Dexter Morgenstern - The Slender Man

“Are you feeling any better Lyss?” asks Mom. I shake my head after taking a big gulp of orange juice so my throat is clear enough to answer.

“I feel worse,” I say.

“Have you taken your medicine?” she asks. “Yes,” I lie. The last medicine I’ve had is Nyquil, and I’m supposed to be taking some antihistamine tablets as well, but they don’t do any good. In fact, the antihistamine makes me feel more dried out. As I eat, I feel some buildup around my labret and notice that blotches of dried blood have clotted around it.

“Maybe you should fight through it?” Mom suggests.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, mouth full of eggs.

“You don’t have school today. Why don’t you go out and exercise? You know? Power through it?” she explains. Exercise would be the last thing to cross my mind at a time like this, but I ponder it and the cardio at least would help get my mind off things. Heck it might even help me get to sleep.

“Yeah I’ll go for a run,” I finally answer.

“Oh, but not before finishing your schoolwork, I don’t want you to get your work piled up at the end of the week,” she adds. Correction, schoolwork would be the last thing to cross my mind at a time like this.

“Alright,” I sigh. After breakfast I head upstairs to wash my face. I use cold water and follow up by slathering on lotion to try to help the uncomfortable dry feeling. I notice that the area under my nose is cracked and irritated from all the tissues. I really wish we had some of those lotion-enhanced tissues or whatever they’re called. I notice that my complexion isn’t the only thing that looks out of sorts. My hair is a mess and even my nails need work. It may not be the time for vanity but I do take pride in my appearance, and I don’t want to end up looking like a crazy old hag. I brush my hair out thoroughly and work on getting it into a ponytail since I’ll be running later. I decide not to worry about makeup since I’ll be showering off after I run anyway.

Today is Tuesday, which means Lionel Willow’s birthday party is today, so I need to look… sane. I get dressed in some warm weather exercise gear; in fact I choose almost the same outfit I wore out on my last run with Shana. After dressing I open my backpack to look at the bulging folder of homework. I didn’t bother organizing them when I received the papers. All the teachers really gave us were instructions to read a set amount of chapters, and then the homework for each chapter. I decide rather than going one day at a time, I’ll go one subject at a time.

I’m feeling tired so I am not in any mood to try and memorize anything. I start with algebra. Many people complain that algebra is hard but the truth is, all you have to do is remember the formula and then answer the questions using the formula that’s right there in front of you. I can do it almost absentmindedly.

As I work through each problem I force myself not to think about Shana because it will only distract me. Every time the name “Shana” pops into my head I think of random words until I’m back on track. With my mind bouncing around with phrases like ‘pie’ and ‘I just ate’ fluttering through my mind I get my homework done a little more slowly than I’m used to, but it’s the most progress I’ve made in any kind of work since the accident, and when I’m finished a little smile crosses my lips.

“Productivity,” I say to myself, and on that note, it’s time to be even more productive and get some exercise. Let’s fight this sickness, as my mom put it. I keep mentally reassuring myself that I can do this. I won’t have to jog the whole course. Maybe because I’m sick, I’ll do intervals of walking and jogging. I make sure to bring a full bottle of water to prevent dehydration. I’m sure I can persevere, and my only real worry is that my nose will bleed uncontrollably so I carry plenty of tissue in my backpack.

I head out the door and start into a slow jog, but immediately I feel the leaden weight brought on by my sickness and I find myself jogging at the average speed of a brisk walk. I stare at the ground watching the white cement sidewalk pass by. This way I don’t pay too much attention to just how slow I am really moving. When I see the shadow of the stop sign I look up at the tree line. Am I going to be able to handle this? I think as I already feel tiny beads of sweat on my clammy hands. I do some brief stretches just in case. If there’s any bad time to twist an ankle, it’s when you’re sick and haunted by a ghastly static apparition.

After a few stretches I look both ways and take off. I throw my knees forward to carry my weight through. I hit the tree line and descend into the forest. I try to ignore my dry throat as I stomp through fallen leaves that have covered the whole ground at this point. I look around at the trees while I’m running. Most of them have been stripped bare at this point. Now all of the once beautiful trees are naked and gloomy. It looks normal in late autumn but at this time of year they just seem off. Is it the season or the current events making this seem so strange?

By the time I reach that first true incline I’m walking. I don’t have the strength to run up the hill this time. I’m already sweating pretty badly and am constantly wiping my eyes on my jacket sleeve to stop the sweat from burning my eyes.

I’m grateful that my nose isn’t bleeding right now otherwise I might have just gotten blood all over my favorite hoodie. When I reach the top of the hill, I find it’s harder to throw my knees forward again. I’ve heard that for cross country runners the trick is to not stop running. I use that little bit to motivate me to press forward once more.

I feel weaker now, like the resting pace and water didn’t rejuvenate me at all, and keep getting the idea to just call it a day. No, I came out here to fight this. Let’s finish the whole course. I won’t let this illness run my life, I think to myself. I keep using those thoughts to motivate me, and hope to God that I don’t stop running and then not have the energy to start up. Sweat keeps pouring into my eyes- well my right eye. I am constantly forcing my right eye shut, only looking with my left. I should really invest in a head band. I keep running on and finally reach that last slope that marks the clearing. I’m going to sprint this one. Each bound takes a severe toll on my strength and by the time I reach the hill I have to bend over to catch my breath. “Head above the heart. Always keep moving,” I say to myself. I put my hands on my hips to keep my back straight and walk in a circle around the clearing.

I realize I’m circling that strange tree. I stop and look up at it. It seems a little taller than before. If I’d remembered the scare this tree gave me last time, I probably wouldn’t have been able to motivate myself to come out here again. I am about to look away from the tree when something catches my eye; the branches. I remember last time there were how many branches, five or six? I count them this time.

“Nine,” I say aloud. It has those two jointed branches hanging toward the ground like before, but seven of them are angled up. I only remember four branches angled up last time. Trees don’t just sprout new branches like this. It’s eerie to see this. I may be no good at memorizing schoolwork, but when a strange tree appears full grown on my jogging route and then sprouts new branches suddenly I tend to take a mental note. There are nine branches on this tree. I repeat that thought aloud too. Next time I come on my run I’m going to count the branches again.

I shake out my limbs, rotating my neck and ankles for the home stretch. I am about to descend when I remember what happened last time. I thought I’d seen the entity, but it was just the tree. Or was it the fiend after all? Now I feel uncertain and a shiver runs through me. Now I’m just scaring myself. Maybe I should sprint back like last time? No, that would have been impossible for me to do if I hadn’t thought I was about to die in the woods. I’m just going to run, and I’m not going to look back at the tree this time. I bite the back end of my labret, and then I’m off. I run a little faster than I did on the way here, but I think it’s a pace I can sustain. I’m going to conquer this. I keep running, far past the clearing, but that level of fear I had last time keeps creeping up on me.