Part Forty-Seven (May 6, 1972)

A day had passed, with no important occurrences. Most of our night was spent on homework, so we had not had much more time for discussion. This day, however, was much more eventful.

The morning was used for preliminary research, as well as a more thorough breakdown of our plans. We had decided that we'd actually split up Jeremy and Tommy, as the former had seemed to be better-suited for field-work than for research. As such, the plan was for Jeremy to see if he could pay a visit to John's pen-pal, in an attempt to see what information he could offer.

Jeremy left at around dinner-time, to ensure that he'd have long enough to talk to this man, as he was unsure of the the coffee shop's hours. In fact, he was not even sure of the name of the place, but he'd assumed that it was not a major corporation. He also didn't know whether this person would be there, but he'd figured that he could leave a note. From what he'd known about the individual, he had liked notes.

Charlie and I sneaked out, at a later time, sometime around nine. Jeremy was still gone, at this time, but we had chosen not to think much of it; he was probably still busy. Anyway, leaving Tommy to the paperwork, we made our way to Trend's Corner.

Slowly, we approached the door, following the line, until we were stopped by a large bouncer. He gave us a quizzical expression, and asked us for our IDs. When we gave them to him, he furrowed his brows.

"These claim that you're both twenty-three." He said, "But you look too young for that."

"We're just short for our age." I claimed.

"Look," the man said, "I'm not saying that that's impossible, but I have to be sure about these things. I'm expressing serious doubts about this, so I'd like you to step aside. Otherwise, I'll get the boss." He said this with an ominous glance, as if getting his boss was the worst imaginable scenario. Of course, Charlie chose to ignore this.

"No." He said, "We need to get inside. I won't accept this discrimination against my height. I'm a person, and so is my friend. Your accusations offend me."

"I'm getting my boss." The doorman replied, with a look of terror upon his face.

"Fine!" Charlie said, "Get your boss! He can verify our age for us!" He knew that this wasn't true, but he was hoping that his statement would make him appear to be determined enough to convince the bouncer to let us in. This did not work.

About a minute later, the bouncer came out, accompanied by a tall, skinny man, wearing a white lounge-suit. Charlie and I did not know what we'd expected the nightclub's owner to look like, but we were certainly not expecting this. The man stared down at us, pushing his small, square sunglasses down his nasal bridge, and said, "Now, who dares to defy the will of the bouncer?" As he said this, his long, black hair blew in the wind. It was straight, outlining his narrow face, which was graced with a long goatee.

"We just need to see someone, sir." I said, gulping.

"If the bouncer doesn't let you in, then you don't get in. Do you understand?"

"But we're just short for our age." Charlie pleaded, "Just look at our cards." The man glanced at them, sneering.

"If this were true, you'd be dwarves." He asserted, "Now, I'm no expert, but I believe that you're a bit too proportionate to be dwarves, don't you? Larry, do they look disproportionate, to you?"

The bouncer shook his head. "No, sir." He said.

"Tell me, then." The boss implored, "What do they look like?"

"They look like children, sir."

The boss guffawed. "Children! Did you hear that? You're children. Now, listen. That means that you're liars; it means that you've faked your IDs. The Trend does not dig liars and fakers, you hear? And do you know what he hates even more? He hates when people refuse to leave. The Trend does not want to take the time, out of his day, to deal with phonies who won't leave. And Larry doesn't like to beat up kids. This means that he can't forcibly remove you. When that happens, he has to run into The Trend's office, harshing his mellow. And The Trend does not like his mellow to be harshed, understand?"

"We just want to see Howard Grady." I stated.

"The Trend does not care that you want to see this person; you still have to leave. This establishment is not for children. Go elsewhere."

Having had enough of this, Charlie tried to fight his way through, but the bouncer through him onto the ground. I managed to get around the doorman, but I was stopped by The Trend, who roughly grabbed my shirt.

"The Trend does not appreciate attempted evasion." He said, "He just wants to run a fun place. Do not make this place less fun."

Charlie tried to get up, but the bouncer blocked him. Meanwhile, The Trend tightened his grip, beginning to strangle me. "Listen." He continued, "This nightclub can be legally-questionable, but it's protected. As long as it follows a certain code, the boys-in-blue don't care; they'll look past some things, so long as we provide for them. But we've gotta respect some ground rules; we've gotta follow The Law of the Nightclub. This means that we must retain a semblance of structure. Hookers and blow are groovy, but we can't have young children bursting our bubble. The cops have to keep kids off the streets, to maintain their good rep'; they can cover up the rest, but that's the one question that they can't dodge. And this establishment wouldn't look so nice, if it were to allow entry to minors. Do you understand? We don't need the cops to shut us down. You've gotta respect The Law of the Nightclub."

"Yeah?" I said, struggling to breathe, "How do the cops feel about murder? Won't they refuse to back you, if you hurt a child?"

"Technically, yes... And The Trend has no intention of hurting you, so long as you cooperate. If not, he can brush this off as an accident." He squeezed me even tighter, and continued. "Now, you don't want there to be any accidents, do you?" Charlie shook his head.

"Good..." The Trend said, letting me go, "Now, get outta here."

I rubbed by neck, for a moment, and said, "No. Just let me see this person. Bring him out here, if you have to."

The Trend reddened, saying, "I don't want to call the authorities. Leave."

Charlie looked baffled. "Did you just say, 'I'?" He asked.

The Trend pointed his gun at the bouncer, and said. "Fine, then I'll just shoot Larry. If he would have been more assertive, we wouldn't be having this problem. He needs to pay for his failure, somehow.If you leave peacefully, I'll just give him the boot. But, if you don't cooperate, I'll put a bullet in his head. It'll be all your fault. You don't want to have a death on your hands, do you?"

"Fine," I said, "I'll leave. Let's go, Charlie." We began to walk away, when we heard the doorman shout.

"No!" He said, "Come back! Help me!"

We turned around, preparing to come back, but it didn't matter. The Trend had shot his employee in the head.

"You were going to kill him, the whole time?" I asked.

"Yes." The Trend said, "I only gave you a choice, so that you would leave. So, go on."

I frowned. "But was that even necessary?" I asked.

"Of course... I can't appear to be weak. If I stage this as a suicide, the cops will just clean it up for me, lacking any evidence. And my employees will fear me, whether or not they can confirm that I was the one who'd pulled the trigger. They will know that they can't leave. They'll fear failure, and they'll fear death. No one has failed me this badly, before, and it won't happen again. The efficiency of my employees will improve, and they'll know that they can't escape. I don't fire people; I fire into them! THE TREND ALWAYS RUNS A PROFITABLE BUSINESS! NOW LEAVE!"

With that, he began to shoot at us, and we quickly ran away.

Part Forty-Six (May 5, 1972)

Present:

Hello, everyone. I would like to take the time to address some things that seem to be common concerns. As the writer of this blog, I often decide to analyze my traffic-sources. Unsurprisingly, some of these sites are forums. On these forums, people voice their opinions on the way in which this blog is progressing, which may manifest as constructive criticism. I am quite tolerant of such things, and am willing to respond to them, if the need may arise. So, I will address three issues.

Format:

This actually did not come from a forum thread, but I feel that it needs to be addressed. I feel that it can be difficult to read sections of this blog, as I occasionally discuss the present. Prior to this point, there were no clear markers that indicated a dichotomy between these two periods of time. As such, I have chosen to more clearly label these passages, as seen above. I will not be editing my older tangents of this sort, however, as I think that it's interesting to see the progression of my work.

Children's Diction:

Sometimes, readers will find that, as children, my friends and I occasionally used words that a child would not typically use. This is especially prevalent in the earlier entries, but I've recently taken note of it. There are two main reasons for this 

1. Due to the fact that I am recollecting the happenings of my past, some of my quotes are somewhat paraphrased. As I have a tendency to use large words, they sometimes appear in dialog. I have made an effort to avoid such things, and you may find that we children have been speaking in an increasingly childlike manner. However, I do intentionally insert larger words, at times, which brings me to my second point.

2. Charlie and I (and, to a lesser extent, Tommy and Jeremy) used to read a ridiculous number of books, which dramatically increased our vocabulary. There was a point when our parents had even considered skipping us up to the next grade, but they had ultimately decided against it. Basically, we were rather precocious, but we did still have a tendency to talk like kids.

Plausibility:

Due to environmental distortion, as well as other bizarre events, some elements of my story may be slightly difficult to believe. But that is okay. I have yet to understand some of these occurrences, myself, but the important thing is that they happened. When one is found in strange circumstances, one has little time to think about things like plausibility.

Anyway, I hope that I have answered some of my readers' questions. If there should be more, I'd be glad to answer them. However, I'd prefer not to do so in bulk, as it distracts from the story.

Past:

School was boring, as it always had been. Hours passed by, as we twiddled our thumbs, in anticipation of our next meeting. When it was finally time for lunch, I let out a long sigh of relief.

When we had each gotten our food, we sat down at the table which we had unofficially designated as our discussion-spot, beginning our conversation with a quick mockery of  the fact that Cinco de Mayo had been Westernized as a festival for white drunkards. Soon after, we got to business.

"Tomorrow," I said, "Charlie and I will try to get into a nightclub, 'cuz we have to talk to someone. I want you guys to look at some of that research, while we're gone."

"And why can't we go with you?" Jeremy asked.

"They had to make fake IDs." Tommy explained, "They only made enough for themselves."

"But…" Jeremy said, "I'm not that great with research."

"You have Tommy with you." Charlie noted, "The kid gets straight A's."

Tommy smiled. Jeremy looked at him, considering the prospect. "Alright." He said, "But bring us back some drinks."

"Sorry…" Chalie said, "I promised my cousin that we wouldn't do anything stupid.." I opened my mouth, to add on, but Charlie stopped me. "I know what you're thinking about saying." He said, "And, if you ever want kids, I suggest that you don't say it."

I smirked. "As if that matters…" I said, "I haven't even gone through puberty."

"Then, you won't even have a chance with her, anyway." Charlie pointed out. I punched him in his arm.

"Guys, could we backtrack?" Tommy redirected, "How are you even gonna get into this nightclub?"

I thought about this. "It's a long-shot." I admitted, "But we have to try."

Part Forty-Five (May 5, 1972)

We woke up, the next day, groaning as Charlie let the light into the room. After I showered and ate, I went to find Jeremy. I discovered him in my room, playing with a yo-yo. "About time…" He said.

"Sorry," I replied, "I eat slowly. Where're Charlie and Tom?"

"Tommy's getting ready, and Charlie offered to mow the lawn for your folks. Are you ready?"

I nodded, and we took the box downstairs. I told my parents that we were leaving early for school, so that we could throw away some old comics. They were okay with that.

When we were about halfway to the school, we stopped. We found a nice open field, a bit away from the road. "Okay, Lyle." Jeremy said, "Are you going to do this? I'll support whichever decision that you make. If you're not ready, then that's okay."

I briefly looked into the box, before hesitantly setting it down. "I don't know if I'm ready." I said, "But it needs to be done. Hand me the match."

He did so, and I lit the box. I watched it, as it slowly crumbled away. Jeremy out his arm on my shoulder. "Any regrets?" He asked.

"Nah," I said.

"Are you sure? Even though it's twisted and weird, you're still technically losing porn."

"Yeah," I said, "But, in my delirium, I somehow had the common sense to destroy the crappy stuff. I'll be okay."

We both laughed, for a couple of minutes, before I decided to change the subject. "Last night, you talked about your dad." I said, "If you don't mind my asking, what did he do to you, exactly?"

Jeremy was silent, carefully choosing his words. "My dad was once in the military." He said, "But he was discharged for instability and public drunkenness. After he came home, for about a year, he would savagely beat me and my mother, for no real reason. Then, when I was about eight, Mom had had enough. She tried to leave, but Pops wouldn't have it. He picked up a steak knife, and he stabbed her, ten times. I watched in terror, as my mother was murdered. I tried to run, but my dad managed to stab me in the side. I escaped to my closet, which I barricaded, and waited until it was calm enough for me to pick up the phone. I called the police, Pops was canned, and I was sent to the hospital for surgery. Ever since then, I've been living in a foster home, where I have very few friends. Because of that, I'm cold and bitter, which is why I've always been hostile to you guys."

"I'm sorry." I said, "I'd had no idea."

"No one ever does. I never say much about it. But, anyway, I know your secret, add you know mine."

We stood there, until the box became little more than ashes. We then took turns, urinating on the flames. It was in this moment, as we both walked to school, that I truly became friends with Jeremy Maxwell.

Part Forty-Four (May 4, 1972)

Naturally, I was ashamed and frightened, as I didn't expect that I'd ever have to find myself in a situation in which I'd need to explain this. When I had finally gained the courage to speak, I said, "When I did that, I wasn't myself."

"What do you mean?" Jeremy asked.

"I had been having nightmares. I don't even remember cutting up the porn. When I woke up, I just… found it, all over my bed. I didn't know what to do, so I just put it in another box."

"Was Charlie here?"

"No," I said, "I think that he was on a road trip. I was alone; I had no one to talk to about this. This was before we'd even found Tommy."

"Would you like me to get him up here?" Jeremy suggested, "He'd understand."

"Tommy, or Charlie?"

"Tommy."

"No." I said, "He's calling his folks… This is pretty disturbing isn't it?"

Jeremy answered honestly. "Yeah." He said, "It's deeply disturbing. But you went through a traumatic experience. So, while this is screwed up, I'm not entirely surprised."

"Did anyone fill you in? Do you fully understand what this is all about?"

"Yeah, Charlie gave me the basics. 'Slender Man', right?" I nodded, and he continued, "I didn't really believe him, at first. But, after what happened in that old amusement park, I'm starting to get what he meant."

"Charlie tries." I commented, "But he doesn't really grasp the terror that I felt. He knows what happened to me, and what happened to Tommy, but he doesn't have any true connection. Neither do you, really, but I sense that something happened to you. You might get it."

Jeremy sat up, putting down the altered porn. "You haven't really told me what happened to you guys." He said.

Tommy's story isn't really mine to tell." I said, "But here's mine."

He listened intently, as I told him what happened. He seemed frightened and confused, at times, but he said nothing. He waited until I had finished.

"Geez," he remarked, "I didn't know that it was that bad. I'm sorry." He stopped, for a moment, to collect himself. Then, he resumed speaking. "Why didn't you burn these?" He asked, "I'd hate to have those under my bed."

"I guess that I'm kind of fascinated by them, in a way. I stare at them, trying to figure out what was in my head, when I altered them. It helps to remind me to never return to that state."

"I don't think that they help you." Jeremy pointed out, "I think that they screw you up. They make you hollow."

I raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know?" I questioned.

"Because the same thing happened to me, when I kept the pictures of my father." At that moment, we put away the box, as the others were entering the room.

Part Forty-Three (May 4,1972)

While I was tidying up the living room, and while Charlie was waiting in line for the phone, Jeremy entered the room. As he did so, Charlie instantly requested that he retrieve the porn from his backpack, and put it away, as he didn't have time to personally take care of it. Since we were in the presence of my parents, he euphemistically referred to it as, "the book that [he] was borrowing from Lyle". Jeremy reluctantly agreed, and headed upstairs.

After a minute or so, I decided to help him, as he didn't know how to properly sort my magazines. As I entered the room, I noticed that he couldn't resist the urge to dig into my other box. "What are you doing?" I screamed.

"Lyle," Jeremy stated, "I think that we need to talk about this."

I sat beside him, trying to figure out what to say, as Jeremy flipped through the pages of the magazines that I had forbidden him from reading. Unsure of my excuse, I merely watched him turn through them.

To his horror, he had discovered that every face of every model had been systematically cut out with a pair of scissors, and that each face had been crossed out with a Sharpie. Some of the women were even given tentacles. And, on the last page, I had drawn a crude representation of Slender Man, accompanied by the words, "I disapprove." I had done this to every last magazine in the box.

Part Forty-Two (May 4, 1972)

For a moment, we gazed into the pit, desperately attempting to process what had just happened. After some time, we returned to our senses, entering the small research building. "Grab what you can." I said, "Stuff it into your backpacks. We're not coming back."

Following my orders, my friends gathered up any documents that they could. Between the four of us, we managed to get everything. That included hundreds of documents, photos, and newspapers. Our trip was worth the trouble.

As we left, I laid a single sheet of blank paper on the marked ground, figuring that it would bust into flames. It did, but it caused only a small fire. So, I went into the building, and came out with more blank paper, making a trail of parchment. Digging around, I found some old gasoline, which I print poured onto the fire. When that was done, we left.

The walk home was silent. We'd all had too much on our minds, and there wasn't much room for banter. Charlie couldn't even get out the magazine, due to the paper in his bag.

Soon, we reached my place. After dinner and dishes, we immediately unpacked. When that was done, everyone called their parents.

Part Forty-One (May 4, 1972)

"My son is not missing." Bruce pointed out, "He's dead. He died on the day when he was taken from me, as did I."

"I'm sorry." I said.

"No." Bruce growled, "You're not. You cannot possibly understand what is like to lose a child. You have no children. Hell, you are a child. Every day, for the last several years,  I've been visiting the place of Sam's disappearance. Every day, I gather research on the Beast, hoping that it will somehow ease the pain. But it doesn't. Nothing does."

He stepped outside, taking in the strange landscape that he had been staring at for two decades. He appeared to be most in thought. Then, he said, "I can't do this, anymore. That's why I passed on that message to you, Charlie. That's why I was so adamant to help John out, after he began receiving those letters. I needed a replacement."

"Wait…" I said, "You wrote the letters?"

Bruce chuckled. "No." He said, "That was someone else, though I don't know whom. But, anyway, I just found the letters to be a convenience. I needed someone to to fulfill my work, so I played along, leaving John unaware of my true identity. I didn't want to worry him."

"I don't mean to make things worse." Tommy said, "But John's dead. He committed suicide."

"No, he didn't." Bruce said, tearfully, "I killed him."

"What?"

"He was my dear friend." Bruce said, "I didn't want him to continue delving into this. If he would have found this place, it would have ruined him. So, to ease his inevitable pain, I forced his pills down his throat."

"You didn't have to do that." Jeremy said, "You could have just told him to stay away."

"I know…" Bruce said, "But one cannot change the past." He paused, for a moment, and added, "But you can change other things."

"What do you mean?" I puzzled.

Bruce breathed deeply. "Once you've been in this place for long enough," he began, "You learn to manipulate it." With that, he outstetched his arm, and telekinetically collapsed a rollercoaster. Then, he proceeded to destroy the remainder of the structures, leaving nothing but the small building that was behind him. As everything began to fall into the chasms, he slowly drew three bars toward himself. When they neared him, he uttered his final words.

"Forgive me, John." He said, "My research has been passed on."

With his purpose fulfilled, he allowed the metal to puncture his abdomen, and tumbled into the abyss.