There's Something in the Woods - A Slenderman Fanfic (COMPLETE)

Log book entry 15

Wait a minute. Is that….? Oh no. It’s him. Standing there, 8ft tall, alarmingly skinny. But what’s this? He’s holding something…It’s the page. I spin round, discovering Dieter still frantically trying to find the page. “It’s over there,” I say, pointing to Slendy. Dieter nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Oh no! We’ll never get it now!” Great, so now neither of us have faith any more. I have nothing to lose. So why not try, one last time? “Yes, we will,” I say, and I dive back into the frozen water, heading towards Slendy. Dieter starts calling after me, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing else matters. This is my last shot at this, so I want the best chance possible. Somewhere behind me is a SPLASH noise, and I realise Dieter is coming too. We swim quickly through the water, but just as I am about to reach the shore, he vanishes. “Crap,” I spit. Dragging my frozen body onto the shore. “Crap, crap, crap”. “Come on, get up!” Dieter orders, practically pulling me to my feet.

“Why? What’s the point?” I snap back. “It’s gone from him stalking us to us chasing him. We have until dawn until he kills us, or eats us, or…or…kills us!”

“Exactly, so we won’t give up until dawn,” he says immediately, literally dragging me by the wrist back the way we came. “Get out the flashlight, I can’t see a thing”. How can he look at things so simply? How can he make sense out of such a situation? I obediently take out the torch from the pouch, which, luckily, served its purpose. I point it forward and switch in on, and in the beam of the light stands a child. “CRAP!” we scream simultaneously, as we jump back from the child. She only looks about seven, with a white blood stained dress, long brown hair, and deathly pale skin. “You have to find it,” she whispers, glaring at us expectantly. Wait, how does she speak English? I just stare at her in horror. She’s obviously one of those horrible spirits. It’s Dieter who actually talks to her. “Where is he?” he asks in English. “Where’s The Slenderman?”

“You don’t find The Slenderman,” she hisses, turning her head to the side. “The Slenderman finds you”.

Dieter swallows uncomfortably, and asks another question. “Did…did you try and collect the pages?” The girl nods.

“They were left by the others. The other unfortunate souls. I never made it to dawn”.

“I’m sorry,” Dieter whispers, wringing his hands.

“Don’t be. Just find the page. Then we’ll be free”. And with that, she vanishes out of thin air. I hope no more of those spirits pop up. It was bad enough seeing them all holding hands in silence. I don’t need them jumping out of dark places, when I am probably destined to be one of those children. I wonder if I’ll be one of those children, I think to myself as we jog through the forest. Will I pop up and scare people? Or will I be one of the silent types who join hands with other ghosts?

It’s been half an hour, and we’ve made no progress. “Look, I don’t want to have to say this, but we have to split up,” I say. immediate protests from Dieter fill the moist, cold air. “No, we can’t. Have you not seen in the horror movies? They split up, and they all end up dead!”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” I say truthfully. “But they’re horror films. This is reality. And if one of us doesn’t find the last page, we’ll both be dead!”

“Okay, okay. But I don’t have a torch,” he says. “I can’t see where I’m going”. I think about lighting a fire, but of course, with the heavy rain, it’s near enough impossible. Instead, I give him my torch, and I go without. “I have good night vision,” I tell him, half serious.

20 minutes later. I really should’ve kept the torch for myself. I can’t see too much. The only source of light is the moon, full and luminous in the misty sky. The rain is starting to get heavier again. The whistling winds have turned into screaming winds, and something tells me dawn isn’t far. We don’t have much time. I also have no idea how we’re going to get home, but this isn’t remotely as important as it is to survive. I thought this was a small forest, but, it turns out that it’s extremely large. We lived literally on the edge. You can just see the motorway in the partings of the trees. I never really went deep enough, I guess, to discover all of this. This side of the forest is much different to the part in which I now live. The forest is denser but the trees seem to be thinner, placing shadows on the floor, darkening my path. Through the winds, I can suddenly hear gushing water. As I move further on, I discover a weir, attached to the stream near my house. By the river is a hill, and on it sits a very old looking house. Funny, I thought we were living alone in the forest. It’s made from wood, so I guess you could call it a shack. A flimsy wooden door occupies the front of the house. It looks easy to break down. I want to see what’s in there. Maybe someone lives here? I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t been here before. Maybe they don’t go outside much. My tired eyes carefully observe the house. It doesn’t look exactly occupied, but it’s worth a shot. I drag my soaking, heavy legs to the mound of mud it’s sitting upon.

I face the stark front door. My hand shivers as I reach out to knock. I hesitate, listening for any strange sounds. Nothing apart from the pattering of the rain, the orchestra of storms in the sky, or the distant owl’s hoot. Sighing for being such a coward, I force my hand into a fist and knock gently on the door. To my great disappointment, there is no reply. Now desperate for shelter, my hands race down to the door handle. I only have to push it slightly and the door swings open, the house groaning in protest about being disturbed.

The room looks extremely old. A few tattered sofas, a lonely fireplace, a single bookshelf. The musty reek of dust lingers in the air, making me cough. The rain pelts down outside the shack, and sometimes a few rebellious drops manage to fall through the decaying roof. A single candlestick lies on an end table, making the room glow eerily. I am grateful for its light, but something isn’t right. Someone must’ve been here not long ago, lit a candle, and left again. The idea that this house is actually home to someone strikes both fear and relief into my heart. I begin to search the room for a telephone, but sadly I can’t find one. I sigh in disappointment. Why did I ever get involved in all this Slendy mumbo-jumbo? I tiptoe over to the single window, now fogged up with my heavy breathing. I check to see if I am still unobserved, and luckily, I am. My breathing seems to get louder and more ragged, until eventually I’m huffing away. Strange, though. I don’t feel out of breath at all. I can just hear it. I turn around, and realise the Slenderman is standing by the front door.