Slender

The last thing I ever saw was that face. That pure white, featureless face. The last word I ever breathed, the silent cry, of no. The last thing I ever smelt, that strong stench of old blood. The last thing I ever heard, the static being carried in the wind.

I died by the hand - or should I say tentacles - of the Slenderman. Though I may have died, I still live on, not as a ghost, but as, a... Servant of the Slenderman.