Fucking Cheap Pizza!

You can get these little Pizzas for £1 at Pizzagogo! It's the best thing EVER! I havent had pizza for fucking months! So fucking good!

This calls for a song!

Craft popped up again

Craft popped up again on Sanna's blog and Kelevtov's internet word salad (warning: Tvtropes link. Follow at your own peril). Sorry about that, Sanna. Kinda feel like it's my fault. That pissant is going to get his. I mean, when he first popped up, I was kinda scared (read:Scared shitless). I mean, I'd thought he was dead. I'd thought I'd killed him. And that ate me up inside. But you know what? I'm over that now. So if you're reading this, Craft, consider this a warning. You want to threaten me? fine. But If you try the same shit as before, if you threaten my friends, then I'll destroy you. I will beat you  with a tire iron and burn whatever's left. Because you aren't a big, impressive proxy. You're a nerd who went too far into the occult and went crazy. and you won't be back again. bitch.


Need help

Looking over that blog post, I think it's clear I need help. For whatever reason, I know far too much about the fears, and I just want to kill everything. Well, Craft, Snowblind and Kelevra. And quite frankly the fact that I was preparing to fight them, the fact that I wanted to kill them frightens me. I think that slendy finally got into my head. And I can't have that, can I? So if anyone has any idea about how to deal with this, please help. Because otherwise I think I'll end up dead, one way or the other. Or worse, end up as a proxy and not die.

Spot of luck (possibly)

So as you may know, I've been losing an alarming amount of time. Well, from that I've managed to find a decent place to hang around for a bit, plan my next move. Because if Craft is alive, I need to find him, and kill him. Properly this time. put his victims to rest.
 So I found this warehouse, which seems easy enough to keep secure. And it's full of interesting and useful things; seems it was used to store tools, so I found myself an axe. So the next step is to track down Craft (I put out some feelers, but I don't have much to go on) and bury him for good. Not sure how I'm gonna manage it, will need element of surprise so won't post anything until I've acted on it. May need to make a deal or something; Slendy keeps him too strong. Maybe lucky; Dying man may step in. That how he survived; the liar? Don't know much about Fears other than slendy; The less you know the safer you are. Jack of all Trades; could I get his help? Would it be worth it? yes.
Rake & Slendy possible territory war; Chance of help. THe Feral ONe. May be worth looking into that. Too many possibilities, not enough options. not sure how to get contact. Door? seems benevolent. possibility. But runs in families; would've stopped craft before now if my family was important. Wrong time, Wrong place, Wrong person. My fault.


Funny internet videos

last post was really fucking depressing. So here's some funny shit from the internet. Best with LSD.


How I got stalked

 Kyle asked how I first got involved with this, and I figured I might as well put it up here. It's practically guaranteed not to get read by anyone I don't trust, anyway

One of my friends, let's call him 'Dave', was a huge geek; looking up everything occult on the internet. He introduced me to Lovecraft, actually. One day, he comes to me and says he's found out something important about the lovecraft mythos, to meet at a forest. I was going to go, but real life intervened. I'm still not sure if that was a good or bad thing. When I tried to call to let him know, I couldn't get through, which was odd, because I was trying to reach his home phone. Since then, we didn't talk much; he started breaking off social ties, broke up with his girlfriend, started missing school. withdrew into himself. I think his parents blamed me; they kept saying I should do something, eventually stopped returning my calls.

 I figured he wasn't going to screw anything up too bad; while it never got as bad as this, Dave was a pretty obsessive person, and he'd withdrawn before when something caught his eye. I figured it's end with a worryingly large expenditure on black candles, and he'd just be back to normal. I closed my eyes to it, tried to trust in him to snap out of it and come back, trusted that everything would be normal again.

He never did snap out of it. He stopped coming to school outright, spent long periods away from home, at the woods where he'd tried to meet me before. I think social services were looking into it. Then one night, I get a notepad in my room. Window's closed, doors locked, and there's this notepad on my bedside table, covered in drawings and writing, numbers and letters and symbols in pen, pencil, paint, blood, shit; everything he could lay hands on. It started semi-legible, talking about how he's found this new German mythos, with actual evidence behind it. How he found a way to call to an entity, how he'll see the truth of the universe. Most of the rest was illegible, smudged lines crossing over each other and random strings of numbers. probably a code or something. It ended with a semi-lucid note, saying how he has to go, how he'll be back for me, show me how blind I've been to the universe. I thought he was going to do something stupid, get himself killed, and he was still my friend. I left straight away, didn't even wake my parents. I don't know what I was thinking, but I remember running all the way there, must've been a few miles at least. I get there, and there's no light at all. So I'm stumbling through this wood at 3 in the morning, blind as a bat, when everything changes and I look into the shy and theres no moon, no stars. Completely alien. I think it might've been a less lethal part of the path, or something similar, because I knew those woods pretty damn well (raised there) and that sure as shit wasn't them. Anyway, I came to this clearing, and there he was, speaking to thin air. It wasn't english. And there he was. The Knave. The Prince. Nyarlonathotep. Whatever. and he was just standing there but I could tell he was looking at me, with no eyes bus still boring into me, seeing all my secrets and shame. I stood there. And he reaches out towards Dave with this arm, like a tree branch, growing, stretching, and then they're both gone. And Dave was dead, and there's this insane bastard swanning about in his skin.

I didn't realise it at first; chalked it up to a nightmare and sleepwalking. It was ridiculous, but I had to believe in something. I chose ignorance. But then I find out Dave' run away from home, and I find this notebook, and think there's something up. Do some digging. Find out too much. Dave comes for me with a knife, calls himself Fear, and kills. My parents. His Ex. My fucking pet cat. He just kills everyone and everything and I'm left running. Then one day he catches up to me. But I'm never going to go into what happened then.

*Edit* I guess the cat's out of the bag. I changed the names to remove traceability (I still know some people from where I was raised who're alive) but  I need information pronto. He was Sean Thompson. He called himself Craft. I thought I'd killed him 16:23 January 5th 2013.


Alexandria October 1998

After Sanna's daddy issues on her blog, I've decided to weigh in with some non-psychotic help and advice that isn't pulling her up for shit she's got under control. . Specifically, the Toronto Star did an article on it 19th October 1998. Might be worthwhile seeing if you can track down a copy (Kyle, I think you're most likely to have success there, depending on geography. See if Virgil can put some feelers out.), find out about who wrote it, find their source. The train was run by the ERA, and Egyptian government organization, as far as I know. The brakes may have been sabotaged, or the driver failed. Either way, they went into a market just south of Alexandria. Can't find a breakdown of deaths from it, implies it's no-one 'important', but that doesn't show much; Proxies and runners stay out of the spotlight. Not much runner/ proxy activity in Egypt, past or present, as far as I know, other than appearance in hieroglyphs in pharaohs tombs; thief of the gods/ thief of kuk (kuk means darkness, an ancient Egyptian deification of it anyway. Interesting.) . Possible political instability prevents proper investigation/reporting. Anyone with the resources should prolly check that out. could be a bunch of people out there who're cut off from the rest of us. Rosewater foundation presumably has resources, Strider has Path. Either way.



Important thing to note today, kids; If you plan to use drugs to stay calm, make damn sure you don't make a complete fool of yourself on the internet. I mean, it's nothing dangerous, but damned if it isn't hella embarrassing. That is all.



Kitchen is a funny word. I mean, its like kit and chen all mixed up together into one big nonsense word. Its funny because it makes no sense, just like kitchens. I bet Slenderman has a big kitchen, because he's big and tall so he couldn't have a little roof.I wonedr if hed be less murderous if we'd just make our roofs big enough that he could fit iside without vhunching. Having a backache can make people cranky. But maybe not, because he's a tree. I don't think trees like kitchens, because kitchens hacve fire on them amd fire is badd for treees. beacause trees are flammable. I wonder if slendy is flammable. has anyone set the dude on fire? I hope not. that would ne rude, and being ruude is bas because if you're rude, other peopl;e might be rude to you,, and thatd mean everyone would be sad. that would e bad.
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Notebooks and codes

You may have noticed that a common theme throughout almost all of the Knave's sacrifices is that tha Marked carry a notebook, filled with His holy word. Indeed, if you yourself are Marked, and trying to escape the Sacrifice, you will probably find yourself writing one when the end draws near. Or maybe that's just me. Either way.

If my experiences are representative of the whole, you won't remember getting or writing in the Journal. It'll just appear, and whenever you slep, or lose time, it'll get a little more full. Codes and drawings and rambling and insanity, all in a neat little papery package.

My advice is to make sure you crack the codes in there as soon as possible, and note down the translations in the notebook. It'll save time if anyone investigates your metamorphosis. It shouldn't be too difficult; seems the proxies only use straight substitutions. Still, there is one code I've been having trouble with. If nobody minds helping out, it'd be much appreciated.


Far as I can tell, it isn't a simple substitution.


Losing my memories

I don't know what fuckery the slenderman did to me, but he fucked up my memories properly. I saw him. Just watching, completely fucking still and then you look again and he's fucked off. But this time, he stayed put. So did I. I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to, it was like he was in my fucking head. When I came around I had no idea where I was. He'd shoved me off, fucking teleported me to the arse end of the country without any of my things. And now I'm losing my memories, how things were before I was on the run and how I got into this heap of shit in the first place. I remember there was a girl, and he took her, and I couldn't save her. Now I can't even remember her. He wouldn't even leave me a fucking memory. Fucking fucker fucked with my shitting head for fucks fucking sake.

Sorry about that. Need to vent. Why is it there's never a proxy around when you really need to kill something.

I have seen

I have seen the king in black he has come upon the world he is coming I have seen. He came upon me and I saw the TRUTH of the LORD and know to spread the truth to the heathens as they run in fear and sin from His truth and glory. His light will shine upon the world and scour the sin and the fear and they will know his light as it is the light of the world.

I should probably explain. I've managed to save up quite a lot of money busking, and managed to get a job playing guitar and doing odd jobs at a b&b. They can't afford any actual help, and don't have to pay me beyond food costs. So that's good. But it seems it can't last; my memories of before I started running are going, and I found the extract above written in a notebook. In my room. In my handwriting.


The police and you

Most of the time, people ignore the police. After all, we're fighting a God. What's the use of police? The answer, of course, lies in the proxies. Proxies, as you've probably noticed, aren't the best at passing for sane members of society. So when the police come knocking for them, they have no recourse but fight or flight; or a lengthy stay in an asylum.

 So when you've found a hive of Scum and Villainy proxies, don't face it alone. That's a mugs game. Call the police. You've found the local drug dealers. They're making bombs there. Whatever it takes to have a highly armed force prepared to bust in and arrest the lot of them. Important note; When you do tip off the police, make sure they're properly prepared for a fight to the death. This tactic in practice with Kyle L. led to far too many deaths. Give the blog a read to know what I'm talking about.

Of course, there is a flipside to this relationship; If you're begging in richer areas, avoid the police. They'll probably at least move you along, and possibly take you to the local station. On the one hand, this is an excellent way to get a decent meal and some sleep away from proxies. On the other hand, there's no way out when The Knave pays you a visit. and he will. Prisons are like magnets to him; probably likes the smell.

Good luck.

Second post

After reading a few blogs, I found a common misconception. The idea that 'knowledge is power'. It isn't. The thin man is invincible, and there's no amount of knowledge that can change that. So get any ideas about resistance out of your head right now. This is about survival. 'But pHIL' I hear you say, 'surely if we know more, we can avoid getting attacked.' This is where things get dangerous. Because cast your minds back. I'm sure you remember how you first got into this mess. Either you read about the thin man, or he sacrificed one of your friends and you investigated, found out too much. Either way, you know about him, and now he's targeting you. So what happens if you find out more? He steps up the stalking. He probably won't kill you, but pretty soon you'll see things from His point of view. Soon your hunting heathens with the best of them.

So how do you avoid an attack? You make damn sure you don't know shit about The Prince. Because when you do find out, He hunts you down, and by then you'll know enough to know resistance is pointless. So you'll give in. Become a proxie. And then some bastard runner will murder you, and carry on like we can't all see their sins.  Anyway, I'd better stop posting and calm down.
Good luck


Morning, Ladies and Gentlemen

Before you go any further, I should probably square with you. This is a slenderblog. That is to say, a fictional blog about the fictional entity that is slenderman. If you still believe he's fictional, you should probably stop reading now.

Anyway, I've been on the run for a while, but didn't start a blog before. I was afraid the hallowed would use it to track me, so I didn't get involved. Well, that isn't a concern any more. If you read Sanna's blog you'll know why, but the basics are that I settled down for a while, saw the slenderman, and now I have severe doubts about my sanity. So I'm going to take this chance to share what I know, about how to survive, so the same fate doesn't befall all of you reading this. Or, more likely, both of you reading this.

So, the first rule for surviving the slender man; keep moving. It doesn't matter how tired you are, or how futile it seems, if you stay put for more than a few weeks you will become a proxie. Also, the longer you stay the harder it is to leave. You make links to people, which just complicates everything; as well as painting a target onto their back.

Anyway, I've got to take that advice, which kind of sucks. Good luck out there, and hopefully you do better than I did