The first time I met slenderman, I gave him a hug.
I was eight, alone in the woods of heavy fog. My father was with me at the start, looking for mushrooms in the morning after a downpour. The milky air limited my vision to about ten feet.
I was lost, but knew this forest growing up in a nearby town. We'd go foraging some mornings, but mom didn't let dad take me hunting yet.
I saw him in the mist in the corner of my eye, a tall figure, dressed in black. His blank face was startling, but it only made me smile.
I turned away to look for my dad, and when I looked back to the figure, he stood closer, no footsteps sounding his path. The forest was still, and he stood behind a pine, only visible as the blank head.
"Hi," I said, sound vanishing into the fog. The temperature dropped a few degrees and my breath tumbled out in steam. "You're tall."
I turned again, hoping he'd get closer in that moment, but when I looked back he wasn't there. I sighed, partially in relief, but also disappointment. With the next motion, I found him behind me, leaning down as if to inspect my face with his lack of eyes.
Without a moment of hesitation, my arms clutched the slender figure into a hug, but when his hands returned the favor, the long sharp fingers stabbed my back.
I winced, but didn't let go as his head shifted above to the sound of tongue clicks from a non-existent mouth. After a moment, his tall joints bent to slip out of my grip.
"Wanna be my friend?" I asked. Slenderman dropped to all fours, sharp fingers digging into the soil of the forest ground, still clicking that distinct sound with head twitches.
Without another motion, the body sprung up into the fog and latched onto a nearby tree.
I waited for a response, thinking that if he could make that noise with his lack-of-mouth, he could also speak. The body shifted toward me while latched on, silent in the fog, barely visible.
A roar burst out into the heavy air, one shrieking sound akin to a bird of prey celebrating a successful capture, and wail of a wounded animal. When I turned away, he was gone with the sound of bark tearing in the distance.
That was not my first experience with this world, but was the very start of my fascination with the horrors that a mind created.
My world was structured to create minds that faced any fear to overcome it. Any idea of fear, had the potential to become reality. It only depended on how well-defined the idea was.
If there was a ghost imagined by someone in my town that embodied stray dogs to turn them into demon hounds, it came to life.
Slenderman was known well for appearing in darkness, a blank face with slender arms of tall stature. I was the one who imagined he'd have some way of communicating.
The clicks came from my mind, and maybe the shriek was mine as well.
I stood in the fog, gazing up to where I saw him last. My focus was so centered there, hoping he'd return, that I didn't notice a hand on my shoulder until it squeezed tight.
"Stay close, Ruben," spoke a hoarse voice close to my ear. It sent a shiver down my spine, far more than horrors I imagined in the fog. "The fog plays tricks on the mind. I've got only two shells with me, so don't you go bringing anything over."
He meant the creation from fear. Many people of my world believed these horrors made flesh arrived from a connection to a chaos-strung world of darkness, linking our minds in fright whenever the night fell.
Talking was limited for this reason. If one person spoke of a horror he brought to life to a room full of people, the creature would make a home in each of their minds and go after them when they created it by accident.
"I'm sorry, dad," I said. "Are all of them bad?"
"All of who, boy?"
"All the creatures that fear creates," I replied. "Why can't some of them be our friends?" Before I could hear a reply, his giant hand smacked my ear, leaving it ringing to the hush of the forest.
"Stupid boy!" He shouted. "Given a chance, any of these creatures would take your life! There is no place for these MONSTERS in our world! Get that through your thick skull, or die. Now, move."
That was years ago, and my father was right to a certain degree.
When night fell, the creatures came to haunt us all. It was a struggle to survive the relentless assault of monsters roaming the outside.
We clung to the knowledge that dawn would come, and light would stop our fears from creating vile beings that longed to tear us to shreds, burrow into our ears, eyes, and inhabit our bodies where no light could reach them.
He died.
I didn't.
My fear wasn't going to get the best of me. I'd make all these horrors of the mind who spread from one mind to another into friends.
Starting with my one tall friend.
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