Slender Man Myth

This is a myth just as any other; it involves love of the truest form and a tragedy that tears it away. And just as some come to tell, this one is the story of a war and how it comes to kill more than just a life.

It was summer, a pleasant one that required days to be spent outside enjoying the cool breezes that elected goose bumps on one’s sun warmed skin. Two young men were choosing to spend their days in the palace’s training grounds; clashing practice swords against each other to test one another’s skills.

Johannes and Sherlock were the closest of friends one can be with another person. Both were born of noble blood, they became friends shortly after being introduced in court. They were inseparable after that. Always seen running through the city of Rome on some sort of adventure that Sherlock would drag them into. Even if he was against it, Johannes would not ever decline his chance at something Sherlock would suggest to.

 Sherlock had dark hair with a curl that framed his well angled face that held sharp eyes which seemed to hold a universe within each one. They would often glance about not missing any sort of detail that could be found. He had a cold exterior and an interior to match; the only one that could thaw that ice was his Johannes. And both boys knew that.

Johannes was the opposite of that, he had cropped dusty blonde hair and a deep blue set of eyes that often held compassion and understanding in their depths. Johannes was quick to make friends and always seemed at ease when talking to others. An all-around person that you could count on to have your back; loyalty was his gift.

But soon winter came and with the dreary weather blew in sorrows and war. Johannes had been one of the first to volunteer to join the cause; much to Sherlock’s dismay.

Johannes had only laughed at his friend’s worries and offered comforting words, “Don’t worry, I shall be fine. You know how I move during practice, even Ares should fear my skill.” Sherlock had winced at the blasphemy but chose to opt for persuasion to stay, “Johannes please, war is a thing of Death that no one should escape. Soldiers die in bloody conquest that leaves widows and pain in its wake.”

Johannes had frowned and clasped his hand on the taller boy’s shoulder hoping to convince him of his safety, “We are both men now, Sherlock. We’ve had our destinies set out before us and I choose to walk my path with a spear and shield as I go to defend those I love.”

Sherlock looked away, his clear blue eyes turning stormy grey in worry, “Then may the Gods watch over your passage and bring you back to me safely.”

Johannes grinned and adorned his head with the helm of a warrior, “And I wish that you might not trouble yourself too much with my well-being. I shall be fine, Sherlock. You’ll see.”

After flashing a smile to melt the heart of any lover, Johannes left Sherlock’s side to join in the ranks of the men that would leave on the morrow for the front lines.

Sherlock could feel his heart drop and he made his way back through the palace to his quarters so that he might pray for his friend’s life to be spared a cruel death.

~

Days turned to weeks which turned to agonizing months as Sherlock waited for news. And then the day came that he would receive an answer to his prayers for word on his friend’s well-being.

The man who had ranked the highest in Johannes’s battalion rode up on a weary looking mare. The peppered haired man look just as exhausted as his horse did as he dismounted and removed his helm to search out the nearest person to tell his tale.

Sherlock didn’t recognize anyone else to seem to care what the soldier had to say. Or so it seemed, they were all wealthy men here. War didn’t bother them unless they were losing or some prize what at stake.