Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Old Associate

On my way back home to Massachusetts, I stopped in a restaurant in Manhattan for a bite to eat. It was one of those bar and grille places, and of course, I went right for the bar for a quick burger and a beer. Mainly, I was just trying to get Indiana out of my head for a minute or two.

Why am I telling you this? Because of who I met in there. Or rather, who I ran into.

As I was having my drink, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that someone had taken the stool next to me. The bar was empty, that early in the day, of which I was grateful for. As long as the guy didn't try to make idle talk, I would be fine with him.

“As a cop, I figured you'd know that drinking and driving are against the law,” the light, city accent said.

I froze, then silently groaned. Not because he was making talk, no. Because I knew who he was. And I couldn't believe whose voice I was hearing.

“I thought you were in the maximum detention center in Brooklyn, Wren,” I said, eyes focused straight ahead.

“Out on good behavior,” he replied.

I snorted. “There's not a thing good about you or your behavior.”

A laugh. “Fine, I broke out. You going to arrest me, officer?”

I tore my eyes away to finally turn to see that it was, in fact, Wren sitting there next to me, though how that was the case I still can't figure out. I was picturing a man disheveled from two years of maximum security prison time, but instead he looked better than ever. Clean dress clothes, clean shaven, dark red hair combed backwards in that way I used to do, pointed nose. He looked like he was in tip-top condition, even if he did look pale and did have dark circles under his eyes.

“Maybe,” I said.

He snorted. “Way I hear it, you're not exactly a law abiding citizen yourself these days.”

“Depends on who you heard it from.” I rubbed my throat as the burning began.

“Hell of a croak you got there. What happened?”

“Been sick. Strep throat. Still getting over it.”

“Okay.” He leaned in with a knowing smile. “So what really happened?”

I glared at him, but also was curious. Did he know what was going on? Was he aware of my little adventure?

He stood up and placed his hand on my shoulder.

“C'mon, let's go somewhere private to talk,” he said.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say right here,” I retorted, not getting up.

“Come on, man. Just have a drink or two. I'm sure it'd help.”

Not any help you would offer, I thought bitterly, but before I knew it I was being led to the outdoor deck and shown a table as far back away from people as he could. Wren told the waitress he'd have a cocktail; I declined another drink, preferring to keep some degree of sobriety for the moment. So he ordered me a Mike's. I didn't argue much.

Once our drinks were delivered and we were alone, Wren began to sip his drink. He always liked to sip his drinks, never gulp or chug. Always sip. For the kind of guy he was, he always maintained a “classy” persona when he drank. If this were a first meeting, one would think it was the kind of guy he was, but no, it was only when he drank.

“This place always did have stir my cocktails right,” he told me. “I used to come by here sometimes. Found it when I was moving to Boston, like to come by every now and again. Hasn't changed a bit.”

I ignored it. “How'd you find me, Wren?” I wanted to know.

“You're all over FBI scanners, you show up in a town overrun by a twelve-hundred-year-old cult asking about the suicide of a key figure in the FBI's little pet project, using identities of dead cops and active agents, and you sent alarms out all over the Eastern part of America when you shot two agents and let them live to report back your whereabouts.” He looked at me with an “are you kidding me?” look. “No offense, Zee, but you're not exactly Whitey Bulger.”

“I take it you know what's been going on, then?”

“You mean Mr. Tall, Pale and Faceless? Ohhh yeah, I know alright.”

That interested me. “Have you seen him?”

“Face-to-face? No. I've come close a couple of times. No, it's his little worker bees that have been giving me trouble.” He sipped his drink and then sighed. “They're on the move again.”

“You talking about remnants or whatever they're calling them?”

He snorted. “Yeah, Zee, I'm talking about the super-powered remnants. 'Oh hey, look at me, I'm a remnant, I'm gonna fly around the fuckin' stratosphere and shoot bolts of lightening out of my ass and used condoms out of my fingertips!' Please, if I wanted that kind of hocus-pocus bullshit, I'd go and watch a Pen and Teller show.”

One thing we always had in common- we're both skeptics, we both believe in some form of real logic. As much as I hated seeing him, it was nice to have someone who shared that way of thinking again.

“So what are you saying then?”

“I'm saying that the proxies, the real, human proxies, they're upping their game. I don't know if it's because of your little excursion in Indiana or it's something else, but something's got them going after every runner out there and having their way with them. It's not armies, we're not going to see ten thousand mask-and-hood wearing psychos charging over the hills any second, but the small numbers he has, and they're real fucking small, they're getting extreme.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How more extreme can they possibly get?”

He sighed. “They've been carving operator symbols into the skins of whoever they get their hands on.”

My face fell. “Are you serious?”

“'Fraid so. Once they've done whatever they wanted, they carve it as a warning to the others that they're gonna be joining them.”

“And they kill them?”

“Some of them. Others they leave alive. Though every time they leave one, it's mainly just so someone else can put them out of their misery. They fuck 'em up bad.”

As if things couldn't get any worse...I leaned back in my chair, taking it all in. He sipped his cocktail again.

“Which is why I was hoping that you and I might be able to form some kind of a partnership. 'Cause you and me, man, we'd really send them running for the hills, and you know it.”

I glared back at him, sitting smugly in his chair with his drink when by all accounts he should be locked away in a high-security loony bin drinking piss.

“You really expect me to just let it all go like nothing ever happened?” I asked him.

“Hey man, I can't afford to look back. I can only look forward.” He smirked. “Besides, it's not like that bomb was meant for you or anything.”

“Not the point.”

“Look, Zeke,” he placed his drink on the table and leaned forward, his voice low. “If I'm right, and he's got something big coming up, you're going to need all the help you can get. I mean you, you're the big hope-”

“I'm not the one who's going to do it.”

“Okay, then we're helping out whoever is. I mean, come on, who else are people going to trust with this? Huh? Who, Crappy Frappy and his little band of merry magicians? Those losers can't even help themselves, they're a joke, they're nothing. You, though, you survived him not once, not twice, three times, and that's not even counting escaping him as a child. Pair you with me, you've got two highly-trained machines, two grown adults compared to a bunch of kids and melodramatic teenagers who are still in school and don't understand how bad the real world really is. We're the best chance out there of ending this. And you know it.”

He was right, in a way. We were among the oldest of these runners, we were out of school, he was in his thirties and I was nearing mine while the rest of them ranged from twelve to twenty-one. As to us being the ones to finish it, well, realistically was one thing, but desire was stronger, and in ways of desire I had lost two people I had cared about to this thing, and a little revenge never really hurt anyone.

Still, though, I was not entirely convinced. This was Wren I was talking to, and he was a tough gambler to read. He could be on my side, or he could just be bluffing.

“Do you have any proof of any of this?” I asked.

He sighed. “Yeah, unfortunately, I do.”

He unbuttoned his shirt and showed me his chest, where right above his breast, carved in with what had to have been a small pocket knife, was a small Operator symbol. Whenever it had been done, it hadn't been long ago; there was still signs of blood along the lines.

I looked away. “That's all I needed to see.”

He buttoned his shirt back up, then reached into his pocket for a pen and what looked like a paper business card and wrote something on the back.

“Tell you what, why don't you give me a call when you're ready to start thinking of things a little more seriously,” he said, sliding the card towards me and standing up. “You know where to find me if you want to meet up.”

He put his shades on and smiled, patting me on the back as he left, but stopped at the door when I called out to him.

“Why should I trust you after what happened?” I asked.

“Because Lizzie and Eric were my friends before they were yours,” he replied, and I turned to see him staring back at me, his shades back on his forehead so I could see the seriousness in his eyes. “And that makes it just as personal for me as it does for you. Put aside everything that happened, we're the same guy, Zee. And we both want the same thing.”

He nodded, put his shades back on his nose, and walked out, leaving me with a finished cocktail, a quarter finished hard lemonade, the bill, and my ever-conflicting thoughts.



  1. Hey, what's that asshole saying? I know what I'm doing! ...mostly, at least.

    ...and I always work alone, refuse to confront him directly, and am realizing that I'm maybe not even able to help anyone, but....

    Okay, fine, I'm not doing much good to anyone other than myself. I'll leave the fighting to you and Wren. But I'm still more helpful than Fap 'n' Friends.

    Incidentally, am I correct in assuming that Wren was that \/\/ guy?

  2. Funny how anyone who's friends with Frap gets lumped in as an idiot. I don't quite like that. Aren't we all in this crap together?

  3. Ezekiel. Listen to me. For once in your goddamn life, please listen to me.

    A little revenge /has/ hurt someone. A little revenge has hurt a hell of a lot of people, and you're about to be one of them.

    I may be only one of that "bunch of kids" and those "melodramatic teenagers," but you have seriously got to stop just ignoring me and the rest of us and putting yourself in these situations.

    That's what you're doing right now, by the way. You're putting yourself in an awful situation, and you don't fucking have to.

    You say over and over that you can't trust this man, yet now you're considering partnering up. I don't even have to know what he's done to know that this is a bad idea.

    I could live with you going to the red building and playing white knight. Fine. But don't be stupid, Zeke. Just be smart about this.

  4. Also, Aidan, the fact that we are all in this shit together does not change that they /are/, in fact, idiots.

  5. I still don't think it's fair to lump us all into the group of idiots. I won't pretend to know what happened between Frap and everyone else. But I have no quolms with anyone, and honestly, I'd rather not have people put me in with the group of 'idiots' because I speak to Frap and his friends.

  6. I feel like I'm missing something... who the hell is Wren and where should I know him from...?

  7. Well, sounds like everything is lollipops and sunshine right now.

    Damn though Strahm, you make me feel like I'm withering away over here, what with the whole pushing forty this year thing.

    But enough complaining, it sounds like it would be interesting to team up with carrot top. Maybe not the safest, and, eh, not the smartest option either, but maybe two heads can think better than one. Or two heads pop faster than one- after all, easier to find someone if they're with another. Whatever you decide to do, make sure it isn't dumb. After all, too many of these kids look up to you. If you're gone, there's no one who can take your place.

  8. Nick- You don't know him. I do.

    Aiden- I don't give a good God damn about Fraps or his friends or whatever the hell he has going on. Kid could find Jesus in a pear, it has no bearing whatsoever on my life.

    Celeste- You need to calm down for a minute. This is not how this works. I'M the one who yells at YOU. And I haven't agreed to anything. What you all got was a vague description. I'm the one who had to go through that. I don't trust him as far as I could throw him, and neither should any of you.

  9. Calm? You want me to be calm? Practical Cat knows where I live, Zeke. Just because I haven't gotten any messages since that night doesn't mean he isn't still around. He can get into my house without anybody knowing. What happens when he comes for Nikki or Milo or my dad? Or me?

    And you're wanted by everyone in the goddamn country. Half the proxies on the east coast are probably making a beeline for Massachusetts as we speak, and you want me to be calm?!

    I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm scared, Zeke. I'm really really scared.

  10. I kind of wish I was you. What you're doing takes balls I don't have. I need my insanity to survive, or whatever the hell else I am. You don't need the kind of crutch I do.

    Maybe you won't be the one to finish this. Maybe you will. What I do know is that we need you alive, Zeke. You're the only one with the training and the skill to track what you're tracking.

    Just remember the old proverb: If you see the Buddha walking down the street, kill him, for he is not the real Buddha. I agree that your new companion's about as trusty as a rusty butterknife, and twice as likely to give you tetanus. Be careful, eh?

  11. About the proxies carving up the people they capture...could you ask Wren what's the worst case he's seen? Because I have a friend who got a big-ass operator's symbol carved on his face...I was just wondering if that was a regular thing, or if my friend did something to REALLY piss them off.


  12. Huh? So much fighting in here...

    Really though, I don't know who this "Frap" guy is, but as a "melodramatic teen" myself, let me say that I don't expect to end this at all. Hell I couldn't even do it if I tried.

    So yeah, that said, I'd say you're lucky. At least you've got a friend to do a double team with. Even if he may be a grade A bastard. Hell, I'd say go for it. The more people out there fighting to end this nightmare, the better. The most I can do is play cheerleader.

    As for the Proxy business; fuck that.

  13. Wow guys. I'm not trying to piss people off or anything. Sorry. I'm just trying to understand what the hell is going on.

    One way or another I'm rooting for you. Hate me all you guys want for who I call a friend. It doesn't change the fact I'm stuck in the same spot as you all are. And have no clue what the hell's going on. It's just heartbreaking to see all the arguing going on between 'sides'.

  14. Strahm,

    This Wren person is very vindictive when it comes to the younger generation, it seems. As someone at the tail end of that group, I have to say, yes, we make mistakes. We do stupid things. Then we learn and improve and try again.

    Some of us may turn out a bit wrong, but we don't typically go around setting off bombs. Tell him to give the smarter, more rational kids he seems to have ignored the time they need to figure everything out. Maybe even figure that monster out. Someday someone is going to learn just how to end this.

    And just because you won't be the one to finish it doesn't mean you won't have a hand in it.

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  16. Typos. >:l

    I'm with Aiden.

    This whole argument is stupid, but it doesn't change the fact that we're a collective.

    That said, you go, Zeke Strahm. You go.

    ...I'm still kicking myself over the fact that we were entirely wrong about W's identity.

    ~ Branwen

  17. God DAMMIT. Why can't we stop being bitchy and care about the important bits?

    Also, I saw "Jesus pears" at a roadside market once.

  18. Excuse me, is this Wren guy your evil counterpart?
    It's like the saying goes (I guess) hold your friends close and your enemies even closer - I wish you both good luck, take care.

    And give them hell.

  19. While Wren doesn't sound particularly trustworthy, he's right. You have the best chance of ending this. You have nothing left to lose. Many of us are tied to our homes, or living for the sake of loved ones. You, however, have been robbed of all that. I wish you luck.

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    There was once an Alphabet that was one happy family, whether they knew it or not.
    But then, one day, there was a tERibble maN who scared all the letters of the alphabet. All these letters were scared, but they wanted to know about the tIhng that scared them soo badd.
    A’ didn’t mean to get involved, but as most cute little librarians, she had to know more. So far, she might have it all figured out, but noone will listen to A, because every other letter has their own story to tell.
    B’ thinks she has it also, though she is possibly more ignored than A is, and no one will notice either of them, because who would listen to a LiBRARiAN or a WEN?
    C’ is looked over by many of these letters, including A and B as well as Z, but Z is too far up the creek to notice A or B, and yet he can see C quite Clearly./ C is sad because she is trapped by her misfortunes with false parents and ramblings of insane friends. She can only survive like the rest of the alphabet, but she will never defeat her woes.. :>
    D’… is dead. Or maybe not?>? Who knows if he escaped his Darkest Dreams, perhaps Z will find him…………………………………………or not.
    Somewhere down the line, letters have fallen and letters are running. Like the letter N’ who has fallen down so deep he doesn’t realize it’s even a hole he’s in. N’ has been taken already, to the tribe of the chasers, and will soon accepts that he walks among their ranks.

    There are more letters in between, but it’s more fun to peek at the EnD right?

  22. Eventually, after we rEACH past R, S, T and so on, we come to Z’

    Z’, the hero that the other letters look to because Z is the elder of all letters. The last of the alphabet who is the would be leader if such exists for letters. Amidst the loss of an E and the love of an L, and even fighting face to fACElEss with the horror HEEMselF, Z comes out triumphant! or does he.

    But despite the story each letter tells, no matter what is learned, how far they run, how much they strive to personally fight the tHHIING that cannot be fought, they all depend on the letter J’ who is as close to the center, yet so far away from the truth as possible.

    While all the alphabet depends of the words of J, J can only think of is finding his best friend X who is already taken long before he even started looking. All that he can look for are the tapes left by the opERatOR that will take him no where but into hiS arms.

    But there is something that the rest of the alphabet did not know. The letter J has already decided how his story shall end,
    because it ultimately does not matter
    he knows he is going to die
    every letter knows theyre going to die
    they already dead and their ghosts are haunting the keyboard of their final moments before HE came in and took them away to the place where the doors are black and the curtains are black and the walls are black and the house is black and the city is black and the world is black and the stars are always fucking black because there is nothing but the black of the world eH came from and he will take us ALL to the valley of the nothing and there will all play together and laugh together because you all knew that there was no way anyone of you would liveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

    Look behind you.

  23. You're a moron, I deliberately got involved. Read my blog before you try and psych me out, fuckwit.

    Also, my back is against a wall. ¬_¬

    Zeke, really, don't get killed. It wouldn't be a good look for us.

    Celie, goddamnit girl, then MOVE. PLEASE.

  24. I like Wren.

    Also, that fucking descent into madness whoever the guy just was...holy fuck, that was...creepily awesome. More letters would have made it better, though.

    I feel like a bitch for saying that, though. Oh, well. Waiting tables does that to you.

    Good luck, Zeke!

  25. If I was still in the city, I would've liked to meet up with you, but I don't really feel safe there any more.

    Wren seems pretty shady, but we're all in this together. A friend is a great thing to have in these circumstances, if you can call him that. Just make sure he pays you back what he owes you for those drinks. Haha


  26. The trees aren't where they were last night.
    When one sleeps another wakes.

  27. I just want to say that I'm glad you finally got the hell out of my town, and even better that you're states away. Only thing that'd make me happier is if you were on a plane to another fucking continent.

    Do you know what sort of hornet's nest you kicked up here, tromping around like a goddamn blind horse through a daisy patch? Do you realize how bad this town is now for people like me? You thought them simply controlling much of the government and local businesses was bad? Try having every single normal person being glanced at in suspicion, even the ones who are blissfully unaware of what this town is.

    Your misguided investigation into Damien's life has only made things even more difficult. I just hope you stop bumbling around and actually accomplish something for once in your goddamn life. It'd be a shame if you didn't, considering all this hype you seem to have.

  28. Kiera,

    You are still under suspicion, here. At the very least from me. And this is making it worse. You are continuing contact with an element the cult has reason to believe is a danger to them. They are no doubt keeping tabs on Strahm as well, likely even watching this blog. Why are you taking the time to simply berate him for trying to find things out? You are only making yourself more of a target for the cult you say controls an entire town.

    And I think we'd all like to know how exactly you got Strahm to your home without invoking the creature's wrath when it was clearly trying to harm if not kill him. You are one of the more suspicious people to consider currently. Even more so than Wren, in my opinion.

  29. Kiera,

    This is a very dangerous thing to be doing, don't you think? You are keeping in contact with a person that a cult which controls an entire town, the one you live in, likely wants to see dead. Not only that, said person openly admits that you aided their escape. Shouldn't you be lying low? Your only making yourself a target. I have to say you're acting very suspicious, assuming your not just naturally irrational.

    Even more curious, however, is how you managed to rescue Strahm. He was at the creature's mercy. It was angry, wanting to harm if not outright kill him. But somehow you located him and took him back to your house, apparently unscathed. How exactly did you manage that?

    I for one want answers, Kiera. You are one of the more suspicious characters that keeps popping up lately. What credible evidence have we that supports your statments, or that you are even on our side and not the creature's?

  30. Really? Fucking really? Exactly how stupid do you think I am? "Well shouldn't you be laying low?" What the hell do you think I was doing before Zeke came barging through this goddamn town and blew my cover by making me save his stupid ass?

    I had it made. I grew up in the cult. I lived the cult. I breathed the cult. I left the cult. I played the cult. Operating under the radar was what I did best. But some people just can't leave well enough alone.

    It won't be long before they barge in here and write me up with some bullshit charge. And then I disappear. I could run like some sort of coward, like you with your "lay low" and your paranoia, but I ain't like you. I finish what I start, and I'm not done here yet. Zeke misunderstood me, go fucking figure he gets THAT wrong too. It's not everyone in the town. It's the structure, the government and business and church. There are still many good people here, and they deserve better. So, no, I'm not done here. Not yet.

    As for saving the moron detective we have here, how do you think my ex and his murderous, little psychotic firestarter got out of that place the first time? I got lucky.

    So, you know what, screw you. It's not my fault you're a dumbass.

  31. Do you fight because you're afraid?
    Or are you afraid because you fight?
    I know. He knows.
    Do you?

  32. Are you cryptic because you're stupid?
    Or are you stupid because you're cryptic?

    I sure as hell know.

  33. Kiera,

    I think your at least stupid enough to spontaneously blow your cover over one man, unless you had a genuinly good reason.

    But tell me, is the cult still sacrificing children? And if so, did you save any of them? How many? Why didn't they catch on before? And what exactly were you doing while under the radar if not that? If they weren't continuing the sacrifices, what made Strahm so special that you blew your cover of what I infer to be years? Is it because he is an icon to so many of us?

    You made a choice that jeopardized your life. Don't blame others for the decision you made. Take responsibility for what you did. What you did was save a man's life, if we are to believe you. Be proud of that and find a way to continue you work, albeit in a different nature given the circumstances. It's a dangerous stretch, but maybe the FBI could use someone who knows the inner workings of the cult. Just because they allow the creature to go about its business doesn't mean that they want a whole town praising its name. And it would look good for them in the public eye to catch a cult of child-sacrificing psychopaths. In short, they might be able to use you, and you them.

    Also, who ever said I was running? Who said I don't finish what I start? I've barely begun, compared to so many out there. I freely admit I'm a coward and paranoid. But I also think things through as best as I can before acting. For me, things are still tame enough that it's safe to stay put and gather as much information as I can on the creature. I intend to do that for as long as I can.

    And if you are telling the truth, then we are getting some valuable information:

    The strength of the cult, more evidence of the creature's falability, who to trust, the depths of the government's involvement (or lack thereof, in this case).

    If you are to be trusted you could be a very valuable ally and source of intel. Otherwise, you could lead to disaster. That's why I question you, or anyone for that matter. I even have my doubts about Strahm, considering his current mental state, seeing ghosts and whatnot and rash behavior such as what caused you to blow your cover in the first place.

  34. He Runs from HIM, and you're worried about the man chatting with a ghost or two?

  35. Seven,

    It's all about reliable information. If the man can't perceive reality correctly, it begins to cast other aspects in doubt. Did he really talk to any of those people? Did he really see those things? Did he really do those things? It's the same thing as with Damien and his blog. If he did go insane completely, it casts doubt on too much. But then you have to consider "when did he go insane?" Knowing the answer tells you what can be considered accurate and what can't.

    I have little doubt of Strahm before the hallucinations started, and my doubt after the fact is somewhat minimal, but if you want to use another person's experience to make important decisions, it's better to know it's accurate.

    Baiting the creature as he did makes me think he might have developed a death wish to an extent. I don't consider such a person, if that is what he has become, to be a good source of information for staying alive.

    At the least, we know the creature is real, even if our personal thoughts on its abilities differ. Strahm admits to talking to drunken hallucinations. That's not the same thing. And now they seem to be appearing when he is sober as well, albeit under duress. It's getting worse, not better. HE'S getting worse.

  36. he fell asleep again. Maybe He is nearby.

    Regarding Strahm; his mental state may be in question, but maybe that is exactly what we need. The Runners won't last forever; for every one we lose, another will be drawn in, but that's an endless chain. The Fighters are slowly advancing, but for every step they take, every opening they find, He seems to become immune to two more.

    Strahm is no martyr, but perhaps a man with a death wish is the only one who can get the job done. We need Hope, and the man, in his own way, has come to represent that for some of us.

    The closer He draws, the less I can resist, and then there won't be anyone to protect him. The Mystic might just be my, our, last shot. He's no Hero, but he's what we've got.

  37. Personally, I think you're all retards and leaving essays on blogs rather than taking it private is a waste of space.

    Like you.

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  39. I misspoke; apologies. Now is not the time to be making enemies.

  40. Kiera, should you really be here? I know your cover is already blown, but perhaps talking here makes it worse.

  41. Who the hell are you to tell me where I should and shouldn't be?

    You people act like I'm some sort of sniveling little girl who doesn't know what she's doing and doesn't know how to take of herself. So fuck off. I'm not done with these people and their faceless god just yet.

  42. And now people are telling stories about the alphabet.

    I suppose you could call me a newbie, although I've been around since the last post of Seeking Truth (only found The Mystic today, needed to catch up loads). And I've got to say, fucking hell, Zeke. This is crazy. But I can believe it, and fuck, it scares me.

    I live in the UK, in Wales specifically, but I used to live in Surry, England. I lived there until I was five, and then we moved to Swansea.

    The reason I'm so fucking scared is because there used to be a huge freaking forest behind where I lived in Surry. And I don't remember a lot of my childhood before we moved, and granted, yeah, I was below five, but the thing is, you didn't remember Slenderman until he came back. Until he got so close and personal that it brought your memories back.

    I can't help but look into my garden every night and look for a glowing face and a tree that shouldn't be there.

    Good luck, man.

  43. Oh yes, how clever. Write your life story on the blog of a man who is busy enough right now. Jesus, you people can READ things. RESEARCH.

    Kiera. It's really pointless trying to get Zeke to not do anything. I know. We can take this private if needed, my email is on my profile. The information I've posted on my blog should be headway, possibly.

  44. Do what you think is best Zeke but be careful.

  45. Teaming up with someone so dark inside can't be good. The enemy of your enemy isn't always your friend.

  46. I was asking if you should be here, not telling. Talking to us might make your situation worse is all I was suggesting.