The Face is Unknown, the Man was Slender

The Face is Unknown, the Man was Slender

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WpMetadataReadComplete Tue, Sep 18, 201211m
Thump...thump....thump....thump.... This beat seems so automatic to me, now. A song in my head. Heart beat, almost. Foot steps, actually. I thought the scariest thought would be being alone with no one there for me. But, no. The scariest thought is the thought of someone always being with me. The thought of a man constantly being there at times I don't even see him, but I know he's there. That man is not a God that guides you to the light through the forest when I have given up all hope. The man is one who makes me fear hope. He makes me fear moving, or blinking, or screaming for help. I know I'm scared. I can deny it all I wan't. I can yell, "I'M NOT SCARED, COME AND GET ME," all I want, but the fear keeps him dedicated. I don't fear death. Not anymore. I fear living constantly waiting for him to strike. Waiting for the moment when he finally takes me. Long arms. Pale white. Black suit. No face. This image is permanently in my sight. Everything I see is him. Everything I do, he follows. Slender.
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When we lost each other's hands it felt like I was living in a kingdom with no exit, like walking on a frozen lake but weighing 300lbs. I had to find another way to live and so I breathed once and then I breathed again. When eyes can show you the way, and breath can make you invincible, what is there left to fear? I thought I needed saving from the wolves, I thought the claws and teeth would be my end but they taught me that I had been the wolf all along.

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