They produced kitchen knives when I went out to ask them to leave, but they seemed to be rather conflicted about using them.
By which I mean they took them out and raised them to stab me, but seemed to be literally conflicting internally with themselves as they tried, their arms jerking awkwardly above them.
I used the opportunity to disarm them with my staff - which is a very long, very heavy stick - and although I think I may have broken a wrist or two, I reckon they would agree that we're probably all the better for it.
They ran off, but the police have been called. Rest assured, I have this under control.
Honestly what scares me more is that when I got back, I noticed those posts.
Made before I wrote the post just before going to deal with the... uh... maskies, we'll call them, and made... whilst I was at the computer, if timestamps are anything to go by.
And the messages they send...
I believe this is the work of the Slender Man. Robert Sagel's //construct// has reared its featureless, pale head again. I hear Thia opening the door now, and informing me that she got fish and chips for tea (which is lovely of her) and you can rest assured that as soon as we've eaten them, we'll be doing a lot of preparing for...
... visitations.
I have some microphones I've been waiting for an opportunity to test, and I also bought a household fire extinguisher, like the one I presume Robert used, for self defence. If I'm lucky, then when I use it, I'll be able to collect some of that substance - and he might have been a clinical technician for a pharmeceutical laboratory, but I'm a medical student at a London medical school, where our labs have things specifically for the analysis of these kinds of things, rather than whatever is needed to make a certain kind of drug.
And I have Thia too. Two heads are better than one.
...
And I have a nosebleed too now. Fuck. Sickness is piquing. He could be nearby right now.
But
hold on
the messages said that he wanted to meet us.
Slender Man Already Has
OH NO
ITS SOMETHING ELSE
Thursday 31 December 2015
Attackers
I counted three masked men - I presume from their stature they are men - entering the apartment building through my entrance no more than fifteen minutes ago. I thought little of it at the time and went back to my coursework.
But just now, on a whim, I decided I would check if anyone was at the door.
Lo and behold, through the eyehole I see three masked men standing there.
Now honestly this wouldn't concern me so much - I do live near a collection of particularly rowdy university students who couldn't give less of a fuck for much of the English Legal Code, and like to scare people, but generally have no ill intent other than that - but...
There's something about those masks, and Thia isn't home yet.
And I'm worried.
I'll go out and deal with them myself. I did Kung Fu for some time when I was a little younger, and attained the rank of assistant instructor, so I do have the ability to kick a little ass if I need it - and I've kept my bo staff.
I'll be back shortly to update you, assuming I'm not knocked out or killed or anything.
But just now, on a whim, I decided I would check if anyone was at the door.
Lo and behold, through the eyehole I see three masked men standing there.
Now honestly this wouldn't concern me so much - I do live near a collection of particularly rowdy university students who couldn't give less of a fuck for much of the English Legal Code, and like to scare people, but generally have no ill intent other than that - but...
There's something about those masks, and Thia isn't home yet.
And I'm worried.
I'll go out and deal with them myself. I did Kung Fu for some time when I was a little younger, and attained the rank of assistant instructor, so I do have the ability to kick a little ass if I need it - and I've kept my bo staff.
I'll be back shortly to update you, assuming I'm not knocked out or killed or anything.
fORgIVE my IMPOLITEneEss - anD my FAILinG ETiQueTTE
fORgIVE my IMPOLITEneEss - anD my FAILinG ETiQueTTE
Sunday 20 December 2015
BIG NEWS
Hello! I've been gone for some time. I'm sorry.
But I have big news. Good news.
Kind of.
Zero((sage)) is dead, too. Or presumed as such. All the second generation sages are gone. Their plan to defeat/weaken the Slenderman- or //construct// as I think Robert((sage)) liked referring to it as- was, as far as I can tell, a complete and utter failure.
But! BUT!
They were totally barking up the right tree.
For example, Robert((sage)) discovered this... substance... thing... From what I can tell, it is begotten of the Slenderman itself, and, when used correctly, appears to cause it some minor harm, or pain, judging from the reported reaction.
The reported reaction was instant disapparation, and screaming.
I quote.
"I caused that fucker pain." - Robert Sagel
Fucking brilliant, Robert! My friend, I applaud you! You might save our fucking lives!
But, that's not all.
I think Rob here found a way into Slenderman's home! Something to do with a shed, it's kind of vague, but judging from the context of the travel involved, it seems like the Slenderman has to open semi-permanent doorways to and from its home dimension around and nearby its targets and victims.
The door opens both ways.
That's... oddly comforting, actually. I don't imagine I could survive long in there, but it is a nice thought that, if I wanted to, I could also intrude on this thing's home too.
It also means I can, potentially, probe it - maybe to get some of this 'substance' referred to by Robert.
And all of this is backed up by...
Yeah.
Their deaths.
When they started going up the right routes and down the right paths, the //construct// upped its ante considerably. It stopped playing a game, and started playing at something more akin to war.
And they were all rather dead in short order.
So really, there is good news. They were right, and I can build on it.
But it also comes with a warning.
If I begin building on it, how long will I survive?
More importantly - more importantly by far - how long will she survive? If I can keep Thia out of this, I will. She's... already scarred, I fear.
I'll keep her safe.
Farewell for now - and may we all live on 'til morning!
But I have big news. Good news.
Kind of.
Zero((sage)) is dead, too. Or presumed as such. All the second generation sages are gone. Their plan to defeat/weaken the Slenderman- or //construct// as I think Robert((sage)) liked referring to it as- was, as far as I can tell, a complete and utter failure.
But! BUT!
They were totally barking up the right tree.
For example, Robert((sage)) discovered this... substance... thing... From what I can tell, it is begotten of the Slenderman itself, and, when used correctly, appears to cause it some minor harm, or pain, judging from the reported reaction.
The reported reaction was instant disapparation, and screaming.
I quote.
"I caused that fucker pain." - Robert Sagel
Fucking brilliant, Robert! My friend, I applaud you! You might save our fucking lives!
But, that's not all.
I think Rob here found a way into Slenderman's home! Something to do with a shed, it's kind of vague, but judging from the context of the travel involved, it seems like the Slenderman has to open semi-permanent doorways to and from its home dimension around and nearby its targets and victims.
The door opens both ways.
That's... oddly comforting, actually. I don't imagine I could survive long in there, but it is a nice thought that, if I wanted to, I could also intrude on this thing's home too.
It also means I can, potentially, probe it - maybe to get some of this 'substance' referred to by Robert.
And all of this is backed up by...
Yeah.
Their deaths.
When they started going up the right routes and down the right paths, the //construct// upped its ante considerably. It stopped playing a game, and started playing at something more akin to war.
And they were all rather dead in short order.
So really, there is good news. They were right, and I can build on it.
But it also comes with a warning.
If I begin building on it, how long will I survive?
More importantly - more importantly by far - how long will she survive? If I can keep Thia out of this, I will. She's... already scarred, I fear.
I'll keep her safe.
Farewell for now - and may we all live on 'til morning!
~ Kev Elliot
PS: I managed to find the time and safety to see The Force Awakens. Fucking brilliant film. See it immediately.
Saturday 5 December 2015
He is everywhere
My God. This thing. It's everywhere.
Everywhere I look, I find myself trembling, expecting him to be there. I turn every corner reluctantly, and catch myself both looking over my shoulder every five seconds, and filled with nothing but dread at what might be lurking behind me suddenly.
And those posts.
I didn't make them! I swear! Neither did Thia! My only conclusion is that IT must have made them.
But hope is not lost.
I have found, as I'm sure I've said, the smoking wreckage of an old blog.
It calls itself White Elephants - I guess because this slender wanker is the metaphorical White Elephant. You can't not think about once you do - and it's run by Robert Sagel.
Or it was.
As best as I can tell, he is very very very very very very dead. And I'm a medical student, you can trust my opinion on that more than most people's. Something about trees. Gruesome. Didn't read much further - but then perhaps I should have.
But I know a lot more now than I did before.
For one thing, slender dude is actually called The Slender Man. It's fitting, if nothing else. Though I don't know why nobody seems to call him 'Faceless Bastard' because that is pretty fitting too.
I also found out that Robert((Sage)) used a title system. Quite novel, but also quite charming. If it were in a more lighthearted context I might encourage him to write a book.
Well, no. If it weren't real I would encourage him to write a book.
And if he weren't dead.
But anyway, Robert was a ((Sage)) meaning that he was looking for truth and knowledge about this Slender Man. There were two others, and together they researched Sword, Shield, and Shroud.
Sword was Robert's I believe, and it was offense-centric indeed. Its entire sphere of study was based around finding ways to harm and/or kill it - Slender Man, I mean. I don't know all that much about the others, as I've yet to happen across their own blogs, but I am looking, and I know that Shield is - quite obviously - methods of protection from Slender Man, and that Shroud is - not as obviously - researching his origins, probably as part of some 'greater scope plan' in which they not only send him back to whatever bastard dimension he hails from, but in which they also keep him there.
There's also some interesting stuff about Tulpa Theory. I shall be looking into that in particular, as I believe from how he mentions it that it is, in fact, a theory related to The Shroud - Slender Man's origins - and it could prove very useful indeed.
Thia is...
She'll be fine. She has me, and I have her. We'll be fine. We'll be absolutely fine.
I don't know about poor Zack though. My friend of many years now has gone totally silent. You hardly knew him - as you only knew him through me - but he was (is) an excellent person. Absolutely outstanding in his morality.
He once marched against a Britain First (dirty fascists) march on his own. He wasn't on his own for very long, but he kept them halted and immovable - somehow - for a good 15 minutes, in the middle of Leeds, all by his lonesome, until the crowd decided he was a leader, and started following.
The world needs people like him. I hope dearly he still draws breath.
And, as for you...
I hope dearly you never have cause to fear like this. I hope dearly, to all the Gods, fictional and false though they might well be, that you are safe from this monster.
I don't care who you are, you do not deserve this.
Good night, and may we all live on 'til morning, 'ere the sun rises.
Everywhere I look, I find myself trembling, expecting him to be there. I turn every corner reluctantly, and catch myself both looking over my shoulder every five seconds, and filled with nothing but dread at what might be lurking behind me suddenly.
And those posts.
I didn't make them! I swear! Neither did Thia! My only conclusion is that IT must have made them.
But hope is not lost.
I have found, as I'm sure I've said, the smoking wreckage of an old blog.
It calls itself White Elephants - I guess because this slender wanker is the metaphorical White Elephant. You can't not think about once you do - and it's run by Robert Sagel.
Or it was.
As best as I can tell, he is very very very very very very dead. And I'm a medical student, you can trust my opinion on that more than most people's. Something about trees. Gruesome. Didn't read much further - but then perhaps I should have.
But I know a lot more now than I did before.
For one thing, slender dude is actually called The Slender Man. It's fitting, if nothing else. Though I don't know why nobody seems to call him 'Faceless Bastard' because that is pretty fitting too.
I also found out that Robert((Sage)) used a title system. Quite novel, but also quite charming. If it were in a more lighthearted context I might encourage him to write a book.
Well, no. If it weren't real I would encourage him to write a book.
And if he weren't dead.
But anyway, Robert was a ((Sage)) meaning that he was looking for truth and knowledge about this Slender Man. There were two others, and together they researched Sword, Shield, and Shroud.
Sword was Robert's I believe, and it was offense-centric indeed. Its entire sphere of study was based around finding ways to harm and/or kill it - Slender Man, I mean. I don't know all that much about the others, as I've yet to happen across their own blogs, but I am looking, and I know that Shield is - quite obviously - methods of protection from Slender Man, and that Shroud is - not as obviously - researching his origins, probably as part of some 'greater scope plan' in which they not only send him back to whatever bastard dimension he hails from, but in which they also keep him there.
There's also some interesting stuff about Tulpa Theory. I shall be looking into that in particular, as I believe from how he mentions it that it is, in fact, a theory related to The Shroud - Slender Man's origins - and it could prove very useful indeed.
Thia is...
She'll be fine. She has me, and I have her. We'll be fine. We'll be absolutely fine.
I don't know about poor Zack though. My friend of many years now has gone totally silent. You hardly knew him - as you only knew him through me - but he was (is) an excellent person. Absolutely outstanding in his morality.
He once marched against a Britain First (dirty fascists) march on his own. He wasn't on his own for very long, but he kept them halted and immovable - somehow - for a good 15 minutes, in the middle of Leeds, all by his lonesome, until the crowd decided he was a leader, and started following.
The world needs people like him. I hope dearly he still draws breath.
And, as for you...
I hope dearly you never have cause to fear like this. I hope dearly, to all the Gods, fictional and false though they might well be, that you are safe from this monster.
I don't care who you are, you do not deserve this.
Good night, and may we all live on 'til morning, 'ere the sun rises.
~ Kev Elliot
PS: Left this open without posting for 15 minutes while I looked through that blog some more - THERE ARE MORE SAGES! New ones! Generation 2! A second coming! I... haven't seen them yet, and their mentions are as old as the first blog, so it's possible they've been found and killed too, by Slender Man, or by this bastard proxies I keep seeing mentioned, but there is hope! They are led by a man named Zero, and I hope dearly that I can speak with him soon!
I will keep you informed!
Good night, and may we all live on 'til morning, 'ere the glorious, glorious sun rises!
~ Kev Elliot, in some small, happy measure of Triumph
Friday 27 November 2015
Saturday 21 November 2015
Still not dead
Spent the last few days hiding in our flat. We've heard knocking on the windows - keeping in mind we live on a very very high floor, that's quite terrifying - and banging on the doors at night.
That last one could be drunk people, but it's never happened before, and after that attack...
I'm going to have scars all up my arms forever, if we even survive this.
Thia says I'll never look any less handsome to her.
I love that woman.
Anyway, as I said, not much has happened. We've not spent more than 5 minutes in separate rooms, and I've heard nothing - less than nothing - from Zack.
I'm worrying about him, now. He never got his blog set up, and now he's gone totally dark, starting on the same night we had our first encounter with... that thing.
I'm worrying he didn't survive it. There were two of us. Maybe that scared him off, when he realised there were two of us. I mean, it's unlikely that's what happened, if his casual bollocking of me was any indicator - especially if his casual blade shattering was any indicator.
But who knows?
It's clearly not human. Maybe it follows different logical patterns to us. Maybe it just wants to be friends, but follows blue-orange morality, and as a result actually thinks that this is all friendly banter.
Maybe I'm high, just thinking of all that shit.
Maybe he's watching us right now, and laughing as he reads my words.
Fuck you, thin bastard. You tentacle wanker.
In other news, I've been sifting through old sites and blogs some more, and I think I've found one that might be able to help. Or rather, I've found the smoking ruins of one that might have been able to help. It's all archived now.
I'll get back to you on that.
Good night, and may we all live on 'til morning.
That last one could be drunk people, but it's never happened before, and after that attack...
I'm going to have scars all up my arms forever, if we even survive this.
Thia says I'll never look any less handsome to her.
I love that woman.
Anyway, as I said, not much has happened. We've not spent more than 5 minutes in separate rooms, and I've heard nothing - less than nothing - from Zack.
I'm worrying about him, now. He never got his blog set up, and now he's gone totally dark, starting on the same night we had our first encounter with... that thing.
I'm worrying he didn't survive it. There were two of us. Maybe that scared him off, when he realised there were two of us. I mean, it's unlikely that's what happened, if his casual bollocking of me was any indicator - especially if his casual blade shattering was any indicator.
But who knows?
It's clearly not human. Maybe it follows different logical patterns to us. Maybe it just wants to be friends, but follows blue-orange morality, and as a result actually thinks that this is all friendly banter.
Maybe I'm high, just thinking of all that shit.
Maybe he's watching us right now, and laughing as he reads my words.
Fuck you, thin bastard. You tentacle wanker.
In other news, I've been sifting through old sites and blogs some more, and I think I've found one that might be able to help. Or rather, I've found the smoking ruins of one that might have been able to help. It's all archived now.
I'll get back to you on that.
Good night, and may we all live on 'til morning.
~ Kev Elliot
Sunday 15 November 2015
Update - All Clear
Don't worry, everyone. I'm quite alright.
Well, no. No I'm not. I've got lacerations all up my arms, I occasionally black out, and my nosebleed can now officially be named as a national landmark, thanks to its likeness to Niagra Falls.
Oh, and Thia was right.
We are being stalked by someone.
Well, something.
I remember a fair bit of the encounter I had with the thing that had followed my precious Thia home after her lectures, and it was extremely painful. I honestly don't want to recount it, but I feel that you are... entitled to something.
Especially after my absence. Which was, of course, owing to a combination of non-functional computing devices - it appears that whatever the fuck that was distorts stuff like that - and nonfunctional cognitive abilities.
I was unconscious for most of the time.
Anyway.
When I left the apartment, knife in hand, I looked right first. I'm not sure why I did this, I normally look left, and there was nothing there - but I could hear whispering, and my ears started ringing as soon as I opened the door.
When I looked left, I saw him.
Or It. It works too.
Tall - maybe two and a half metres? A good eight feet at least - and wearing the suit and tie of a gentleman fair. Tendrils, like tentacles but less corporeal, more smooth and smoky looking, are writhing against the bright light behind him, and I can barely see.
Now, I know for a fact that whatever light was behind him was not natural. It was more like a high-powered spotlight than anything our building would have, and the lights in the corridors shut off automatically after five minutes.
But what I can see through the blinding glare is that it has no face. Its skin is deathly pale, and though it has cheekbones and hollows where the eyes would be, covered in smooth, marblish white flesh, it has no eyes, and neither mouth nor nose. No hair - that I could see - and an angular, unnatural jaw.
Its face was horrific in a simple way. Had the skin been darker, its face not been featureless, and perhaps some hair, I'd have easily said 'well that's just some guy' but this was clearly clearly something else.
Something worse.
And there's not a lot worse than man, is there?
But, being as clearly fucked as I was, the enraged past me decided to charge the thing and stab it in the head.
That's where I got the cuts on my arms from. The tentacle tendril things shot out faster than I could register the movement, and wrapped themselves tightly around my arms, squeezing and pulling and cutting into them, even as the knife clattered to the floor.
It pulled me in closer, and my vision went blurry, my skin burning against the light, against the radiation I've concluded he must exude, and it stretched me out. I heard joints pop, and I felt like my bones were about to break, when I blacked out.
I woke up half an hour later, with Thia just finishing bandaging my arms. She says that, from what she can tell, there's nothing too permanent - though I will have some nasty scars, and apparently my left shoulder had dislocated. It still hurts, but she assures me it's all back in correctly.
I trust her. We're both medical students, but she's going to be the better doctor.
By far.
Well, I'm pretty tired, and actually the sickness isn't too bad right now - plus it's 1:31AM at the moment I write this sentence - so I'm gonna head off to bed. I hope I don't bleed on Thia in the night. For someone who had always bled on a regular basis since about the age of 15, she's oddly squeamish about blood.
Actually, it's also fairly odd for a medical student to be afraid of blood too.
Either way, I just wanted to let you know I'm mostly alright, and not dead.
Oh. Actually, there was one more thing I forgot to mention. You know the knife? It was one of those 'strongest steel in the world' ones, always advertised as 'virtually unbreakable' and 'sharp enough to cut into iron and steel' and stuff. And it was. We even bought two and tested one with a claw hammer - and it was good enough to use afterwards too.
Really nice knives, actually. Great for cutting veg and all sorts. I must emphasise how unbelievably strong they are.
Well, he broke it.
Must've been after I passed out, or maybe he broke it when I tried to stab him and I didn't notice, or hell, maybe I even managed to stab him and it just broke against his skin.
But either way, we now have 1 ubersharp kitchen knife, and two separated halves of an ubersharp kitchen knife.
Fucking terrifying. I won't try that again. I'm gonna need a longer weapon.
Anyway. Goodnight. Be safe, and may we all live on 'til morning.
Well, no. No I'm not. I've got lacerations all up my arms, I occasionally black out, and my nosebleed can now officially be named as a national landmark, thanks to its likeness to Niagra Falls.
Oh, and Thia was right.
We are being stalked by someone.
Well, something.
I remember a fair bit of the encounter I had with the thing that had followed my precious Thia home after her lectures, and it was extremely painful. I honestly don't want to recount it, but I feel that you are... entitled to something.
Especially after my absence. Which was, of course, owing to a combination of non-functional computing devices - it appears that whatever the fuck that was distorts stuff like that - and nonfunctional cognitive abilities.
I was unconscious for most of the time.
Anyway.
When I left the apartment, knife in hand, I looked right first. I'm not sure why I did this, I normally look left, and there was nothing there - but I could hear whispering, and my ears started ringing as soon as I opened the door.
When I looked left, I saw him.
Or It. It works too.
Tall - maybe two and a half metres? A good eight feet at least - and wearing the suit and tie of a gentleman fair. Tendrils, like tentacles but less corporeal, more smooth and smoky looking, are writhing against the bright light behind him, and I can barely see.
Now, I know for a fact that whatever light was behind him was not natural. It was more like a high-powered spotlight than anything our building would have, and the lights in the corridors shut off automatically after five minutes.
But what I can see through the blinding glare is that it has no face. Its skin is deathly pale, and though it has cheekbones and hollows where the eyes would be, covered in smooth, marblish white flesh, it has no eyes, and neither mouth nor nose. No hair - that I could see - and an angular, unnatural jaw.
Its face was horrific in a simple way. Had the skin been darker, its face not been featureless, and perhaps some hair, I'd have easily said 'well that's just some guy' but this was clearly clearly something else.
Something worse.
And there's not a lot worse than man, is there?
But, being as clearly fucked as I was, the enraged past me decided to charge the thing and stab it in the head.
That's where I got the cuts on my arms from. The tentacle tendril things shot out faster than I could register the movement, and wrapped themselves tightly around my arms, squeezing and pulling and cutting into them, even as the knife clattered to the floor.
It pulled me in closer, and my vision went blurry, my skin burning against the light, against the radiation I've concluded he must exude, and it stretched me out. I heard joints pop, and I felt like my bones were about to break, when I blacked out.
I woke up half an hour later, with Thia just finishing bandaging my arms. She says that, from what she can tell, there's nothing too permanent - though I will have some nasty scars, and apparently my left shoulder had dislocated. It still hurts, but she assures me it's all back in correctly.
I trust her. We're both medical students, but she's going to be the better doctor.
By far.
Well, I'm pretty tired, and actually the sickness isn't too bad right now - plus it's 1:31AM at the moment I write this sentence - so I'm gonna head off to bed. I hope I don't bleed on Thia in the night. For someone who had always bled on a regular basis since about the age of 15, she's oddly squeamish about blood.
Actually, it's also fairly odd for a medical student to be afraid of blood too.
Either way, I just wanted to let you know I'm mostly alright, and not dead.
Oh. Actually, there was one more thing I forgot to mention. You know the knife? It was one of those 'strongest steel in the world' ones, always advertised as 'virtually unbreakable' and 'sharp enough to cut into iron and steel' and stuff. And it was. We even bought two and tested one with a claw hammer - and it was good enough to use afterwards too.
Really nice knives, actually. Great for cutting veg and all sorts. I must emphasise how unbelievably strong they are.
Well, he broke it.
Must've been after I passed out, or maybe he broke it when I tried to stab him and I didn't notice, or hell, maybe I even managed to stab him and it just broke against his skin.
But either way, we now have 1 ubersharp kitchen knife, and two separated halves of an ubersharp kitchen knife.
Fucking terrifying. I won't try that again. I'm gonna need a longer weapon.
Anyway. Goodnight. Be safe, and may we all live on 'til morning.
~ Kev Elliot
Wednesday 11 November 2015
Update - Haven't seen the guy
Thia will no longer leave the flat alone. Whenever I have to go out, she begs me to stay, to not risk the outside world any more.
This guy - this thing that stalked her on her way home - has had a terrible, terrible effect on her.
My heart is weeping.
This beautiful girl, the love of my life, all I ever needed, all I'll ever need, is terrified of stepping outside the door.
I took her out for a dinner in her favourite restaurant last night, and she wouldn't stop looking out the windows, stealing peeks at the door, and glancing over her shoulder.
Her nerves have gotten so bad that she's broken through the skin on the back of her hand with nervous scratching.
And there's nothing I can do that seems to work for more than five minutes.
I don't care what it is. I don't care what it is. I don't care what it is, I am going to fucking kill it.
I am going to cut its fucking head off, and put it on a spike for all the other monsters in the dark to see - if you go anywhere near my Thia, that's what'll happen to you. If you so much as breathe in her direction, you're only going for a world of pain, humiliation, and slow death.
My god I am so angry.
I type this with one hand, because she won't let go of my other one - and I won't let her let go of it. Not while she's as scared as she is. What kind of lover would I be then?
She looks shellshocked, and-
She's telling me it's here. She's telling me he's here.
I'm going to get a knife from the kitchen. I don't care what mythological pretenses it holds, I'm going to stab its eyes out. Hippocratic Oath be damned, I'm going to cause that nasty fucker pain.
Be right back.
Ok ok ok help help me please oh god. oh god. kev hasn't come back. he's been gone for ten minutes out there in the hallway with it and hes not back oh help me help me dear god im praying right now hes been too long i have to go after him i have to go after him i have to i have to i love him help me
im going out there theres another knife in the kitchen i can use that im gonna go help him i cant leave him help me help me help me god please no not him dont let him be hurt i love him i
This guy - this thing that stalked her on her way home - has had a terrible, terrible effect on her.
My heart is weeping.
This beautiful girl, the love of my life, all I ever needed, all I'll ever need, is terrified of stepping outside the door.
I took her out for a dinner in her favourite restaurant last night, and she wouldn't stop looking out the windows, stealing peeks at the door, and glancing over her shoulder.
Her nerves have gotten so bad that she's broken through the skin on the back of her hand with nervous scratching.
And there's nothing I can do that seems to work for more than five minutes.
I don't care what it is. I don't care what it is. I don't care what it is, I am going to fucking kill it.
I am going to cut its fucking head off, and put it on a spike for all the other monsters in the dark to see - if you go anywhere near my Thia, that's what'll happen to you. If you so much as breathe in her direction, you're only going for a world of pain, humiliation, and slow death.
My god I am so angry.
I type this with one hand, because she won't let go of my other one - and I won't let her let go of it. Not while she's as scared as she is. What kind of lover would I be then?
She looks shellshocked, and-
She's telling me it's here. She's telling me he's here.
I'm going to get a knife from the kitchen. I don't care what mythological pretenses it holds, I'm going to stab its eyes out. Hippocratic Oath be damned, I'm going to cause that nasty fucker pain.
Be right back.
Ok ok ok help help me please oh god. oh god. kev hasn't come back. he's been gone for ten minutes out there in the hallway with it and hes not back oh help me help me dear god im praying right now hes been too long i have to go after him i have to go after him i have to i have to i love him help me
im going out there theres another knife in the kitchen i can use that im gonna go help him i cant leave him help me help me help me god please no not him dont let him be hurt i love him i
Monday 9 November 2015
Thia was followed home
My poor girl. I swear to god, if I ever see this guy, I'm going to cut his eyes out with a rusty, tetanus contaminated spoon.
Thia - my poor, poor Thia - was followed home after her last lecture today, by some tall badtard wearing a suit.
She was hysterical when she got in, and immediately started bleeding straight out of her nose, coughing like a plague victim. When she could talk through her coughing fits, she wouldn't stop telling me about how unnaturally tall he was, how his limbs were just a little too long for his body.
Or a lot too long.
With Snow White skin, and no face.
Logic compels me to believe that this is some fool in a mask. It can't be anything else. A mask and stilts. That's all it can be. And I'll kill him when I find out who it is.
I... Told her I would.
She started shaking her head frantically, begging me not to.
No face.
This is too much. I'm not sure she can handle any more of this madness - and she's always been sturdier than me, believe it or not. I can kick ass, but without her I'm more like a psychological and emotional wreck.
I'm really not dealing with this as well as I'm sure I come across.
She said we were being followed.
And he chased her - whoever it is.
I want to hurt him.
But I don't know if I can, with her reaction like that. She's not prone to unreasonable panic.
Maybe we should leave town for a bit. Next time we get a week's holiday we'll...
I don't know. Get a hotel room in Liverpool? She likes Liverpool.
I'm going to keep her safe.
I'm going to find a way.
I just wish I knew what was going on.
Good night, my friends. Be safe, and may we all live on til morning.
~ Kev Elliot
Thursday 5 November 2015
Update - Scary Day
Very short update. Electronics functioning badly.
Disturbances continue. We are in the dark at present. Saw something at the window earlier. Probably nothing. We live on the 23rd floor.
Which leads me onto the next point.
That tree outside the window. Impossible. Too high up. Streetlight too, doesn't shine into the room like that. It was something else.
Hallucination? I don't discount it.
I am in pain. My girlfriend - I will refer to her as Thia - now feels the sickness too.
I have shown her the blog. Told her everything. She knows it all.
She is very scared. I am also very scared. I would ask for help, but you will not live nearby- and I will not disclose our location on here.
She...
She believes we are being followed by something.
And she is very intuitive. Rarely wrong.
I may find myself believing her soon.
Zack contacted me. Similar occurrences. His blog will be up soon.
Apologies for short post. Apologies for lack of post yesterday. We were lucky to have no lectures, and spent the whole day hiding together. Today was less lucky. I walked her there- or she walked me part way, however you take it- and we both felt the presence. Coughing followed.
Our lecturers told us to leave. Come back when feeling better. Fortunately, the lectures are recorded and put online. We won't miss learning.
Sorry. I have to go. She doesn't want to be far from me.
I don't want to be far from her either.
Sleep well. Be safe. May we all live on 'til morning.
Disturbances continue. We are in the dark at present. Saw something at the window earlier. Probably nothing. We live on the 23rd floor.
Which leads me onto the next point.
That tree outside the window. Impossible. Too high up. Streetlight too, doesn't shine into the room like that. It was something else.
Hallucination? I don't discount it.
I am in pain. My girlfriend - I will refer to her as Thia - now feels the sickness too.
I have shown her the blog. Told her everything. She knows it all.
She is very scared. I am also very scared. I would ask for help, but you will not live nearby- and I will not disclose our location on here.
She...
She believes we are being followed by something.
And she is very intuitive. Rarely wrong.
I may find myself believing her soon.
Zack contacted me. Similar occurrences. His blog will be up soon.
Apologies for short post. Apologies for lack of post yesterday. We were lucky to have no lectures, and spent the whole day hiding together. Today was less lucky. I walked her there- or she walked me part way, however you take it- and we both felt the presence. Coughing followed.
Our lecturers told us to leave. Come back when feeling better. Fortunately, the lectures are recorded and put online. We won't miss learning.
Sorry. I have to go. She doesn't want to be far from me.
I don't want to be far from her either.
Sleep well. Be safe. May we all live on 'til morning.
~ Kev Elliot
Tuesday 3 November 2015
Update - She's home. I'm happy.
For the first time in my life, my girlfriend is leaning on me in bed while I type this. My laptop is a little too warm, and burning my legs a little, but I daren't move to the desk, for fear of disturbing her.
I think she's asleep, you see. Occasionally, she fakes this, to scare me when I'm not on my guard (and occasionally, I deliberately act frightened to amuse her - she sees through me every time) but this time, I think it's for real.
It's what, 00:06 hours, as I type this very sentence? Ooh. Just ticked over to 00:07. It's entirely understandable that she'd be asleep by now. I've always been a little bit more of a night owl.
You can't see, but I'm smiling.
She is adorable. And I love her. And one day- one day- I am going to ask her to marry me.
If this whole paranoid-creepy-creepy-scary-disease thing doesn't shatter us both, ending the relationship permanently. That's a grim thought. I'd honestly rather die than be without her - but I also don't think that's terribly likely. She's...
She's in love with me, after all.
Still smiling.
I think she's smiling too. Is she reading this? I shall have to think of something funny to write down here- she can never resist laughing when she finds something funny.
Hmm.
There was always this joke about those multinational compatriots who end up in pubs together. It goes something like "An Englishman walks into a bar. Normally, there's a Welshman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman with him, but they were all still at the rugby world cup."
No? Nothing from her, I'm afraid. Maybe it's just too old to be funny, now. I shall try something else.
You know, one time, I walked into our bedroom, and tripped on a bra of hers.
It was a booby trap.
Haha.
She laughed.
Well, she laughed and hit me, but not very hard. I'm not bleeding, so I must be ok.
She's, uh... she's asking me to put this thing away and pay some attention to her, now. Whether or not it's what you're inevitably thinking it is, I'm going to oblige her before
Static. Static and disturbance and disruption on the laptop's screen. In the middle of that word. It came and stayed for ten minutes before I could type again. I've checked the post and it doesn't seem to have been corrupted - it was just the display going wild - and my wifi is still functional.
And my head.
This has never happened before. I feel intruded upon, like, for a while there, we weren't alone in our home.
This is not good. I must get in touch with Zackery.
I'm going to get under the covers with my girlfriend, hold her very tight indeed, and not come out until morning.
Good night. Be safe. May we live on 'til morning.
~ Kev Elliot
Monday 2 November 2015
Update - A quiet day
Nothing much has happened today. I ate, drank, lord forbid I even slept a little. My significant other is more than a little drunk, very giggly, and spending the night at her friend's house. In fact, she'd intermittently on the phone to me, even while I type this.
She keeps telling me she loves me.
Which makes me smile.
Smiles are a little rarer than I'd like these days. A fuse broke or something this morning, and managed to blow out all the ceiling lamps when it did. I'm currently sitting in darkness, with only a small desk lamp and my screen for light.
Oh, and the streetlight from outside, of course. Still projecting creepy shadows from that damn tree onto my wall as well. If I were ten, I'd be quite terrified.
Instead, I feel only unease.
Perhaps I should see a psychiatrist. This presence is still following me, and the whispers I only really thought I'd been hearing until now are definitely a thing - though quiet enough that they could pass for blood rushing in my ears.
Only I'm a medical student, and I know that that's not what that would sound like.
I think.
Maybe.
I hope.
I don't know. Maybe I am incompetent. Maybe I am being stalked by an eldritch abomination. I'm certainly acting like I am. Paranoia, deja vu, forgetfulness-cum-amnesia, and -
A nosebleed. My nose is bleeding. Literally right now. Let me get a tissue quickly.
Ah yes. Kleenex. Friend to teenagers everywhere, and now, friend to me. I would apologise for my absence, but I doubt you felt it, given that you're just reading a blog post. I mean, I hope you're reading this. As much as the Brit in me is whipping me mentally for admitting this, I'm...
I don't want to feel alone right now.
Ignoring the fact that I don't feel alone, that I feel very much watched, I've been feeling isolated more and more recently. Zack hasn't spoken to me in a week - not out of malice, I think (I hope) he's just busy - and my dear girl seems to be spending more time away.
Hm.
No. She just told me she loves me again. And she can't lie when she's drunk. Also, she says 'Hello, internets.'
Hello, Internets.
Actually, I know she doesn't read this blog, but I've been contemplating showing it to her - telling her about... this. Whatever it is. She's an extremely understanding woman, and stunningly intelligent. She would know what to do.
But would that just be 'see a doctor'?
Correction. It would be 'See a doctor again.'
Maybe I shouldn't be drinking; my head's just gone off on a painful, migraine based tangent again, and she's devolving into fits of laughter - I think she's playing with her friend's cat - and it's really very late over here. I am excruciatingly tired. As in, my bones are tired. It's a deep kind of tired.
Soul tired. Like there's something draining me.
I wonder if it has a face.
Hehe. Now I'm drunk too.
Night, you lot.
She keeps telling me she loves me.
Which makes me smile.
Smiles are a little rarer than I'd like these days. A fuse broke or something this morning, and managed to blow out all the ceiling lamps when it did. I'm currently sitting in darkness, with only a small desk lamp and my screen for light.
Oh, and the streetlight from outside, of course. Still projecting creepy shadows from that damn tree onto my wall as well. If I were ten, I'd be quite terrified.
Instead, I feel only unease.
Perhaps I should see a psychiatrist. This presence is still following me, and the whispers I only really thought I'd been hearing until now are definitely a thing - though quiet enough that they could pass for blood rushing in my ears.
Only I'm a medical student, and I know that that's not what that would sound like.
I think.
Maybe.
I hope.
I don't know. Maybe I am incompetent. Maybe I am being stalked by an eldritch abomination. I'm certainly acting like I am. Paranoia, deja vu, forgetfulness-cum-amnesia, and -
A nosebleed. My nose is bleeding. Literally right now. Let me get a tissue quickly.
Ah yes. Kleenex. Friend to teenagers everywhere, and now, friend to me. I would apologise for my absence, but I doubt you felt it, given that you're just reading a blog post. I mean, I hope you're reading this. As much as the Brit in me is whipping me mentally for admitting this, I'm...
I don't want to feel alone right now.
Ignoring the fact that I don't feel alone, that I feel very much watched, I've been feeling isolated more and more recently. Zack hasn't spoken to me in a week - not out of malice, I think (I hope) he's just busy - and my dear girl seems to be spending more time away.
Hm.
No. She just told me she loves me again. And she can't lie when she's drunk. Also, she says 'Hello, internets.'
Hello, Internets.
Actually, I know she doesn't read this blog, but I've been contemplating showing it to her - telling her about... this. Whatever it is. She's an extremely understanding woman, and stunningly intelligent. She would know what to do.
But would that just be 'see a doctor'?
Correction. It would be 'See a doctor again.'
Maybe I shouldn't be drinking; my head's just gone off on a painful, migraine based tangent again, and she's devolving into fits of laughter - I think she's playing with her friend's cat - and it's really very late over here. I am excruciatingly tired. As in, my bones are tired. It's a deep kind of tired.
Soul tired. Like there's something draining me.
I wonder if it has a face.
Hehe. Now I'm drunk too.
Night, you lot.
~ Kev Elliot
PS: Forgot to wish you a happy Hallowe'en. Happy late Hallowe'en.
Sunday 1 November 2015
Update - looking over notes
I've been looking over my old notes. I thought I'd burned them, honestly, but it seems that even then part of me knew it wasn't over.
Or I'm as forgetful as my friends make a point of telling me I am.
Either way, it's nothing I don't remember already. Things like chills, waking up at odd hours in the night, talking in my sleep. Always, there was a persistent sensation of being watched, too - which is also the most prominent thing I feel now.
I must have just been starting medical school when this all started, too. I found a few files on my decrepit 2013 laptop about what I might have, plus the doctor's report from the monthly appointments I was booking myself into to deal with it. He was just as puzzled as I am now. Yes, coughing, hacking, all that, could just be a chest infection, but there are other, odder things, that he couldn't explain so easily.
"An unfortunate combination of a chest infection and migraines. Advise change in diet as caffeine intake could be stimulating pre-existing tendency towards migraines, and full course of clarithromycin."
He also told me I should come back in if it started giving me headaches, dizziness, or any ridiculous side effects. Irate, I told him that I was already getting headaches. He sighed and informed me that the chances of me having anything that would result in this specific set of symptoms was very low.
Which, in doctor speak, means that it would only be a concern if I had been to the tropics recently.
Which I had not - and still have not. I hate mosquitoes. I'm much more of a winter person.
Now, I took the antibiotics, felt awful, and stopped drinking coke, coffee, and tea - and anything even remotely chocolate based was right out, too.
No change. Not until it went away of its own accord after all this medical stuff had packed in and told me that if it wasn't getting any worse, then they didn't need me coming in all the time, and that they'd give it a good look while I waited and saw.
Ugh.
I'm sorry. I have a splitting headache right now too. The branches on the tree outside are making odd shapes on my wall against the streetlight, and this is all just terrible. Really, really terrible. I hate this, I really do.
Let's see, now. What else in this update?
I started looking over some old webpages, actually. Quite interesting, occasionally, but by and large it was just holistic nonsense, from what I could tell of it. I might have another look in the morning, but it all seems quite idiotic, I won't lie. They blame monsters and demons and spirits that possess the living - they're telling me that I'm being possessed.
Indeed.
That's all for tonight. I am, quite frankly, knackered. I'm going to crawl into bed with my dear girl, and hope she can make me feel warm again. It's too cold in here, and I've even got the radiator on.
Or I'm as forgetful as my friends make a point of telling me I am.
Either way, it's nothing I don't remember already. Things like chills, waking up at odd hours in the night, talking in my sleep. Always, there was a persistent sensation of being watched, too - which is also the most prominent thing I feel now.
I must have just been starting medical school when this all started, too. I found a few files on my decrepit 2013 laptop about what I might have, plus the doctor's report from the monthly appointments I was booking myself into to deal with it. He was just as puzzled as I am now. Yes, coughing, hacking, all that, could just be a chest infection, but there are other, odder things, that he couldn't explain so easily.
"An unfortunate combination of a chest infection and migraines. Advise change in diet as caffeine intake could be stimulating pre-existing tendency towards migraines, and full course of clarithromycin."
He also told me I should come back in if it started giving me headaches, dizziness, or any ridiculous side effects. Irate, I told him that I was already getting headaches. He sighed and informed me that the chances of me having anything that would result in this specific set of symptoms was very low.
Which, in doctor speak, means that it would only be a concern if I had been to the tropics recently.
Which I had not - and still have not. I hate mosquitoes. I'm much more of a winter person.
Now, I took the antibiotics, felt awful, and stopped drinking coke, coffee, and tea - and anything even remotely chocolate based was right out, too.
No change. Not until it went away of its own accord after all this medical stuff had packed in and told me that if it wasn't getting any worse, then they didn't need me coming in all the time, and that they'd give it a good look while I waited and saw.
Ugh.
I'm sorry. I have a splitting headache right now too. The branches on the tree outside are making odd shapes on my wall against the streetlight, and this is all just terrible. Really, really terrible. I hate this, I really do.
Let's see, now. What else in this update?
I started looking over some old webpages, actually. Quite interesting, occasionally, but by and large it was just holistic nonsense, from what I could tell of it. I might have another look in the morning, but it all seems quite idiotic, I won't lie. They blame monsters and demons and spirits that possess the living - they're telling me that I'm being possessed.
Indeed.
That's all for tonight. I am, quite frankly, knackered. I'm going to crawl into bed with my dear girl, and hope she can make me feel warm again. It's too cold in here, and I've even got the radiator on.
~ Kev Elliot
Saturday 31 October 2015
I'm Back. And so is It.
Two and a half years, boys and girls. Two and a half years of peace and health and joy, during which I could study, cry about exams, wonder if medicine is really for me, kiss my lover, think occasionally about marriage and children, and play chess drunk.
For two and a half years - from the last day I made a post of this damn blog, to today - I was free.
You don't understand. I was free from the sickness that had been burning in my chest, and frosting in my skull. I was free from the torment of something that, actually, I can only put down to some kind of odd radiation poisoning. I was free from the strange, bewildering, frightening presences and whispers I felt following me like some kind of deranged, sadistic cloud. Even that poem I found on my bed amounted to nothing.
I, Kev Elliot - not my real name - was free.
And safe.
And happy.
And with the woman I love.
And only worried about cuts to the NHS.
And only stressed about exams.
And only angry towards the tories.
But not anymore.
I just can't seem to have anything, really. Not for long. Not without it being spoilt by some invisible source of radioactive menace. Not without the sigma.
She warned us. The woman with the purple scarf and insane look in her eyes, in Bury St. Edmunds. She told us it was 'The Sigma'. I still don't know what that means.
But it's back.
God damn it all. It's back.
I abandoned this blog two and a half years ago - in the April of 2013 - because I had finally been convinced that my paranoia was all for nought. I abandoned it... because I didn't see the danger any more. Because the coughing and hacking and electronics going haywire had diminished to the point where it was gone. I made it originally to document my findings with regards to this Sigma thing, and the illness, and how me and Zack - you do remember Zackery, right? - were going to deal with it.
I made it to try and save us.
You will never truly know how painful it is to have to log back into it.
I thought it was over.
I was so wrong.
Welcome back to The Sigma Studies, ladies and gentlemen. I'll never say I missed it - I didn't.
But I guess I always knew I'd have to fight it again one day.
Maybe Zack will even join in this time.
Maybe you lot will even join in this time.
Until then, my friends. May we all sleep safely, and live through 'til dawn.
For two and a half years - from the last day I made a post of this damn blog, to today - I was free.
You don't understand. I was free from the sickness that had been burning in my chest, and frosting in my skull. I was free from the torment of something that, actually, I can only put down to some kind of odd radiation poisoning. I was free from the strange, bewildering, frightening presences and whispers I felt following me like some kind of deranged, sadistic cloud. Even that poem I found on my bed amounted to nothing.
I, Kev Elliot - not my real name - was free.
And safe.
And happy.
And with the woman I love.
And only worried about cuts to the NHS.
And only stressed about exams.
And only angry towards the tories.
But not anymore.
I just can't seem to have anything, really. Not for long. Not without it being spoilt by some invisible source of radioactive menace. Not without the sigma.
She warned us. The woman with the purple scarf and insane look in her eyes, in Bury St. Edmunds. She told us it was 'The Sigma'. I still don't know what that means.
But it's back.
God damn it all. It's back.
I abandoned this blog two and a half years ago - in the April of 2013 - because I had finally been convinced that my paranoia was all for nought. I abandoned it... because I didn't see the danger any more. Because the coughing and hacking and electronics going haywire had diminished to the point where it was gone. I made it originally to document my findings with regards to this Sigma thing, and the illness, and how me and Zack - you do remember Zackery, right? - were going to deal with it.
I made it to try and save us.
You will never truly know how painful it is to have to log back into it.
I thought it was over.
I was so wrong.
Welcome back to The Sigma Studies, ladies and gentlemen. I'll never say I missed it - I didn't.
But I guess I always knew I'd have to fight it again one day.
Maybe Zack will even join in this time.
Maybe you lot will even join in this time.
Until then, my friends. May we all sleep safely, and live through 'til dawn.
~ Kev Elliot. Again.
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