Stalking Slenderman

Chapter One

Orona, Jessie
Stalking Slenderman

Copyright © 2013, Banana_Rainbow
Self publishing
Message me at cindaxthexcraze@gmail.com if there are any violations

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
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Disclaimer: I do NOT own Slenderman or any of the other Pastas... Or Creepypasta. I don't know who does, but it's definitely not me.

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I used to sit in front of the crackling fire as a kid and beg my dad to tell me stories about the legendary Slenderman. He had to have been my number one idol growing up, his very name striking me with a great sense of dread.

My dad used to go on and on about how Slenderman was the worst CreepyPasta in existence as he was a monster who quenched his hunger with the flesh and bones of children. Even so, he was my dream husband, the "knight in shining armour" that I wished I could have. I wasn't a princess — hell, I didn't even act like a girl most of the time — but I would put on a dress and wear a tiara any day if it meant getting the man of my dreams.

"Why do people hate killers?" I remember asking once as a child during dinner.

It must have come as a very shocking question since neither my mother nor my dad could seem to find the words to answer, so they quietly looked between me and each other for ten minutes. It was both infuriating and confusing, not getting my answer and also having to deal with their baffled expressions.

"Mommy? Daddy?" I called, trying to regain their attention, unable to bare the silence any longer. I was never a very patient child.

"Honey, isn't the answer obvious?" My mom questioned, being the first of the two to speak.

"If it was, I wouldn't be asking." I grumbled in response. For a moment, it looked as if she was going to bite my head off for talking back, but she was stopped from her attempt at murder by my father.

"Lucy," that's not my name. "Killing is a very bad thing and it hurts the people we love, taking them away from us the same way they took-."

"Don't say it!" My mother yelled, interrupting him, and I shot her a glare for being so rude to my dad. I knew who he meant, however, without him having to say it.

"Forgive me, love." My dad apologized before returning his attention to me. "When someone kills an innocent person, that innocent person becomes ripped away of their chance to live their life to the fullest. Listen, Lucy, killing isn't something you should even be thinking about. Killers are pure evil." He finished, and I narrowed my eyes at having been called by that name twice.

"You're wrong." I declared, startling the two. "I know Jeff the Killer, and he's the nicest person I've ever met. He and I play all the time, every day, and talk about the people he's killed. They were all bad people who deserved to die."

Yes, that was incredibly twisted for a child to say, but I didn't see it that way at the time. You could imagine my surprise when both of my parents suddenly grew dead silent. They had a look in their eyes that I'd never seen before: pure, undeniable terror.