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StealthStealth
Aug 28, 2007

dogs eatin' cake

Augh why can't I remember his username, the guy who does the goon art books? The Paranormal one was up just a few days ago. I think this thread almost on its own could pull off a good Slender Man book, between the pictures and the stories.

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M_Sinistrari
Sep 5, 2008

Do you like scary movies?




To preface things slightly, I grew up in an old Italian neighborhood. Many of our neighbors were fresh off the boat or were first/second generation American born which meant for those of us later born to be in an environment where the couple down the block are sneaking raising chickens, nearly every woman over 50 going around in the obligatory black dress, and enough whispered talk of signs and omens and whatnot.

It makes for interesting life experience when as a kid you can remember everyone flying into serious abject terror that a black bird flew into the house because it's a sign that someone's going to die soon and then as a teen when Grandma's in near hysterics screaming 'it's a Sign!', running for the rosary because she cracked open an egg that ended up having a bloody yolk and all you can think is 'God I can't wait until I'm old enough to get my own place away from here...'.

Most of my Mom's side of the family lived either in the neighborhood or in the ones just around it. My maternal Grandma was from a typical sizeable 20s era family, five sisters, two brothers surviving and two girls and a boy who died while very young. When I was on maternity leave and due to complication was assigned bed rest, I got a wild hair going on about working on a family genealogy because I was bored to all hell and one can only watch so much talk shows.

I figured to start on Mom's side since they were all really close and at the price of sifting through rambling while sitting on plastic covered furniture surrounded by dusty capodimonte, it was something to do.

Lot of it was family stories I'd long heard before like the time some strange guy tried to grab my grand-aunt Ro as a kid while she was playing in the yard. Great-Grandpa and his brothers chased the guy off with bats. It left her with a pretty wicked scar and when she had kids of her own, she watched them all like a hawk.

I tried to find out more about the siblings who died, but all anyone would say was they were really young when it happened and when the family was out in the country. I did try to get some death certificates but those were apparently lost in a move or flood and hadn't been microfiched.

Also around this time my grand-aunt Liz's alzheimer's had progressed pretty bad and her daughter was the one taking care of her at home. Anyone who's been around that knows it's rough, so I'd volunteer to sit in for a few hours so my cousin could get a break. Overall I didn't mind it and half the time my grand-aunt would think I was my Mother who'd passed on some years previous. I'd humour her since it wasn't worth causing a commotion.

One of the nights, she was more talkative than usual. Talking quite a lot of the old days and in particular her son Mikey. He died when he was five. My mom had been there playing with him, she was three at the time. What I'd been told was it was some lung problem and he just keeled over, but some of the things my grand-aunt said that night got me wondering.

Thinking I was my Mom, she said she was happy that at least 'He' didn't get me like he got Mikey and tried to get Ro. It made no sense so I tried to question carefully. Where they were living at the time had a thicket abutting the yard, and my grand-aunt had been watching the kids playing out back from the kitchen window. The man was well dressed, and she couldn't see his face well. She hadn't been worried at first since he didn't look like a bum or a gypsy. But as he came out of the woods, my Mom ran to the house and Mikey ran to him. They had the thicket cut down not long after. She was still sad that they had to have a closed casket funeral for him.

I would've tried to dig out more but my cousin came home.

I ended up putting the genealogy thing on the backburner once I had my son. Since I was still on maternity leave and we were still in the middle of clearing out stuff to make more room, I started on that. Most of it was stuff from my Mom and Grandma that we just boxed up to deal with later after they passed. A good chunk of it had been water damaged or mouse nibbled so other than flipping through book pages since we'll use anything as a bookmark, I was throwing a good chunk out.

Not sure why I paused on it, but it was one of those old diaries that my Mom tended to pick up and just write poetry and doodle in. It was pretty tore up, fountain pens and water don't mix well. One page drew my attention. It had a large blurred blot on it and most of the poetry there was illegible. Something about cold woods, something pale clad in darkness reaching.

At the time I chalked it up to Mom being Goth before it came into vogue and went on with the cleaning up.

But...reading around, it gets me to thinking.

An old story told about me was I somehow managed to get out of the locked house and was found wandering around outside as a toddler in diaper until one of the neighbors brought me in and called my Mom. Talking with her years later, she said it looked like I was running away from a man in a black suit and had a cut on my arm. I'd also been wearing a sleeper that they never found, and I do have a faded scar on my arm that I don't remember how I might've gotten hurt.

I think at this point, I'm going to chalk this up with the bloody yolk signs, black bird omens and howling dogs are ill tidings. I don't think I want to think any further.

But then, the other day talking with my ex-husband, he said our son asked if he could cut down the tree near his window since it was scaring him at night like it was reaching in for him. I told him it'd be a great idea to cut it down...and to keep an eye out of anyone odd he might see.

eightysixed
Sep 23, 2004

I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.


Johnny Walker posted:

I thought it looked a little like Conan O'Brien.

This is exactly what I thought.

Space Hamlet
Aug 24, 2009

not listening
not listening


There's no way it'll still be cool by the time I finish, but Slenderman fits almost too well into a novella project I've been concocting and planning to start within the next few weeks (about inventing a ghost story and giving it an incidental 'life' that way, and becoming haunted by it). I'll probably lift some parts of him for this project, so I guess I'm sort of writing a largeish size Slenderman piece?

If there's still a thread where he's receiving any attention when this thing's done, I'll post it.



edit: I don't need to say 'sort of' quite so often.

Space Hamlet fucked around with this message at Oct 6, 2009 around 16:48

You
Oct 6, 2009


I hope that everyone who has posted in this thread dies horribly, because I'm scared shitless!

I don't know why but Slender Man is abso-loving-lutely everywhere I look. Right now I got the curtains down and the lights on and playing every happy pop song you can think of loud so I don't hear all these scary sounds that weren't there before.

And if it wasn't enough that I stress myself up, my dog helps me a good bit to; She barks a lot when she hears something on the street and is always very happy when she hears someone just outside the door. So when reading about Slender Man my doggy got on her feet and started barking like crazy! Obviously that scared me even more, but the worst part was when she stopped and went to the door with her tail wagging... And the only sound I heard were the loving wind in the loving trees! I'm not joking when I say that I literally trembled with fear!

I hate you all. But I will kill you if you don't make more.

MUAHAA THE FRENCH
Jul 31, 2009


you see my friend, we've
both been boiled alive



Reverend Gnome posted:

Oh, man, some of that was really, really creepy. Nice work.

thanks! any other comments? i think i'm going to lean towards a professor beginning to see links between disasters/murders with the slender man, deciding to investigate the emergence of a strange cultural myth... but it turns out it's becoming more real than he ever imagined. that's a really lovely way of phrasing it but yeah.

don't know whether i want to link it to GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY yet but i might because that's fun as gently caress.

StealthStealth
Aug 28, 2007

dogs eatin' cake

You posted:

I hope that everyone who has posted in this thread dies horribly, because I'm scared shitless!

I don't know why but Slender Man is abso-loving-lutely everywhere I look. Right now I got the curtains down and the lights on and playing every happy pop song you can think of loud so I don't hear all these scary sounds that weren't there before.

And if it wasn't enough that I stress myself up, my dog helps me a good bit to; She barks a lot when she hears something on the street and is always very happy when she hears someone just outside the door. So when reading about Slender Man my doggy got on her feet and started barking like crazy! Obviously that scared me even more, but the worst part was when she stopped and went to the door with her tail wagging... And the only sound I heard were the loving wind in the loving trees! I'm not joking when I say that I literally trembled with fear!

I hate you all. But I will kill you if you don't make more.

I think it's the number of images where you don't see anything at first and then all of a sudden it pops out at you and oh gently caress terror. So you're USED to not seeing him lurking hidden away until it's too late...

spixxor
Feb 4, 2009


You posted:

I hope that everyone who has posted in this thread dies horribly, because I'm scared shitless!

I don't know why but Slender Man is abso-loving-lutely everywhere I look. Right now I got the curtains down and the lights on and playing every happy pop song you can think of loud so I don't hear all these scary sounds that weren't there before.

And if it wasn't enough that I stress myself up, my dog helps me a good bit to; She barks a lot when she hears something on the street and is always very happy when she hears someone just outside the door. So when reading about Slender Man my doggy got on her feet and started barking like crazy! Obviously that scared me even more, but the worst part was when she stopped and went to the door with her tail wagging... And the only sound I heard were the loving wind in the loving trees! I'm not joking when I say that I literally trembled with fear!

I hate you all. But I will kill you if you don't make more.


You think you have it bad? Try being the mother of a two year old who's all of a sudden taken to stopping in the middle of the room, looking up towards the ceiling, and saying "Hi."

I should never have drawn that picture.

spixxor fucked around with this message at Oct 6, 2009 around 20:45

MUAHAA THE FRENCH
Jul 31, 2009


you see my friend, we've
both been boiled alive





class doodles... mid-transformation? partial true form? can we ever really know?

i tried to imagine his suit as somehow organic, like a peeling layer of skin, believable from a distance but...

MUAHAA THE FRENCH fucked around with this message at Oct 6, 2009 around 21:57

Daeren
Aug 17, 2009

YER MUSTACHE IS CROOKED


MUAHAA THE FRENCH posted:



class doodles... mid-transformation? partial true form? can we ever really know?

i tried to imagine his suit as somehow organic, like a peeling layer of skin, believable from a distance but...

Welp. I'll be seeing this in my nightmares.

pseudosavior
Apr 14, 2006

Don't you do cocaine at ME,
you son of a bitch!

MUAHAA THE FRENCH posted:

can we ever really know?

As I said to a friend of mine earlier: Slender Man is wherever and whatever it deems necessary at the moment.

If it decides that that particular form is required (for whatever alien purposes it requires said form FOR), so be it.

That's why some of the images we've pieced together have more pronounced tentacles, whereas others are just a tall man. It also explains his height differences perfectly. Sometimes he simply needs to be taller.

cwinkle
Mar 7, 2008


Loomer posted:

Transcript #21

Session Three, 11 AM:








J: WE DIDN'T KILL NED, drat IT! WE DIDN'T loving DO IT! I DIDN'T KILL MY FRIEND!

P: Joseph, calm down!

J: IT DID IT! IT MADE US DO IT! WE DIDN'T WANT TO! IT MADE US DO IT! IT MADE US!

<Tape ends with a struggle and indecipherable screaming from Patient J as the orderlies pin and sedate him.>

Was rereading this thread and this post reminded me of this story I read on CNN today about the "horror-rapper."

http://www.cnn.com/2009/CRIME/10/06...ings/index.html


Hope it is not related.

Mogomra
Nov 5, 2005

simply having a wonderful time


Is it too late to join the party?

I found this in my grandmother's basement and had to scan it as soon as I could. Perhaps this explains her night terrors.

What happened Gramma? If only you still had a tongue with which to speak, or fingers to write...



I was reading this thread and the marble hornets thing and decided to make this for the wave invite/nomination thread. It can still have a happy home here right?

DJ Turbo Punch
Feb 3, 2006

WAKE UP


Mogomra posted:



Nice work! This actually reminds me of the originals more than most of the recent 'sightings'.

rinski
Sep 12, 2007

things that go wump in the night


Ok, what the balls.

So I went back to my grandma's house the other day to clear out more stuff and I found an iPhone on the ground. Being the nice guy I am, I went looking for the "Mom" entry so I could get the phone back to its owner.

Whenever I tried to open up the contacts list or recent call log, the phone shut off dead. It didn't show the spinning "I'm turning off!" `logo or anything; it just shut off. Since I know some of the people around town, I thought to check the pictures. This was the only one.



I know it's just a bad low-light cell phone picture, probably from a wedding or something, but this stupid Slender Man crap has me seeing him everywhere. Between the other day and this, I'm getting pretty creeped out.

Braincloud
Sep 28, 2004

I forgot...how BIG...

I was hesitant about posting this but here goes.

A week ago I was riding my mountain bike down a trail when I must have blacked out. I never do that. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground tangled in the bushes. I must have hit a tree or rock or something and wrecked - my front tire was completely tacoed. Anyway, I got scraped up pretty good.

Thought I was healing well until I noticed something.

I took this this morning:

JMHX
Dec 22, 2008


I've been lurking through this thread, and I have to say, it's among the scariest things I've read in a while. I legitimately had trouble sleeping last night despite knowing Slender Man isn't real at all. Thanks guys.

JMHX
Dec 22, 2008


HAGERSALL CENTER FOR CHRONIC DEPRESSION, DALLAS TX
CASE STUDY: Martina Gomez
KNOWN ILLNESSES: Depression, Paranoia, Insomnia, Panic Attacks
SESSION DIRECTOR: R. Hagersall

PREFACE

Our team met with 25-year-old Martina Gomez on the morning of October 1, 2009, at the insistence of her mother. Mrs. Gomez reported an alarming increase in the severity and duration of her daughter’s panic attacks and paranoia, and received a referral to us from Cobalt Valley Medical Center outside of Houston.

Our team included an American Sign Language expert, as Martina Gomez lacks verbal ability due to an accident suffered on her 18th birthday. For personal reasons, Mrs. Gomez declined our offer to videotape the session.

SESSION NOTES

For ease of analysis by Hagersall Center faculty, Ms. Gomez’s sign language is formatted as verbal speech.

STAFF: Tell us a bit about what happened to your throat, why you can’t speak.

MG: I was 17 years old. I used to sing. It happened not long after school let out for summer, when I was planning to go out with my girlfriends and some boys to a party at a motel a few miles away.

STAFF: The official cause listed on your medical sheet says a fall outside a motel room damaged your throat.

MG: That isn’t how it started.

STAFF: You never mentioned this to the doctors? You never wrote it out in your account of the incident.

MG: I couldn’t write it. Until now, thinking about it made my heart race and I felt like I would die. I felt like I would die, you see?

STAFF: Explain what happened, then. Take your time.

MG: It happened to my grandmother, too. She died when she was 18. My mother was an orphan as a baby. I didn’t believe it when I first read her journals, while I was recovering at home. She was murdered.

STAFF: You’ve mentioned this before, according to your history. Medical records show your grandmother suffered a massive stroke resulting from a malformed artery. She died naturally.

MG: No. You’re wrong. It doesn’t murder like you think it does. It takes what’s inside you and feeds. The same thing came to me. I saw him at the motel, standing in the dark at the end of the row of rooms. He followed me home. He followed me everywhere for weeks.

STAFF: A person did this to you?

MG: Delgado.

STAFF: Is that his name?

MG: That’s what he is. Delgado. Thin. Thin and tall, taller than anyone I’ve ever seen before. And his body was so tiny, you could put an ankle bracelet around his waist. And his face---

At this point, Ms. Gomez suffered a panic attack of such severity that even senior researchers on our team expressed concern that she would require immediate transfer to a regional medical center. Our diagnostic machines were of no help, as they recorded Ms. Gomez as lacking any blood pressure. Further transcribing was halted due to the tremor in Ms. Gomez’s hands.

STAFF: If you can, Ms. Gomez –

MG: It was nothing, you see? His tiny body, he had on a black suit and a white shirt, but it didn’t even look human. He was too thin. You looked down and couldn’t tell where his legs ended, they just faded away. And his arms, so long, almost down to the floor, just blowing back and forth like they were empty sleeves! I told my friends but they didn’t see! They said I was too nervous about partying with boys!

STAFF: How tall would you say this man was? Six feet? Seven feet?

Ms. Gomez pointed from the floor to the ceiling, a span of nine and a half feet. We asked our ASL volunteer to confirm she’d heard the question properly. Ms. Gomez again insisted the man was at least nine feet tall.

MG: Grandma’s journal, she wrote about him. He followed her for weeks. Only children can see him, only young people. He just stood there and looked at me, but he had no eyes! His face was white like paper, and his head leaned off to one side. He just kept looking at me, with his arms blowing like they were!

STAFF: Did you tell any---

Further investigation was interrupted as Ms. Gomez jumped from her chair and moved quickly to the corner of the room, where she curled into a tight ball. She let out a piercing scream, which her mother later confirmed was the first sound she’d made in 7 years. One of our junior researchers became so unnerved by the sound of her scream that he requested and received a medical leave of one week.

MG: When I went out to smoke a cigarette I walked out by the soda machine. When I looked up from lighting the cigarette, he was there! He was an inch from my face! He had no mouth but I felt his breath! I could feel those sleeves running up the backs of my legs!

Ms. Gomez began to shake, prompting our staff to restrain her.

MG: I tried to scream for my friends but nothing came out! All I could feel was the breath on me, it was so thick I could hardly breathe. It was blocking out the air from my lungs! I felt those arms grab me, and then everything went black.

STAFF: According to the police report, your friends found you an hour later in the same area, unconscious. Is that correct?

MG: Yes.

STAFF: It says here you nearly drowned on your own blood on the way to the hospital, that your larynx was crushed and required two years of major surgery.

MG: Yes

STAFF: But if this slender man kills young people, why were you left alive? You said he murders young people.

MG: The motel party. It was my birthday party. I’d turned 18 a few minutes before I went out. That cigarette was going to be my first.

At this point in our conversation, Ms. Gomez’s mother grew upset and withdrew her daughter from the study. Further access to Ms. Gomez has been blocked, leaving us no choice but to close the file on this case pending further case studies.

Roger Hagersall, Ph.D
Lead Session Director
10/2/2009

maraudinghobbit
Jan 3, 2009

Uhhh, I won a 2,080 pound rock.


I painted this a few days ago. for some reason I'm not so afraid anymore.







oh snap
Apr 17, 2003


saw this and thought of this thread

Only registered members can see post attachments!

Pinch Me Im Meming
Jun 26, 2005


oh snap posted:

saw this and thought of this thread


What is there to see? pavement worn down? I don't get it. I've been looking at it for two whole minutes and I still can't see anything.

Isis Q. Dylan
Feb 19, 2008

Don't wanna be your man, just wanna play with you.


It's a Slenderman-shaped puddle.

Pinch Me Im Meming
Jun 26, 2005


Isis Q. Dylan posted:

It's a Slenderman-shaped puddle.

I know but you could have run with my post to scare some people I guess. Welp.

Fair Hallion
Jul 25, 2007



My grandfather remembers his short time at the orphanage. The bleak skies and the chill winds blowing up the hill from the sea, he told me he never once felt warm. There was never any wood for the stoves. There wasn't enough blankets for the chidren. At night they would fight to get a blanket each, friends would share one but the weaker kids would shiver and cry through the night.
My grandfather would spend many hours in the surrounding woods, tracking animals, watching the birds and learning their calls. All too often he would return late for lessons and the Matron would beat him with a bamboo cane. He didn't care. The lessons were ordeals and he would rather be outdoors.
One Autumn evening, as he approached the building, he knew he was late as he could see the lamps lit in the window. But could hear no chatter of the children, or the Matron's boorish voice barking orders. The orphanage was silent.
He crept in the side door, and made his way down the corridor to the main hall where meals and lessons were held.
He opened the door to see the tables set, bowls of thin oatmeal and pieces of bread untouched throughout the hall. The Matron and the cook lay on the floor, their bodies twisted grotesquely.
He ran outside, gasping in panic. Through the dim evening light, almost out of view, he saw movement towards the edge of the woods.
It was a procession of children, in single file, marching perfectly together into the trees.
Leading the procession was a figure, a thin outline in black. Too tall to be a person. It looked like a performer on stilts, but stilts didn't move like that, twisting and serpentine. It didn't look real.
The figure disappeared into the woods and the children followed.
My Grandfather ran, not stopping until dawn.

I knew one day I would find the orphanage to see it for myself. When I was ready.



Falken
Jan 26, 2004

Do you feel like a hero yet?


I'll admit it. I slept with the light on last night. I'm 24 years old for crying out loud. Then I had dreams about slender man just standing there, watching me sleep. The worst part is that my room is a mezzanine, and he's on the other side of the dividing wall, from which is about a 5 metre drop.

Ixjuvin
Aug 8, 2009

if smug was a motorcycle, it just jumped over a fucking canyon

Nap Ghost

I stayed up until five in the morning reading this thread fascinated and absolutely terrified by the slender man. The next day at work the combination of lost sleep and emotional stress gave me a massive migraine during which I lost the ability to speak properly - a temporary dysphasia.

That's right - the slender man broke my mind. Good job, goons.

Daeren
Aug 17, 2009

YER MUSTACHE IS CROOKED


Ixjuvin posted:

I stayed up until five in the morning reading this thread fascinated and absolutely terrified by the slender man. The next day at work the combination of lost sleep and emotional stress gave me a massive migraine during which I lost the ability to speak properly - a temporary dysphasia.

That's right - the slender man broke my mind. Good job, goons.


This makes the psychiatrist in me giggle like a madman.

Dark Voice
Feb 4, 2005
Behold the might of the rabid hamster army

Ixjuvin posted:

I stayed up until five in the morning reading this thread fascinated and absolutely terrified by the slender man. The next day at work the combination of lost sleep and emotional stress gave me a massive migraine during which I lost the ability to speak properly - a temporary dysphasia.

That's right - the slender man broke my mind. Good job, goons.


You're one step closer to joining with him now

Sleepless Dreamer
Jun 5, 2008

it's my calling to tell nerd ers how to properly

Ixjuvin posted:

I stayed up until five in the morning reading this thread fascinated and absolutely terrified by the slender man. The next day at work the combination of lost sleep and emotional stress gave me a massive migraine during which I lost the ability to speak properly - a temporary dysphasia.

That's right - the slender man broke my mind. Good job, goons.


First you can't speak, then you can't scream. When you can no longer fight it, this is when he takes over. Your bones will stretch, your mouth will vanish, and then, from the seed of primordial fear that has been growing in your brain, a new mind will replace whatever you have left of consciousness you can hang on to. His violence will become your violence. Your ears will only hear the symphony of slaughter and cries of all past victims. Your hands will move towards kids and other frail victims around you. Their neck, so short, will be an affront to your new perfect body. You will break their bones, stretch their flesh, drain their blood, so that they to become perfect like you.

You will laugh at the many questions that filled your mind about what you are now. Your previous life will seem ignorant. What is the Slenderman? You now know the answer: The Slenderman is you.

blunt for century
Jul 4, 2008

I've got a bone to pick.



Why are these on my computer? I didn't draw them or save them. Why?

















MUAHAA THE FRENCH
Jul 31, 2009


you see my friend, we've
both been boiled alive



I haven't written in a VERY long time, but I was inspired by this. it's also the first time i've written in first person, so it's more than a little choppy. this story is going to be a lot longer hopefully. tips appreciated.

My name is Raymond Bates, but if you are reading this, you already know that. You know that because the only persons who will read this report are the psychological and nursing staff at the Greater Miami County Mental Rehabilitation Institute, and... well... the men who study what drove me here. You already know I was an Adjunct Professor of Parapsychology at the Tulane University Engineering Anomalies Research Laboratory. You know I am 34 years of age, white, atheist, an alcoholic, and you probably know that I got an 800 on the verbal SATs, and a perfect on the LSATS too, but I decided to grad school in Parapsychology for reasons you will never understand. All of this is listed in my extended medical report, and all of this is completely irrelevant to the story you are about to read, the story that I was ordered to write, the story that I will – well. The story that an orderly will eventually have to transcribe, because by the end of this story, the only way you'll be able to get me to talk will be by strapping me to a board and torturing me. I know this because... I can see things now. I can see things I never wanted to see. I can see that the world will never be the same for me and that everything that comes into contact with me will never be the same, either.

I know this, and you know this, because I do not recognize the State of Louisiana's State Attorney Office's claim that I am responsible for the deaths of five people on October 8th, 2009, and this has made me the focus of an intensive state and federal investigation into my life and the events that transpired that day. And the story of my life is irrelevant, because the events that happened that day are... well... what happened that day is not really...

You'll see. I'll tell you. But to tell you what happened on October 8th, I will have to tell you the story of the year before that.

=================

It was August, 2008, and I was doing research on extrasensory perception and paranormal manifestation phenomena. Tulane didn't take the EARL program very seriously. In fact, other than Professor Stewart and four unpaid interns, I was the EARL program. We coordinated with a similar program at Princeton before it got shut down the year before due to lack of funding. Retrospectively, it is a miracle that Tulane even kept a professor of my discipline around – it's exceptionally hard to find students willing to take a parapsychology major in this day and age, and discipline has really been in decline since the 70's. Now, the weird thing was, all the other students I had gone to grad with, and most of the professors I had learned with, had all dropped out of contact in some way or another. There was a running joke in the small circles that kept in contact with one another that they all had to be being bought out by the government, for their ghost warfare lab at DoD. No one took this seriously, but I can't think of that anymore without wanting to scream.

Don't get me wrong. I don't think the federal government has a ghost warfare lab. That's... well, it's inane, and no one took the idea as anything more than a lame joke, the kind of thing people giggled politely at at parties, or made sly references to in periodicals, without really finding it funny or amusing... but there was this undercurrent of suspicion, and real fear, as to why our colleagues had dropped off the face of the planet, why no one had heard from them or their loved ones, why their relations hung up the phone at the first mention of parapsychology or engineering anomalies or phenomena classification research.

At the time, we assumed it was shame, shame at a profession which the real world had never taken seriously, and had less of a use for every passing day, and they merely wanted to be cut off from their embarrassment, their chagrin, their thorough discredit, their... well... hate.

And, in a way, this was thoroughly understandable. The extrasensory perception segment of my research was a joke even in paranormal research circles. Have you ever seen Ghostbusters? (I'm going to state here and now, that in my profession, this was considered the pinnacle of modern filmmaking.) There's a scene in the beginning where Professor Venkman – he's this ghost hunter – is holding notecards backwards at a cute undergrad, and asking her to guess what's on the other side, and of course she gets it wrong but he won't admit it, saying she has all this psychic talent, and with the obvious intent of sleeping with her – well, that's what I did, sometimes six hours in a row, except there wasn't any cute female undergrads. There was a specific brand of student which would volunteer for that kind of research, and they were usually male, greasy, and thoroughly unpleasant to be around for more than five minutes. One guy kept on seeing demonic symbology on the back of cards for about a half an hour until I nearly physically punched him - it was ink blots, you know, not a seance or a Necronomicon masturbation marathon or something.

The paranormal manifestation investigation phase of my job was far more interesting. We'd get a call. A hint. If we were lucky, the paranormality had been within an hour or two, otherwise we were just chasing ghosts, ha-ha, a little bit of... nevermind. So, we'd get an alert, usually from a guy we had in the local PD who didn't want to waste police resources on spook hunts, or from a webboard where local enthusiasts collaborated, and then we'd head out in the ghost van, ha, just this... it all sounds so trite now. It was a van with a ghost and Tulane EARL acronym painted on the side. Professor Stewart and I – I guess, the late Professor...

I'm sorry, I need a minute. Just a minute. I'm trying to focus on explaining what I did, before what happened, and... god. God. I'm sorry. Let me, let me refocus here.

You have to realize New Orleans had its share of 'ghost' sightings. None of them ever amounted to anything. We didn't get significant, I mean statistically significant, results in six years of research. It was a miracle Stewart and I weren't sacked after the first, but it was New Orleans, and there was always a demand for a class on the mythology of New Orleans, or an elective in basic parapsychological studies, or what-not, and the university tolerated us beyond the point of tenure, and that was that.

We do sound kind of pathetic, and... well... we were. Once, twice a month, chasing after ghosts, half the time it was pranks, the other half a scared housewife, never once something conclusive, occasionally a glimpse of something unreal, but never anything we could prove or even observe beyond the plausibility of a hoax. So we mostly occupied ourselves writing cultural histories of mythology, some research into the fields related to our actually scientifically-derived equipment – even though we were dreadfully unqualified, and any contributions laughable – and a few times a month, we got to live, really get out of our shell, do what we really wanted to do – it sounds so loving stupid now – hunt ghosts.

Hop in our early-90s van full of obsolete, old equipment, pay for our own gas, drive to the location, and get to work.

So, now, when a paranormal manifestation appeared – hopefully we would be ready to move in, set up a perimeter, you know, seal off access, interview the witness, and hopefully ask local law enforcement out of the area, that kind of thing – and then we could get to work. Set up our equipment – we had technical experience, could set up the monitoring equipment, video feeds, etc, you know, all within ten-fifteen minutes – and we could have spectroscopic scanners, EMF meters – that's electro-magnetic field, subtle variations in the earth's natural magnetic field, we could triangulate movement with a proper network, I'll be layman from now on – ion and geiger counters, sub-solution nets, subsonic sound monitoring, the works, but in reality all of this equipment was late 80s, maybe early 90s at best, a lot of it off Ebay, we were really running a lovely operation. More like a hobby than a career.

We had some interesting cases. A poltergeist moving desks in broad daylight in a school. Screeching in a nearly-abandoned theater at night. Once we had an abandoned nightclub, needed to be renovated, right off Bourbon Street, which the new owner kept insisting was bleeding from the walls, which we got some bizarre readings off of, but never – I mean never – did we have a case where there wasn't a 'rational' explanation.

It was August 18th, 2008, when it all changed forever, that call I will never forget, that Stewart wouldn't either until the night he died.

MUAHAA THE FRENCH fucked around with this message at Oct 8, 2009 around 07:41

BlpSoup
Jan 26, 2006


Entry 232:

Woke up at 5:22am. Had dream about a deeply wooded ravine. I was falling down toward's it's bottom, but not falling at the same time. I was able to percieve and place my foot or a hand at the right place at the right time to maintain momentum but not injure myself. It's the closest I've come to flying in a dream. Vivid dreams were part of the side effects of the medication, and my journal has been testament to this.

Work went by as usual in the coffee shop's juice bar. We've had less customers as of late, but with fall coming quickly, it's to be expected. Lindsay said that we'll cut back on orders and focus on hot drinks within the next week. At the park I shared my sandwich crusts with the birds. Saw a strange black one with a white crest on it's chest with a central black spot, and the rest of him black. Much like a magpie, but much larger. Was eating what looked like a smaller bird, and it watched me the entire time with it's eye. I don't know why it struck me as such, but it felt like it was just in making such a claim.

My math class is trying my patience. Even moreso with my dysnumeria, but dealing with a class of 300 and a single teacher as a speck at a podium, it's not exactly easy to be focused. Jeremy sat next to me again. I could swear he couldn't take his eyes off me. He's kind of cute, but in a endearing little brother sort of way.

Took my pill at 9pm. Already feeling light headed. I'm going to go lie down now.

Reverend Gnome
Nov 7, 2007

by Fistgrrl


Blaster of Justice posted:

Whois for https://www.slenderman.com

Status: Locked

Creation date: 09 Oct 2003 19:36:53
Expiration date: 09 Oct 2009 19:36:53

October 09 will be a great day. Bookmarked.

The above is quoted from page 16, posted on June 20. Just figured I'd bring it to the newest page as a sort of reminder, seeing as its a day away.

So... anybody plan on taking this and doing anything interesting?

*edit* Tips for MUAHHA THE FRENCH: Keep being awesome. I'm loving the tone of it so far, including the train-of-thought story interuptions.

Rikaz
Mar 29, 2007
I WILL EAT THIS MEAT

Saw the videos right before I had to go to bed, got to be the most unnerving thing I've seen in a really long time, had to wake up every five minutes to check that my door wasn't open, woke up early exhausted and drew this.

MUAHAA THE FRENCH
Jul 31, 2009


you see my friend, we've
both been boiled alive



Rikaz posted:

Saw the videos right before I had to go to bed, got to be the most unnerving thing I've seen in a really long time, had to wake up every five minutes to check that my door wasn't open, woke up early exhausted and drew this.



whoah! I think this is my favorite painting so far.

Lunaran
Feb 21, 2003



Backyard Blacksmith posted:



Rocketlex
Oct 21, 2008

The Manliest Knight
in Caketown


Backyard Blacksmith posted:



I read that more as

Grapplejack
Nov 27, 2007



I can only draw cute things, but he's still a-watching.


Rikaz posted:

Saw the videos right before I had to go to bed, got to be the most unnerving thing I've seen in a really long time, had to wake up every five minutes to check that my door wasn't open, woke up early exhausted and drew this.



This owns so hard

Grapplejack
Nov 27, 2007



fff quote =/= edit goddamn

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Whimskey
Jul 4, 2007



This thread is great to read in the middle of a sunny afternoon, but for some reason I just had to think about it at 6 AM this morning on my way to work, biking through a dark, cold, foggy, wooded park. I have lights on my bike, and the path through the park is lit, but it definitely wasn't hard to imagine coming around a bend and seeing Slenderman under one of the lamps, either standing there waiting for me, or sliding out of the light and into the cover of the trees...

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