Sunday, May 8, 2011

Everything's wrong.

It's like my life just keeps getting more and more twisted. Everytime I think that everything's gonna start getting better, something fucked up happens. Like today.

I went to Sheila's old house. Well, I went to what was left of it, seeing as it had been burned down last Wednesday. Like, here one minute, charcol the next. The police department is clueless how a three story house burned to the ground in under half an hour. Everythings gone. All the stuff Sheila's mom wanted to give to me is just ash in the wind. And I can't even go ask her about it. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. She was instutionalized following the fire, after she tried to attack the lawyer who was offering to sue for her. She's locked up in an asylum, babbling about something in a language I don't even understand.

All my leads have gone cold. I don't really have a choice now, I guess. I'm going back to Seattle. I'm getting a new, cheaper apartment, since I can't afford, nor want, the one I had with Alex anymore. I'm gonna bury the diary. Probably next Sheila. Yeah. That'd be a fitting way to end this unpleasent little chapter. Then I'm done. I'm not getting on this blog ever again. I don't want redemption anymore. I don't want to be reminded. I just want my old life back. Goodbye guys. Have fun with your lives.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

What's going on?

I'm writing this from a cafe in the middle of nowhere. I'm mooching off the Wi-fi of some buisness type with a mobile hotspot. The chick at the bar tells me I'm in Wyoming. But that can't be possible. I went to sleep three days ago about 50 miles from the Washington-Oregon border. How the hell did I get here? Why can't I remember anything?

To make matters worse, the diary's back. I woke up with it in the seat next to me, just lying there like it had ben there all along. I flipped through it and... things had been added. Recently. Stuff in red ink. It looked like the stuff Alex had in his rooms. Which reminds me, the stuff I took from there when I left is gone. The drawings I mean. Just poof.

I'm seriously freaked out. By now, I'm pissed too. Somebody's fucking with me. Stealing days of my life in God knows what way. He's trying to ruin my life, and I'm not playing that game. I'm going to see Sheila's mom tomorrow. I'll post again after that. Hopefully I find something that'll help me beat this guy. Cause I'm done running. It's motherfucking war now. Game on faggot. Let's play.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Taking back what's mine.

Hey. It's Jason. I went back to my apartment last night. It was... well. It was wierd.

I walked in the door, and everything was just the way I'd left it: trashed. Nothing odd about that. I walked the apartment, just to make sure, but it was like no one had been in the apartment. I mean, I should have seen some sign the cops had been there, but nope. Guess they're just good. lol.

Then I went back and tried the door to Alex's room. It still had the mark on it from a week ago. The fucking Operator symbol. Can I just say, I've never understood the point of it. Marble Hornets never really explained it, and I've seen so many blogs try to, that I've given up. I don't see what it is expect a sign that ol Slendy's gonna start creeping on you. Apparently, my stalker's a fan. I guess that's one thing I know about him.

Anyway, I decided to try the door to Alex's room again. Apparently the police ha been in there, cause it was unlocked now. So, being the crack sleuth I am, I decided to go in.

... there aren't many things in this world that frighten me anymore. I had a rough childood, A hard time in school. I watched my uncle wate away from a debilitating disease. It's kinda hardened me to the world. I'm a tough nut to crack. But what I saw in Alex's room... it freaked the holy piss out of me. From Floor to ceiling, on all four walls, were these drawings. Pictures. Pictures of death, and mutilation. Of things thatshould never see the light of day. Of people in Africa, blighted by plauge. Of Children being fellated by their mothers. Of all sorts of creatures, animal and human, being ritualistically slaughtered. The drawings were simple stck figures, just with horrible disfigurements: Multiple limbs, and hols in their chests. And the eyes. Horrible, detailed eyes staring down at me from all over the walls. And there, right in the middle of the room: A garbage sack, tied with a purple twisty-tie. Just sitting there on some newspaper.

I should have left right then. Gone with my gut, turned, and run scrreaming from that place never to reurn. But I didn't. I couldn't. I needed to find my friend. So I walked up to that bag. I could smell it now: Death. Not the band, thepure stench of decay and rot, muted by the bag. Flies were buzzing around it. Then I opened it. Something... spilled out of the bag. It was just a rush or red fluid at first, then came chunks and lumps of meat mixed with fur. Something alive had been killed, mutilated, thrown in that bag and left for me to find.

I uked. I puked fucking hardcore. Then I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I grabbed some ofthat shit of his walls, grabbed whatever I could got in my car, and drove as fast as I could away.

That was two days ago. I've been driving in circles ever since. I'm at an Internet cafe in Wyoming writing this. I called Jake, told him to let my boss know that I was taking a leave of absence. I'll probably get fired, but I don't care aymore. I'm going to see Sheila's mom. Maybe whatever she has from her would haelp me find Alex. Maybe Alex is with her. I don't know. All I know is, I can't stay in Seattle right now. I'll ry and update you guys the next chanceI get. Please, I'm open to suggestions, and comments. I need help.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Checking in/ Sheila's Mom.

Hey guys, Jason here. It's been a few days since I posted, mostly because I've been putting in a bunch of overtime at work to keep my mind busy. I'm still staying with Jake, I haven't been back to the house since my last post. Still no word from Alex, still no sign of the diary (I sense a link between those two) Honestly, I'm kinda disappointed in you guys. I was kind of expecting you guys to chime in and say that I need to be careful, that Slenderman is gonna get me. But no, nothing. And just when I thought you really cared...

But enough of my childish petulance. I'm not even considering the whole Slendy notion. Someone is fucking with me. Most likely the person who sent me the diary, most likely the one who made Sheila kill herself. And I'm not playing that game. It's personal. if he's reading this I want him to know that I'm ready for him. Game On motherfucker.

In other news, I got a call from Sheila's mom down out in Wyoming. She said that she was going through some of Sheila's old things and was wondering if I wanted any. Honestly, I don't but since this was the first time she'd ever spoken cordially to me, I figured I could only say yes. I'm probably gonna drive down there in a few weeks to go get it. But first, I've gotta move back into my apartment. I've got a CHL, and I used to hunt a lot, so I've got a gun. I just hate that I have to use it. But, welcome to the world we live in.

I've got to go. Hopefully I hear from ALex soon. I'm worried about the fucker.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Still missing.

Yup. He's gone. Completely effing vanished off the face of the Earth. I've called his work, his friends, his family, his girlfriend. None of them have seen him in at least a week. I woke up this morning, and he wasn't there, which isn't odd, since he's normally gone before me. His door was locked, which wasn't normal, but I wrote it off because of how strange he is. I get home from work today, and he's still not here. Finally after, about three hours of waiting, I placed all those calls I mentioned above. Then I realized: Sheila's diary wasn't where I left it... I was certain it should have been on the end table, but it wasn't. I searched all over the house. I even went out and looked in my car.

Now here's where shit gets freaky. I was outside for all of maybe 15 minutes. No way anybody could have done much damage. But when I come back, the place was ransacked. Shit was everywhere. Cushions were shredded, dishes were smashed, pages were pulled out of my text book; it was like someone with rage issues had gone through my apartment. But what really terrified me, was what was on Alex's door. It was... it was that fucking symbol. The Operator symbol from Marble Hornets. A huge Fucking X'd Circle painted on my best friend's door.

I'm not there anymore. I'm staying with Jake for a while. Someone insane broke into my apartment, most likely the same someone Sheila was writing about. From Alex's little addition to my last post, I gather that he was seeing him too. Whoever he is, he's gotta be scary, because Alex isn't afraid of anything. I have no idea what the signifigance of that symbol is, or where Alex is, but if you're reading this man, please, come back. I need to know. I want to fight this guy with you. Please. Come home.
Alex is gone. Just vanished. The journal's gone too. His room is locked. The apartment is trashed. There's an addition to the last post that I didn't write. What the fuck is going on?

Saturday, April 16, 2011

My apologies...

For those of you who read that little ...outburst last night, I'd like to offer some explainations. Yes, the book belonged to Sheila. I was flipping through it when I noticed something written inside the front cover. It was a little scrawl written in silver Sharpie... her favorite color. It said This diary, and all it contains is the property of SRD. So back Off.

SRD. Sheila Ruth Daniels.

I kinda lost it. Ok, I seriously lost it, as you can tell. The fact that somebody would steal her possesions and mutilate it like they did was sick enough. But the fact that they mailed it to me... I don't think it was somebody sane.

This is cemented by the fact that Sheila was being followed. From all I've been able to read, about 8 months ago, some man starts stalking her. She never refers to him by name, just "Him" "I saw Him today. He was across the street from the house just standing there... staring" And then, a month later "I keep seeing Him in my dreams. He always following me, and I hear the children screaming... or is it laughing?" It just gets wierder from there. Most of the pages after that are either damaged by the water or completely fucking incinerated. But the ones I can make out are just weird. Drawings of eyes, sscribbles of "Help Me" One page just a blank circle drawn on it. It's some disturbing shit. I'm not gonna show Alex, or anybody. I was considering putting up pictures, but now I'm not even gonna consider it. It's private. Sheila was so beautiful, so full of joy, I don't want anyone to see her the way she is in this diary. I trust you guys understand.

She was being followed. Right before she broke up with me was when she needed me the most, and I wasn't there for her. Now I know what she meant that day she called me. Oh God, Sheila, please forgive me. I'm gonna keep reading through you're diary. Maybe I can find something that'll help me catch whoever drove you to your death. He has to pay... justice must be served.

Jason has no idea what he's messing with. What is hunting even now. What took Sheila. He's trying to keep it from me, but I know. I see Him, everywhere I look. I can't stay here any longer. It's not safe. Maybe if I'm gone, Jason will be safe. So I'm leaving. I'm getting as far away from here as possible. I'm making sure that Jason can't get any deeper. It's for his own good. You guys seem to know what it is I'm talkig about so I'm begging you, don't encourage him. Keep him safe, or you'll damn him to a fate worse than hell. I've got to leave. Now. I can't see Him, so I'm making a break for it. Protect him.