Dexter Morgenstern - The Slender Man

“So if Shana gave in and tried to help her sister, her destination would be some point in the forest?” asks Sheriff Fraser, writing this down. I leave out the parts about how the apparition has also affected me and Adam, and how I suspect this is not as easy as Shana running into the woods.

“I think we need to issue a search party then. We can scan the entire forest,” says the sheriff.

“If Shana went into the woods, there’s a chance we might find the others too,” he continues.

I look over his shoulder and see Mr. Hawthorn holding his wife, who’s crying helplessly. “If we had known this, we’d have gotten her help immediately,” he says. I don’t believe that. If he really carried more about Shana’s well-being than the shivah tradition, he’d have gotten her some help while she was catatonic, not wait until she disappeared.

I listen to myself. I listen to how hateful I sound. Being angry with her parents won’t bring her back, but what will? Is there a chance that she really will be found in the woods along with the others? All I know is that there’s a chance that this wouldn’t have happened if I’d stayed with her in the first place. I keep thinking about the courses of action I could have taken to prevent being grounded: words I could have spoken; friendly gestures; not turning in the essays. It all leads to those essays. I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll find your friend,” says Deputy Yew. He’s looking down at me with pity in his eyes. “Even if I have to do it myself,” he adds. I’m surprised that he came to console me rather than her parents.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” throws in Sheriff Fraser.

“Alyssa,” he says. I look at him.

“If anyone and I mean anyone , shows any signs of Shana’s or Jason’s behavior, you let us know immediately. I’m not sure what’s going on, or why everyone’s seeing things, but it all ties in with them going missing, and we can’t have another disappearance on our hands,” he explains.

I hesitate for a moment, trying to think of anyone that would confide in me about seeing the fiend, but even Jason only told me by chance.

“Will do,” I say. The policemen take their leave, and I slump back down into the corner. I keep telling myself there’s a chance they’ll find her, but something inside tells me that’s not going to happen. I’ve lost Shana, and I have no idea how to get her back. As the thought settles in, I feel heavy, and weak. I lay my head on my knees, mimicking the last position I saw Shana in, and feel her emptiness. I feel her sorrow, and I start to cry. It’s all I can do. It’s all I want to do. I’m sitting here like this for what seems like an eternity, before I feel another hand touch me. I look up and see the one person in the house who would try and comfort me in a time like this, Bubbe. My parents are with the Hawthorns and Adam is sick and in bed, but Bubbe sits down right beside me, arm around my neck. I smile and lean into her, like I would with Shana.

“Oh dear,” she says. I look up and see her handing me a small hand towel. I first think it’s because I’m crying, but as drops flow down the side of my lip I taste them, and I don’t taste tears. I taste blood.

I feel less than human. I’m not sure if it’s my emotions, or it’s because of this new illness I’ve acquired. It’s probably a combination of both. I’m walking into school, and every one of my limbs feels weighted. In my left hand I’m carrying a tissue to blot nosebleeds. My throat and nostrils both feel very dry, and my skin has paled from it. On the inside even my heart feels heavy with guilt, worry, and sadness. My actions are a factor in Shana’s disappearance, and now that she’s missing I can’t stop thinking about her. All things considered, I feel like- like I’m dying. The medicine I’m taking doesn’t work.

I’m thirsty no matter how much water I drink. It helps when I’m drinking it, but as soon as I swallow, the dryness returns. I feel like I’ve lost a pint of blood already. Nothing stops the nosebleeds that occur on and off several times per day. I can go a whole day without bleeding, and then have it run all night, and vice versa.

The police searched all Sunday for Shana. I remember seeing very many police cars, probably the whole force. I heard dogs barking, but the weeping of the Hawthorns, accompanied by my own, are what rings in my ears the most. They covered miles of woods- or so I’m told, yet Shana is nowhere to be found. The police finally began working with the press and are now hiring volunteer search parties to help cover more ground.

I can’t believe my parents expect me to go to school like this. I feel worse than I’ve ever felt, and they haven’t made Adam return to school, though of course his surgery is probably more of an excuse for prolonged absence. I was even expected to finish my homework, but every time I look at words on a piece of paper, my head throbs. It’s not a headache, it’s just- it’s not the right time to be worrying about grades, even if I’ve fallen down to a C average. I worked on my homework, but I couldn’t concentrate on the book well enough to find answers to the questions. I at least found the strength to Google the answers to the questions online. I know especially through recent events that cheating shouldn’t even pop into my mind, but with everything going on it’s the only way I’ll get my work done. Plus-is it really cheating if I would have been looking up the answers in my book anyway? I consider Google more of a shortcut than a cheat.

As I walk into the school, I look around at everyone, but all of their faces seem blank to me. The only face I want to see is Shana’s, and I’m worried that’s a face I’ll never see again. I slowly walk into English class, and catch a sympathetic look from Ms. Alder. I don’t respect her sympathy. It may have been me that turned in those essays, but it’s her that reported them. Because of that, I wasn’t able to stay with Shana, and now she’s missing. If she really sympathized with me, she wouldn’t have reported me, or at least would have given me another week to do the essays on my own.

I sit at my desk and wait the few minutes for the bell to ring. I’m surprised when it does, because there are more than a couple of empty seats. One of course is Shana’s, and another is Jason’s, but it seems like someone else is missing, but with my mind almost shut down with worry, I can’t name them. It’s not like I know more than a few people in the class anyway.

Ms. Alder begins by having us open our literature books. Great, something I’ll have to pay attention to. I am not the best at grammar, but so much of each lesson is redundant, and there are really only a few different grammar rules you learn in each one, like comma splicing. With literature I have to actually learn about poetry, or read stories. Those are subjects I won’t be able to follow. I open the literature book and am reminded about our multicultural phase. I see words like “Haiku” and my mind just goes blank.

Ms. Alder always begins her lesson with her same monotonous teaching style. Sometimes I only get my cue to turn the page when the rest of the class does it. Other times I will glance over and see that my page looks completely different from another student’s and quickly- but discreetly turn the page to match. I know Ms. Alder is probably keeping an eye on me and I don’t want her telling my father that I’m not paying attention. I see drops of blood fall onto the pages and hold the tissue up to my nose. I accidentally inhale some of the fibers through my nose and they irritate my already dry and sensitive nostrils. I sneeze, and what looks like a full ounce of blood splatters onto not only the tissue, but all over my hand, and even more on the book. Of course Ms. Alder notices this.