Sunday, February 23rd
“Investigators had pulled the name of a possible suspect, Toby Rogers, a 17 year old boy who a few weeks ago had stabbed his father to death and tried to cover up his escape by setting a fire in the streets and the forest area around the neighborhood. Although they had believed the young boy had died in the fire, investigators suspect that Rogers may still be alive, due to the fact that his body was never found.”
My eyes scanned over the ending of the Creepypasta one last time.
“Ticci Toby. Crap, how did I not realize it then?!” I said, as I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head.
I was at home, back at my computer desk; a day had passed since the meeting of Ticci Toby and The Sender.
I sighed as I scanned the last few sentences of “Ticci Toby” for the tenth time on the computer monitor. I was alive and thankfully still in one piece. I should have been celebrating but yet, the only thing I could do was mentally kick myself for being so stupid the day before. I should have realized where I was the moment Connie had mentioned her son’s name. It should have immediately told me what was coming next, but I’d been too stupid to realize it.
“Ugh…” I groaned as I buried my hands into my face. I really need to pay more attention to these things. Especially to what’s coming today. Through the cracks of my hands, I glanced at the taskbar. The tab with the Creepypasta page and its empty article waited for me to transcribe Log Six.
I moved the cursor over the tab, ready to click it, but my finger just hovered above the button. I couldn’t press the button. Instead, I withdrew my hand and took in a long breath then leaned back in my seat. I wasn’t ready write down Log Six. Hell, I wasn’t ready to ever write anything again. I thought about leaving it as it was: blank. Empty. But The Sender’s words from Log Four echoed within my mind, “If that fails to motivate you, then we can just send the next visitor to see your parents the next night.”
“No,” I murmured. “I have to write this, not unless I want to see the ones I love suffer.”
I took another steady breath, then clicked the tab and began writing Log Six.
Nearly twenty minutes later, I typed in the last few words.
“There,” I said. “Are you happy Sender?”
I glared at the monitor waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t.
“Don’t play coy with me now,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Not when I’m so close to finishing this. I know you’re listening. You’ve been listening for the past six days of this hell you’ve put me through.”
As I suspected, a textbox immediately formed on my desktop. Words began to fill its emptiness.
“Indeed I have, and it has been such a wonderful experience,” it read.
I wanted to scream, to holler, to curse at those few words, but I remained silent. I knew how his game worked now. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my anger.
I blinked a few times at the monitor, waiting for The Sender to continue.
“Ahhhhh,” he wrote, after a minute or so later, “you have no idea how much it gladdens me to see how you have changed.”
I cocked my head to the side. Changed? What did he mean by that? The only change I could see was the one where I no longer had the pleasure of living out a normal life, but instead had to live out each day of it expecting a monster from a Creepypasta to show up and ruin it.
Almost as if he could read my thoughts, more words filled the box. “Yes, J.T.,” he wrote. “You have changed, whether you realize it or not.”
I had to bite my lip to keep myself from snorting at that. I mean, come on… If I’d changed, then it hadn’t been for the best.
“But now, it matters not,” he said, and for once, I actually agreed.
“What matters now is today. It is the seventh day, the seventh log, the seventh encounter.”
There was a brief pause in his typing before he finished. “Now only one question remains: Are you ready?”
For some reason, I felt like The Sender had chuckled while writing that last question. (Don’t ask me how, I just knew.)
I thought long and hard before I gave an answer.
“You want the truth?” I asked. “No, I’m not ready. In fact, I doubt I’ll ever be ready.”
“I am not surprised, really. None are ever ready. I just wanted to see how you would react to the question.”
‘I just wanted to how you would react to the question’ yeah, yeah, blah-blah-blah. Let’s just get on with this. I want this to be over.
“Well, then you have it,” I said, giving him my best I-freakin-hate-you smile. “So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go ahead and sign off now. You know, to go get ready for your next ‘friend’ when he or she or whatever the hell it is shows up?”
The textbox emptied and stayed empty for a few brief seconds before filling up again. “Really?” he wrote. “You wish to scurry off already? Not even ask a single question?”
Hahahahah! Uh, let me think about that for a moment, “No.”
The box emptied again. This time there was an even longer gap before he began writing again–no doubt in surprise by my uninquisitive attitude (that’s right, I can write fancy too, jackass.) I really just didn’t care for answers anymore.
“Very well, as you wish,” he said at last. The box vanished, leaving me alone.
“Huh, ‘as you wish’ ay? If you really cared about what I wished, I wouldn’t even be here.”
But that didn’t matter. It was time to get ready.
It was nearly four ’o’clock when the final visitor arrived. I was sitting on the swing set in my front yard at the time, my backpack with me. I’d packed everything I’d used over the previous encounters, plus one extra, my father’s handgun (that’s right, I was properly prepared this time). I was still wearing the same clothes I’d worn the day before: dark jeans, and my favorite navy blue hoodie.
At first, I didn’t even realize the encounter had started, because unlike all of my previous encounters, this one was subtle.
I was swinging back and forth in a mesmerizing pattern when I felt it: a strange icy chill rose into the air. The hairs on my arm stood on their ends and a shiver shook my entire core with a strange frost. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
I stopped swinging and looked around.
Everything appeared the same. It was still my same boring front yard, my same boring little Ford and my same boring little house. Nothing seemed out of place, but I knew differently. Something was watching me, something hidden from sight, something dark.
“I know you’re out there,” I said in a calm voice. “I’ve been through enough to know when I’m being watched. So why don’t you make it simple for the both of us and come on out?”
I waited for a response from the visitor, wherever he/it was, but none came.
“What’s the matter?” I called out, “You shy?” I let the question hang.
There was still no answer.
Hmm, not what I was expecting.
My eyes continued to scan for the visitor. “Well, alright then,” I said just after another minute of looking, “suit yourself.”
I resumed my swinging. That’s right, just continue to act like you don’t care and they’ll eventually come out, or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
Minutes continued to pass as I waited, getting colder with every passing second. But I didn’t let it faze me. I kept swinging. Thunder rumbled in the distance, reminding me of my previous encounter. Ah, storms. Yippee.
The atmosphere of my surroundings began to change around me. The sunny sky turned into gray, dull cloud, and sudden gusts of wind tore apart the peaceful quiet.
I kept my eyes open, half expecting to see the monster slowly approach me, ready to make the kill. But still, nothing happened. Strange.
“You know,” I mumbled as I zipped up my hoodie from the cold, “you’re really starting to disappoint me. I was expecting the final visitor to be the scariest, creepiest, deadliest one of the bunch and so far the only thing you’ve done is nearly kill me with boredom—”
A gust of wind suddenly washed over me, making my teeth chatter.
“—and cold,” I finished.
The gusts of wind began to increase in number, chilling the already freezing air. My every-so-often shiver turned into an every-dang-second shiver, and my teeth began to chatter so much I thought I’d break ’em.
Jeez! I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to conserve heat, don’t tell me this thing is going to try to freeze me to death!
More thunder rumbled, closer this time. Icy rain began to fall and sting my head with its cold. I cursed under my breath, then pulled on my hood.
That’s when I felt it.
A sudden buzz filled my ears, like the sound of white noise from a channel-less TV set. It started small then began to grow into a long painful drone. My head began to hurt, my vision blurred and my ears felt like they were ready to burst.
My hands instinctively clamped to my ears, trying to block out a noise that had no external origin.
The pain within my mind was unlike anything I’d ever felt. The closest I could compare it to would be having a mixture of molten lead and acid poured onto my brain. This acid filled my head, then slowly dripped into my neck, to my shoulders, my arms, until finally consuming the rest of my body.
I fell off the swing in so much agony as this unnatural pain continued to burn from my insides.
I could no longer see. Dots, fluorescent colors, shadows and much more began to swim through my vision. I couldn’t scream, the pain had locked my jaw in place.
What’s… happening…to me!? I screamed within my head as the pain somehow intensified.
My eyes began to droop; a strange sense of fatigue crept in, until finally I could bear the pain no more.
When my eyes opened, the first thing I noticed was how cold it was. The second, how frightened I felt.
An unnatural fear had gripped me, a fear that didn’t even begin to compare to that of the Rake or any of the other previous visitors had conjured up.
I sat up with my arms wrapped around my shoulders, still shivering. The air was damp with a brisk fog, covering everything that could be seen, out of sight.
Where am I? I found myself asking. What is this place?
My eyes darted from point to point trying to make out anything in this unnatural fog.
Nothing could be seen. After another minute of shivering, I had to remind myself to move. There was another visitor out there on the prowl, and I wasn’t planning to make its job easier by staying still. I turned and reached over to grab my bag but my hand met only the fog. Oh, no. I felt my jaw tighten as I realized I didn’t have it. It was still back at home, leaning against the swing set.
“Crap!” I whispered, not daring to speak any louder. Some internal voice of mine warned me to stay quiet. Something was dangerously amiss about this fog.
I took a few more shaky breaths before I rose to my feet.
I had no idea where this place was, or even the time of day. The sky was completely gray, covered with clouds as thick as the fog. The clouds suddenly lit up blue for a brief second before thunder rumbled and rain began to fall.
Great, I clenched my eyes and fists shut, shaking my head. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any creepier.
I opened my eyes and stared into the fog.
What now? I turn my head assessing the paths I could take.
They all looked the same. Damp, foggy, and cold.
I groaned. Why can’t it ever be nice, sunny, and warm?
Taking another deep breath, I picked a random path and set down it. As I walked, my mind sifted through the many Creepypasta stories I’d read in the past in an effort to try and figure out which one this could be. Sadly, there wasn’t any I could think of and the cold, plus that constant tugging of fear only made it harder to think straight.
My foot caught on something, throwing me off balance. I manage to look down in time to see it was a tree root before saying, “Oh cra—!” and falling face first into the dirt.
(Let me rephrase what I just said up there earlier: The cold and constant tugging of fear only made it harder to think straight and walk straight.)
I let out a silent curse as I got up and dusted myself off.
Get a grip man! I told myself. Stay focused, and look where you’re going.
A twig snapped. I froze then spun in the direction of the noise.
What was that?
I tried to peer through the fog, listening for whatever it was that’d caused the noise. All was quiet.
Huh, I relaxed. Probably just my imagin—
“Ow!” a girl’s voice penetrated the silence, along with the crackling of branches.
I stood rigid and blinked. “What the heck?” I whispered. That wasn’t something I’d expected to hear (then again, what the heck should I’ve expected?).
“Eek! Ugh! I hate the woods!” I heard the voice exclaim.
Yeah. Definitely not the visitor.
Curious, I approached the sound of the girl’s struggling and frequent curses (which was somewhat relieving, in a funny way).
When I came upon the ridge line of a forest, I stopped, trying to see if I could make anything out. I couldn’t. The fog was still pretty thick within it, but not as thick as where I stood. I assumed I could probably make out ten feet at time in there. But of course, a forest was never a good place to be in a horror story (and so far I’d been in two already).
I heard another frustrated curse come from within it.
I bit my lip. Hmm, looks like I got two options. Go into the creepy forest on the off chance that the voice I’m hearing really does belong to a living person or stay out here in the thick fog with no visibility.
“Son of—!” I heard the girl shout.
Heh, forest it is then. Monster or not, something that complains this much is something I’ve got to see.
I entered the forest, keeping an ear out for the girl’s colorful language or whenever branches snapped (this person had no sense of stealth, whatsoever).
After several long minutes, I came upon a clump of bushes that blocked my path. The girl’s voice sounded like it was just behind it.
Alright, I took a breath. Here goes nothing.
I pushed aside the branches and stepped into the brush, careful to avoid stepping on any twigs or loose branches. The voice grew louder as I got closer. Just when I thought I was about the clear it, I heard the sound of several branches swing.
“Oh, come on!” the girl’s frustrated voice rang out.
I pushed through a few more leaves to see the voice’s owner and one of the strangest sights ever: a girl wearing a dark t-shirt with a classic brown leather jacket, struggling to release her tangled up hair from a tree branch.
“Ahh!” she squeaked as a small piece of the branch attached to hair snapped, hitting her head.
It took all my effort to not laugh. This was something I never thought I’d see, and my gosh was I enjoying it. I watched her struggle for another few minutes, while debating on what to do.
Well, I thought, she looks harmless and doesn’t look like any Creepypasta that I know of… ah, what the hell?
I cleared my throat and then said, “You know, if you tried breaking off the branch, it’d be easier to get your hair untangled.”
“What the—!?” The girl shrieked, and spun around in surprise, forgetting that her hair was stuck. The branch snapped and swung like a tether ball around her head, nailing her in the face.
“Ow!!!” she cried as her hands flew to her face; the branch still dangling from her hair.
I winced. “Oh, jeez. Sorry!” I said, then strode over to help her. “You okay?”
The girl lowered her hands, to reveal an easy face covered with specks of dirt and embarrassment (Lord, did I wish I had my camera right about then. This would’ve gone viral).
“Yeah…. well…no actually,” she said.
I couldn’t help, but smile.
“Hang on, let me help you out.”
I grabbed the branch still attached to her hair, and started to break off the pieces.
“Um, thank you,” she whispered, the pain–apparent.
“No problem,” I said as I pulled off some of the small pieces still stuck in her hair. “I’m J.T. by the way.”
The girl nodded, but didn’t say anything.
After a couple of minutes, I removed the last of the twigs from her hair.
“Aaaaannnddd there we go,” I said, stepping back to admire my handiwork.
“Thank you,” she said for a second time with her eyes downcast, not even bothering to look up at me.
“Again, no problem,” I said, smiling. Now that was I closer, I took the time to study her.
She looked about maybe, nineteen or twenty–my age. Her hair was dark brown, just falling past her shoulders, and due to the branch, peppered with specks of dirt. Her face probably would have looked nice, if not for the now long red line on her left cheek thanks to that branch that had snapped (my bad). Her jeans were muddy, hinting to the cause of her earlier complaints. Her brown eyes were still cast down in annoyance and embarrassment.
Yep, she’s definitely not the visitor, I decided.
I broke the silence. “So, um… Could you tell me where I am?”
Her head rose with a startled look. “Wait, you mean you’re lost too?”
“Uh,” Well yeah. I guess I am lost, technically speaking. “Yeah.”
Her jaw lowered an inch before snapping shut. “GREAT!!” she shouted scaring the bejesus out of me.
“Wuh?” I stepped backed, surprised.
The girl turned and paced for a bit and began to grumble, ignoring my bafflement.
“Um, are you okay?” I asked her a few seconds later.
She stopped pacing and turned to me with an angry, (annoyed) look.
“Do I look okay?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow and glaring dead on into my own eyes. The question was rhetorical.
I tried to answer it anyway. “Err... No,” I began, “but—”
“Of course not!” she yelled. “Here I am in the middle of this god-forsaken woods trapped, for who knows how long, getting torn by briars, branches and all sorts of things and just when I think I may have found my way out, some weirdo suddenly appears out of nowhere, scaring the living daylights out of me, and causing me to get a red welt the size of a tennis ball on my face!”
I could only stare at her. What the hell had just happened to the nice, embarrassed, (quiet) girl I helped merely fifteen seconds ago?
I shook my head trying to clear the confusion. “I…” but that was as far as I got. She wasn’t done (with her insufferable) ranting.
“Oh, and it gets better!” she shouted, jabbing a finger into my chest. “That same weirdo, who magically appeared out of thin air, doesn’t even know where he is either!”
Okay, now she was starting to piss me off.
“Hey!” I began. “Will you pleas—”
“How in God’s name am I going to—”
“get out of here without—”
“knowing where the hell—”
“HEY!!!” I screamed, making the girl jump. I glared at her. I had no time for this and there was absolutely no room for this sort of crap.
“Will you please, listen to me for a second? Let’s try this again,” I resumed in a normal, quieter voice. “Hi, I’m J.T.” I pointed to myself. “Who are you?”
The girl chewed her lips for few a seconds, probably contemplating whether or not to answer me.
“Hey, if you don’t tell me your name,” I went on. “I’ll just make one up for you. How’s, ‘Loud-mouth, annoying prep’ sound?”
Her eyes went wide for a second then narrowed into a dark, murderous look. She flared her nostrils as she spoke, “Why you—”
“Uh-uh,” I raised a finger to cut her off, “That’s what I’m going to call you, if you don’t shut up.” I lowered my hand. “I didn’t come in the woods to annoy a loud-mouth prep that I heard from almost a mile way outside of it. I came because it sounded like someone was having a hard time and needed help. So why don’t you go ahead tell me your name?”
Her fists clenched, and the anger in her eyes could’ve melted a glacier.
I in return gave an unaffected stare back. Her glaring would’ve scared most college guys my age, but after what I’d seen, the hell I’d already gone through, this was nothing.
Once she saw that I didn’t give a crap, she relented.
“My name’s Kayla,” she muttered in a low icy voice.
“Good,” I said, giving her a big smile. “Nice to meet you Kayla. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s start with what both of us know about this place: Like me, you’re lost. Like me, you’re unhappy about it. And like me, you want to get out. Now, unlike me, you probably came here by choice, I didn’t. Also, unlike me, you probably have a guess as to where we are, I don’t. And unlike me, the only thing you have to worry about is getting out of the woods.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have been that sarcastic with her, but she’d already had me P.O.-ed and I didn’t need to put up with this. I had much bigger problems to worry about. Regardless, she didn’t take what I said very well.
Kayla’s face turned red, and she stepped forward jabbing a finger at me. “Why you, smart mouth, sonova—” she began.
I held up a hand. “Uh-uh,” I said shaking my head. “Don’t. Just, don’t.” You know what? Screw this. “Well, seeing how you’re going to continue acting like an ungrateful child, I’m just gonna go do what I was doing before I heard your sorry complaints: Get the hell out of here.” I turned and started walking away. “Oh,” I said to her, not once looking back. “I’m sorry for startling you earlier by the way, but just know that your hair getting caught in a tree is the last thing I’m worrying about. I’ve got bigger problems that you couldn’t even begin to understand and have had much worse than what you’re whining about.”
“Oh yeah, like what? Huh!?” she called out, rising to the challenge. “Try me!”
Oooohhhhhh, with pleasure! “You didn’t have to walk out of your bedroom one night, to witness your parents and your siblings, get slaughtered by a smiling, homicidal, maniac,” I said, still walking. “Nor did you have to deal with a freak, wielding hatchets chase you through the woods in the middle of the night!” I lowered my voice, “And most of all, you didn’t have to wake up each morning with the realization that you’d have to face another horror that day, all because you simply wanted to write a story.” I closed my eyes as I said that last sentence. It was painful, but true. All of this, all of these logs, the death, the horror, was all caused by me. I was responsible.
“Wait,” Kayla called out, her voice much calmer.
I halted, letting out a sigh before turning to answer. “Yes?” I said, expecting to see a disbelieving person. I was wrong.
The scowl was gone; it’d been replaced by an intense stare. “W-what did you say?” she stammered.
Do I have to repeat myself? Jeez. “I said, I had to deal with a freak wielding hatchets—”
“No, after that.” There was something within her voice that edged on fear.
That confused me. I repeated what I said to her, slowly, “That you didn’t have to wake up every morning knowing you’d have to face a new horror every day, all because you wanted to write a story.”
The blood drained from her face. She took a few steps back, stumbling into a tree.
I tilted my head to the side. “You okay?” I asked.
She began mumbling something to herself before looking up and asking, “So, you’re real?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re real,” she said again. “You’re not part of this story.”
Whoa, whoa, what? I approached her. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “What do you mean I’m real?”
I could see fear in her eyes as she spoke. “Y-you’ve talked to him? Haven’t you? The freak causing this?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. A series of thoughts ran through my mind: Real, story, freak. Oh crap. Could it be…?
“The Sender?” I asked, dreading the answer.
She leaned back against the tree, then slid down it into a sitting position. She nodded her head. “Yeah,” she whispered.
I felt my jaw go slack. She knew about The Sender. That could only mean one thing…
“You’re a writer?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,” she whispered, with a slow nod.
My mouth opened and closed a few times, I was having trouble believing this. Another writer? Another person going through what I was?
“Oh, wow!” I let out a hysterical laugh. “Jeez! I didn’t think there was anyone else dealing with this, asides from me!”
A sad smile crept to her lips. “Yeah.” She let out a sad laugh. “Hey, uh...what-what day are you on?”
Four? That was weird, well actual this whole entire meeting was weird, but you get what I mean.
“Four, huh?” I said. “You have any idea who it is?”
She shook her head.
Jeez, that’s comforting.
I thought about asking for more, but that feeling of being watched began to return.
“Well then,” I said, taking a quick glance around to make sure nothing lurked nearby, “Let’s get out of here.”
She looked up at me, doubtful. “And go where exactly?” she asked. “I’ve been here for…for,” her shoulders went slack, and her eyes glazed over as if trying to remember before shifting into bafflement. “Huh, I don’t really know. Weird.”
I almost snorted. How could she not know? I was about to ask but then decided against it. I needed to get my priorities straight. I—no, excuse me—we still had visitor number seven (four, in her case) to worry about, and he/it was somewhere nearby, that much I was sure of.
“Well regardless,” I said, “we need to get moving. I don’t like the idea of sitting here and waiting for whatever the hell shows up to get us.”
I looked for the easiest path out of there, only to remember how useless that was. It was the same in all directions (foggy, cold, and wet!).
“Come on.” I hefted her up. “Let’s go.”
For the next few hours, or at least I think was hours (there was no clear way to tell), we searched for a way out of the forest. However, no matter how far we walked, it never seemed to end. It was always the same–trees, brush, fog, repeat.
It wasn’t until a good while later, after Kayla (still carrying her “Charitable” opinion about the woods) asked for a rest.
“I don’t think resting here is a good idea,” I whispered. The feeling of being watched had gotten stronger and to make things worse, it was colder than ever.
Kayla plopped down by the closest tree.
“Hey,” she said in a regular voice, “I was trying to find my way out of here long before you showed up. I need a break.” She looked up at me with an annoyed glare.
I sighed. Ugh! I wanted to groan. Why couldn’t The Sender have just dropped me off in the visitor’s lap? I found myself asking. Why stick me with a girl who has nnnnooooo sense of stealth (and who complains about everything)?
For a moment I was tempted to shout aloud and say. ‘Hey freak! We’re over here. Come on and get us so we can get this over with.’ I chose not to, instead I decided to lean against a tree and wait. If she’s going to rest, I thought, I might as well do the same.
I closed my eyes, and tried to ease my troubled mind by remembering some of the good times before all of this started.
“How many days did he give you?” Kayla’s voice pitched in, interrupting my thoughts.
With my eyes still closed, I answered, “He gave me a week. Today’s my last day.”
I snorted. “Heh! ‘Lucky?’ I wouldn’t consider any of this lucky. If I was, I would have written on my first day, ’Log 1, February 17th: I killed The Sender. The End.’ But no, instead I get killed!”
“You got killed?” I heard her say surprised. “Wow, that…that must’ve sucked.”
“Heh, like you haven’t?”
My eyes snapped open in surprise, then flew to her. “Wait, really?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.
But it was a big deal. “What?” I nearly choked over my own question. “But how…could…did you…? Ugh!” I clenched my eyes shut, shaking my head. Just what I needed to hear! I thought. The annoying loudmouth-prep has never been killed through the four days of this. I feel fan-friken-tastic.
“Oh, and it’s April, not February,” Kayla added out of the blue.
What? I opened my eyes and looked over to her. “Huh? It’s not April,” I said.
She shook her head. “No, it’s April.”
“No it’s not.” I shook my head, with a small laugh. “What do you think today’s date is?”
“April 25th,” she answered, eyeing me like I was a toddler asking a dumb question.
Allow me to add more to the girl’s description: Annoying, loudmouth, ungrateful and now stupid. How could she possibly not know what the date was? The Creepypasta articles had it printed above each log. I mean you would have to be stupid to miss—wait a minute...
“What’s the year?” I asked.
Kayla still giving me a ‘you’re-so-stupid’ look answered, “2009.”
I stood up.
“Kayla,” I said in a slow, worried voice. “Today’s February 23rd, 2014.”
Kayla began to laugh but stopped short when she noticed my blank stare.
She began to shake her head. “No it’s not,” she said, her voice sounding nervous. “Stop playing around.”
I didn’t stop staring.
“You are kidding? Right?”
I wish I was. I shook my head. “No, Kayla,” I said. “I’m not.”
Kayla’s face became an expressionless mask as she processed those words. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before saying in a shaky voice, “But how?”
I remained silent.
She rose to her feet, in panic. “How can that be? It can’t be 2014!”
I didn’t have an answer; I was just as clueless as she was. How could she be in a log set five years ago? I mean every time one of my logs had started or ended, it was always back on the same date (or next morning) it occurred. So why hadn’t it been the same for her?
There had to be more to this.
Kayla began to hyperventilate; the news she’d learned was too much.
“Hey,” I said trying to bring her back to reality and calm her down. “What do you remember before this log started?”
She gulped several more, heavy breaths. “I…I…” She paused. It looked like she was struggling to find the right answer. “I don’t-I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
I tried my best to not look skeptical as I shook my head. How could she not remember getting there?
“Kayla—” I began then stopped. The same chill I felt just before blacking out at the start of this madness came over me.
“Yes?” Kayla said, waiting for me to say something. I ignored her. I swept my gaze around and saw our surroundings begin to change: The fog churned becoming thicker, the wind strengthened and nipped at me with its icy touch, and the sky…was it just me or had it gotten darker?
I spun back to Kayla. “We need to move now!”
“What? Why? What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes widened at my sudden shift of attitude.
The visitor’s here! That’s what’s wrong!
I went to grab her. “No time! Let’s get—”
My hand never reached her.
The fog instantly—impossibly—thickened, shrouding everything around me, including Kayla.
“What the—!?” I jumped back, shocked. How—?
Kayla’s loud scream pierced the air.
“KAYLA!” I shouted. I raced forward to help her, only to encounter nothing.
“Huh!?” I grounded to a halt. Where’d she go? I swept my gaze from left to right, searching for her. She’d been here a moment ago.
“KAYLA!!” I shouted her name, hoping to hear her call back.
“KAYLA!!!” I shouted again.
Rain began to pour.
“CRAP!” I cried out, before glaring at the sky. “What was the point of that, Sender!?” I shouted, not at all caring if the visitor had heard me. “Huh? What was the fricking point!!?”
Why make me meet someone going through the same craziness that I had, then make them disappear? There was no logic to that!
I began to grind my teeth. “You know what Sender?” I began. “You’re a—” I was cut short.
The wind suddenly blew in, thinning the fog for a moment, giving me full view of someone standing just ten feet away. At first, I thought that it was a statue or a mannequin because of how still it stood, but that thought vanished within seconds.
The figure was wearing a dark business-like suit with a black tie. His skin was pale, and he couldn’t’ve been more than seven feet tall. Fear, followed by that strange deafening buzz I heard at the beginning filled my mind as I saw the figure’s face–or to be more precise, his absence of a face.
“Oh, crap.” I knew who this was–hell–anyone who’s ever read Creepypasta knew who this was.
“Slen-slend…slender…” my mouth stumbled over the word. “Slenderman?”
The buzz intensified.
“Oh…” in my head I threw every curse, insult, and damning thing I knew The Sender’s way. Out of all people and creatures in the world of Creepypasta I could’ve encountered next, why this one?
The fog shifted back into place, erasing the view of my final visitor.
“What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” I kept whispering to myself.
I didn’t want to run, in fear that as soon as I did, I might literally run into him. But I sure as heck didn’t want to stay in one place either.
So what could I do?
The buzzing began to grow louder within my head. I instinctively placed a hand on its side.
I can’t stay here, I can’t run. Crap!
That was my only option (besides giving up).
I chose the nearest path and set down it with a fast pace. I knew that walking away from a monster, in efforts to escape it, wasn’t exactly logical, but then again neither was a tall, faceless freak, that could teleport from place to place, and grow appendages logical.
I kept my eyes forward at all times, never once checking to look behind me. I knew of too many stories about this guy to know, looking at him wasn’t a good idea (nor was running).
“Just keep walking. Just. Keep. Walking.” That’s all I could say. That’s all I could do.
The buzzing, the fog, the rain, the chilling air, only grew worse.
At least… now I know… what’s causing… all of this. My thoughts we’re beginning to become disjointed, and disjointed, and disjointed, and disjointed. Until there was nothing left but the fear, the buzzing, and two words:
Something cold, foreboding, touched my shoulder.
I already knew what it was.
All thoughts of Kayla, The Sender, my family, everything was gone now. Only the primeval instinct to flee and escape remained.
So I ran as fast as I could.
Through the rain, the fog, the cold, the fear.
I couldn’t see anything in front of me, besides the void color of the fog. I could only hope I didn’t run into anything. But if there was one thing I should have known by then, it was that hope had abandoned me long ago.
I saw him, but it was too late.
I crashed right into his chilling embrace before I could stop. I could only see the unending darkness of his clothing, feel the icy, leathery touch of his grasp, and sense the one emotion he seemed to wreak in all of us: The fear.
I struggled with all my strength, and willpower to escape his grasp, but his hands, his appendages (or tentacles. Or whatever the heck you wanna call them) drained all of it out of me.
Till I finally looked up to see what every victim always remembered: that blank, pale, face.
The buzz drowned everything within, blinding me with a brilliant white light that burned into my retinas.
I fell screaming as my face made contact with the ground.
“Ow,” I groaned. That was painful.
Dazed, I forced my aching body to sit up. When I did, I froze.
I looked over myself to be sure. I was all there.
“I’m alive? I’m alive. I’M ALIVE!!!” I jumped up with glee. “YES!!!”
I laughed. I just finished Log Seven? Man, YES!!!
“Thank you, God!” I shouted. “Now all I have to do is get on my computer and—wait.” My jaw snapped shut.
I looked around for the first time.
Oaks, pines, and other trees spanned all around me as far as the eyes could see.
I was in the woods.
“CCCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, towards the sky.
Why the heck was I back in the woods? Why wasn’t I at home? Log Seven was over!!! What the heck, man!!!??
I told myself to calm down and get my bearings.
Okay. Okay. So maybe it’s not over. But I’m still here, so that’s good right? Just breathe. Just breathe.
I leveled out my breathing.
Now, look around, and solve this.
I studied my surroundings. I was still in the woods, but it was different now. It was no longer foggy, the sky was clear minus a few small clouds here and there, and the sun was just beginning to sink in the horizon.
Well, it wasn’t rainy or stormy so that was a plus, at least. But that still didn’t make any sense. The Slenderman had just caught me, right? So assuming Log Seven wasn’t over, why was I still there?
I took another long look around to make sure I didn’t miss anything. My gaze finally stopped and rested on a small path just a few feet from where I stood.
“Huh,” I grunted. That was convenient. I looked down the path in both directions, trying to see where each one led. On the south end of it (I knew which direction it was, thanks to the sunset) there appeared to be something large and white, but as to what it was, I couldn’t tell, while the other end of the path seemed to travel deeper into the heart of the woods (assuming I wasn’t already in the heart of it).
So north or south?
I didn’t want to stay in the woods any longer than I had to, so I set off down the south path with the hope that the white thing in the distance was either a sign or something that hinted of civilization (I would’ve been happy to see a trashcan at this point).
As I traveled, I replayed the scene of Kayla just before she disappeared.
She’d thought it was 2009. That was five years ago, why would she think that? Did she start this log back in 2009, and if so, why would I be here then?
But as with the other thousands of questions I had about all of this, I didn’t have an answer.
After another fifteen minutes of walking (and no surprises, thankfully) I discovered what laid at the end of the path.
“A house?” I said in surprise. The house was modern, two storied, well kept, and looked nice. The white I’d seen from the path earlier had been its white vinyl covering.
“Why is there a house in the middle of the woods?” I couldn’t help but ask aloud.
I didn’t expect to get an answer, so I shrugged it off and added it to my list ‘Of things that don’t make sense’. Besides, it didn’t matter why it was there, what matter was that it was there. I walked around to the front of it to see a parked white truck and a dirt road. I blinked. Who the hell lived alone this deep in the woods? A hillbilly?
My eyes went back to the truck.
I walked over, grabbed the handle and pulled.
Dang it. I frowned then looked back at the house.
If anything, the keys to the truck had to be in there, I was sure of it.
Having no better ideas, I transcended the steps of the front porch (20 dollars says this is Ticci Toby’s summer home).
I extended my hand, but hesitated as I debated on whether it was better to knock.
Ah, what the heck? I knocked. If someone bad lives here, so be it. At least, the occupant will know I died with manners.
I waited for an answer half-hoping someone like Connie from the last log would open the door. But it remained closed.
I knocked a few more times to make sure.
No one answered.
Alrighty then. I tested the door handle, it was unlocked. Here goes nothing.
I stepped inside.
The front door connected to the house’s living room. It was nice, spacey, and had the usual assortments, like any average living room: a TV, a couch, a few pictures hanging on the walls, that sort of thing. Near the left of the entrance was a stairwell that went to the second floor.
I made a mental note to go up there if I didn’t find the keys down there first.
I began scouring the first floor for the car keys: the kitchen, an unused bedroom, and a few other rooms. No keys. I ended up returning to the living room to give it another good onceover before I would decide whether or not to check the upstairs. I didn’t want to stay there any longer than I had too. The house seemed empty so far but I sure as heck doubted it’d stay like that for long (knowing my luck, the guy from Chainsaw Massacre lived there and would be home any minute).
I was sweeping through a few bookshelves near the TV when I caught sight of a family photo. I froze when I recognized who was in it.
“No way,” I gasped, before snatching the photo to have a better look. In it was a girl and, I assumed, her mother.
I knew the girl.
Shoulder length dark brown hair, brown eyes, easy complexion. Crap, Kayla?
I shook my head, not believing what I was seeing. This is Kayla. Which means this is…
I looked around the room as realization sank in. This is her house.
Not knowing what to do with this new information, I placed the photo back and headed to the stairs. I could piece things together later, I needed to get out of there first.
I ended up making my way to the foot of the stairs, only to stop and stare at it.
I could just see the beginnings of a hallway up top. The lights were off, and (to be honest) it looked creepy. I didn’t want to go up, but I didn’t really have much of a choice.
So with a nervous sigh, I put one step forward then the other, and made my way up.
Each step I took creaked and the lighting from the downstairs windows diminished.
When I reached the final step, I was in absolute darkness. I couldn’t see anything besides the light from the way I came and a small sliver shining through the cracks of a door at the end of the hallway.
That’s the one, I thought, the moment my eyes laid upon it.
I approached the door, ignoring all other doors I passed.
Call it having watched too many horror movies, read too many horror books, but I knew that was the one the keys were in. That was Kayla’s room.
I hesitated when I placed my hand on the doorknob. I didn’t know what I’d find in there. For all I knew, Slenderman or even The Sender himself could be waiting. But what choice did I have?
With a deep breath, I turned the knob and pushed.
No one was inside, thank God, but it still left me surprised.
The room was small. A bed rested on the wall to my right, a wooden shelf at its rear beneath a window, and to my left was a computer desk. The floor was littered with dirty clothes and a few crumbled up papers.
I snickered. Heh, and here I thought girls weren’t messy.
I shut the door behind me and, on a hunch, decided to search the computer desk first. I moved several papers, books, and a wide assortment of crap out of the way but found everything except the keys.
“Hmm,” I murmured putting down a booklet I just looked underneath. “Where could she have put it? Wait,” my eyes caught sight of the computer screen. A textbox was opened with a message.
“I hope you enjoy this next one,” it read. “He is relatively new to this site, but I have a good feeling about him. I think he will serve as an excellent visitor for you.”
The Sender. I’d recognize his polite, yet sadistic manner of speaking anywhere now. I sat down at the desk.
“Uh, yeah he is scary,” I said, “but he isn’t new, Sender. Where’ve you been?”
I waited for the box to empty, expecting it to fill up with insults or the usual garbage The Sender spat. But to my surprise, nothing happened. The words remained.
“Hello? You there? Sender?”
The text did not change. “Hmm,” I clicked out of the box and noticed several different programs running on the taskbar. The first being the internet browser.
Curious, I opened it up. Several pages of Creepypasta were open: The Rake, BEN Drowned, and a few other stories. So Kayla was reading the classics of the site, interesting. I wondered what the last one she’d read was. I clicked the history tab of the browser and at the top lay none other than the link to the Creepypasta page for Slenderman.
Ahh, figures. This was the last thing she read, this was Kayla’s last visitor.
I clicked the next program that was open–Microsoft Word 2007.
Oh goody, I get to read one of her logs. I opened her latest one.
“Log Three, April 24th,” I read aloud.
Wait, April 24th? That can’t be right. I looked at the screen’s corner to check the date. It was correct, but her Logs weren’t. Weird.
I looked through her files and checked last date it was opened: April 24th, 2009.
“Huh?” Five years ago? That’s when this was last used? That doesn’t make any sense.
I clicked the other files and checked their dates. They all ranged from the year 2009 and back. This couldn’t be right.
Or could it?
I reopened the textbox. Slowly, the dots began to connect.
The Sender had written this for Kayla.
“I hope you enjoy this next one.”
Her next log was Slenderman.
“He is relatively new to this site.”
The site was Creepypasta. Slenderman had been originally written in 2009.
I stood up, as realization dawned on me.
I recalled something The Sender had once said to me about the other people he done this to in the past: “The furthest I have seen one go was to her Fourth Log.” Kayla was on her fourth log.
“Could not handle what she had already read.”
The last story she read was Slenderman.
“She was to say in the least an utter disappointment.”
Kayla couldn’t seem to remember how long she’d been in the woods when I’d first met her. She couldn’t recall how she’d gotten there either.
“Kayla was the last one he tried this on,” I whispered. “She didn’t make it.” As I said those words, I knew they were true. I knew why I’d been taken there, I knew why Slenderman had been my last log.
There wasn’t a single story where someone was able to escape from him, ever. The Sender brought me there to show that. He wanted to see if I could make it, or at least make it to the end with my sanity still intact. Furthermore, he wanted me to see what had happened to Kayla.
The loud slamming of a door brought me back to the present. My head snapped towards the door leading to the hallway. It’d come from downstairs.
My breathing slowed when the sound of someone climbing the steps reached my ears. I stepped towards the door and flicked the light switch off, before peering through the door’s cracks. The hallway was dark, the sun that had illuminated the downstairs had set, leaving nothing but darkness.
I can’t see anything. Damn it! The light I’d turned off blazed back to life.
“What the—?” I looked up to see it start flickering on and off. On and back off. On again. Off. On.
“What’s going on with this—” I started just as the bulb exploded, peppering me with glass shards.
“Ack!” I raised my arms to cover my face. Uncool!
The computer beside me winked off before turning back on again, showing a large photo–the same photo I’d just seen downstairs of Kayla and her mother. This time there was something different about it. A large red X covered Kayla’s face.
What is this? What’s going on?
A small, girlish, giggle came from the end of the hall.
My body stiffened at the sound. What was that?
I turned and opened the door, just wide enough to see the entire hall.
One by one, lights blazed to life behind each door lining the hallway, casting small patches of light; giving the hall an eerie glow.
At the hallway’s end, I stiffened at the sight.
Jeans, now turned black from the mud and blood. A torn, bloody classic brown leather jacket. Bloodied, shoulder length, dark brown hair. Foggy, crazed, brown eyes. A twisted, yet strangely, happy smile.
“K-Kayla?” I gasped.
“Ohhh, Jaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy Ttttttttttttteeeeeeeeeee?” She giggled.
Oh, no. “I…I…W-What happened to you?” I stuttered.
Kayla took a few, playful steps forward, then gestured at herself. “Why something, wwwwoooonnnnddddeeerrrfffuuull,” she said, grinning.
She walked forward, dragging a knife that I hadn’t noticed in her hand at first along the wall. Leaving a long screeching, gash in its wake. The sound made me wince, but made her smile.
Lord, what happened to her?
“K-Kayla,” I tried to put on a brave voice, yet I could only muster a quivering whimper, “I-I don’t know what he—It did to you, and I can see it wasn’t good. So please, just-just put the knife down and let’s talk about this.”
She stopped for a moment, giving me an incredulous look. “Oh, but we are talking J.” She giggled. “And if you wait there, we’ll be doing more than that, or should I say, you’ll be doing more than that?”
That didn’t sound good.
I took a few involuntary steps back, mumbling, “I-uh…I-uh…”
At five feet away, she began grinning. “Too stunned for words?” she asked, sounding nonchalant. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that up right quick!” She opened her arms up, with the knife still in hand. “Why don’t you give me a warm welcoming hug?”
Hell no! I jumped back, slamming the door before locking and placing my back against it.
Ohhhh man, this is bad. This is bad! THIS. IS. BAAAD!
“Ooooohhhhhhhhh Jaaaaaaayyyyy,” her upset, but mocking voice, pierced the door. “That’s not how you treat a friend.”
If only she could’ve seen my face at that comment. “Uh, for the record,” I yelled back, “we were never really friends to begin with. We were just two people, lost in the woods, trying to find our way out.”
My eyes were frantic, crisscrossing the room, searching for the car keys as I spoke. Just where were they!?
“But Jaaaaaaaayyyyy,” another small, girlish giggle (man, I did hate those) came through the door. “We don’t have to be strangers. Heheh, why don’t you open up for me? Hmm?”
What am I? Crazy?
“Nooooo, thank you!” I called back.
“Aww, oh well. Have it your way then.”
I froze. What was that supposed to mean?
The door shook on its hinges, nearly causing me to topple forward.
“Whoa!” Oh, no. Not again! She’s trying to break the door down!
“1…2…3...” Slam! “4…5…6…” Slam! Kayla sang.
“Damn it, Kayla! Stop!” I cried.
The knife’s blade shot through the wood, missing my head by less than inch.
My jaw dropped and my eyes became glued to it as I watched Kayla pull it free from the wood. “Don’t think I missed J.,” I heard her giggle then say in a low voice, “I knew where your head was.”
Leaning against the door: No longer an option.
I raced forward, took hold of the computer desk and dragged it in front of the door. The computer and several other knickknacks spilt to the floor as it was yanked free from the wall.
Good! Now onto the keys. They had to be there somewhere.
I started with the bed, throwing off its covers, looking beneath it, and throwing off its mattress. I searched every nook and cranny of it before I moved onto the desk. I yanked out every drawer, emptying its contents onto the floor.
My gaze fell onto the clothes strewn across the floor.
Could it be in one of them?
I grabbed the nearest pair jeans, emptying its pockets for the keys.
When nothing came out, I went on to the next, then next, then the next, till only one pair remained.
“Please, don’t fail me now,” I begged as I grabbed them.
After offering up a quick prayer, I placed my hand into its first pocket: Empty.
The bedroom door shook a few more times, distracting me.
“J.T.! Open up!” Kayla demanded.
Relax, she can’t get in. You’re fine. Just check the other one, man.
I reached into the second aaaaannnnndddddd: Nothing.
I clenched my teeth. “What!?” I screamed. “Oh, come on!!! Where’s the keys!?”
“Ohhhhhh Jaaaayyyyy,” a metallic, jangling sound came from behind the door with Kayla’s playful voice. “Are you looking for something?”
The noise resumed, taunting me.
Chingaling, chingaling, chingaling.
There was only one thing that could be making that noise.
“The keys?” I groaned.
“Heheeheheheh,” was the all answer I got.
Chingaling! The keys jangled.
Damn it. Well, there goes my plan of escape.
The door shook inward, three more times. It wouldn’t be long before she made some leeway.
I had no idea what to do next.
I looked around for anything that could be of some help to me.
There was nothing.
The door started to bend.
There has to be another way out.
I looked back at the window.
Could I get out of there?
I rushed forward, throwing the latch up to look out.
I was maybe ten feet above the ground, not a lethal height.
Could I do it?
The door cracked.
I put one leg through, then pulled the other, so that I was sitting on the edge.
Alright, I took a deep breath. Here we go. I began to rock back and forth in preparation to drop.
One. Two. I glanced down, Thre—whoa, what!?
I stopped rocking.
There, watching me below in silence stood Slenderman.
He was gazing up, waiting for me to jump.
The door made another large crackling sound, followed by Kayla’s sing-song, mocking voice. “Oh, J.?” she said. “Just to let you know, if you’re planning to get all desperate on me and jump out the window, think again.” (Is it just me, or does it feel like they time these free bits of information on purpose to mock me?)
I pulled myself back into the bedroom.
I had only one choice left: I would have to face Kayla.
Just one little problem: I had no weapon!
“Kayla!?” I called out.
The banging on the door stilled for a moment.
“Yeeeaah?” I heard her say in that same nonchalant voice.
Let’s hope this works.
“Why don’t you give me a running start? For old time’s sake?” I asked.
I heard a snort followed by a small laugh.
“Uh-huh? And why would I do that? Hmm?” she asked.
I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I think I liked it better when she was an annoying loudmouth.
“Uh, because it would be more fun?” (Lame argument? Yeah, I know. So did Kayla).
The door began to shake once more.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” I said, with a grimace.
It looked as though I’d still have to fight her, but, again: No weapon.
When the door finally smashed inwards, Kayla couldn’t help but laugh.
I was easy prey and we both knew it.
But not today.
I rushed forward throwing the blanket I’d taken from the bed over her.
“What in the—?” she started to say before I hit her full-force with my shoulder.
“SURPRISE!!!” I yelled.
We both fell into the hallway, struggling.
I wasted no time jumping on top of her and slamming my fists into her face, hoping to knock both the knife away, and her unconscious. That should’ve been easy considering I was a guy, she was a girl, and I could hit pretty fricken hard when my life’s on the line.
But things didn’t go as planned. In the middle of a punch, the knife slashed through the blanket, grazing my chest.
“Whoa!” I yelped. That was close!
I didn’t let it stop me, though. I brought my fist down, but her hand shot through that small opening she’d made with the knife and caught my fist in midair.
I could only stare and gape as I felt an unnatural strength grip my hand.
I blinked, gasping. “How did y—?”
Before I could finish, something rammed into my chest, knocking the air out of me, and sending me flying several feet back (or at least it felt like several). My back slammed into the edge of her bedroom door.
Somehow, I groaned and managed to sit up despite the pain in my neck and back–the question of ‘how the hell she had done that’, was far more overwhelming. Had she kicked me off or something?
Before I got an answer, Kayla yanked off the blanket and got back to her feet. Her horrid appearance still the same and unfazed. She shook her head with an annoyed sigh as she straightened up her jacket then gazed at me with a smile.
“J.,” she began, “did you really think that was gonna work? Hmm?”
I was too stunned to answer.
“Tackle the poor, helpless girl with the knife,” she went on, “thinking since you’re such a ‘strong boy’, you’ll overpower her?”
She raised the knife, admiring its red glistening gleam in the light. “What makes you think I’m the same helpless girl you met in the woods?” she asked.
With that statement, it all clicked, and I saw how foolish I was.
I should have realized it sooner: Kayla was no longer the weak, sweet, innocent girl I’d found wandering in the woods. She’d changed.
This was no longer a human being I was dealing with.
This was a monster.
It took me a few tries, but I managed to climb to my feet. “Kayla please!” I begged. “Don’t do this.”
Man, I might as well have been reasoning with a block of wood.
She lunged forward with the knife, aiming for my throat. At the last second, I threw myself to the right, barely avoiding the blade and putting the stairs behind me. I wasted no time backing away, positioning myself to dodge Kayla’s next attack.
Kayla just raised an eyebrow at my new stance and gave me a skeptic look. “You’re gonna try to Matrix-style your way to the exit?” she asked.
“If I have to,” I answered, keeping an eye on the knife still backing up.
She rolled her eyes, sighing. “J.T.,” she said, then, like an expert, flipped the knife in her hand and flung it.
Too slow and too surprised to move, the knife embedded itself into my shoulder.
“Aaaaaahhhhhh!” I screamed, my hands flying to the knife’s handle.
Kayla remain standing, oblivious to my suffering, checking her nails as if nothing important was happening. “Uh-huh,” she murmured then looked back up, and with a small smile said, “You still gonna try to Matrix-style your way away from me?”
Anger temporally overriding my pain, I answered, “Screw you Kayla!”
Her smile melted into a frown.
“J.T.,” she said with a pout, “that’s not how you treat—”
Without warning, she moved forward faster than I could react and slammed her foot into my chest. I found myself sailing through the air to the edge of the steps before landing and sliding down them (and let me tell you, it was painful).
“—your friends,” I heard her call down from the top, before casually making her way down them.
I landed at the bottom of stairwell on my back. Groaning and in more pain than ever, I sat up, wincing as my arm twitched with knife embedded in it. I looked up the stairwell to see Kayla already a quarter of the way down.
My eyes went to the knife. At the very least, she’d given me a weapon, but if I wanted to use it and my arm again, I needed to move fast.
This knife had to come out. Now.
With my free hand, I grabbed the handle of the blade, and, three quick breaths, began to pull. The pain intensified tenfold, causing tears to stream down from my eyes, but I didn’t dare stop. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I pulled. Dots began to swim in my vision as the knife slowly wiggled its way out. Blood began to pour from the wound, with each passing second and centimeter the blade moved. Once I was certain it was halfway out, I paused, drank in one last deep breath, then yanked the handle. The knife came out flicking my blood across the stairwell. I gasped at the pain, but grinned once I saw I could move my injured arm again.
With the knife in hand, I gazed up just in time to see Kayla reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh good!” she said with a gleeful smile. “You got my knife out! Oh, how kind of you to return it!”
Faster than I could blink, she lunged forward, snatching the blade away from me. I blinked and stared down at my now empty hand in disbelief.
How in the hell… did she do that!?
“Now,” she continued, “where were we?”
“Uh, you were attempting to kill me, and I was going to succeed in escaping.”
“Huh?” she inched her head back, surprised. My response had thrown her off.
Before she could react, I spun and dashed through the front door into the moonlight. My thoughts now only being of escape, I ran straight for the truck.
Screw the lock!
Running off pure adrenaline, I slammed my elbow into the driver side window, making a jagged hand-sized hole.
Without thinking twice, I reached my hand through it and unlocked the door, before opening and throwing myself in.
I bent down to pull the covering off where they kept the wires, but realized something important: There wasn’t a cover and, furthermore, I sure as hell didn’t know how to hotwire a car, let alone a truck.
I heard a snort from the front of the house and turned back to see Kayla standing on the porch; her face twisted in bemused amusement.
“Uh, aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked. She pulled the set of keys out of her jacket pocket, and dangled them for me to see.
Reaching back with my right hand still in the truck, I picked up a shard of broken glass from the floor and hid it behind my back.
“What can I say?” I said, trying to keep her distracted. “It seemed like such a good idea at the time.”
She shook her head with a small laugh then headed my way. “Hey, you want to know what I love about living out here?” she asked, with her ever-present smile. “In the woods, especially at night?”
“It’s that no one but the trees and moon can hear you scream.” She giggled.
(I hate her.)
I slid out of the truck.
Fight or flight—those were my two options now.
I glanced behind me at the road, wondering if I could outrun her.
That thought ended as quick as it came when I saw what was standing six feet behind me. That all too familiar buzz cranked back up within my brain.
“Aww damn it. You too?” I groaned at Slenderman.
I adverted my gaze from him, back towards Kayla to keep myself from losing it. Only to find her face within an inch of mine.
“Boo!” she exclaimed.
“Whoa!” I scrambled back.
She doubled over laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said in middle of her fit. “Did I scare you?”
I think all three of us know the answer to that (yes, I mean you when I say ‘three’, Reader).
I raised my puny excuse of a weapon up, readying myself for what may have well been the very last fight of my life.
When Kayla noticed my glass shard, she raised both eyebrows, her laughter dying but her grin remaining.
“Oh, J.?” she seemed to coo. “Why don’t you make this simple on yourself and give in? Let’s all be friends!”
Like that’s gonna happen.
“No,” I said giving her a sarcastic grin of my own. “Why don’t you put down your knife and toss me the keys? Then we can call it even for me helping you out with your hair earlier.”
She shook her head and grinned as she chuckled. “Ohhhhh, J.” she said, her voicing taking on a new kind of sinister, “I’m so going to enjoy having you with us after this. We’re going to be the best-est friends!”
Okay, that right there, that didn’t sound good (I think that meant: Dying and coming back was no longer a guarantee).
She lunged forward. Within those few seconds I planned my next move. She raised the knife, aiming at my neck (again) and stabbed down. I ducked at the very last second, and using her own momentum, slammed my shoulder against her knees, causing her to flip over me. I spun and went to stab down with the shard, only for it to hit earth as she rolled to her right, slicing up with the knife, forcing me to jump back.
She got to her knees. “Oooh, nice,” she said, giving me a massive grin. “Bet you can’t do it again though, hehehe.”
Yeah, that was a one-off.
Still bleeding from my shoulder, and aching all over, I held the shard ready for what might come next.
“I can do this all night,” I lied.
Her eyes filled with amusement as she spoke, “Oh, good then. Watch carefully.”
She raised the knife and started to move it in a slow-like mesmerizing pattern through the air.
“Still watching?” she asked. Slenderman, stepped directly behind her.
Please tell me I don’t have to fight him too.
“Now you see me,” Kayla said, bringing my attention back to her.
Without warning, both of them vanished.
I lowered my shard in surprise and looked around.
Where’d they go?
Something punched into my back, then cold, unending agony filled my back.
“Now you’re dead,” Kayla gleeful voice, whispered in my ear.
I sank to my knees in pain as energy left them, then gasped as Kayla yanked the knife out. Several droplets of blood—my blood—flew at an arc over me with it.
“I told you to watch carefully, heheehe,” Kayla’s voice taunted me.
Warmth left my limbs and I began to feel numb. I knew this feeling all too well—I was at Death’s Door.
“Now, we’re going to get to the best part,” I heard her say.
Weak, I raised my eyes to see Slenderman and her standing before me. He had both his hands on her shoulders. I couldn’t help but think he looked like a father who had just watched his little girl perform on stage and was now holding onto her as if saying, ‘This is my kid.’
“You get to join us,” she finished.
Images of my family, my friends, and everything I’d gone through played in my mind like a record. After everything I’d come through, after things I’d done, was it really going to end like this?
I narrowed my eyes and gazed one last time at Kayla, then through the pain and numbness, I answered back: “Not…if I…can...help it.” I wheezed.
I asked God to forgive me for what I was about to do next. With the last of my strength I grasped the glass shard with both hands, closed my eyes, and plunged it into my own chest.
“What!?” I heard Kayla cry out.
I answered back with One. Last. Word.
I fell to the side and all went dark.
I jolted awake in the swing set. I blinked a few times in surprise, then gazed around. A driveway, a metal fence, my car, my house… I was back where I’d started.
I was alive.
How? Why? Why was I back? I’d expected that to be it. I’d broken the rules hadn’t I? “Don’t kill yourself to avoid the visitors,” wasn’t that what The Sender had said or something to that effect?
I gazed down at my backpack and swallowed.
It didn’t matter.
I grabbed my bag and dashed back inside to my computer.
Log Seven was done.
This Nightmare was Over.
My Message to You
I’m typing the end to all of this now. An hour has passed since I finished the final log. The Sender, surprisingly, hasn’t contacted me. Not that I mind, I don’t want to ever hear from his sorry face again, or read any of this ever again for that matter. This was too much. I’m only here by the grace of God and luck. And while I still don’t have everything figured out, I’ve learned enough.
And I know that what I’m about to say next isn’t anything new, but it now carries a lot more weight than what it originally had.
“Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.”
Don’t ask for things you’re not sure about and make absolutely certain you don’t do like me.
Now, I don’t know if you have read this far or just skipped all my logs to see the ending.
If you skipped, consider yourself lucky.
Don’t Read The Logs.
If you didn’t skip, and you did read everything,
Then I’m sorry for you. Truly, I am. Pray that you don’t get a message like I did.
I’m done now.
I’m going to get some rest.
He is not done.