The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions.

By the time many of you read this... odds are I will be dead.

I am currently... sitting on the floor of a cheap little motel off in the middle of nowhere. The kind that seems to take every shred of desperation from your situation and hang it on the wall to greet you when you first walk in. The kind where people only come with a prostitute or a kidnapped victim under their arm. The kind where you're quite certain that, should you flip the mattress, you'd find the tell-tale stain of old blood covering a good half of it. Then again, I may not have to even flip the mattress. Maybe if I decide to look, I'd find a murder weapon in the trash can from the last occupant. I can just imagine it really. "Complimentary Evidence Disposal." Yes, because the 'Room Service' sign out front which is off one hanger certainly doesn't apply in any other way...

it... will probably be considered a community service when this place burns to the ground...

and believe me... it will burn this night.

All part of the plan... a rather suicidal one, but I hardly think that matters at this point. I will not survive a third visit from Him... and He is coming. I can't hear Him yet, but I can feel it. I... can feel...

Heh. "Feel."

I feel like death warmed over. It sickens me to even hold my arms around myself when my abdomen feels as though shards of steel are passing through it. As my body eats itself to gain the nutrition I cannot ingest. I can feel every bone. Every rib. I am starving to death... and yet I know - just as The Friendly Butler did - that that will not be what ends me. The migraines, the fever and chills, rashes, boils... they are all just part of His game. Just pieces to the final picture... but that doesn't make them any less real. Any less painful. It hurts... to even move. To walk. The lymph nodes in my neck are swollen to the point I can barely move it... and, though I haven't been eating food to bring up, my body seems to had upgraded to... vomiting blood instead.

The... ends of my fingers and feet are tainted with a touch of black now as well...

His signature, no doubt.

as if the other symptoms weren't blatant enough.

heh. does it sound whiny to say that even pressing these keys hurt? goddamn rotting flesh. so very inconvenient...


Part of me can't stop wondering... how I got to this point. To this low.

the other part... can't ever stop knowing why.

Part of me wants to crucify the Highers for putting me into this situation.

part of me knows that isn't where my end began.

we all... have our stories.

even proxies.

many of you seem to forget that we once had lives too. you seem to ignore it. deny it. you seem to prefer to perceive my kin and i as not but monsters. demons and devils. ghosts and ghouls. like we are but props sprung from some cheap fairy tale. the evil minions of the demonic overlord or black witch.

mindless.

heartless.

inhuman.

I'd imagine... it makes it much simpler to see the world so black and white. The line defining evil from good being a thin, blaring red instead of mottled gray. believing that what is always has been. that His soldiers, his servants, have always been what they are. rabid dogs once caged by the rules of normal society... now released to spread His chaos. fulfilling their role. living the life they always dreamed of. reborn so much freer than they once were...

you read along our words... expecting evil. expecting our lives to have begun when we came under His influence in this way...

the story of a Proxy... of our blogs... can only begin at the end.

I have been in this... online Community for several months now.

You've known me as "Nightscream." As "Screamer." "Scream." Whichever of the assorted nicknames I've gained. Some of you I have spoken to. Some of you have spoken to me. A few of you have actually met me. Perhaps one or two actually think they know me a bit. And, perhaps, as I am as a Proxy... they just might.

But not one of you ever knew me... when I was only Sam.

You didn't know me when I attended my high school prom.

You didn't know me when I graduated university and began my teaching career.

You didn't know me... when I said "I love you" to the love of my life and meant it with all my heart.

You didn't know me when... my son came into this world... and I held him for the first time.

You didn't know me when Leo said his first word. When we taught him to ride his bike or had picnics in the backyard. When I thought for certain I'd be there to watch him complete high school. Go to university. Follow his dreams and have a family of his own.

You didn't... you didn't know me when... I asked one of my best students to stay behind after class.

You didn't know me... when I sat in the chair of the desk beside her own and I expressed concern about her slipping grades. Her change in behavior. A once friendly girl having become withdrawn. Quiet. Skittish.

You didn't know me... when I tried to persuade her to speak to me while she denied anything was wrong... despite the fear I saw churning in young eyes.

You didn't know me... when she approach me a few days later. Arms wrapped around herself for a comfort she couldn't find. Fear brimming over into tears and sobs as she broke down right in front of my eyes. Crumbling to pieces.

You didn't know me... when I listened as she told me everything. As she gave empty laughs about a silly, internet meme called the Slender Man. About videos posted on youtube. A game of paranoia. One that was making her lose her mind. One that didn't seem to be a game anymore. Not for her.

You didn't know me when I promised her that, whatever it was, we would get to the bottom of it. That she wasn't alone.

You didn't know me...

You'll never know me.

To you, my friends, I am just another Proxy.

Just another weak-willed lunatic here to deliver a few cheap one-liners.

It's funny, really.

You come in at the beginning of your story... and mock us for being at the end of ours.

what sense is there? what reasoning? do you expect us to break down and tell you our entire stories? to take your hands and show you our weaknesses and fears? would we not be monsters then? if we took all the details that made us who we are and typed them out where they'd be exploited by our own kin within a matter of days...

would you stop acting as though you understand? as though you know? as though you have any idea how we got to be where we are?

what right do any of you have to judge us as monsters? to deny us our humanity?

how much different will you be when your story catches up to where ours is? when you stop Running with your eyes closed?

Make no mistake. This is not a confession of last regrets from a dying Proxy. A sudden turn-around now that all other options have run dry. No, this is a wake-up call. One last lecture. One last lesson. I have done so much to make me deserve this End... but I do not regret what brought me here. I do not regret the choices I've made or the things I've done. I made the best of the situation dealt to me... and I let myself find enjoyment in my work. For what worth is there to any manner of life... if you can't find reason to smile?

and it is for that logic... that i am a monster. a ghost. a ghoul. a demon. a devil.

A mindless drone for your Their His entertainment.

a single scream in the darkest night





i can hear His steps

He's coming to end this now.

I will wait... and then I will run with all I have left within me. I will throw myself through the glass of this very window... and hope I can anger The Beak enough for Him to follow me on one last chase. One last Game. Hoping to catch Him amongst the bonfire I prepared especially for Him. Explosives wired to a modified security alarm that can sense the sound of shattering glass...

I hope to lead Him to a Cult Town to the West.

I hope to bring Him into Father's territory.

I hope... to give a reason for the Slender Man to face the Plague Doctor.


i'm ready... to give my last performance


until we meet again

remember

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keep smiling

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