Nostalgia sucks

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was not in my motel room, either that or what had already been an uncomfortable bed was even more so now. That and it crunched when I rolled over. With the sound of crunching leaves I bolted upright, which caused me to fall into a coughing fit. I brought my hand up and covered my mouth as I coughed violently. I breathed heavily as I brought my hand away from my face, grimacing when I noticed the crimson liquid that now stained my hand. That couldn't be good.

I glanced around and all I could see were trees. I blinked a few times, my eyes adjusting to the moonlit forest around me. I groaned, and yelled into the forest, "You cliche faceless bastard! Would it kill you to be a little original?!" I of course got no reply. Which now that I think back to it, was probably a good thing. But this wasn't the first time this had happened. Trying to remember how I got here was an exercise in futility. All I could remember was lying down in the motel room, hopes of getting just one night of shut eye and then waking up here.

I sighed as I stood to my feet, and dusted myself off. I had seen a forest when driving into town the other day, but that didn't mean a thing. I could be anywhere. I took out my phone and stared at the black screen. Of course it was dead. I pocketed the phone and began to walk in a random direction. All I passed was trees, no animals, or homicidal faceless business men. The quiet of the forest slowly calmed me down. I slowed down and sighed deeply.

It felt like hours before I found anything. It was a house. My eyes widened though as I stared at the house before me. It was medium sized with a porch, a small porch swing rocked slightly, despite the lack of wind in the clearing. The house was plain looking, but extremely familiar. Why wouldn't it be though? It was my house. I made my way up to it, frowning, as memories flooded my mind. Any good childhood were utterly crushed by the bad ones.

I stopped just outside the door. My hand landed on the handle and a shiver shot down my spine. Warning bells going off in my head. The feeling was of course familiar. It only when HE was around. I glanced over my shoulder to see the still empty clearing. So there was only one place where HE could be? Right? The feeling of apprehension vanished at that moment, replaced with rage. Feeling as though, liquid fire flooded my veins. I flung the door open, being greeted by the empty living room, looking just as I remembered it. Though, considerably more dusty.

So I stormed past into the hallway. The feeling of nostalgia as I looked down the moonlit hallway caused me to pause. It actually feel nauseated. I shook the feeling off and moved down the hall quickly. I stopped outside of the bedroom that had my parents. I knew where he was. I opened the door and stepped inside, the room dimly lit by the windows. He stood before me. In the center of the room, at the foot of the bed, the sheets made, the room untouched. His tentacles were absent, leading me to believe that he was not angry. His attention was on me, he stared at me. Yes, the faceless creature stared at me. His head was tilted as if curious to what my reaction would be.

My anger was no more as I stared at him. The fear had returned. I had stomped into the room, furious with him to.....what had I actually expected to do?! 

He turned his head and stared at the closet in the corner of the room.

Why had I thrown all logic out the window?!

He continued to stare at the closet.

I was smarter than this. I was supposed to be smarter than this!

My gaze moved to the closet. "You....you want me to open it?" I got no answer, of course. He just continued to stare in the direction of the closet, his arms at his sides, bent awkwardly as usual. My gaze moved slowly to the open door behind me but any hope of leaving was dashed when a tentacle slammed into it, shutting off my exit. I looked back to see the black tendril extended from his back, his head moved back in my direction. So I didn't have a choice in the matter. Staring at the blank visage that was his "face", I knew that I didn't.

With a resigned sigh I made my way across the room to the closet. I had never been in this closet before. It had always been locked, the lock had been heart shaped. I almost chuckled at the memory. One of my brothers had tried to get in the closet one day, only to be stopped by my mother. The next day my dad came home with the lock and my mother had said it represented their love. In different words of course, but it had been something cheesy. My parents had always been that way, all cheesy and they barely ever argued. Even when they did....hehe it was always about small things. I shook my head and focused on the present. It wouldn't do to get lost in my memories with faceless in the room.

My gaze turned to the door to see that the lock was gone. I opened the door and coughed as a small breeze exited the door, disturbing the dust. What was within the closet though, didn't seem to be anything special. Just a few photo albums, ones that I would come back to look at later. But the last thing to catch my attention made me pale, and my eyes widen in horror.

It was a mask. A plain white mask, black paint lining the edges of the eye holes. A smirk was painted on the mask, and on the forehead was an operator's symbol. I tried to prevent myself from panicking. What could this mean? The only conclusion I could come to was that one or both of my parents had been a proxy. But that didn't make any sense. The Slenderman had killed both.....he had killed them both. Had they not adhered to some order? Failed some mission?

I shook my head, such thoughts were useless at the moment. I grasped the mask tightly in my hands, before glancing at my parent's murderer, his faceless visage observing me, head cocked to the side. He almost seemed curious as to what I would do with this new information. It became all clear to me what he wanted me to do. What he had wanted this entire time.

He wanted me to follow in my parents footsteps. I looked down at the mask in my hands. With an increasing amount of horror, I realized that I was actually considering it. After all he had done to me, could I really serve such a monster. He had killed the love of my life, and my brothers. He had killed my parents. Even recently, he had been the indirect cause for the death of one of the only few people I could call a friend. I set the mask in my book bag carefully as not to break it. I finally turned to face him.

I stared at Slenderman for a long moment. Finally I let out a resigned sigh, "I'll think about it." Even I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. These words seemed to please him because at that moment he finally vanished.

I've been at the house ever since. I cleaned it up, because it needed it and I needed a distraction. I haven't seen any of Slendy since but I've felt him. I know he has been around. Waiting for an answer. I can't help but wonder if he's actually giving me a choice in the matter. If I tell him no will he simply hollow me? Or even just outright kill me?

I have a lot to think about. So I'll cut this here. Until next post, if there is one.