Dexter Morgenstern - The Slender Man

I lay my head back, adjusting my position in the water. I close my eyes and breathe deep, and exhale in a sorrowful sigh.

“I’ll never find peace, will I?” I ask myself. I rest here for a few more seconds, trying to harvest whatever peace I can get, when I have a very unwelcome guest.

“Go away,” I cry as the static appears. My voice is already cracked and I can feel the tears coming. Stop crying damnit ! I tell myself. It’s just what he wants.

I open my eyes and turn my head to the side. He’s here, just inside the door. I can see his silhouette outside the shower curtain. His black, slim form rendered imperfectly still by his jagged contortions. “Why?” I ask.

No response.

“What have I done to deserve this?”

He just stands there.

“Give him back.”

Nothing.

“Please,” I cry, but still nothing. I am about to turn away from him, when he starts moving- really moving. I watch as he leans over, and I almost think his eye-searing head is going to peek over the shower curtain, when I see more limbs come from him.

These are identical to his arms that come down below the bathtub rim, except they extend from his back. What is he doing? I wonder. Suddenly his form shrinks until it’s normal human size aside from his arms and tendrils. I hear laughter. I recognize the voice.

“Jason,” I say aloud.

“You aren’t as strong as you think,” he says. His figure morphs again. Why do I hear Jason?

“You don’t deserve to be freed from this!” shouts Leanne angrily. He can mimic Leanne too?

“Stop,” I cry, but his figure morphs.

“Why didn’t you save him? You rescued your friend instead of my brother. My five-year-old brother. Don’t you think he deserves to be saved?” accuses Lindsay. Lindsay is gone too? Why haven’t I heard about this? He must have taken her recently, or maybe the police just didn’t relay it to us due to our own troubles.

“Please stop,” I cry, but he morphs again.

“Alyssa… why won’t you help me? You helped Shana, but I’m your brother. You won’t help me?” asks Adam in a pleading tone. That one hits home and I can’t help but cry loudly.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I say. “Give him back to me,” I beg.

“Give him back and I’ll come. I’m stronger than him. I’ll last longer. Just let him go and I’ll come,” I offer hysterically. I see Adam’s long and slender hand reach out and through the curtain. I grab it and am greeted by a wave of static, but I don’t care. I just want Adam back. I climb to my knees and clasp both of my hands around Adam- or the fiend’s.

“Just let him go. Just let him go,” I repeat over and over.

The hand jerks away and I look back to see the fiend returning to his normal form. He’s not laughing like I expect him to be, instead he seems menacing. He’s assuming a posture that implies that he’s about to attack. Is he going to take me? If he does will he give back Adam? I feel a surge of the static screech, and I close my eyes in response. I can’t breathe. I flail and struggle but something is wrong. I feel consciousness slipping. He’s killing me. No, I want to see Adam freed first.

“No…” I try and scream, but it’s distorted, and I can’t draw the breath to continue. I lose control and panic. I open my eyes again and notice something. I’m underwater. I thrust myself up and have to cough water out before being able to gaspingly draw a much needed breath.

Was it just a dream? No this entity works with dreams. He’s a living nightmare. What just happened was him at work. Maybe I fell asleep when I closed my eyes, and slipped underwater, or maybe he forced me into a trance. I don’t know, but I hurry up and do what I came here for and scrub as much nail polish off my skin as I can. I have to use my nails to pull it off my skin, and by the time I get it all off my skin is red and tender from the scratching.

When I finish I climb out and look around at the water mess I made when flailing about. How could my parents not come to my aid when they heard that commotion, unless the monster masked it somehow? I notice in the steamy mirror that I’ve missed a few spots particularly in the hair area, but I let it go. I ponder the dream I just had.

“What do I do?” I ask myself. There’s a knock on the door.

“Alyssa, the sheriff wants to talk to you,” says Mom.

“The sheriff?” I ask.

“Yes he says it’s important. Will you hurry up? He’s on the phone,” she says.

“Alright.” Instead of blow drying my hair I wrap a towel around it and walk out of the bathroom. Garbed in nothing but two towels I take the phone from Mom and head down the hall to my room. I almost faint when I look at the damage I caused. No wonder my parents freaked.

“H-Hello?” I answer the phone, realizing the sheriff is still waiting.

“This Alyssa Redwood?” asks Sheriff Fraser.

“Yes sir,” I answer.

“I have some news. It may be good or bad, but it involves you.”

“Uh-huh?”

“We found Mario Douglas,” he says.

“The bus driver?”

“Yeah, one of our men arrested him outside the woods. Listen he doesn’t seem to be himself, and he keeps saying your name. We want to bring you down here and see if maybe he’ll give you some answers. If he’s just jabbering on, well, it can’t hurt. Would you be willing to talk with him for us?” he asks.

“Well yeah. I mean if my parents are okay with it,” I answer.

“I already ran it by your Mom. She said you may not be feeling up for it,” he says.

“Oh no, that was- something else.”

“Alright then. We’ll see you soon,” he says.

Mom is standing in the hallway. She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she heard my end of the conversation.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” I say. It takes me a while to find a matching set of clothes among the torn and broken hangers in my closet, and it’s not that I’m being picky, it’s that I threw a really big tantrum. I’m somewhat embarrassed, or at least I would be if there weren’t so many more important things to be upset over. I settle on white tank top some jeans and a jacket. I put my socks and sneakers on and brush my hair out so it’s detangled, if still messy. I’ll deal with it.

I leave everything else, not even sure if there’s anything I still have that I can put on, seeing as I probably destroyed every cosmetic item I own. It looks like Dad isn’t coming. He’s in the living room chair with a half-empty bottle of Shabbat wine next to him. He’s not a heavy drinker so he’s probably drunk himself unconscious by now. If only I could escape with sleep…

Mom, Bubbe, and I all head out single file to the car. I look around, but don’t see, or even sense the entity. For some reason he’s dropped his ‘round-the-clock watch on me. The drive to the police station is quiet, but full of tension. My thoughts are focused on Adam and Adam only, and by the time we get to the station, it takes me a second to remember why I’m coming here, Mr. Mario. Maybe he has some answers for me. If the fiend really did have him, and he’s out now looking for me… well this has to help me in some way right?

Deputy Yew, grim as ever, is waiting for us outside the station. He nods when we walk up the steps and guides us in. When we enter the station, there are over a dozen eyes on me. Some of them are giving me quizzical looks, and others confused. Some are sympathetic, and others have hopeful gazes. I think I even catch a few accusing glares, as if Mario looking for me means I’m involved in some way. Regardless, everyone including me wants answers.

Deputy Yew leads us back to the jail area. The metal detectors go off when he walks through, and even when I walk through, probably because of my belt, but no one stops me. It’s not the time for formalities. We get down to the jail cells, and the single occupant waits in the cell furthest from us. I feel that I can’t walk fast enough to get the answers I want, but I don’t want to run. When I get to the cell, I see Mario hunched like Gollum on his bed. “Mr. Mario,” I say. He looks up.