The Book of Slender Man

Ten year old Jaxon and best friend Tanner ripped down the trail on their bicycles through the woods behind their neighborhood. The boys vaulted over jumps, slid around corners, zipped down narrow paths and raced across shortcuts they knew by heart. They were on their way to the convenience store on the far side of the wooded acres.

It was late fall, right after the leaves turned. The view between the trees had increased, turning a dense forest into a boneyard of slender sticks. Branches grabbed at the boy’s hoodies as they raced past. The trails were carpeted with fallen leaves but the boys knew them all by heart.

Suddenly, Tanner slid to a stop.

Jaxon turned sharply to miss him, nearly sliding into a tree.

“Woaw, what the heck man?” Jaxon said pulling his bike upright.

“SHHH” Tanner hissed.

“You Shush. You almost wrecked me—.”

“Shut up.” Tanner whispered again. He was staring in the distance. He dared not move his eyes for fear of losing what he saw. “Do you see him?”

“What? Him? Who?”

“SSSHHH. Look. He’ll be gone if I stop looking.” Tanner’s eyes were wide, tearing up from keeping them open. Jaxon looked in the direction his friend was staring. The trees stood tall and thin, there was no sound. Tanner’s breathing was short and fast, he was terrified.

“Stand behind me and look. He knows I see him, I swear he’s staring right at me.” Tanner's voice shook.

Jaxon left his bike and slowly walked behind Tanner trying to see directly where he looked. He saw branches and dead twigs, grey trees lined in unorganized rows, thin, long, twisting, flecked with darkness.

“You gotta look up, look a little higher than the horizon, he’s taller than you think. Look.” Tanner hissed.

Jaxon blinked aligning his head directly behind Tanner’s, squinted and lifted his eyes a little above the— grey movement, just a hint as though adjusting its stance, just a fraction, but enough to set it apart from the trees. A pale thin face, deep-set eyes, freakishly long limbs and fingers that hooked like sticks hanging in the tree.

“Snap” A twig snapped to their right, they glanced at a bird fluttering on the ground, then instantly back. He was gone.

“Did you see it?”

Jaxon couldn’t breathe. “We gotta go.”

“Where did he go?” Tanner searched frantically.

“Who cares? I don’t want to find out.”

“What if he’s ahead of us, or behind us? he could be anywhere.”

“Just go. We’ll split up.”

“That’s a terrible idea, you never split up. Haven’t you seen murder shows? Someone dies.”

“Yea, but the ones who didn’t couldn’t tell their story.”

“Why?”

“Cause they were both dead. Just ride for home. He can’t get us at home.”

“Says who?” Tanner had his phone out scanning the trees. “I have a heat camera on my phone.”

“That’s stupid.”

“No it’s not.”

Jaxon leaped on his bike riding back the way they had come. “He’s dead Tanner. There’s no heat. Hurry up. We’ll split at the gap.”

Tanner stowed his phone wheeling his bike around. “How do we outrun a ghost?”

“You got a better idea?” Jaxon called back. There was no response only the sound of heavy peddling. The wind whistled in his ears, he rode faster than he knew he could. The gap wasn’t far, two jumps and a sharp turn, then it was a descent into a fallen tree that had split just enough for a single bike to pass in the path. The tree had broken in two jagged pieces, the space was easy to pass but challenging at high speed. It had to be hit at the perfect angle in an instant, if you were off an inch the sharp shattered pieces of the trunk would slice like razor blades. Zack, a cocky rider who lived at the end of the cul-de-sac, required stitches to his mouth. It gave him a wicked smile. His parents threatened to cut the tree up but decided grounding Zack from his bike, for life, was better.

Jaxon peddled as hard as he could preparing to shoot the gap. Pushing up from his seat, he remembered to anticipate the bumps and keep his head low. That was Zack’s mistake he stayed on his seat, the bounce of debris launched him and his face into the splintered tree. Jaxon couldn’t afford a mistake. He lifted, ducked, and tucked maintaining the line as he shot through. He gave a quick “Whoop” as he cleared the gap and looked over his shoulder at the fallen tree. The trees were thick on either side of the trail around the gap. Movement caught his eye. A tall slender leg stepped into the trail, a stick with a head and deep set eyes black as night stared back. Tanner crested the hill on the other side of the gap, heading for the slender man.

Jaxon reached for his breaks hitting the turn wrong and launching him into the bushes and underbrush, knocking him unconscious.

Money

Jaxon woke with a splitting headache. The sun was setting, the woods were quiet. His helmet sat sideways on his head. Pulling himself to his feet he looked back at the gap. No one was there. He found his bike and checked it for damage. Returning to the path he stopped. A leather doctor’s bag sat in the middle of a scorched patch of leaves. A doctor’s bag, like he had seen in movies.

The strange part was the scorched area made a perfect circle. The bag sat at the center. Jaxon looked around listening as hard as he could. There were no sounds, no birds, no wind, nothing. He looked into the woods, the shadows were long now, any of them could be the slender man. . . Watching . . . Waiting. Fear gripped him, there was no time to look or think, he grabbed the bag and hopped on his bike riding as fast as he could without crashing. Into the darkness he could feel long slender fingers reaching out for him. Every moment was only a breath from being taken.

Finally he burst from the woods and into the neighborhood. The street lights were a comfort, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being chased. A dark shadow circling the glow of the lights. Jaxon ran into his house leaving his bike lying in the front yard and sprinted to his room.

“Did you put your bike away?” His mother called after him.

“I will mom, I just need a sec.”

“You’re late, it’s past dark, dinner is in the microwave. And you don’t get a sec, get out there before it’s gone.”

“Okay.” Jaxon called in frustration. He threw the bag under his bed, it would have to wait.

“Watch the attitude.”

“Yes, mom.” He grabbed his bike walking it to the shed. Every step was another step into the dark. He ran with the bike throwing it in the shed, holding his breath, fumbling with the lock, clicking it shut and sprinting to the lighted house. Catching his breath he went to the microwave for his dinner.

“What happened to you?” His mother asked from the sink, finishing the dishes. Jaxon hadn’t noticed his hoodie was ripped and his pants covered in mud.

“Uh, I crashed.”

“Where’s your helmet?”

“It’s in my room.”

“Looks like it was a good thing you were wearing it.” She said looking him over. “You need a bath.”

“Mom.” Jaxon groaned. “I’m fine.”

“Alright Mr. Fine, oh and a package came for you.”

“What? A package?”

“Yea it came while you were out breaking curfew. I don’t know if I should give it to you. It is a fancy notebook though. Did you win a contest or something? I know I didn’t order it.”

“Maybe it’s not mine.”

“It has your name on it, spelled correctly too.” His mother pulled the leather notebook from the package. His name was embossed in gold across the top, ‘Jaxon’.

“It’s probably from the school, I guess.” He didn’t know where it came from, but it was well made and felt soft in his hands. Jaxon didn’t know what he was going to do with a notebook. “What do I do with it?” He asked.

“It could be a journal, use it for class, maybe use it for homework, if it’s from the school that’s probably what it’s for.”

Jaxon held the notebook in his hands. It’s not too heavy, not too small, it was . . . Nice. He opened it looking through the pages.

“Oh, there’s nothing in there, there’s no pictures, it’s just a notebook.” His mother said. “Well it’s pretty slick, write something you want to keep. It’s too nice to just toss at the end of the year.” She said turning away. “I need to finish this last load of laundry, then I’m watching my shows. Get your homework done. And take a bath.”

Jaxon stopped listening to his mom, he had flipped back to the first page and words began to appear on the page. It was like invisible ink made visible under the heat of a lamp.

YoU tOoK mY MoNeY.

Jaxon slammed the notebook shut and ran to his room.

What was in that bag?

The Value of Hate

Jaxon sat on his bed surrounded by piles of money. Twenty thousand dollars, he counted it three times. Twenty thousand dollars sat in piles around his bed. His heart was in his throat as he counted the stacks. It was so much money. His mind raced to his bike, equipment, computers, television, candy, snacks, and shoes . . . He would have the freshest pair of shoes in school.

The notebook flipped open. It was sitting on his pillow, no way it was blown open. Pages started to turn, he jumped and slammed it shut. Whose money was this? Finders keepers? The notebook flipped open again in response. Slowly, Jaxon looked at the open page. Black ink ran down the page to form words.

It’S YoUrS, If YoU CaN eArN iT.

Jaxon’s mind was blown. He looked around the room. How is this possible? He suddenly felt eyes watching him.

“What if I don’t? Earn it, I mean.”

Suddenly, smoke rose from a stack of money. Then, it vanished in a cloud of smoke.

NoW It’S nInEtEeN ThOuSaNd DoLlArS.

The ink appeared and slowly left the page.

“Woaw, woaw, okay I get it. What do I have to do?”

SiMpLe, WrItE ThE NaMeS oF PeOpLe YoU hAtE, aNd WhY yOu HaTe ThEm.

“Write it, where, in the notebook?”

ExAcTlY

“How many?”

TwEnTy, A gRaNd A NaMe.

“Wait, there’s only nineteen here.”

YoU oWe FoR ThE gRaNd YoU lOsT

“And if I don’t?”

It WiLl AlL bUrN aNd YoU aNd YoUr MoM wItH iT

“Woaw, that’s extreme.” Jaxon sat back. What would it hurt to name a few people he hated. They were terrible people anyway. What’s a few names in a notebook?

“Worth it.” He grabbed a pen and began to write. He suddenly had so many names, twenty would be easy.

“Jaxon? Have you bathed yet?” His mom was coming down the hall. Jaxon jumped from his bed darting to the bathroom.

“I am now, mom.” He called. The names would have to wait until after his bath. It would give him time to think of those he hated most.

Clarkston Post News Tribune

Lost Children of Clarkston

Another child was listed missing Thursday night. Carissa Roland was last seen in her room at 10 p.m. “She had just gone to bed, but I had to check to make sure she was safe. She was gone, just gone.” Her father, Eric Roland told police. There were no signs of forced entry and the windows were locked from the inside.

Fifteen children have disappeared in less than a month. The first, Tanner Thompson, began the series of disappearances in the small community. Each of the children disappeared without a trace, even under the watchful eye of cautious parents. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone in her room. I just don’t understand how this is happening.” Eric Roland suggests parents never let their children out of their sight.

Police have no leads while conducting hundreds of interviews producing no suspects. “We are asking the community to remain calm. I understand certain parties have begun patrolling areas in their vehicles and harassing others. We are all concerned, but vigilante activity is not justice. It only makes our job harder.” Police Chief Michaels commented at a press conference Thursday night.

Tensions are rising in the community of Clarkston as parents ask, “Where are our children?” Authorities are asking for any information that may help in finding The Lost Children.

Playing With Fire

Jaxon flew down the alley on his bicycle. The sun was setting as he dodged between dumpsters and parents patrolling the streets. The entire town was on high alert. Neighborhood watches had been formed patrolling every street in every neighborhood. The entire town seemed to be out looking for the Lost Children, as they had come to be known.

He waited behind a dumpster for a truck loaded with gun toting red necks and spot lights to crawl past. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they decided to cover the alleys as well. They were drinking and pissed off. Most were looking for children but some, like these guys, treated it like a kegger on wheels looking for something to shoot. Last week a dog had been shot . . . While it was being walked . . . On a leash. The dog died at the feet of its owner still wearing its leash. Things were getting crazy.

Once it was clear, Jaxon leapt on his bike, crossed the street and followed a thin path into the wooded area. He was looking for where he had found the money a month ago. That first night, he had written down ten names. Within the second week all ten were missing. He knew it had to do with the book, but he had already written in six more names . . . It had been a rough week. Writing down their names and his reason for hating them had been easy. He filled pages with ways they had wronged him and how much he hated them. He found the more he wrote, the more hate he felt. The angrier he became the more people deserved to be in his notebook.

The hardest part was losing his friend Tanner. He was the first to go missing. He wasn’t a name in his notebook, but he felt responsible. He had left Tanner in the woods without telling anyone he was missing. The police didn’t start looking for him until seventy-two hours after he had gone missing. No one believed what he saw and the woods were the first place turned upside down to find him. If they didn’t believe him about Tanner, they wouldn’t believe him about the notebook.

It was difficult finding his way in the dark. He used his headlamp once he was out of sight from the main road. The town had given up on that area a long time ago. No one would bother him as he completed his task. He had decided to destroy the notebook at name fifteen. He knew it was linked to the notebook before Carissa went missing, she was the last name he entered.

The notebook was indestructible. He tried erasing the names, but they seemed to be part of the pages, as though etched in stone. The pages may have been made of stone, they didn’t rip or tear. He couldn’t pull the pages from the book or cut them out with scissors or knives. He once threw the notebook in the trash, only to find it on his nightstand when he returned. He committed not to enter anymore names or their stories, but the money began to smoke.

YoU wIlL bUrN, yOuR mOtHeR wIlL bUrN, It wrote.

He quickly filled in Carissa’s name and reason for his hatred. He kept writing until the smoke subsided. He filled three pages on her.

Suddenly, he rolled up on the gap. He must have gone too far. He looked back, his headlamp illuminating familiar trees and the path he had gone down. Something was different, it didn’t look the same as it had. He was terrified being there after seeing Slender Man, but he was more afraid of what would happen if he didn’t destroy the book.

A giant tree now stood next to the path. That was new. It was larger than all the others and blacker. It was thick at the base covered in knots. It’s roots were enormous. Jaxon walked his bike over for a closer look. Ooze dripped down the bark, a thick black goo. The knots were strangely shaped, like faces. He made out eyes and mouths. His breath caught in his throat, his heart frozen in fear. The faces were formed into silent screams, mouths and eyes opened wide, frozen in horror. They were the faces of those he named. His legs felt weak losing his balance he fell to his knees. These couldn’t be them, could they? He thought.

He puked.

Shadows moved at the edge of his light. He snapped his head around looking for the source of movement. There was nothing. He flipped his light off in case a search party had found their way into the woods. He didn’t want to be discovered. He listened for movement. Silence followed. Then, three quick knocks came. Three knocks on wood. He looked around again without the light. He felt small and alone, tiny in an ocean of darkness. Two red dots formed in the distance. They were glowing. Jaxon swallowed, what was watching him?

“Jaxon.” A whisper came. “Jaxon, is that you?” The two glowing red lights disappeared. “Jaxon, this is bad.” Jaxon didn’t dare move. “I didn’t make the gap, Jaxon.” Jaxon couldn’t breathe. “Why didn’t you look for me? I thought you would come for me.”

“Tanner? Tanner is that you?” The night was pitch, there was no moon. Jaxon didn’t dare turn his light on. The darkness pressed in around him.

“I told him you would come look for me. But you didn’t come. It’s almost too late.”

“Where are you?” Jaxon whispered. A hand with long fingers grabbed his shoulder. “No.” Jaxon shouted rolling out of reach.

“It’s me Jaxon.” The voice came from two glowing red eyes. “It’s Tanner. I don’t look the same anymore.” Jaxon flipped on his head lamp. Slender Man stood towering over him. There was no face only deep set eyes glowing red. His fingers resembled sticks hanging from the trees, pale complexion, and limbs as thin as a walking stick. It had no mouth, but the voice of Tanner struggled to mumble the words out. “I don’t have much time. You have to destroy the notebook.”

“I’ve tried. I can’t. I was going to burn it here.”

“It won’t work. You have to reverse what you’ve done.”

“I didn’t do it, it’s the notebook.”

“It can’t do anything without you. It feeds off your fear and hate.”

Jaxon’s backpack slammed him to the ground. It started crawling towards the tree. “Grab it Jaxon. Stop it. I can only fight off the tree. The ground shook. Roots ripped free of the ground reaching for Jaxon. Slender Man snapped them like twigs, his eyes glowing bright red. Jaxon reached in his bag grabbing the notebook. It tried to leap free from his hands. Opening the notebook he penned it to the ground with his body. “How do I stop it? I’m not strong enough.”

“The same way you started, with a pen. Reverse it.”

“Reverse? I can’t erase it, I tried.” Jaxon struggled with the notebook. It was crawling, open with him on it, towards the tree. An unearthly light was radiating from the giant tree, screams began to grow from inside the tree.

“Do the opposite of what you did before. Fear makes us feel weak, but we have the power of good to beat it. Beat back the darkness with good.”

Tanner’s voice struggled to be heard as it became harder and harder for him to communicate without a mouth. He kept the roots from reaching Jaxon, the screams were piercing, causing the air to shudder and bend. With the last of his strength Tanner shouted and struggled with all he had as Slender Man overtook him. He was losing control,

“Your words matter!”

My words? Jaxon reached in his pocket searching for his pen. It was still in the backpack. He pulled on the notebook reaching out with his foot to snag the bag. How do my words matter? Was it a riddle? His toe snagged the shoulder strap, he yanked it up while holding the book. He found the pen and looked at the notebook under his headlamp. His ears hurt from the screams of his friends. What had he done?

The notebook was opened to Carissa. She had shamed him online, posted photos of him with a booger on his shirt after a sneeze. She called him the Booger Lord, the girls all said he was gross and everyone said he didn’t bathe. He hated what she had done to him. He had pages about her, how she grew up without a mom. No one could stand the real her, not even her mom stuck around.

She always worried about her hair, her clothes, she was never pretty enough. Jaxon thought hard. How do I undo it? He began to write on the opposite side of each page he wrote on, while pinning the book to the ground.

Dear Carissa,

You don’t have to be perfect to be loved. You are beautiful and capable of caring. I don’t crush on you, but you should know you’re valuable.

A moan came from deep in the ground. A haunting sound different from the screams coming from the tree. The book wiggled under his pen, like a knife carving into its flesh. The words seemed to be doing something.

He continued writing to Carissa and then the others. He used words to encourage them in letters against the pages filled with hate. The notebook began to unravel, the pages falling apart as he wrote.

The black knotted tree was shrinking with every name he righted, every page he penned to encourage and understand why they had mistreated him.

Zach, you’re really good at soccer. You’re the funniest person I know, even though it’s at my expense. I know you got a lot to deal with when your sister passed and you parents can’t lose another kid. It’s heavy to carry.

On he wrote, page after page.

The Slender Man was gone, the sun was rising, and the book had nearly vanished into dust. Jaxon finished with the last few words on a tiny scrap of paper,

"Thank you" he wrote.

“Jaxon, you did it.” Tanner ran up the narrow trail. “You figured it out. That was crazy. I thought I was dead.”

“What about the others?” Jaxon asked.

“Look.” Tanner pointed at the tree now broken and fallen. All their classmates were walking out of the tree. Carissa walked up to Jaxon wiping slime from her face. “What happened?” She asked. “Why are we in the woods? This is so ratchet.” She went back to the others as they found their way out of the woods and back home.

The bag of money was gone when Jaxon got home. It hadn’t burned, it was just gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. The doorbell rang. He answered it.

“Who is it?” His mom asked.

“It was a delivery, this is for you.” He handed his mom the package. She opened it revealing a notebook with her name embossed in gold at the top. “I liked yours so much, I ordered one. I’ve heard journaling can be a powerful tool, and helpful.”

“More than you know, mom.” Jaxon laughed. “By the way, just to be sure, you haven’t found any money have you?”