Dexter Morgenstern - The Slender Man

“Jason had a court date this morning that he missed, even his parents showed up. They assumed he was with a friend,” he continues. Well that’s what you get when you don’t raise your kids right.

“It just so happens, that Mario Douglas was reported missing from the hospital around three in the morning last night. The hospital staff say Mario was about to be released as he had some relatives ready to take care of him, but he disappeared,” he says.

“So you think Jason and the others had something to do with this?” I ask.

“Yes, and we’re hoping maybe you’ve seen any of these kids? Jason is the only one in your grade, but do you recognize the other two?” he asks. He shows me pictures of Jason and two girls that look a little older than me. There is a fourth picture in his hand, but it’s of a chubby boy that looks like he might be in the fourth or fifth grade. Jason looks like the only one that would be interested in murdering Mr. Mario, but I guess you can’t judge people by their pictures.

“I’m sorry, Jason is the only one I recognize, and I haven’t seen him since yesterday when…” I stop. Jason said he was going to help Kenny! “He told me he was seeing his brother,” I say.

“You mean like…”

“Like he saw his brother in class, and he said that his brother needed his help. He told me that he was going to help him,” I explain.

“Wait, so are you two close? No one I’ve spoken to has said anything about this,” he says.

“No, he- he thought I saw Kenny too because I jumped up in fright from a- a spider. He must have ‘seen’ Kenny at the same time. He was very aggressive about it. You can ask my Dad.”

He raises his hand to stop me. “I believe you. He’s not the only one that’s reported seeing things and that story about adds up,” he says.

“It does?” I ask.

“A few people said they last saw him talking to you, and everyone that’s seen him says they last saw him at school yesterday. If he left school planning on helping Kenny, then he might have gathered some followers and planned to sneak into the hospital. It all adds up, we just don’t have proof that he’s responsible. If you see him, or any of these kids,” he says, waving the photos. “…let me know.”

“Right, will-do,” I say. I hear the bell ring.

“Better run along,” says Deputy Yew, but it looks like he’s saying it more to himself than to me. I thank him, although I’m not sure what exactly I was thanking him for-information? I shrug it off and head into the school. I get to my classroom as quickly as I can. Before Ms. Alder can greet me with “Glad you could join us,” I say, “Sorry was giving information to the deputy.”

Ms. Alder looks up at me, and I hand the essays.

“Oh,” she says, a little surprised that I- well, Shana, followed through.

“Well, glad you could join us, please take your seat.” I wince at those words. I don’t know why, but I have this pet peeve where if someone has a certain catchphrase or something they always say, I hate being the one to trigger it. School goes by far too slowly. There’s no Dad to bust me out before lunch period. Heck he’s probably catching up on the work he missed out on yesterday, whatever vice principals do.

The whole school day I have my mind on what Jason could be doing to Mario right now, and why those other students would help him, if they were helping him. Are they torturing him, or disposing of his body? Those kinds of questions run through my mind incessantly. When the final bell rings, another bell dings in my head. Time for Shana! I realize I haven’t told my parents that I plan to go see Shana early today, so I go over to the vice principal’s office. The door’s open so I walk in, on Ms. Alder talking to my Dad, with our essays in hand.

“Oh, Alyssa,” greets Dad, and his tone isn’t happy sounding.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Ms. Alder gives me a small apologetic smile. “I’ve just been going over your essays with your father,” she explains.

“What’s wrong with them?” I ask, although I already know what she’s going to say. “Well they…” but she stops and gives my Dad a look. Wow, she can come behind my back and talk about these essays but she won’t say it to my face?

“I haven’t, read the essays completely Alyssa, but Ms. Alder believes the theme of these essays written by both of you are, well it doesn’t seem like two people wrote them,” he explains.

So wait, they weren’t worried about the style, they just aren’t fooled by Shana’s trick?

“Well we worked together on them. Like I said yesterday, we were going to use the same event to—”

“Yesterday Alyssa, you hadn’t even started your essay, so that means you both would have to have put all of this work into it in one night,” she says.

“In one visit that lasted barely more than an hour, and most of that hour was spent on dinner,” corrects my Dad.

“So? What business of yours is it to go over and…” I try, but Ms. Alder interrupts.

“What’s the name of the man you were reluctantly arrested by in this essay?” she asks. I hesitate, because I don’t know the answer to the question off the top of my head. Wasn’t it Turnpin? No wait.

“Turpin?” I ask, although I probably should have declared it.

“That’s the name of the judge Alyssa,” she says.

“Did Shana write these essays?” asks Dad. He’s glaring at me, clearly not ready for any more lies. I just give him a look that says yes, but without fully admitting it. He sighs angrily and rubs his forehead, although you can tell he already knew the truth before I came in.

“This worries me though, the implications here,” she continues to my father.

“What implications? They’re just essays,” I protest. So not only are they not fooled, they are worried about Shana now.

“Alyssa, if you actually bothered to read a single one of the seven pages of this essay,” Dad says snidely, “…then you would be worried about your friend too.” He doesn’t know this, but I am worried about Shana.

“We need to bring this up with her parents. Maybe get her to a psychiatrist,” suggests Ms. Alder.

“She doesn’t need a shrink, she’s just… venting!” I yell.

“Alyssa!” shouts Dad. “Go home,” he says.

I am about to turn around before I realize that I had a reason for coming in here.

“Dad, I need to see Shana. I told- I promised I’d head straight for her house right after school,” I say.

“Well that’s not going to happen young la- little girl,” he says, correcting himself with the term little girl in order to condescend toward me, and it’s working.

“You’re lucky if we even take you with us tonight after your Mom finds out about your irresponsibility. Now get out of my face,” he continues.

I shrug, with a few tears about to fall. There are a lot of things I want to say, but when my Dad gets like this, he won’t hear any of it.

“Probably already missed the bus,” I choke.

“Oh, well I can give her a ride,” suggests Ms. Alder, but I cut her a hateful glare. The last thing I want to do is accept a ride from the woman who just sold me out.

“Fine then, walk. Call me- from home, in one hour. When you get home put your cell phone on my desk,” says Dad. I storm out of the office, and slam it behind me. Some help he is. I walk down the almost empty hallway, barely able to contain my anger as I exit the school. I head to the forest line, but then stop. My hair is down, and I don’t have anything to contain it with, plus I’m wearing a skirt and some Chucks, and have no water. I’m in no position to run, or even jog comfortably, and he expects me to be home in an hour. I sigh and move on. Let’s hope I can walk through a few miles of woods and get home inside an hour.