The Tape

I watched the "orgy porn" tape. Mentioned it back when I first started looking through things from my old life and disregarded it almost immediately. Who wants to watch weird porno their dead father and insane mother used to use? However, after finding that weird "robed figures" picture and reading KatieChainsawful's comment, I decided to give it a second look.

It was among the most disturbing things I have seen in my life. And I've seen a lot the past few months.

It starts out like bad, amateur porn. Just a bunch of white guys, from twenty-somethings to a sixty year old, doing a bunch of white women, in about the same age range. The weirdest thing about the first thirty minutes is just the location. A bunch of brick, torches hanging off the walls, archway in the back leading into darkness.

After about a half an hour, there's this really loud shout that instantly breaks up the party. Everyone just stops, gets up, and basically stands at attention. Walking through the dark archway are five people, robed in purple, hoods pulled up; exactly like in my drawing.

The leader of five begins speaking in some language I didn't understand at all. It almost sounded like Latin or Greek. All I'm certain of is that it definitely wasn't English. And then the three turned around and walked back down the corridor, all the naked orgy participants following, one grabbing the camera to continue filming the proceedings.

The walk through the passage takes a good five minutes. There's some idle chatter between people in the dark. Hell, two of the guys are talking about sports teams. Once they get through the black corridor, there's another room lit by torches. And this is where I lost it and threw up.

Chained on an altar almost precisely like the one in my drawing, symbol and all, is a young girl. She's probably no more than eight years old, stripped bare and tied down to the cold stone like some sort of ancient offering. I could hear the sounds of her sobs for the rest of the recording.

What I can only imagine is the leader of this crazed gathering stands tall on a podium just offset from the stone table the girl is chained on. Arms raised high, he begins to preach. I may not know what language they were speaking, but mad, religious preaching sounds the same in any of them. And you could start seeing the tension, this strange mix of fear and excitement flow through the crowd. The leader begins chanting, throwing his hood back to reveal an old, bearded man. His blue eyes are haunting, filled with insanity.

All the naked people started chanting along. It sounds something like "exilliss evearto". The terror and apprehension seems like it's a literal being in the room with them. The four other robed crazies throw their hoods back. Two are pretty unremarkable: one man, one woman, probably in their forties.

The other two are my mother and father. And I threw up again.

And then everything on the tape goes to shit. This shadows passes through the room. Some people begin screaming, some cheering, some just standing in awed silence. They're all looking towards the altar. The man with the camera turns to catch it in shot...

The entire picture falls apart. It's all blur and distortion. Outside of the color of brick lit by torchlight and patches of black shadow, nothing can be made out. My television's speakers let loose this awful, inhuman screeching noise. And it was loud. Despite having the volume set to lower than normal, I'm surprised my speakers were capable of creating that intense of noise.

I tried to mute it and start fast-forwarding to see if it would clear up, but the tape refused to work. All it did was screech and keep playing this twisting, incomprehensible image. The only way to make it stop was to unplug the VCR. I'm afraid to plug it back in, in case the noise starts again.

I've been shaking ever since. As if those events weren't twisted enough, my parents were involved. My parents... I need answers, and only my mother has them. I still haven't decided if I want to "Return" or "Orestes", but I have to understand what was going on in that tape now...

God, that little girl...

Arsonist's Return

I just woke up to find two old, childhood drawings tucked beneath my pillow. One, I had written off as totally unrelated to anything. The other... too personal to post. Apparently, TheArsonist thinks otherwise.

On the back of each drawing were two words, and a signature from my alter ego. Seems like I'm, once again, doing something wrong, and he feels like he needs to step in to get me going...



"Choose: Return"

I recognize this place. It's an old building in the forest/park behind my old house. Emily, Ted, and I always used to play near it, usually something to do with space cops or magic knights. I don't actually remember what was inside, since the front door was always locked. Not a huge building, but it was a landmark back when I was younger.



"Choose: Orestes"

I didn't want to post this... I remember I drew this while in psychological counseling after my father's murder. I guess it's how I viewed my mother then; how I still view her today. "Orestes" isn't quite as straightforward in telling me what I'm supposed to be choosing as "Return". Perhaps this is TheArsonist telling me to go question mother...?

So, I now have a choice: an old building in the woods, or a mad parent in an asylum. I don't particularly like either option, but TheArsonist thinks I should do this. I'd like an outside opinion on this. My gut instinct is to "return" to the building, but that's likely just me wanting to avoid mother. Your thoughts would be appreciated...

Results

Three days since the last update... As far as I'm aware, I spent all of Thursday and Friday asleep. Unless, that is, I'm being hit by Slender Man's infamous memory loss. Or worse, perhaps TheArsonist is taking over again...

Anyways, whatever. I've gone through all five boxes of stuff and have found nearly nothing. No Operator symbols, no allusions to a business man hanging around, no childhood friends disappearing - nothing.

I scoured all the old family photos and, outside of my dad in his suit occasionally making be do a double take, they're clean. The video tapes... well, I'll admit that there was this weird ass "orgy in a dank basement" porn of my parents that I didn't bother to watch through because that would just be sick but, other than that, those were alright to. No distortion, no damage, no Slender.

My old writings up until I turned ten are about as lucid and make as much sense as any child's works. Lots of stories involving myself, Emily, and Ted on adventures around the forest outside my house, running away from giant spiders and masked villains. A few about evil wizards being fought off by Batman and the Power Rangers. Ya know, childhood fantasy.

After ten, a lot of the writing dries up. There's the occasional disturbing page of how I felt after my mother killed my father, like the one explaining she must have had a spider in her brain that took control of her and made her do it... Not much there either.

Finally, the drawings. There's the Spider one I already posted, which was strange but not enough to ring any massive bells. I was about to give up on everything, when I found this drawing. Something about it does NOT feel right to me. I've been trying to explain it away as an illustration from one of my stories, but it... it just feels wrong. I get nauseous just looking at it. It's not Slender Man. It's just... weird.

Old Fear

I found this image clipped to a school assignment where we were supposed to write down our worst fears. Considering the drawings of the legs and a certain part in what I wrote, I thought this was worst posting.



(Edited for spelling)
I'm afraid of spiders. They crawl around and bite you when you're sleeping. You can get poisoned and die! I'm really scared of big spiders coming out from under my bed and eating me when I'm asleep. I have bad dreams about them and the spider-man getting me. In comics spider-man is nice but not in my dreams. He wants to take me away. I'm really really scared of spiders.

Unearthing Memories

I got back from the storage facility a few hours ago. Have several boxes full of old notebooks, video tapes, drawings, photos... Anything that held old memories. Unfortunately, I didn't have access to a VHS player so I called around to work buddies and got a hold of one. Only now getting to go through the tapes... Been a lot of unmarked old Disney movies so far. And a weird porno that must've been my parents. Sick.

I did find this in the box with the tapes. Based on Uncle Eddie and Max being there, I'd say I probably drew it when I was seven.



I'll keep you all posted on anything else I find.

I've spent the past few days at funerals. Eve and Vincent's was last Friday, Amelia's earlier today. It rained both days, like I'm living in a bad movie. It feel as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest, replaced by nothing but boiling, malevolent rage. I nearly throttled a family friend of Amelia's when he walked in the door at his funeral. He looked so much like... like him: Tall, bald, business suit...

When I haven't been burying the people I've loved that have died, I've been trying to get assimilate, or at least get back in touch with, my split psyche. Other than that, I spent time researching Slender Man on the web. In response to this bit in a comment...

Cinderblock said...

Well if we're all you have left, facebook me, haha.
Anyway you REALLY, REALLY, REALLLLYYYYY should go to http://openthedoorandyouwillfindme.blogspot.com/

There is a man who is after Slenderman.
He is on the very, VERY same step as you.

I actually followed Strahm prior to everything that's happened in my life. I thought it was a story. I still kind of see it that way. However, fact or fiction, his July 9th post is full of useful information. I may or may not get in touch. For now, I want to do this alone...

The other site that's been a lot of use is The Tutorial. I'm not sure how much use M's facts are to me since Slender Man seems to be different things for different people (Perhaps, as a being quite likely created by our own minds, he adapts to each individual's psyche? Just as he was thought into existence, he uses our thoughts to evolve into a different hunter for each type of prey?), but it's still good to know there's someone out there looking out for people like me.

M said...

TheArsonist is the part of you that's fighting back from being hollowed out by Slenderman. Slenderman takes people over, makes them do things he can't do, and was probably trying to do this to you. Usually this either works or doesn't, and people become only that hollowed out part of them, or stay basically the same. I've heard you have some mental disorders and were taking pills for them. What were they? Maybe that's the key. Maybe you're reacting differently to Slenderman because of whatever it is you have.

This is actually something I've been considering myself. It certainly ties into what I... he... it said in Death about fighting Slender Man, like it was an internal war, but TheArsonist said he lost and that I would become "like him". I'm not ready to say I'm sure that's what my disassociated personality is, but it's a leading theory I have.

I used to try and hide my mental disorders, but it's kind of too late for that now. I've only been "officially" diagnosed or psych eval'd with depression, moderate paranoia, and some issues with repressed anger and lashing out. My family history, however, is filled with other problems.

My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, and psychotic. She killed my dad in one of her rages when I was ten. One minute I'm playing outside with Emily and Ted, the next I hear a scream, and then I see Mama stumbling outside, blood down her skirt, knife in her hand, begging me to hug her.

I never want to be like her.

M said...
Either way I have only 2 pieces of advice for you: 1. Get moving. I know you want to stay in your house, but He knows where you are and can get to you easier because of that. And 2. get in touch with TheArsonist. This may be something you can use to defeat him. I've never heard of anybody with mental illness (severe or not) that has fought him, maybe it can help.

I've actually never seen him near my home. In fact, I've never seen him at all. There was one false alarm, the last time I ever saw Em and Vince alive, but it turned out to be a normal guy. It's... strange. I am planning on getting moving soon. Going to live out of my car awhile. See how well the bastard does then...

And, as I've said, I've been working on TheArsonist, but he's a blank slate after that first realization he's me and "seeing" myself doing all he did. Maybe I'm doing something wrong...

Gonna get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day. Zeke Strahm put forward a theory that Slender Man attacks adults who escaped him as kids. Most of my things from childhood are in a storage facility an hour or so away from here. Perhaps there's a picture or... something. I'll let you know what I find.

New Life

Since Sunday, when Amelia died, I've been preparing for what is yet to come.

My life is tattered and ruined. Everything I have ever loved has been taken from me. I'm not going to let this continue. I refuse to let this monster continue his reign of terror. He should never be allowed to do this again. So, I've been planning, studying, preparing. I have nothing left to lose, and I've decided to go down fighting.

I've done research on split personalities. I wanted to make absolutely certain that my theory about being TheArsonist was true. I have begun meditating in an attempt to get in touch with that side of me.

And it has worked. I remember writing those messages, creating that recording, leaving all those clues... We're one, TheArsonist and I. If you need proof, I'll write something on Watch This City Burn. I remember what my alternate set the password as. I remember nearly everything...

But with every answered question come a legion of others that beg to be solved. The following are what I'm focusing on right now, and I believe they may be the key to gaining revenge on the abomination that stole my life from me.

When did I first become TheArsonist, and why?

It seems logical that it was with Ted's death and the hacking of Watch This City Burn. However, logic doesn't have meaning to me anymore. I'm currently attempting to dig deeper into that part of my psyche, but I can't seem to find anything...

Why did my personality split? While I can remember things I did as TheArsonist, I can't recall any meaning to my actions. My motivations are a haze, and I get a concentration-breaking migraine every time I try to break through it. Hopefully, I'll be strong enough to fully reintegrate that side of my mind. For now, I'm struggling to understand why it happened.

Why does TheArsonist speak in Death as though he has fought Slender Man before?

The answer to this appears simple: If TheArsonist has fought him before, that means I have and don't remember it. Is it really that easy? How does that affect what I should do next? Is there a possibility I am missing?

How did TheArsonist know that Emily and Vincent would die?

This is the biggest question of all, and I still have no answer for it.


If you believe you have any theories about the above, let me know. It's clear to me now that my mind isn't in the best state, so having outside help could let me see something I've missed.

For now, I'm going to continue gathering supplies. I have some money saved for emergencies. This is one. I also have money that was supposed to pay for school tuition this fall. I doubt that I'll be attending, so that's more funds I can access. I'm not quite sure what my next move will be. I'll be sure to keep you all informed. Thank you for everything you all have done. As sad as it is, you're all I have left...

My name is Damien O'Connor. Until recently, I thought I had escaped the insanity that stole my family away from me. I was wrong. One month ago, my best friend, Ted, died. I had a psychological breakdown, and never realized it. My mind created an alternate personality that took control of a story blog I created. As TheArsonist, I attempted to awaken my conscious mind to things locked away inside of myself. It didn't work.

Emily, a friend I've known nearly my entire life, and her husband died because I didn't understand my own second personality. I was stopping in to see them one last time before they left again. I saw the police as I pulled up. I spoke with them about what had happened. And I thought I saw... My first response was to run. But I couldn't. Some force kept me from leaving the town I grew up in. Instead, I went back home, sat down, and, finally, I seemed to ask the right question. The question: How did TheArsonist know Emily and Vincent Ellison (EVE) would die next?

The answer: Because I am TheArsonist.

I spent four days locked inside my room, trying to understand. I had somehow knew they would die, but I couldn't figure out how that could be. On the third day, I realized the only logical way was because I was their murderer. I was the one who ripped them apart, leaving parts of their bodies strewn across a hotel room. I was the one who wrote those cryptic letters on the wall in blood. I took the next logical step: I killed Ted. I lured him into the woods. I gutted him. I dragged his body up a ladder and high into a tree, and hung him there.

It was me. All this time it was me. I am the Slender Man I see. I was just projecting my sins onto an outside hallucination. It's why I saw him, acted as him. Disassociated personality. I am three-in-one: Damien, Arsonist, Slender.

My room still smells of vomit from when I came to this realization.

I tried to kill myself after I understood. Put the .22 in my mouth, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger. The click echoed in the hollows of my twisted mind. I'd never loaded my gun. Shaky hands forced a single bullet into the magazine, and then the gun was back in my mouth. Drenched in sweat, my finger slowly squeezed that tiny nub of metal that separated me from the void. My phone rang, breaking my calm. It was a short text. Amelia was about to leave to start her way back home. She was worried about me.

For a moment, I considered sparing myself to spare her the pain of my death. I could turn myself in, and be institutionalized. I thought of my mother. The gun went back into my mouth. And the phone rang again. Another text from Amelia.

"This really tall guy across the street keeps staring at me. Weirdo. Going back in to get stuff, then heading. Luvs you *kisses* :)"

The gun fell to the floor. With shaking hands, I called her. I explained everything to her, even the insane parts. She believed me. I told her I wanted her to stay on the line the entire way home. That she'd get back, and we'd find a way to beat him.

Amelia died in a car accident. I heard her last words. "He's here. I love you. Oh god."

I lost my best friend. I lost my first love. I lost my true love. I have been driven to the edge of despair. I have gazed into the abyss. I have lost everything.

Now it's his turn.

ARSONIST!

How the hell did you know? How did you know that Emily and Vince would die over a week before it happened? This blood isn't just on my hands, you son of a bitch! It's all over you too! Why couldn't you be sane? Why couldn't you make sense? Why couldn't you just... WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE THEM!?

Damn it. GODDAMN IT!

I ran.

My hands are stained red with the blood of those I've loved. It's all my fault. Too stubborn to wake up and see I was falling into a nightmare...

So I ran. And I'm running. And I don't think I'll ever see you again. Goodbye, Amelia. I'm not safe. Not with IT awakened - hunting, destroying. Goodbye, my love. Maybe, someday, we can be together again...

The End?

Just got back from an early dinner with Emily and Vincent. They're heading back home later tonight, so they decided to treat me to Olive Garden. I'm just glad Em's still willing to talk to me after my little freak out on the phone the other day about Amelia... Really going to miss her now that she's leaving again. It was really nice seeing her and her husband. I remember back when I was a kid and thought her last name would end up O'Connor. Instead it's Ellison... Still, he's a nice guy and I can see now that Emily's better of with him, and I'm better with Amelia.

Speaking of, I'd like to thank you all for the kind thoughts in the comments. Amelia's mother is recovering alright. Broke several bones, bad internal bleeding, but she should pull through. Amelia is planning on staying there until the end of the week. All safe and sound.

...I feel I should admit something to you all. I'm considering stopping writing on this blog. No offense, but between TheArsonist and the comments that sum up to "ZOMG your world is ending soon", Dreams In Darkness has not done much for my mental health. Ted's death was bad enough, and I feel like this blog only makes it worse. I'm not blaming anyone. It's just...

I thought I saw him at the Olive Garden, outside a window. It turned out it was just a businessman and woman on their way in to have a lunch meeting. I nearly went running out the front door when I saw them. That isn't right. That isn't sane. Who can you trust when you can't trust yourself?

Fuck, I should probably delete that last paragraph. I'm sure you're all giddy to hear me say I thought I saw him. Next you're going to tell me to videotape myself and start running away from every tree or other tall, thin object...

Amelia's fine, at least physically. Her mother was in a serious car accident yesterday, and was brought into the ER in critical condition. Being the sort of girl she is, Amelia immediately got in her car and sped off to be with her family. They live about six hours away, and my love's phone died less than an hour into her trip. So she's okay. Not sure how well she is emotionally since her mom is in a terrible state, but she's still okay.

So much for getting on with life, though. My reaction to losing touch with her was extreme, to the point where I was screaming at Emily over the phone when she tried to calm me down. Ted's death is still hanging over my head... And TheArsonist's warnings continue to frighten me. Whoever they are, they're clearly insane, yet something about those posts chill me to the bone.

Still, I'll be sleeping with my .22 tonight...

Ohgodohgodogodgodoogod

Not again. Not after Ted. I was starting to live again, and now I've lost my heart...

Amelia didn't come in to work yesterday, and she hasn't replied to any of my texts or phone calls. I drove over to her house. Her car was gone.

This can't happen. I can't... I can't lose her. Oh god...

Return to Life

I'm happy to announce my life appears to be getting back on track. After "delivering" Watch This City Burn's "warning" to "Eve", I feel like that is all behind me. As Jonathan linked to in the comments...

Damien, have you seen your psycho "friend"'s latest blog post regarding this?
Guy seems pretty pissed at you.
http://tonightitallburns.blogspot.com/2010/07/no-nononononononononononononononononono.html

Weirdo has apparently "ceased to exist", which I can only take to mean "My attempts at ruining your life are over because you're too smart so this is my last ditch effort to drag you back in."

That make sense? No? I don't care. My life is returning to normalcy. I'm done with this whole killer nonsense. What happened to my best friend was terrifying and brutal, but I doubt some hacker on the Internet truly knows what is going on better than the police.

Yesterday evening, Emily, one of my oldest friends that I went to elementary school with, came in for a surprise visit with her husband, Vincent. They took Amelia and I out for dinner to catch up, and it was the first time in a month that I truly enjoyed myself. Em and Vince are actually in the area until next Monday, and we've made plans to get together again.

I never thought life would start getting back to normal after Ted's death but... it is. It truly is.

Simon

I finally spoke to Simon yesterday, after my previous failed attempt. On Tuesday, I drove all the way out to his house to speak with him in-person, only to find out that he had company.

Male company. Sexual male company. I could tell from the loud grunting noises coming from an open window.

The bastard had already replaced Ted. I stormed off, deciding that, if he is "Eve", he's not worth saving. Why would I bother helping someone who can just throw aside my best friend? The fucker can rot in a tree for all I care...

But, unfortunately, I seem to have a nice guy hidden somewhere deep inside me. I decided to give Simon a chance, and called him last night. I directed him to my blogs, told him my theories. He immediately called me crazy and told me to never get in touch with him again.

I exploded. I screamed at him about already sleeping around when his boyfriend had died only two weeks ago. He hung up on me.

Let the sonuvabitch die. I don't care anymore. Ted didn't mean a thing to the fucker, so Simon doesn't mean a thing to me.