Crimson {Ticci Toby Fanfiction} ON HOLD

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

~ Edgar Allen Poe

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+

Toby was alone in this old abandoned home. Vines had grown attached to the outside, and the wooden doors and floors groaned with every movement. But strangely enough, this place had running water and electricity, albeit very little. Some light bulbs had blown out a long time ago and it's not like the Proxies can nonchalantly walk into a shop and purchase a pack with their attire.

But then again, they didn't really care about doing any renovations to this old dump. It was meant for a hideout. To speak with the tall faceless creature they were somewhat devoted to. Tim and Brian-- Toby's other accomplices --were not here. He was alone, sitting on the old sofa and sharpening his hatchets with two of his boots propped up on the damaged coffee table, crossed at the ankles.

This is how it was sometimes- waiting for the Slenderman to appear only to give the men a gruesome task. Most of the time, however, they wouldn't see him for days. Toby held up his hatchet, inspecting its edge as he turned it- the blade glinting.

Then, he heard a faint static.

He's here.

Toby looked out the partially broken window from where he sat. There was nothing and no one- at least from what he can see. But Toby can feel his cold, eerie presence from outside. The constant static that's only heard when he's around. He's waiting. Toby immediately got up and left the old, rickety home.

His head was bowed- none of the three men had ever looked up at the faceless man. It only caused more migraines than peaked curiosity. He sometimes talks to them, although telepathically, with a soothing deep voice that demands innocent lives for nourishment. But in cases like this, he would, again telepathically, show them images of the next unfortunate soul.

Toby's head was still bowed and he stayed put and silent until the images of the young woman faded away.

"Yes, master." He spoke. When he looked up, the Slenderman was gone and everything was quiet again.

~~~~~~~
Primrose

All I felt was the cold wind biting at my skin. And all I heard was static. Sharp, high-pitched static rang through my ears and shot pain up to my temples.

I was standing about 10 feet away from a tree...at least, I think it's a tree. With the constant static and pounding in my head, my vision was hazy and it was impossible to focus on what was ahead of me.

Craning my neck -with all the willpower I could muster- I glance up to see what or who I was looking at. But as I did so, the world around me began to tip over until I was surrounded by nothing but a void.

I woke up with a jerk, my heart hammering against my chest. "Oh, fuck. It was just a dream." I croaked out, relief washed over me as my tired eyes wander over my room. It was still dark, so nothing to really look at just dark silhouettes of the furniture. The full moon was high up, illuminating a small fraction of my room.

Reaching over to my phone I checked the time and squinted at the brightness of the screen. 2:30 am. I sighed and suddenly felt cold. The slight sway from my curtains drew my attention.

When did I leave my window open? Maybe I've left it open the whole day? But it's freezing out... I clutch the blankets to my chin for warmth.

Do I want to get up? No. Do I have to get up because it's possible, maybe, most definitely dangerous to leave my window open so late that it's practically a climb-in invitation for whatever creep so desires? Yes.

I countdown from 3 as a motivation to sit up. 'So fucking cold..' When I swung my feet over the bed and my feet touch the floor, I felt myself shivering.

Once I got to my window, a gust of wind rushed in, making me wince. It wasn't until I shut it closed that I noticed a figure from across the street. It's way too dark to make out any details, let alone any facial features. From the stance, I can tell they're a male. I noticed something else. "What the..?" He's holding something. Some sort of tool..? Is it a tool? I hope it's a tool.

But somewhere deep in my mind, I had a dreaded thought that whoever was out there, late at night, in the brutal cold wasn't just out and about being Mr. Fix-it.

I continued to stare until the ominous figure had now turned and stalked toward the dark trees. A wave of unease swept over me before I pulled the curtains over my window and went back to bed. After the nightmare I had, and the strange figure from outside, sleep had proven to be a difficult task.