The Slender Man (11 page)

After what feels like ten or fifteen minutes I force myself
to get up and wash before the hot water runs out. By the time I turn the water
off, my skin already feels dried up. I apply some lotion and change into the
day clothes I brought with me. I have a green, Happy Bunny tank top as an
undershirt, and I put on my green and black flannel shirt over it. I figure the
blouse will match the nail polish, even though it's pretty badly worn out by
now. I put on deep blue jeans and green socks. After my clothes are on, it's
time to work with my wet hair. I use the toilet as a chair and then grab our
blow dryer. It's pretty out of date: old; bulky, and black, but it works. I dry
out my hair then brush it out. It's still a little damp when I'm finished, but
acceptable.

I exit the bathroom, leaving my clothes on the floor where I
took them off- I'll pick them up later. I throw on some thin rubber bracelets
on my left arm. I use black and blue, because I don't have green ones, but I do
have a black and green Yeah Yeah Yeah's bracelet that I put on my right arm. I
apply a little eyeliner and lip gloss and take one good look at myself in my
vanity mirror. I need to bleach my hair again, as my roots are showing pretty
badly, but other than that I look... normal.

I let out a little sigh. It's not really audible, but my
body goes through the motions. Ever since the accident I haven't really been myself,
and to see how much damage the recent tragedies have done to my appearance only
makes me feel worse. I look up at the framed picture of Shana and me from two
years ago. We were standing outside our school, facetiously making duck faces,
and wearing matching blue and silver halter top dresses for the school dance.

“If only you were here now,” I say. I touch the frame, only
now noticing that a thin layer of dust has built up on it.

“Where are you?”

I fumble around with the camera while we’re in the car. It's
not a very new camera, in fact I think my parents have had it for a decade at
least, but it works. It's rather bulky, so my parents only bring it on special
occasions. Like Hanukkah, the Fourth of July, and well- birthday parties. It's
big and black, and the lens-holder thingy takes up more than half of it. It's
got a grip for holding it, but I am just wearing it around my neck. Dad just
picked me up from the house and now we’re driving to the party. Bubbe is
staying at home. I guess she’s not very interested in going to a children’s
birthday party. I look out the window. The drive to the Willow's house isn't
particularly far, in fact it's only a few miles from ours, but it's one of
those places set up a mile away from any other building. Everything else is
just tree line.

When we pull up to their house, which is very big compared
to our house, I see quite a few people have already shown up. In fact it looks
like the party has been going on for a while now. It's taking place in their
enormous front yard, and they even pitched large tan canvas tents up to provide
some shade. Dad pulls up and Karen Willow waves to catch our attention. Dad
stops the car and rolls the window down.

Karen walks up with a big smile. “Hi! We were wondering when
you two would make it,” she greets.

Dad gives her a polite little laugh and smile as a response.
“Glad to be here. Hey where do you want us to park?” he asks.

“Oh, we’re having all the cars pull around the other side
here. Just find a spot, but make it look neat,” she answers. Dad gives her a
little nod as she backs off. As we reach the other side of the yard some dozen
cars or so come into view, though they aren't parked very neatly. It seems that
the general idea is to park them side by side facing the tree line. That works
for us though, so Dad pulls up to the end of the car-line and parks. I hop out
and open the back door.

Dad picked up Lionel's present on his way back. It's a jumbo
Captain America shield, hidden in a cheap gift bag. Part of the shield actually
sticks out, but the visible part is covered in gift wrap. Behind the present is
a twenty-four pack of Mountain Dew- Dad can carry that. I walk to the party,
gift in hand, hoping that this party will bring more merriment than kids birthday
parties usually do for me. I feel that it won't though, because every birthday
party I've gone to here, whether mine or someone else's, has been with Shana.
It will be awkward not having her here, but if I can just keep my mind off of
her, maybe it won’t be so bad.

I reach the others and Karen, who was already walking toward
us, takes the present and guides me into the house. I guess she doesn't want
Lionel to know he has gifts today. She leads me across her white wooden porch
into her house. The inside of her house isn't as green and white as the outside
though. It's surprisingly very empty. I mean, it has everything normal houses
would, like bookshelves, couches, a TV and whatnot, but it's missing
decorations. There are no paintings or trinkets, grandfather clocks or throw
rugs, or anything. The most you will find in this living room are some family
portraits set about on end tables- excuse me,
the
end table. I guess the
Willows aren't very frivolous people, but then again, maybe it’s just that we are
in comparison. In our living room you'll find over a dozen candles and framed
pictures of the “art” Adam and I created when we were little. Not to mention
Stars of David and Judaica.

She leads me through the living room to a door at the base
of her stairs. It's a small coat closet. There are many gifts in the closet,
both wrapped and unwrapped, and ours fit in nicely with the others.

“Thank you guys so much for coming. I was worried you guys
wouldn't want to, especially with what happened to Shana,” she says. I can tell
she's trying to appear grateful, but reminding me of Shana won't do that. God,
every time I hear her name there's a lump of guilt, worry, and a few other
nasty emotions, and the more I feel it the less it wants to go away.

“Oh, wouldn't miss it for the world,” I answer.

“Help yourself to some cupcakes and ice cream. We haven't
brought out the big cake yet, and to be honest it's mostly just for dunking his
face in,” she says, following up with a loud and annoying low-pitched laugh.

“Thanks, I will,”

“They're out under one of the tents,” she says. I leave the
house and go straight to it. I haven't eaten since breakfast, and although it's
hard to choke food down with my throat being dry, I need to get something in my
stomach, especially chocolate- lots and lots of chocolate. Underneath the
canvas tent is a table covered in a white sheet being used as a tablecloth. The
cupcakes are all red white and blue with little Captain America rings on them.
I hate when they do that. Why can't the rings just be in the box, not in the
cupcakes? Every time I try and pull a ring out of a cupcake (except for those
thin little Halloween spider ones) I end up taking half of the frosting with
it, and I don't like licking the frosting off the ring. It makes me feel like a
pig. I search around for the chocolate ones and am disappointed to find that
they are all vanilla. Except, wait, is that marble? I pick up one of the
cupcakes and pull the wrapped down a bit. Awesome, they bought marble cupcakes
as well. These will have to do.

I look around the table and see that there are also chips,
beverages, and Neapolitan ice cream. There are also mini Captain America plates
and plain white utensils. Doesn't anyone bring serve food at birthday parties
anymore? I set the cupcake down on a plate and pick of a can of tea.  I turn
around and see Mom coming under the tent with an empty plate, which reminds me.

“Here Mom, I brought the camera,” I say, pointing to the
twenty pound rock hanging from my neck.

“Oh good, will you take pictures?” she asks. I pause for a
moment. I have to take pictures now? If I'd known I would be asked to do this I
would have conveniently forgotten the camera on the table or something. I sigh
quietly as I find a good place to eat my cupcake. The Willows have some tables
set up. There are actually a lot of tables, around ten or so, and each seats
six, far too many for the amount of guests. Who all did they expect to come,
the entire county? I find an empty table. It's a habit of mine to find the
least occupied table, but the habit isn't drawn from not liking the others, I
simply had a better person to converse with. I shake my head, hair flying into
my face, before that name pops into my head.

It's too late though as I feel that lump in my chest again.
I sit down at the table and gloomily eat my cupcake- or at least half of it,
but my appetite is gone. I look at the half eaten cupcake. I pick up the bulky
camera and take a picture of it.
Here you go Mom, you can upload this to
your Facebook.
The cupcake has dried out my throat a bit, so I open the tea
and sip it. My face cringes when I find out it's diet. Who feels the need to
make diet tea, much less pay for it? Ugh.

I can taste the aspartame or whatever it is they use to make
good drinks taste like crap and call it diet, and suddenly have the desire to
finish my cupcake. When I do I wipe the crumbs off my hands and gather my plate
and napkin. I walk around a bit, looking around at the attendees. There are
less than twenty, which is strange for the dozen parked cars. I begin to think
that maybe most of the guests were lone visitors that came just out of
courtesy. Couldn't bring their little ones along too- oh right.

I spot a trashcan near the food tent and am on my way when I
see the birthday boy. He's walking in my direction, wearing a big Captain
America shirt, Captain America party hat, Capt- well they should have just put
him in a Captain America costume. I approach him and crouch down to his level.
“Hey there Lionel, having fun?” I ask. He looks me in the eye, and I don't see
happiness, I see fear. Is he scared of me? He's still pretty pale from the
sickness, so maybe that's putting him off. I'm barely handling it. I can only
imagine how a five year old would. “You're five now! Are you excited?” I ask.

He gives me a half-smile. It's like he knows this is a time
for him to be happy, and like me, he's trying, but also like me it's not
working so well. “Smile!” I say, trying again. I hold up the camera and take a
picture of him. He's not smiling in the picture, but he's not frowning either.
Instead he's giving the camera a pretty blank look. We can caption it something
nice like
curiosity
or
wonder
.

“Lionel,” I hear Adam call. Lionel looks over. Adam
approaches from behind with a few signatures on his cast. Not many kids here. I
think maybe they're from overly-enthusiastic adults trying to be courteous.

“Your Mom wants you. They're setting up the piñata,” he
says. Oh, a piñata. That’s something Mom will want pictures of.

Adam takes the ever-so-quiet Lionel by the hand and guides
him to the game. I follow, getting a little annoyed by the slow pace of small
children, but distract myself by snapping pictures of random, pointless things
that no one is going to remember. I mean who needs a picture of guests lounging
around, some holding cans of soda, and others looking like they're ready to go
already? I sure don't.

They're setting up the piñata around the side of the house
on a small cherry tree. The tree is so out of place that I have no doubt that
it was planted by the Willows to honor some family event. I'm surprised that
the piñata has nothing to do with Captain America. It's a Batman Symbol. Maybe
it was brought by one of the guests, or maybe the party supply shop was all out
of Captain America ones.  I take a few more pictures of them setting up it up,
and then finally a pretty good one of Lionel wearing a red blindfold and
holding a wooden stick. Lionel hesitates for a while, as if he's really not
interested in the piñata, but finally after a little goading he starts
swinging. He misses again and again, but when he finally does hit it he doesn't
leave a dent or even a scratch. He gets the idea of where it is though, and
begins repeatedly bashing it, but he's still not getting it. I take some shots
of him swinging at it though.

After I get a few, I decide any more would be too redundant
and take a look at the ones I have. They're coming out pretty well.
I should
be a photographer.
Conveniently, it is decided that Lionel has run out of
turns (at a count of well over thirty) and it's one of the other kids' turns.
The other kids are only Adam and some other girl that looks like she may be
related to Rita's friend, the scene girl I almost got in a fight with. They
decide to let the girl go first, and I catch some photos of her, and then they
let Adam go. Adam is at a disadvantage with a broken left arm, but at least
he's right handed. When he's ready, he takes a powerful full width swing that
causes spectators to back up. The swing knocks the piñata back and forth,
causing Adam to miss his next few tries, but when he does hit it, it comes to
the ground. Wow, only two swings. I'm not sure if it was because the piñata was
weakened or if he really is that strong with one arm.

I suddenly realize that I forgot to take any photos of Adam
swinging the piñata. I shake my head a bit. It's no big deal. I'll just get one
now while Adam is still standing there with a hint of triumph over his mournful
demeanor. I point the camera and shoot. When the shutter opens again, I see
something in the distance. It's not too far away, maybe fifty feet or so. I
zoom in and recognize it. I see
him
.

Is he moving at all? Is he getting closer to us? I
instinctively snap a picture. I move the camera away from my face and look with
my eyes. I can definitely see a shadowy figure but my eyes get fuzzy and start
to sting when I stare at him. Would he just approach us at the party like this?
I walk forward to get a better look, but the stinging comes up again, forcing
me to close my eyes.

It doesn't look like he is moving though. It's as if he’s
just standing there, just before the tree line; watching. I point the camera
and zoom in again. Through the camera I can see pretty okay but my eyes still
sting. It’s good that he’s not approaching us. Maybe he’s worried that he’ll
get caught if he tries to snatch someone with this many people in the area.

That being said, I'm still getting pretty shaken looking at
him. He’s not just some shadow that moves like static. It's more like he's an
outline
made
of shadow or something; a silhouette. I want a good look at
him but that strange discomforting feeling burns my eyes whenever I try to
look.

Well, the closest I can come to describing the sensation is
that it feels exactly like the time Shana and I read online that you can
simulate being high by forcing your eyes to stay wide open while rolling them
up into your head as hard as you can and keeping them that way for as long as
you can. Try it and you will know just how horrible it feels to try to look at
this creature.

His body doesn’t appear to have a definite shape and it’s
even more difficult to it make out because of the pain in my eyes, but I think
I can make out- a humanoid figure? He can’t be human can he?
He
is
actually a man? No, he seems way too tall for that. He doesn't exactly rival
the trees, but this thing’s shape, appearance, and movements look like
something out of a Marilyn Manson video.

I zoom in closer, causing my eyes to sting again. I force
just one to open to look. He’s one hundred percent black and what appear to be
his arms come down almost to the ground. It looks like he’s just standing there
and is perfectly still aside from the violent static-shaking. I can’t make out
any features, but one distinct thing I notice about him is that something
appears to be protruding from his back. I think they’re tendrils of some sort.
I try to look closer but the stinging becomes unbearable. I can’t tell what
this entity is supposed to be, but if anything, he isn't natural. I snap a
photo.