man to find me and if any of his cronies wants to give me trouble, well, I'm making losing people chasing me a speciality of mine.

Signing out,
Pete Biggs

Yesterday, after waking up in my motel room I checked up on the last post and saw Jack's reply.
I thought I replied to it, but it seems now, that I didn't. I chcecked out and fired up the Nova to head to Denver. I took north, to get to the i70, but the trip too long. I noticed the scenery repeating itself quite literally and I was alone on the road.
On instinct I did a 180 and accelerated. I saw the motel. I had to...I knew I had to check it out, that something was wrong.
Then he appeared in the middle of the road, and I remember feeling fucking stupid for not noticing him earlier.
I barely had time to react and highly doubting that ramming him head on would do anything significant I managed to turn the car 90 degrees and ram him with the passenger side. The surface that hit him dented heavily, as if running into a steel bar. The following few seconds were a blur, but I took the old geezer's sledgehammer from the back seat, unbuckled and tumbled out of the car, standing up just as he was approaching me.
"I'm not coming in quietly!" I growled, swinging the hammer and bringing it down on his head and crushing it...

And then I woke up in the driver's seat of my (the old man's?) undamaged Chevrolet Nova with the hammer in my lap. The car was standing in a parking lot of some small town mall and judging by how busy the place was it was late afternoon or early evening (damn you, early dark hours).
It took me a while to get my bearings and I'm currently leaving Topeka and heading for Denver.
I hope I can be of help.

See ya, guys.
-Pete

P.S. Damn, I really need a shave and a haircut.

I'm on the last bit of a fucking caffeine rush
I haven't slept since the last post
Chevvy makes me feel invincible
Thats stupid, I know
I want to help Stephanie buti don't kow where to look
I'll fall asleep soon
Thank goodness for motels at least while I can afford them
Maybe i'll get an odd like the old guy said.
the fuck am i still doing here

night

Pete-

...more coherent than I remember it.
On the prowl again.

Who would have guessed it...

This night I had a relieving, of all things, nightmare. That is, had my dreams through the past months not been about running away from Slender Man through a confusing maze to meet something inside that I cannot face (because when I do face it, I just wake up with no recollection of what it is) this one, even though featuring Slendy, is tame by comparison.

Here's what occured in it.
I wandered into a town covered by fog, and the people in the streets looked at me with distrust. I was accused of something, not sure what, and I was put on trial.
After the prosecution spoke I asked who would defend me.
The judge answered "That would be mister Gaunt."
The main door of the courtroom opened and in stepped the Slender Man. He reached to his "face" and...took it off, like a mask, revealing the face of, devil knows why, Max von Sydow, only with burning red eyes.
"Don't worry" he said in a weird, slighty distorted voice "Mister Gaunt always knows best." and he smiled with the friendliest smile in the world. Only that smile terrified the shit out of me in the dream.
"Don't look back now." he said.

And that's when I woke up in a motel room. It was, I think, about 4 AM, but the dream made me start packing, but then I stopped, telling myself that it was just a god damn dream.
That's when I saw the note pinned to my room's door.

"Run away! Run away! Run Away!
High-toned son of a bitch is coming!"
Signed by "K-OS".

I burst out of there full-speed. I haven't even tried to sleep since, but I wonder, if that's not the worse option.

Also, I think I'll stop somewhere tomorrow and cut my damn hair, it's starting to look ridiculous.

See you, guys.

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.