Table of Contents

Death stared at her through the mirror.

Or at least, that’s what she felt like anyways.

Jane Arkensaw never felt good after waking up in the mornings. Not recently that is. Not since she’d been noticed by the demon that stalks the shadows of this town. Not since her dreams had all but turned to vicious nightmares. Not since her mind had been invaded.

But none of that mattered. Sure, it certainly mattered to Jane. But it hardly felt like her opinion was of importance to anyone other than herself. Outside of her therapist, it felt like nobody cared that Jane walked around like a zombie each and everyday. Not her teachers, not the kids at school, not the guidance counselor. Nobody. Her father might have cared, if Jane ever told him how she was really feeling inside. But the consequences that came with that decision almost outweighed the benefits.

And so, Jane pretended that she was fine. She woke up every day and slathered her sagging eyes with makeup, sprayed on perfume to hide the unshowered scent of her body, and faced every day with a mask.

Faced everyday hiding it.

Faced everyday faking it.

Jane gave a deep sigh as she stared deep into her own tired face. She just wanted to go back to bed. Or maybe just keep staring at herself. Keep staring deep into the ocean blue eyes upon her face. One of the few features of her body she really liked. Everyone said they were her mother’s eyes. And Jane liked that. Like an heirloom that was passed down.

She would’ve stayed holed up in the bathroom forever if she could. But a shout from down the hall broke her from her thoughts.

“Janie! Up and at ‘em! Its 7:15, gotta get moving soon!” Her father shouted across the house. Jane sighed through her nose again and started going about her morning routine. Or at least, deciding what parts of it she cared enough to do.

Use the bathroom? Yes.

Shower? She didn’t have time. At least that was the argument she gave herself. But deep down she knew the real reason why. It was the same reason why she didn’t shower last night. Or the night before that. She would shower tonight. For sure.

Probably.

Brush teeth? Jane debated it. And ultimately decided she could skip today. She didn’t have the energy or motivation to bother. She’d just chew some gum later. It’d be fine. She brushed her teeth yesterday actually. So she considered that being ahead of the game.

Make up? Today it would be needed, unfortunately. Jane had an appointment with the therapist later and knew that if she showed up with such deep bags under her eyes she’d get chewed out. So she slathered her face with the thick, creamy foundation. Spreading it around with her spongy brush until it hid the bruise like bags beneath her eyes.

Brush hair? Jane considered her messy locks in the mirror. The strands falling unevenly down to her mid-back. It was frizzy, uneven, and generally just in need of a trim. Jane knew her hair would look a million times better if she took even slightly more care of it. But she never did. Instead of brushing it, Jane decided it would just be easier to tie it back into a bun. Though several strands still hung loosely around her face. Like vines upon a condemned building.

Jane exited the bathroom and slipped quietly into her room. She could hear her dad in the kitchen making breakfast. She hadn’t decided if she was going to eat yet today. Maybe she would. Just to make her dad happy.

Get dressed? Obviously. Though Jane wished on many occasions that she could just wear her pajamas to school. She would if she could. That was one of the things she was looking forward to most about college, actually. She heard that nobody really cared if you came to class in your pajamas. Or in dirty old sweats. That sounded like heaven to Jane.

But unfortunately for her, Mandeville High School was a lot more strict than a college was. So Jane threw on a pair of torn up jeans, a Motionless in White band tee, and then a black zip up jacket over the top. She’d had the jacket for years. And worn it so frequently that the old green alien face on the back had all but faded away.

Jane had newer jackets. Gifts from relatives and such for Christmas or birthdays. But none of them were from her mom.

This one was.

So, it was the one she kept. Simple.

Jane finished off her outfit by stuffing her feet into her worn out high top shoes. Tie them? No point. They always came undone anyways. So instead she just stuffed them down the sides.

Jane grabbed her backpack and cellphone before shuffling out of her room and down the hall to the kitchen. Her slow, undead shuffling made the walk through their tiny house seem far longer than it normally would have.

“Good morning, Janie!” Mr. Arkensaw chirped happily as Jane stepped into the kitchen. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, his own black curls bouncing with the movement. “Sleep good?” He asked as he returned to his cooking of breakfast.

“I slept fine.” Jane lied as she watched her father go about the task of preparing breakfast. She bristled at it. “I can help, you know.” She insisted as she slumped into a seat at the kitchen table.

“Well, I know you can Janie. But you were still getting ready. If I waited on you we’d not have anything to eat this morning. Plus, its not like I can’t handle it on my own.”

“Whatever.” Jane grumbled. Her father knew she liked to help. Needed to help. And yet still insisted on doing so much all by himself. It irked her to no end. “Can I have some coffee then?”

“Pots already made. I’m whipping up some quick bacon if you want some.” Mr. Arkensaw glanced at the time and bit his lip. “Probably shouldn’t have…. Not with the time. But how could I resist? You know what I always say about breakfast!”

Jane pushed herself up from the table and grabbed the handle of the coffee pot, but soon found her father’s hand over her own.

“Oh, here Janie. Let me do it.” He slid his hand down and took the pot from Jane, pouring her a cup himself. “Wouldn’t want you to get burned again.” He smiled kindly and handed her the mug. “Be careful. Its-”

“Hot. I know. Thanks.” Jane struggled not to roll her eyes as she took the drink. Sipping it as she returned to her seat. All it took was a small burn, one time, for Jane’s father to become convinced that she was incapable of pouring her own coffee. As with everything, she knew it came from a place of love. But that didn’t stop it from being annoying.

Jane absently sipped at her coffee while staring out the window. Her dad was speaking to her but she wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes were fixated on the man in the woods. The tall figure that always stood just on the edge of her vision. Watching her. Tormenting her. Enticing her. She squeezed her eyes shut as the static buzzed in her brain. Her head feeling like it was about to pop like an overfilled balloon. She felt a drop of warm blood leak from her nose. She hurriedly wiped it away before her dad could see and make a fuss over it.

“Don’t forget about your visit with the therapist today, honey.” Her father reminded her as he took his seat opposite from her at the table.

“I know dad. You don’t need to remind me.” Jane mumbled as she lifted her cup to her mouth. She sucked down the bitter coffee, trying to wash the metallic twang of blood that seemed to haunt the back of her throat.

“Are you sure you want to keep seeing this therapist? I could take you somewhere else. Its no problem at all Janie, really-”

“No. I like Ms. Crosby.” Jane shook her head and interrupted her father. “I don’t want to speak to some stranger. It took me long enough to get used to her. Let alone some one new.”

“I know…. But are you sure a regular therapist is really qualified for this? Your mental health….” Her father trailed off. The topic was a sore one. He always worried about Jane. To an unhealthy degree. Mr. Arkensaw was always an anxious person, but after the death of his wife and son, his worry for Jane only increased 10 fold.

“Its fine dad. Qualifications don’t matter. All that matters is how good the person can do their job.” Jane and her father had this discussion too many times to count. But the fact of the matter was simple. Jane didn’t want to see anyone else. No matter how many degrees someone had, there were just some things that couldn’t be learned in school. Her father, ultimately, accepted her decision. But it didn’t stop him from trying to persuade her otherwise.

Jane knew her father was just trying to make her happy. And at the same time, Jane was just trying to make her father happy in return.

“Alright…. I just hope its working is all.” Mr. Arkensaw looked up at the cat shaped clock on the wall above them. “Better get moving.” He stood up and emptied his plate into the trash. “Let’s go. I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”

As if we ever do anything different. Jane complained inwardly. Her father held a stricter routine than a clock did. Though this was something Jane didn’t mind. There weren’t many things that were stable or predictable in her life. Especially not right now. But her father was. And it made her comfortable.

The two rode to town without saying a word. The outside blurring past her dad’s beat up old car. Jane leaned her head against the window, her music blaring through the headphones crammed into her ears. 2012’s greatest heavy metal music. One of the few things that still made her feel alive.

Eventually her dad pulled up outside of Mandeville High and Jane was snapped from her temporary reverie. As she got her things together, her dad leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Have a good day at school.” He smiled warmly at her. “I’ll come pick you up after your appointment. 4:00?” He asked. Jane nodded and pushed open the door.

“See you later. Have a good day at work.” She said in return. Her dad gave a little salute and waved one last time as Jane shut the door and turned to head into the building.

Jane could feel two pairs of eyes upon her as she walked.

Her father’s protective gaze.

And the observation of Slenderman.

The morning bell echoed painfully in Jane’s tired mind. Such loud, shrill noises always gave her a migraine anyways. But it was more of what the bell represented. Another day of barely pulling herself through class after class. Barely living.

There had been a time where she had loved school. Loved to learn, loved her classes and teachers. But it felt like a life time ago. She didn’t even feel like those memories belonged to her anymore. They felt foreign. Too many things had happened to her since then. Things that had mutated her into what she was now.

Jane had her head propped up in her hands. Tired eyes staring out of the nearest window. A storm looked like it was brewing in the distance. A looming darkness beyond the vast blue sky. Jane’s eyes scanned the environment beyond the window. An endless attempt to keep her eyes on her tormentor. Though she couldn’t see him right now. Maybe he’d finally fucked off for a bit.

Jane dug around in her pocket until her hand closed around a worn cardboard box. Pulling it out to reveal a pack of mint gum. There was only a single stick left, so she hoped it would be enough to cover for her lack of brushing this morning.

“Ooh. I love that flavor!” Someone said from Jane’s right. Jane’s eyes grinded over, appraising the student beside her. Jane didn’t think she even knew the girl. If she did, it wasn’t from more than a single interaction or two.

“Can I have a piece?” The girl smiled brightly. Her smile nearly blinded Jane with its radiance.

“Of course. Here.” Jane spoke without hesitation. Handing out her last piece of gum to this total stranger. The girl gave another bright smile and swiped away the gum.

“Thanks!” She chirped, popping it into her mouth and chewing happily.

“Happy to help….” Jane mumbled, her own breath tasting sour in her mouth. Jane knew she shouldn’t have given it away. But she had to. It wasn’t a choice, it was a need. A strong and burning desire to help. No matter what. Even at her own detriment. Whenever someone asked her for something, even if not directly, Jane couldn’t help but drop what she was doing to help.

Like all the other problems in her life, this one however wasn’t a result of Slenderman’s interference. No, this was her own homegrown mental issue. How lucky. Ever since the loss of her mother and brother three years ago, the obsession had plagued her relentlessly.

It was a problem. She knew it was. She wasn’t in denial over it. Ever since the incident with their neighbor’s dog, Jane knew it was something that impacted her negatively. Sometimes even the very people she was trying to help.

But that still didn’t change anything. She could tell herself to stop all she wanted. But it wasn’t enough to prevent her from feeling that burn, that drive to do whatever she could to help.

Her therapist called it an obsessive compulsion. A coping mechanism for the trauma Jane went through three years ago. Her therapist could call it whatever she wanted though. It didn’t change how Jane felt.

“Good morning class.” Mr. Krenisky called out as he entered the room. He was a short, middle aged man with a well trimmed beard and a bald head. His eyes sharp as knives behind his narrow glasses. “Today we have ourselves a new student joining us.”

Jane didn’t bother looking away from the window. She honestly couldn’t care less who the new student was. She had more important things to worry about.

“Go ahead. Introduce yourself, son.” Mr. Krenisky encouraged.

“Name’s Jeff Woods. I just moved here from New Orleans.” A low voice spoke up from the front of the class. Jane’s body immediately reacted. She could feel the hairs stand up along her arms and the back of her neck. Her eyes widened as she couldn’t help but finally turn her head towards the front of the class. Something about his voice had actually piqued her interest….

No. Not interest. It was more like…. Something else. She couldn’t quite pin down the feeling. But it wasn’t exactly something she would call…. Positive.

The boy, Jeff Woods, stood next to Mr. Krenisky. He was scrawny. Thin. His height was hard to gauge as he stood in a slumped over fashion. His hands shoved deep into the pockets of his white hoodie. The boy’s chestnut hair hung around and over his face. Jeff’s eyes drifted lazily around the room. And although Jane might have just been imagining it, she could’ve sworn his eyes stopped on hers for just a fraction longer….

Nothing about him seemed outwardly different. No more remarkable than the other lazy, tired teenagers that filled the room around her. But her body had such a visceral reaction to it that she couldn’t help but wonder if the boy was hiding something.

To be fair, so was she.

Jane let her eyes follow Jeff as he took his seat among the other students. She leaned her head into her hand, and let it tilt downwards to face her desk. Her auburn hair falling like a messy curtain around her face. Though it was still one she could see through herself. Quietly, sneakily watching him as he just sat there.

The teacher went about his lesson for the day, but Jane was unfocused as usual. Though instead of being the one watched, she herself had become the watcher. Something about Jeff Woods just…. Irked her. He felt familiar and foreign all at the same time.

She pondered and mulled over the feeling the entire time she was there. For 45 minutes she watched him. Jeff clearly wasn’t paying any attention either. His eyes wandered constantly. More than a few times he rubbed his eyes or shook his head. At first Jane thought he might have just been struggling to stay awake through the dry lecture. But the longer she watched…. The more she doubted it was quite so simple.

The way Jeff would stare off and become lost in space. The way he rubbed at his head although in pain…. All things that could, and probably should, be written off as merely inconsequential actions. But Jane couldn’t help but think…. That those gestures, the way he looked…. That it felt awfully familiar. A situation she knew all too well.

It was too early to say for sure. Jane had never even considered the idea that her tormentor would have other people to follow and stalk. But it wasn’t impossible either.

But one thing was for sure. Jane had discovered the name for what she was feeling.

Rivalry.

As it turned out, her first period was the only class she shared with Jeff Woods. The rest of her morning was free of that little nagging feeling in the back of her head.

It didn’t help matters much though. Jane was having plenty of problems before this mystery boy dropped in on her life. Though her morning was free of her usual issues, it was around noon that she felt it return in full force.

Jane was sitting in her math class, feigning interest as always. Time moved at a crawl, but her focus was splintered as always. She had long since figured out that it was a product of her tormentor. The one named Slenderman.

Whenever Slenderman was focused on her it would affect her brain in adverse ways. The first time she’d experienced it, it was nothing more than a light fog that coated her mind. Like a thin veil of static overlaid onto a TV. But overtime, as Slenderman’s grip on her grew tighter and tighter, it only grew worse.

The fog in her mind was like a blanket now. A thick wall that made the very act of thinking difficult. It slowed her, made it hard to focus on anything. It felt like she was drowning. Jane knew people thought she was on drugs. And honestly, she wished it was something that simple.

Fog didn’t even feel like the right word for it anymore. It felt more like she was…. Disconnected. Like she didn’t exist in the moment. As though she was drifting further and further away from her body. Her mind struggling to keep tethered to her physical form.

The hazy, almost dreamlike feeling was always accompanied by a tightness in Jane’s chest. A pain that constricted and pulsed deep within her. A hunger that ached for blood and slaughter.

Jane let out a quiet groan as the feeling overtook her once more. It hit her like a wave from the ocean, washing over her all at once and threatening to drown her in its embrace. Jane swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked her eyes slowly. She could feel the pain beginning to rise up in her chest. Like someone was squeezing her heart in a cold grip.

And here I thought I was off the hook for today…. Jane complained to herself. But truth be told, she wasn’t all that surprised. Jane had lived with this…. Condition for about 5 months now. She knew how to beat it.

Jane twisted in her seat and grabbed her beaten up, black backpack from below her desk. She hoisted it up into her lap and began to dig around it.

Jane had learned that different things could subside the effects. The most effective way was to kill something. Anything. Jane had crushed a rather large frog to death once. It made her feel better physically…. But it always just felt wrong to kill without a reason like that.

It was after she’d discovered that bloodshed made the feeling go away, that she tried…. Other methods.

Jane’s eyes briefly met her wrists. Where shallow scars crisscrossed along her pale forearm. She tugged her sleeve down and kept digging.

Jane withdrew a battered notebook and a random pen from her bag. The newest method of avoiding the fog. She opened the book and thumbed through the pages. Images of tall, stick like figures flashing by her eyes. A man standing amid a forest of poorly drawn trees, eyes watching from a shadowy, ink covered page, a tall figure looming over a terrible rendition of a stick figure in bed…. Most of the pages were full. But some were still blank and waiting. Waiting for Jane to spill the darkness from her mind and onto the page.

Jane began to furiously scribble. This method was the least effective, but also the least violent. In fact it was the only non-violent method Jane had found to relieve some of the tension in her chest, and re-anchor her mind to her body.

Her pen darkened the page before her, etching another tall and leering figure into the notebook’s innards. She scribbled like a possessed mad-man, furiously painting the picture with nothing more than her black, ballpoint pen.

Jane wasn’t an artist by any means. She was actually quite bad. But she had learned that it didn’t matter what the quality of the art was. Just the subject. If she drew the Slenderman, or things related to him, it helped slightly. It was the only way to siphon some of the darkness, the fog, the pain, from her mind.

A mental bloodletting of sorts.

But even this only gave so much alleviation. And Jane suspected that it made the Slenderman…. Angry. She growled quietly as she felt a spike of pain begin to drill itself into her brain, deeper and deeper with every flick of her pen. A headache that quickly blossomed into a splitting migraine. One that made her whole head feel like it was throbbing.

Jane could only assume that it was the Slenderman’s way of punishing what he probably viewed as “cheating”. Since it gave no bloodshed. Jane pushed on regardless. She was never one to quit. And although with each stroke she gained more clarity, the pain also worsened. She drew for as long as she possibly could before it grew too intense to ignore. Slapping her pen down and bringing her hand to her aching head. Cupping her throbbing temple.

Jane raised her hand slowly. Her eyes squinted as the bright lights of the room only made her pain worse.

“Yes, Jane?” Her teacher called out to her, pausing her lecture.

“I need to see the nurse….” Jane mumbled. “Its my head again….”

“Go ahead. Do you need help?” All of Jane’s teachers knew about her “condition”. Though they suspected only migraines and not the true cause, obviously.

“No…. I’ll be fine.” Jane slowly pushed herself up from her seat. Grabbing only her notebook and pen. She’d come back for her backpack later. She wasted no time in escaping the classroom and making her way to the nurse’s office. It was slow going as every last bit of stimuli only added to her pounding headache. The lights overhead, the sounds of people talking nearby, the vibrations of her footsteps….

Eventually she made it there. Just barely. She pushed open the door and found the nurse’s office….. Empty. Completely and totally empty. Her eye twitched with annoyance. This was the last thing she needed right now.

“Just great….” She muttered, slipping into the room and letting the door close behind her. “Whatever…. I’ll just wait.” She decided, walking in and taking a seat at the small table. The room felt nauseatingly bright. She wished she could turn the light off…. She sat her notebook down before her and slowly continued to draw. She needed to get it all out of her system. No matter how much pain it caused her. She would rather be in pain than walking around in that fugue state. Jane always worried that if she stayed like that for too long…. That’d she’d lose control and do something bad.

So she continued to draw. Thankful at least for the silence of the nurse’s office. No people talking or being annoying….

But even that small consolation she had was soon stripped away from her. The door to the nurse’s office creaked open. Jane looked up from her “art”, hoping to see the nurse. But instead was met with a sight that made her freeze in place.

It was him. Jeff Woods.

He stood in the doorway, eyes scanning the room. He actually looked a little awkward. Maybe even nervous to be here. Jane could only stare as his eyes met hers. There was something in his. Something familiar. She’d seen those same eyes before. Tired and…. Dark. She saw them everytime she looked in the mirror.

“Uhm.” Jeff cleared his throat as he shuffled further into the room. Letting the door close behind him.

Jane knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

“She’s not here.” Jane let her eyes drop back to the paper in front of her. She didn’t want to look at them for any longer. They felt hostile. “She’s been out for like. An hour.” Jane lied, hoping it would get Jeff to leave instead of hanging around.

“Jesus.” Was all he said, slumping down into one of the waiting chairs. His legs sprawled out before him and his hands stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets. His eyes shifted around beneath his bangs. He didn’t really look at Jane anymore either. Maybe he felt the same way she did.

“And I was here first.” Jane spoke, looking up from her paper briefly once more. “Don’t forget. So I’m getting seen first.”

Jeff rolled his eyes again and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. “Yeah, I get it. Whatever.” He grumbled. Jane squinted at him for a moment longer, before letting her own eyes fall back to the task at hand.

Jane didn’t really know why she was being so standoffish to the guy. He’d really done nothing to her. She knew she was being a bit of a bitch, acting this way over a mere feeling. But it was…. A deep feeling. A gut instinct of sorts. Like the way one cowers in the face of a large snake, or before a deep pit. She almost wanted to ask him if he’d encountered anything. Anyone…. Strange. If Slenderman really did have his eyes on him, would he forget about Jane? Would he finally leave her in peace and pursue a new target?

Jane could only hope. Though she couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of remorse for Jeff. If her suspicions were true, his life was about to turn into a living hell. And who knew if Jeff had the same resolve that Jane had. The same willpower to resist the temptations of pulls of that demon.

The deafening silence in the nurse’s office was finally broken by the sound of the door opening once more. Jeff and Jane looked up in unison to see an older, slightly overweight woman standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she saw the two students waiting for her.

“Oh. Oops.” She gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry. I must’ve forgotten to put my out for lunch sign up…. My bad kids.”

“Its okay.” Jane replied. Though Jeff remained silent. Just staring at the woman.

“Well.” The nurse set down her things at her desk and turned to look at the two of them. Her hands on her hips as her eyes darted back and forth. “Who’s first?”

“Me.” Jane answered immediately. Standing up just a little too fast. The scraping of her chair against the tile floor caused a flash of pain in her aching head. “Can we talk in the backroom please? In quiet?” Jane didn’t want Jeff listening in on her.

“Of course, Ms. Arkensaw.” The nurse nodded with a friendly, warm smile. Jane was rather familiar with Mrs. Hadley. Unfortunately, her trips to this office had become quite frequently in recent months. Before she knew about Slenderman, she’d come here to ask about her fogginess and chest pain. And after, it was for her searing headaches.

Mrs. Hadley took Jane by the shoulder and escorted her into the backroom. It wasn’t until she was in there that Jane realized she’d forgotten her notebook out on the table….

What if Jeff looks at it? She asked herself, nervous for just a moment.

Let him. She replied to herself. If Jeff was facing down Slenderman, maybe this would help him realize what was happening a bit earlier. Maybe if he could find the cause earlier than Jane did, he could avoid such heavy consequences.

Jane took a seat in the private room of the nurse’s office. It wasn’t exactly luxurious back here. As with any room in a public high school, it was pretty barebones. With old, outdated furniture that looked like it had seen WW2. Nurse Hadley’s chair creaked with a loud groan as she sat down in it, and for a moment Jane was worried it would break underneath the woman.

“So, am I correct in assuming your problem is the usual one?” The nurse asked, peering at Jane over her thin framed, red spectacles.

“Yes ma’am.” Jane answered, her voice still soft to ease the pain in her head.

“Mhm. Did you go see a doctor like I recommended?”

“Yes.” Jane remembered the trip well. Her father was practically pulling his hair out with worry as she was tested by the MRI Scan and a CT scan. Jane knew they would come back empty, but her father was relieved when they revealed no tumors or bleeding in the brain. “They couldn’t find anything physically wrong with me.”

“Hmmm. Well, I guess that’s good in a way. Right?” The nurse answered with cheerful optimism. “It could be worse. Did the doctor give you anything to help?”

“He gave me a preventative treatment plan. But its not working. And neither did the pain medication they gave me….” Jane was being honest. But she could tell by the doubtful eye the nurse was casting her, that Mrs. Hadley didn’t think so.

“Right. So, I take it you want the “usual” treatment then?” The nurse sighed and took off her glasses, tucking them away in her shirt pocket.

“Its…. The only thing that helps.” Jane shrunk in her chair, folding in on herself in shame. She hated having to ask for this. She knew how it looked.

The nurse stares at Jane for a moment before shaking her head slowly. “You can’t keep coming here and asking to sleep in here. You know how it looks for you to miss so many classes.”

“I know. I’m sorry….” Jane couldn’t meet the nurse’s eyes. Her guilt burning through her like wildfire. Nurse Hadley placed her hand over Jane’s, causing her to look up however.

“Look, Jane. I know things have been hard since…. The incident. But you can’t keep going on like this. Its not healthy.” The nurse searched Jane’s eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping very well. Have you?”

“No.” Jane hadn’t had a goodnight’s rest in a long time.

“Are you still seeing your therapist?”

“Yes. I see her today after school.”

“Well, good. How about this? I’ll let you sleep in here. But I want you to talk to your therapist about this. About your insomnia. Its not healthy and it’s starting to really wear on you, I think. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you.” Jane forced herself to smile. She wondered if it looked as fake as it felt.

“Good. Now go lay down and get some rest…. But this is the last time I can let you do this. Okay? I don’t let other students have that same luxury you know.”

Jane nodded her thanks and stood up. Mrs. Hadley patted her on the shoulder one last time before stepping out of the backroom to deal with Jeff. Left alone, Jane walked over to the only bed here and laid down upon it.

Sleep was really the only thing that made the headache go away. She suspected it was just a matter of waiting it out, and resting helped that time go by faster.

Jane wished it was as easy as talking to her therapist. She wished it was something as simple as migraines or insomnia. At least that was explainable. At least those had methods, however shaky they may be, that could be used to fix them.

But not this.

Nobody could help Jane Arkensaw.

Not even herself.

Jane’s father reached across the passenger seat and pushed open the door for Jane. “How was school?” He asked as she slid into the seat and tossed her bag to the floor.

“It was fine.” Jane lied, fidgeting with her seatbelt and avoiding eye contact. She never really told her dad anything that happened at school. It wasn’t that she didn’t like talking to him, or even spending time with him. It was more just…. How he always acted. Or rather, overreacted.

“Really?” The car lurched forward and started down the street. “I heard you had another migraine attack today.” Jane’s father glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he drove.

Fucking Mrs. Hadley. Jane grumbled. Even though it should’ve been obvious that she’d tell her father about the issue. “Um…. Yeah. It happened in math class. I had to go lie down for a bit and then I felt better.”

“A bit?” Jane’s father repeated. “I was told you slept for three hours.”

Jane cringed. Did Mrs. Hadley really have to tell her father that part? She woke up once or twice, but each time she did her headache was still there. It was worse than it used to be. Just like the other afflictions Slenderman gave her, they seemed to get worse and worse each time. She wondered if there would come a day when sleeping wouldn’t fix the problem at all….

“Sorry….” She mumbled. “I tried to get up a few times, but my head still hurt.”

“Janie…. You’re not lying about the headaches, right? Mrs. Hadley mentioned that you haven’t been sleeping…. Are you just needing sleep?”

“No, dad.” Jane huffed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m not lying. I really do have them. And they’re bad. Do you think I’d actually skip class for nothing?”

“I don’t think you’d skip for nothing.” Jane’s father clarified. “But maybe you would skip if you had a reason. You’ve never told me about not being able to sleep before. You’re not just staying up on that damn computer all night, are you?”

“No! God.” Jane’s tone was started to get frustrated. She could feel that pressure already beginning to return to her head. Slenderman’s influence always got worse when her temper rose. Though…. It felt less…. Intense than it normally did.

“I already told you I’m not lying. And I’m not staying up all night on purpose!” Jane set her jaw and crossed her arms. Turning away from her father and glaring out the window. She wished to be anywhere else right now.

“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m just checking. And I’m just-”

Worried. Jane guessed his next word.

“-Worried about you.” Jane’s father reached over and put his hand over his daughter’s, but she yanked it away.

“I know.”

“If you’re really having so much trouble sleeping, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could’ve…. Could’ve taken you to a sleep specialist. Or something.”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you.” Jane leaned her head against the cool glass of the car window. If she looked hard enough she could see her father’s reflection in it. He looked ragged and stressed. “And also because we can’t afford something like that.”

“I would’ve found a way.” Her father answered quickly. “And I’m always worried about you Janie. Its my job. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to talk to Ms. Crosby about it. Maybe she can help.” Jane knew she couldn’t. But wanted to help her father feel better about it.

“Mm….. Alright, we’ll give it a try. But I don’t want you hiding this from me anymore. You got it? And nothing else about your mental health either, Janie. Its important to me that you get the help you need.”

“I understand.”

That was the end of the conversation. The pair riding in relative silence through the town of Mandeville. Passing by the lovely little stores and cookie cutter houses that lined each and every street. It was a picturesque town. But it didn’t feel real. Jane had lived here her whole life, and still something about the town just felt off. Mandeville was the kind of place you saw on the back of a postcard. Or the sort of town you passed through briefly on a roadtrip. But it didn’t feel like a place where people were supposed to live. Sometimes the people here didn’t even feel like they were living. Sometimes they felt like mannequins. Like dolls acting out the facsimile of what typical town life looked like.

Jane looked at the people waving to each other on the street, walking between stores, taking their dogs or kids to the park. The smiles on their faces looked like they were stickers. Planted on, but not reaching deeper than the surface.

But Jane wasn’t delusional. She didn’t think herself “special” or “deep” like some girls her age did. Jane was well aware that she was no better than they were. Just another person hiding behind a mask, putting on a facade and a costume and acting her way through daily life.

But thanks to Slenderman and his horrible afflictions, her mask had been broken long ago. She could no longer blend in so easily. And as usual in places like Mandeville, when you can no longer fake your feelings…. Things get a lot more difficult.

******

“Come on in, Jane.”

Jane stepped through the door to Dr. Crosby’s office. Her therapist was already sitting in the plush blue armchair. Just like she always was. Dr. Crosby was an older woman. Late 50s, with graying hair and a face creased with lines and wrinkles. She was a sweet woman with an even sweeter way of speaking. Her voice always set Jane at ease.

“Hi, Dr. Crosby.” Jane closed the door behind her and approached the couch that sat opposite of the woman. It was blue, just like the chair. A calming color for a calming place. She took a seat and leaned back into the pillowy cushions behind her. Crossing her legs beneath herself.

“How have you been Jane?” Dr. Crosby smiled, her hands placed neatly in her lap. “Have you been doing any better since last time?”

“Mm….” Jane reached up, running her hands down her face. Before sliding them around and into her locks. With a deep sigh she just stared back at Dr. Crosby.

“I’ll take that as a no then.” She tapped something on her tablet. “Where should we start?”

Jane just shrugged in response.

“Remember what I said about using our words, Jane.” The therapist gently reminded her.

Jane sighed again. “I don’t know. Anywhere. Where’d we leave off last time?”

Dr. Crosby’s eyes flicked down her tablet. She scrolled a few times before seemingly finding what she was looking for. “We were last discussing your depression and lack of motivation. Remember? Have you been doing the exercise that I asked of you? The list?”

“Yes, I have.” Jane nodded. Twirling her hair into her finger absentmindedly. “Every morning.”

“And is it helping? How many items are on your morning checklist?”

“Five. Use the bathroom, shower, brush my teeth, brush my hair, get dressed.” Jane omitted “put on makeup”. She didn’t want to give her therapist any kind of ammunition. Jane could hear it now And why is it do you think putting on make up is one of the few tasks you’re capable of? Annoying. Jane knew the answer and didn’t like it. So she’d simply avoid the question.

“And how many of them were you able to accomplish today?” Her therapist asked.

“Two. Use the bathroom and get dressed.”

“Mhm. That’s good at least.” Ms. Crosby tapped away at her screen. “But I can’t help but notice that those are ones you can’t really skip on and get away with. The ones you’re skipping are equally important, Jane. Good physical hygiene is one of the corner stones of good mental health. You should really try to accomplish at least one of them in the morning.”

“I know.”

“Can you tell me why you don’t feel like doing these things?” Dr. Crosby crossed one leg over the other, and laced her fingers over her knee. Jane knew that position. She was about to start psycho-analyzing her.

Jane narrowed her eyes. Watching her therapist like a rabbit would a hawk. “I already told you that last time.”

“Indulge me.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Like I said before. It feels…. Pointless. There’s no point to doing any of it. Its not going to make me better. I know what you said, but it just won’t.”

“And you feel that way because of….”

“Yeah. Because of Him.”

“Yes. Him.” Dr. Crosby once again picked up her tablet and scrolled through her pages upon pages of notes. “The man you say is always watching you.”

“Yes.” Jane answered again. She’d told Dr. Crosby of Slenderman a few visits ago. The therapist had worked it out of her. “And don’t give me that crap about him not being real.”

“I’m not, Jane. Your test results indicated nothing that would lead me to believe you’re having hallucinations.” Mrs. Crosby shook her head gently, a kind smile on her face.

Jane narrowed her eyes. “Then what are you about to say? Because I know its not “I believe you”.”

“I do believe you, Jane. I don’t think you’re making any of this up. I just think that perhaps your brain is…. Coping with something that’s hard for you to understand.”

Coping. It always came back to coping. Coping with the death of her family, coping with the interference from Slenderman. Jane did a lot of coping in her day to day life. Enough to know that the existence of Slenderman was not that.

“How’s your relationship with your father been, Jane?” Mrs. Crosby lifted her tablet again and began to tap at it with her fingers. Her digits pecking away at the screen like birds to a worm.

“The same as its always been. He’s always looking out for me, always taking care of me and trying to keep me safe and happy.”

“And before you mentioned that you felt it was…. Overwhelming. Is that still how you feel?” The therapist asked.

“Well…. Yeah, a little.” Jane admitted with a guilty shrug of her shoulders. “It can get a bit annoying to have him hovering over me constantly. And sometimes it feels like he’s pressing down on me with how overprotective he is. And-” Jane had caught herself rambling. It was so easy to let her walls down around old Mrs. Crosby. But this time, she realized what was being driven at.

“No.” Jane shook her head and crossed her arms. “If you’re about to say what I think you are, then no.”

“You haven’t even heard me out yet.” Mrs. Crosby gave a faint laugh. “Can I at least speak? If you disagree, then that’s fine. But I’d like to at least propose the idea to you. Can I do that?”

“No. Not if it's about my father.” Jane shook her head stoutly.

“How can you be so sure its about your father?” Mrs. Crosby prompted her.

“Because I know how you work by now. You get me to reveal something and then start using it to drive in points about stuff. You do it all the time.”

“That’s called therapy, dear.”

“Well whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it this time.”

“Okay then.” Mrs. Crosby leaned back in her chair and sat her tablet aside. “Then this time, I’ll hear you. I want you to tell me what exactly you thought I was going to say. If you’re so sure you’re right.”

“And why would I bother?” Jane scoffed. Her temper having risen from the whole interaction.

“If you correctly know what I was going to say, then I won’t say another word. I’ll even let you leave early if you want.”

Jane twirled her hair tight around her finger as she considered the proposal. She knew this was probably another one of Mrs. Crosby’s tricks to psychoanalyze her. But if it would get her to finally move on from this topic, then fine.

“You said before that you thought my brain was just misunderstanding what Slenderman is. And then asked me about my father.” Jane began to slowly lay out her reasoning. “I’d told you in the past about how I always feel like I’m being watched and stalked by The Man. And how it feels like he’s strangling me whenever he’s around. Like my chest is a spring wound so tight it could burst.”

Jane stopped to see what Mrs. Crosby thought. But she simply nodded on. Encouraging Jane to keep going.

“So I would wager you were about to say some shit about how…. I don’t know. The Man is a manifestation of my father’s overprotective attitude. And that my brain is just misunderstanding what I’m seeing.”

Mrs. Crosby waited a moment to make sure Jane was done. She clicked her tongue and nodded her head in thoughtful agreement. “You know, you’re really quite good at deductive reasoning. Jane.” Mrs. Crosby smiled and lifted her tablet back up. Already typing away. “You’d make a good therapist. Or a detective.”

“As if.” Jane grumbled, feeling soured by the whole encounter. “Can we not talk about my dad, please? I don’t care about your theory. I can tell you right now that he’s not the cause of all this.”

“Maybe not the cause, but its certainly possible that his overprotectiveness is contributing to your overall stress and-” Jane cut Mrs. Crosby off with a growl, standing up from her couch.

“I said STOP.” Jane snarled, anger peaking. Her fists clenching and eyes blurring at the edges. Her rage suddenly burning like an inferno inside of her. So intense was her fury that it even scared her.

But Mrs. Crosby didn’t even seem phased. She held up her hands in apologetic surrender. “Okay, okay. We won’t talk about your father anymore, Jane. Promise. I’ll even make a note of it in my system. Okay?”

“Good.” Jane growled through gritted teeth.

“Well…. You did technically win the wager. You knew what I was going to say. So…. You’re free to go early if you want.”

Jane didn’t want to though. Her therapy sessions were the only time she really got to talk about these feelings. Even if sometimes Mrs. Crosby pushed her a little too far, overall Jane enjoyed these meetings.

She dropped back onto the couch as her anger slowly dissipated. Her body posture gradually relaxing more and more as the heat wore off.

“Are you sure you want to stay, Jane?” Mrs. Crosby asked and leaned forward on the couch. Concern etched across her usually peaceful and calm features. “You seemed…. Well. Downright furious for a moment there.”

“I’m fine.” Jane lied. Though as soon as Mrs. Crosby raised that damned eyebrow, Jane knew she wasn’t about to get away with it. She sighed, and with a roll of her eyes, decided to tell the truth.

“Okay. I’m not fine. Shocker.” She quipped bitterly. “I’m just…. I don’t know. I feel so…. Ugh!” Jane shook her hands in front of her in a motion of tense anger. “I feel like I could explode at any moment! I feel like I’m-I’m…. A cocked gun just ready to go off. Or like. A balloon full of too much air. I just want to fucking explode some days. And I try so, so hard not to. But-” Jane realized she was spilling her emotions wildly. Another example of Mrs. Crosby drawing out those deep and buried emotions.

“Go on. Keep going.” Mrs. Crosby encouraged gently. “You’re doing wonderful. Let me hear more. Please. If you’re okay with that.”

“I….I just…..” Jane’s voice began to grow shaky. She took a deep breath and shook her head violently. “No. I don’t want to talk anymore.” She stood back up abruptly. “I-I think I will leave early today Mrs. Crosby. I’m sorry. I just don’t think-”

“No, no. Its fine, dear. Its completely fine.” Mrs. Crosby stood up alongside Jane and took her hand into hers. Mrs. Crosby’s hand was rough with age. But yet tender at the same time. “Go home and get some rest. We can talk more again during your next appointment. Or-” Mrs. Crosby withdrew a card from the breast pocket of her shirt. A business card.

“If you need to talk before we’re scheduled to meet next, then please. Don’t hesitate. No matter when or where. I’ll answer. And be glad to listen.” Mrs. Crosby’s smile gave Jane little reassurance in the moment. But the fact that Jane had someone she could ask for help in exchange made her already feel better.

Use the bathroom? Yes.

Shower? No.

Brush teeth? No.

Make up? Yes.

Brush hair? Begrudgingly.

Get dressed? Obviously.

Despite it being 12pm Jane was just now going through her morning routine. It was Saturday, so she had the luxury of rotting in her bedroom for as long as she liked. Hidden away where it was much more difficult for the fiend Slenderman to get to her. There were plenty of things there to help distract her from the incessant hounding of that demon. And far less things that could set her off on a rampage.

But unfortunately for Jane, there were some things she couldn’t accomplish from the isolation of her bedroom. Some days she had no choice but to brave the world of her own volition. And today was one of those days.

Jane felt slightly more accomplished at having actually brushed her hair this morning. She knew in the grand scheme of things it was a minor success. But as Mrs. Crosby would always say. One success is better than none.

The only reason Jane felt so inclined today was because she was doing something she cared about. Unlike dragging herself to school every morning, her activities for this afternoon was something Jane was quite invested in. Which certainly made the extra effort easier to justify.

She made her way down the hall and was about to slip out the door unseen when a voice grabbed her from behind.

“Going out, Janie?” Her father called from the living room, craning his neck to see around the doorway. He was camped out in his ratty old recliner, wearing nothing but his boxers and an Aerosmith t-shirt that had seen better days.

Jane cringed. She’d hoped her father would be too engrossed in his show or whatever to notice her leaving. But like usual, he seemed to have a veritable radar for whenever she tried to leave the house unannounced.

“Yeah, Dad.” She called back. “I’m going to the library for a few hours. And then I’m meeting up with Samantha.” She answered ahead of time. Knowing full well her father would be asking that next.

“Where are you meeting Samantha at?” He asked.

“At Mr. Mix’s later. The cafe on Apple Street.”

“Oh, alright. You need me to drive you?” He offered. Like always.

“No, thanks!” She answered and quickly opened the door before she could be bombarded with a thousand more irritating questions. “I’ll see you later, dad!”

“O-Okay! Just be safe! Let me know when you get there, okay?”

Jane gave a halfhearted reassurance and closed the door behind her. Leaning her weight against it and sighing out of relief. She loved her dad, she really did. But sometimes his paranoia was just too much.

Speaking of….

Jane’s eyes searched the usual areas Slenderman was likely to hide in. The man was good at hiding, she’d give him that. But she’d gotten quite adept at snooping him out. Though today…. She didn’t see him anywhere at all. In fact she hadn’t seen him at all since yesterday morning.

Jane’s mind briefly flashed to Jeff Woods. Could Slenderman have really found a new target? And was Jane a bad person for secretly hoping he did?

No. She decided she was not. Better him than her. Besides, if today paid off…. Maybe she’d be able to help Jeff too. If the circumstances allowed.

Jane set off down the road. The day was hot, but she didn’t mind. The heat upon her skin was a welcome feeling. The sunlight and fresh air was filling her with a sense of determination she rarely felt these days. Combined with the lack of Slenderman lurking behind every corner, and Jane might as well have been on top of the world.

“Time to put all this motivation to good use.” She gave a resolute nod, and off she headed towards Mandeville Public Library.

******

The Mandeville Public library wasn’t a special building. It was a squat, one story structure sat on the edge of the town’s central park. From the entrance you could look out across the whole library at once. Its collection wasn’t vast, but covered the usual topics you’d expect for a public library. Some might call it small or boring. But to Jane it was cozy.

The public library was something of a safe haven for Jane. Much like her room, when she was in here she felt…. Protected. As if the stacks of books, tall shelves, and cramped aisles were enough to hide her from those that always watched her.

Jane couldn’t help but inhale the scent of the building as she walked in. That smell of old paper and books that was completely irreplaceable. A scent that warmed her heart and set her at ease.

The comfort of the building coupled with her earlier motivation gave Jane a sense of enthusiasm that she hadn’t felt in months. She felt alive. She felt like she could do something for once. For the briefest of moments, she wondered if Mrs. Crosby was right. That brushing her hair really did have a good effect on her mental health. But Jane quickly laughed away that notion. No, she knew the real reason was because Slenderman was off tormenting some other poor sap today.

So, best not to waste this chance. Who knew when Slenderman might get bored of his new toy and come back to haunt her every waking moment.

Jane immediately made a beeline for the small island of study desks near the back of the library. These ones were always her favorite, as they featured little walls that hid the desktop from view of those around her. And privacy was something Jane appreciated a lot more these days.

After she placed down her backpack and laptop, she headed straight for the history section. Jane drifted into the aisle, moving as silent as a ghost. Her hands drifted along the spines of the well worn tomes that surrounded her.

World history. American history. European history. Medieval history…. Jane read as she passed by section after section, until finally she came upon the one she was after. The smallest section by far. Crammed into the bottom half of the last shelf in the aisle.

Local history.

A small but thorough section dedicated specifically to the history of Mandeville and the areas that surrounded it. The object of Jane’s obsessive studying for the past few weeks. The only place she could think of to search for answers.

It all started about two weeks ago. During a school history project. The task had been to look through old photographs of Mandeville’s history, pick one out, and do a little report on it. An utterly unremarkable task…. Were it not for something quite remarkable that Jane discovered during it.

A photograph of Mandeville in the 1950s. It was of children playing in the, then newly, opened Mandeville Town Park. And it was there…. In the background of that very photograph, that Jane spotted a familiar figure.

It was him. Plain as day. Slenderman. Among the scattered children laughing and playing. There was even a small crowd of children that seemed to notice him. And were staring at him in the photograph.

The discovery had shocked Jane. And had opened up many questions that she didn’t have the answers to. Chief among them, was the question of whether or not this was a coincidence. Was it a coincidence that Slenderman was present in Mandeville over 60 years ago?

Up until that point Jane had assumed Slenderman was…. Well, she wasn’t really sure what she assumed of him. But seeing him present in that photograph…. It got her wondering. Wondering what his story was. If there was one at all.

Jane felt that if there was a way to truly be rid of Slenderman forever…. Then the best chance she had of finding it was to learn as much about his past as possible.

And so, considering her only lead was that Slenderman seemed to frequent this town, that was where she began.

Jane had sat down on the floor of the library. Legs criss-crossed beneath her, head cocked sideways as she scanned the book titles that lined the shelf before her. The research was slow going. She’d only gotten through one of the 10 or so books that lay before her. A Timeline of Mandeville by K.B.K. An interesting read. But ultimately added nothing to her endeavors.

Jane sighed through her nose. She knew it wouldn’t be an easy process, combing through so many years of history, to find mention of something as enigmatic as Slenderman. But still. Jane didn’t know how long she had…. How long she had before either she gave into Slenderman’s pull, or he finally grew tired of waiting.

Jane needed to be strategic about this. She leaned back her head and let her eyes close as she thought through her dilemma.

What should be my angle here? Jane thought to herself. Finding mention of Slenderman, if it exists, won’t be easy. No. Its not going to be on the front page cover of some major history book.

Jane returned her eyes to the books before her. Of the nine remaining, three of them were more major publications. Towns of the Midwest, Settling For Nothing, and Mandeville Paradise. These books were likely to just focus on major events for Mandeville. Nothing that she didn’t already read about from the last book. And certainly nothing that would help her on this quest of the occult.

Okay. So think…. If you were going to find mention of Slenderman anywhere, where would you expect it? She asked herself, rubbing her chin in delicate thought.

“I would expect it to be in…. First hand accounts.” She whispered to herself as she came to her conclusion. “Major historical records wouldn’t make mention of something like Slenderman. No. Not everyone can see him. I know that first hand.” She continued to talk to herself as the dots connected in her head.

“So the only place I’m likely to find mention of him, is from smaller accounts…. Letters. Interviews. Personal accounts of Mandeville’s history.” Jane nodded, agreeing with herself. To her it seemed like a logical conclusion to make.

Six books remained. But none of them really looked like anything she needed. There was a tourist book, an art book, a political history book, and just some other random nonsense. Ultimately, the books on the local history shelf didn’t seem to serve any use to her. Sure she could comb through them. But she doubted there’d be anything useful amid their pages.

“Back to square one then. Great….” Jane grumbled and stood up off the floor. “The published books aren’t helping me…. So where I could find first hand accounts of the town?”

Jane doubted she’d be able to find any modern letters just out and about for public reading. Anything from the more modern age was likely out of the question for her.

But…. Maybe she could get her hands on some older materials.

Jane turned and headed for the librarian’s desk. Her only idea now was to ask the old lady if the library had any sorts of…. Historical letters archived from settlers or early inhabitants of the area. People back then were far more superstitious, so maybe they talked about strange occurrences more readily with each other.

Jane knew it wasn’t the best approach. She didn’t even know if Slenderman was around as far back as the pioneer days. But at the moment, it was only real idea she could come up with. At least the only idea that didn’t involve leaving the sanctity of the library so soon….

“Excuse me?” She called out to the old woman. Whose head turned to gaze upon her. Eyes looking out from behind her thin glasses.

“Yes dear?” The librarian hobbled to the desk, leaning against it and folding her hands politely. She was basically the quintessential librarian. As stereotypical as you could get. But just like everything else in Mandeville, Jane had to wonder just how much of that was real. And how much of that was a mask.

“Do you have any…. Letters? Or like. Original documents from when the town was founded?” Jane asked. She was hoping for something, anything. If the librarian couldn’t help her here, then it was back to the drawing board.

“Letters? From whom?” The librarian tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

“Anyone. Its for a school project.” Jane lied. “We have to do research on Mandeville’s earliest settlers. And I was hoping to get some first hand accounts. You know?”

“Oh, a project?” The librarian gave a short laugh. “I haven’t seen anyone else come to ask for sources! Maybe its because they’re all using that darn internet now.”

“Or maybe they’re just not as dedicated as I am.” Jane smiled, trying to seem polite. But really she was getting tired of this pointless small talk. She was in a hurry after all. She didn’t know how long she had.

“Maybe so. Nothing wrong with overachieving from time to time.” The librarian winked, before picking up a set of keys from beneath her desk. “Come with me, dear. We have some copies of old letters down in the basement archive.”

Jane smiled again. A real one this time. Happy to be getting somewhere. Though of course, this didn’t mean anything. In all likelihood these letters would serve no purpose to her at all.

Jane followed the librarian to the back of the small building, where an unassuming wooden door lay. Jane hadn’t even noticed it before now. She watched as the librarian inserted the old metal key and twisted it into the lock. The door yawning open like the mouth of a great beast.

“Watch your step.” The librarian cautioned as she began to descend down the flight of stairs beyond. Jane followed, her nose being assaulted by the stench of old paper, dust, and mildew. The librarian stopped a few paces down and reached up, tugging on an old string and illuminating a bare light bulb.

The “archives” as the librarian put it were as unimpressive as the main library above. Any mental image Jane had of an impressive and secretive archive was completely dashed. It was a single open room. That seemed to sprawl beneath most of the library’s floor space. It was probably more apt to call this a storage space than an archive. Boxes were stacked against the walls and in random clusters around the room. Old chairs and tables crowded the area, shelves of old books that no one had touched in years, baskets, buckets, broken computers…. Just piles and piles of dusty old trash. No wonder people didn’t come down here often.

“Now where is it….” The librarian mumbled to herself and crossed the room to a nearby shelf. The old woman trailing her fingers along their dusty spines, until she cried out. “Aha!” She pulled from the shelf a large, green binder and held it out towards Jane. The binder was coated in dust and looked like it hadn’t been touched since the stone age. The label across the top, written in faded pen read The Mandeville Correspondence.

“The Mandeville Correspondence?” Jane read aloud as she took the binder. “What’s that?”

“It's just the title of the collection.” The librarian explained. “Its a series of letters and notes written from Mandeville residences at the time of its founding. Back in…. Oh. I don’t know. I want to say the 80s? There was a big boom around America for the history of tiny towns. After the documentary about that one in Indiana got so popular…. Lots of small towns felt they too could get in on the tourist trade by publishing their history. A few of those old town history books upstairs were made around that time.”

“This one was compiled around then. The librarian before me, the one I was assistant to, gathered these letters and copied them. Had them all nice and organized. But as far as I’m aware the book never went much further than that…. A shame really. I thought it was quite interesting.”

“Well, thank you.” Jane tucked the dirty old binder under her arm. “This sounds like exactly what I needed. Is it okay if I take this upstairs?”

“Of course, dear. I’d worry about your health if you wanted to stay down here in the dark…. But I’m afraid you can’t check that out. Since its not in our systems.”

That wasn’t a problem for Jane. She’d stay here as long as she needed to. She’d comb through each and every letter for any potential mention at all of her demon.

A few moments later and that was exactly what she was doing. Having returned to her private little study desk and began to flip through the old binder. The dust irritated her eyes and made her hands itch. But she barely noticed such minor discomforts compared to the thrill she felt.

Pulling open the hardcover of the binder, Jane was met with a cover page of sorts.

The Mandeville Correspondence

A Collection of Letters and Written Accounts

Compiled by ______

That’s odd. Jane ran her fingers over the cover page. The name of the person who compiled it had been scratched out. Someone had taken to it with a black pen and practically ripped through the page they were scrawling so hard. The name was utterly illegible. Though it was strange, Jane just figured it was no more than a privacy measure. And continued on.

The collection was exactly as promised. Copies of age old letters and notes. Dozens and dozens of them. This librarian had been exceedingly thorough in tracking down as many of these as they could. There were quite a few letters here to go through…. So Jane just decided to start from the beginning.

She flipped to the first letter, took a sip of her bottled water, and leaned forward in her chair to read what it said. It was dated January 1691. A foreword was added by the unknown, previous librarian. Stating that the letter was mailed from Salem, Massachusetts by Ezekiel Cartwood. A name that Jane actually recognized. He was credited as one of the original founders of Mandeville, right alongside Thomas Mann, and Edward Smith. It was these three families, Cartwood, Mann, and Smith that founded the town that would later grow to become the Mandeville they knew today.

Dearest Annabelle,

Our party is set to depart from Salem this very evening. As you are no doubt aware from my previous letters, things have been getting quite precarious here. To the point where I, and many others, feel unsafe remaining in this town.

We aim to leave before things become even more heinous here. Or worse yet, the situation devolves further. To the point where us leaving is impossible. I already fear that our departure would be taken…. Poorly by certain people in town. It is why we are attempting to leave as quickly as possible.

There are fifteen of us in total attempting to flee tonight. Myself, as you well know. Along with my wife Katherine, and our two boys. Elias and Jeremiah. We’ll be accompanied by our good friends and neighbors, of the Mann Family and Smith family. Their families hold five each. And leave our last for Mr. Sebastian Wick. A lonesome man, that agreed with our convictions about this horrid town. I don’t know him all that well. He was a town recluse. But you know me, Annabelle, I was never one to turn away someone in need. And of course, the extra manpower on our trip will be well appreciated.

I do not yet know where we will flee to. But perhaps we can take inspiration from our ancestors and settle a new place for us to live…. I will write to you again at my earliest convenience. But I am afraid even I don’t know when that will be.

Yours Forever,

Ezekiel Cartwood

There wasn’t much here for Jane to dissect. The letter was pretty straight forward and matched up with the standard history everyone learned around here on Founders Day or whatever. Though, the man by the name of Sebastian Wick was new. As far as Jane could remember, he was never mentioned in any of the lessons she’d learned about the town. She could only assume the poor guy probably died during their travels or something.

Jane flipped the page and began to read through the next few letters. They seemed to pick up about a year or two later. Detailing how the escaping party had decided to settle down in a nice little valley north of Massachusetts. Of course, Jane knew this was what would later become Mandeville. Named after Thomas Mann.

Though, interesting enough. It seemed that Sebastian Wick did survive the trip. Jane found mention of him quite often throughout the letters. Some of them were from Ezekiel to Annabelle, or Thomas to his brother back in Massachusetts, or random correspondences with people around the New England area. And every now and then a letter made mention of Wick and his…. Strange tendencies.

Dear Marcus,

Hello, brother. I hope this letter finds you well. Our township is in good spirits tonight. Our crops are settling well in the new area, entirely thanks to Edward’s prowess in the fields. If this keeps up we should have no trouble surviving the coming winter. The Town of Mandeville will survive yet!

While Edward works the fields the Cartwood boys, Ezekiel and I are hard at work trying to get our homes established. We managed to build the first cabin just a fortnight ago. And its held up well. It really is taking all of us to pull this off. But I have high hopes.

Almost all of us anyways. That damned fool Sebastian Wick continues to be as bothersome as I last spoke. Even after I confronted him about pulling his weight around here, all he did was bid me to leave him to his lonesome. Spends all day running off into the forest. At first we thought him to be hunting, but he never comes back with anything to eat. But of course he’s more than happy to eat the food we hunt or grow…. It’s quite the nuisance I must say.

I just wonder what he does out there in the woods all day. Ezekiel wagers that he’s an explorer at heart. Our very own Christopher Columbus. And to give him his due rewards, he is the one that led us to this fine valley to begin with. So perhaps I am being too hard on the man. Perhaps he truly is best served as a traveler. It would explain the lack of a family. But damn! If it doesn’t boil my blood.

I think I’ll talk to him soon about pulling his own weight around here. Or at least demand that he starts eating less.

Till our next letter,

Thomas J. Mann

Though he was described as quite strange in the letters, Jane thought nothing more of this Sebastian Wick. Just assuming him to be some nobody who accompanied the Mann party and then disappeared into the annals of history.

As she continued through the letters, her hope for finding any information of anything out of the ordinary was getting less and less. Until she reached the date of November 1691.

As she continued through the letters, her hope for finding any information of anything out of the ordinary was getting less and less. Until she reached the date of November 1691.

The letter had no address or writer to it. But Jane assumed it was either Eziekel or Edward. More inclined to Eziekel, since Edward had no letters elsewhere in the book. She doubted the man could write. But it was such a strange thing to find. Why was it written? Another note was added on the next page.

Sebastian is going to die. He would not come with us no matter how hard we tried to convince him. And even when we tried to use force to bring him back, he overpowered us. I swear to God I knew not how strong that man was. He threw Thomas so hard his feet left the earth.

Sebastian is utterly insistent on staying out in the woods. I’d offer him one of our wagons, but we already stripped it down for parts long ago. All that’s out there is a strange rock. I know not what his fascination with it is, but he refused to let us even get closer. If I did not know any better, I’d say it was a grave. It even bore a strange marking upon its smooth surface. But for who or what such a grave would be for…. I could not say.

What I can say is that I do not like those woods. They feel cramped. Dark. I feel like the eyes of every animal and creature that lives there was watching me as I carried Thomas back home. He’d injured his leg thanks to that rotten fool. Let him die out there for all I can care.

know he’s alone. Nobody else lives out here. In all our time settling this land, we’ve not seen even so much as a stray Indian.

So why is that as I left Sebastian Wick behind…. I could swear there was someone standing right behind him?

I’ll be praying lots tonight. May God watch over us. I fear the devil itself may dwell in those woods. Whatever game Sebastian is playing at…. Well, let’s just say I’m almost glad he won’t survive the winter.

Jane had stood up out of her seat as she read that note. Nearly knocking it to the ground as she poured over the letter. Rereading it not once, but twice. Her finger tracing the words as if they would disappear from the page at any moment.

That was it. That was exactly what she was looking for. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The feeling of being watched, the oppressive darkness, the devil that seemed to stand behind Sebastian Wick…. It was him. It was Slenderman for sure.

The only new information that Jane was able to glean from this short note was that rock…. A carved rock, almost like a grave? It was something at least.

Only one last note followed that one. A short, small note. Written in the same hand as the last.

He survived. Sebastian Wick is still alive. But he is not the same. Darkness surrounds him like a cloak. He looks and walks like death. His skin as pale as the fallen snow….. His eyes black like voids. Sebastian made a deal with the devil to survive the winter. I know it.

He built a cabin out there. Over that rock.

I convinced Thomas to move our settlement a little further away. But he refused to leave the area entirely. We sometimes catch Sebastian watching us from the woods though. Just standing among the trees. It always seems like he’s watching the children the closest….

Thomas and Edward are concerned about him doing something foolish.

But its not Sebastian that I’m worried about.

Its the Man That Stands Behind him.

And unlike Sebastian….

He.

Is.

Always.

WATCHING.

Jane snapped the binder closed and stepped away from the desk. Her mouth suddenly dry and hands slick with sweat. She could harbor a guess as to why the last librarian didn’t want to publish this as a book anymore.

Jane took the binder in her careful hands and carried it to the librarian’s desk. It felt a thousand times heavier in her hands now than it did earlier. She set it down with as much care as she could manage. As if she were handling a live bomb.

The librarian looked up at Jane and gave a warm smile. “Did you find what you were looking for, dear?” She asked in a tone that felt distant and cold. Though Jane knew it was just her imagination.

Jane managed a smile, hoping her mask would hold.

“Um…. Yes ma’am. I think I found exactly what I was looking for.”