Thursday, December 30, 2010

New Year

The year ends tomorrow. 2011 has got to be better.

I'm sorry about the entry before last. This is what happens when you write something as soon as you wake up from a bad dream...I guess that's the consequences of having a laptop and a blog.

Let's play catch-up, shall we?

I'm sure you'll all be just fascinated to know that I had a good Christmas. It was a great night, but probably not very interesting to read about. We had a good dinner and Dad and Ted got into a fake fight about who made better tamales (Ted won by popular vote), we all got some cool gifts (I was especially excited to see Mom enjoying some of the yarn I dyed for her back in the day) and Andrew and I had a snowball fight with Hannah. I didn't write about it sooner because, like I mentioned, I don't think it makes for a gripping story, and also I've been fairly busy recently with traveling and friends.

So like I said in the last entry, I'm back in Tucson, nothing weird to report, no sign of Blue Scarf Guy, burned posters, or anything else suspicious. Although today, it actually snowed! Granted, it was not for very long and not much, but still, exciting! It was the first time Christian had ever seen snow (He's a southern California boy) and watching him react to it was kind of magical.

I did talk to the police about what I'd uncovered, but I think they're tired of hearing from me, because while the officer I talked to was very polite, he was also very disinterested, and suggested grief counseling several times. So the police think I'm slightly crazy, great.
I can't shake it though. Something strange is going on, and the only clues I have are the notebook scans and this goddamn blog, and I've been over and over them looking for some kind of explanation, something I missed...anything. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, if I didn't know what a needle was.

I'm going over to Jess's for a New Years party tomorrow night. I'm going to get drunk and count down to midnight and we might all go up the mountain and shoot off fireworks since that's legal in Arizona now. And hopefully I can have at least one night where I'm not poring over the same meager clues. Maybe it'll help to get that break.

Monday, December 27, 2010

Figured something out.

Alright, before I get started I should mention that this is from Tucson. I'm back in my old house, and it's both better and worse than I thought it would be. Better, because my landlord is amazing and is letting me find a new roomate in my own time, and not charging anyone for Jill's half of rent in the mean time. So, Mr. Martinez, you're the best, and the internet should know.
It's worse because every time I walk past her know what, I don't want to talk about this anymore. There was a real reason I posted, not just missing her.

This is the thing: Since S. has been looking back over my old emails from Jill, I looked them over too, and found some things I'd missed on the first go-round.
Let's go through this in order.

From "More":
  • The (X) symbols are wrapped around the word IT which is also always in all caps in the notebook and the previous email (see "Jill emailed me"). I only mention this because it changes later, and might be important.
From "Emails again":
  • From other emails, I've figured out that OH is "he" or "it" in Russian, and so all of that "OH" is more IT, I think. Which, of course, refers to our old friend the Slender Man.
  • There are three groups of nine 9's. I'll get into that in a second.
From "More contact, and tracing Jill"
  • The (X) has changed from wrapping around IT to wrapping around my name, Zero's name, and all references to us. She doesn't wrap her own name. I think, and this is pure conjecture, that she was using the (X) first to contain the mentions of the Slender Man, like a quarantine or something. But then, as she dropped further into her delusion, she might have started to shift her focus to protecting me and others. I guess she didn't wrap her name because she thought it was too late.
  • S. translated the rest of this email, (thank you) and mentioned that "haloed" probaly means "hallowed". This is I guess a term in the Slender Man mythos for people the Slender Man has bent to his will, unwilling servants I guess. They seem sort of like zombies to me, not in the "grr I eat your brains" sense, but in the original sense of the word- Zombies as mindless slaves.
  • Twelve groups of nine 9's.
From "Scans":
  • The last scanned page is the one I'm focusing on. That's the one with Slender Man leaning over Jill, who I am now certain was drawn as lying on the ground cut open. That was...really hard to write.
  • There are a bunch of tally marks at the bottom of the page, crossed out. In the post I wrote that there were 51 total. This time I looked at the groupings: the first group has 12, the second has 9, the third has 20, and the fourth has 10.
  • Twelve, nine, twenty, ten. 12/9/2010. Which is the day Jill died.
I...I don't understand this. Jill predicted the date of her own death. Her own murder. And she predicted how it would happen.
The only way this would make sense is if she planned this...and even through this whole thing, Jill has never, ever struck me as even slightly suicidal. It's still a possibility, though, so either it's that, or she predicted her own death with such accuracy that it can't be put down to chance, and that...that isn't a possibility I like either.
Is madness contagious? Is it a disease you can catch from another person? If someone believes in something hard enough will you start to believe in it too?

I juat woke up from this dream...I was running through a forest and Jill's delusion was chasing me. Or rather, not chasing me, because it was just walking, no hurry, because it knew I couldn't get away. It had all the time in the world.
It's not surprising that I dreamed about the Slender Man, after all those blogs I read every day...but I don't like it, all the same. Not just because it was a scary dream, but because there's stil this nagging feeling, no matter how much I try to dismiss it, that this is how it starts. In all the stories, all the videos, it begins with seeing the monster in your dreams. And the fact that this is legitimately bothering me frightens me even more, because that means that I'm taking this a little bit seriously. And now I can't get back to sleep.

When I saw all the men in black suits at Jill's funeral, my heart stopped for a moment. Not because it reminded me of her madness, but I because I had this sudden feeling that one of them would turn around and have no face. I was, if for only a second, faling prey to her hallucination.

I have a confession, and this is something I've never told any of my friends, other than Kevin: I have a history of depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and mild OCD. I actually had to take a leave of absence during high school because I couldn't deal with the stress of it. I used to have panic attacks- full on, crouched in a corner crying and hyperventilating, thinking you're going to die panic attacks. I'm on some anti-anxiety meds these days, and so I'm doing pretty good in general, although every once in a while, in times of stress, I'll have a panic attack again. I almost had one at Jill's funeral, but managed to keep it together.

I don't say this to get pity- in fact, usually I hide my mental illness. It's not a side of myself that I like to show off, and I don't have it as bad as some people. Most of the time it's something I can kind of ignore, but it crops up in places, like how I can't have four of anything at a time, and I have to take pills every morning, and I go to a psychiatrist sometimes. But like I said, Kevin is the only person outside of my family that knows about this, and I'm very close-mouthed about it generally.
The reason I told you this here is that it's a pretty compelling reason for me to be nervous about digging into something that made my friend lose her grip on reality.
But I'm still looking.
And that also makes me nervous.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Comments and Christmas

I just checked the blog and found a couple of comments that I want to talk about.

K-OS, thank you for your kind words...I'm not usually very religious, but I think this experience is making me turn back to God in a way. I miss Jill so, so much, but I do sometimes feel like she's here, like she hasn't abandoned me. I hope her mom feels the same way.

S, thank you too. If you manage to translate any more of the Russian, could you let me know? At this point I think it's mostly just nonsense about her delusion, but...I don't know. Knowledge is power, I suppose. I'm glad you were able to give me those words...oh, fuck, I'm crying again. God dammit. Okay.
And thanks for attributing that quote for me.

If I had ever had the inclination to hate the people who played this game, to blame them...I would've been proven wrong. Everyone who's talked to me has been a good person. You've offered comfort, you've offered information, and one of you even offered to go to Texas yourself. I just want to thank everyone for talking to me, for helping a stranger find out what happened to another's unexpected and immeasurably kind.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Dad, Laurie, and Hannah decided to spend it with us instead of with Laurie's family, so it's all of us together, opening gifts and eating tamales (another weird tradition). I've been spending a lot of time upstairs in my room, but tomorrow I'm determined to stay downstairs with everyone. Tomorrow of all days should be happy. Tomorrow of all days should be the one where I stop isolating myself and start really appreciating all of the kindness people have shown me, on the internet or in real life.
I just wish Jill could see it too.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

I can't believe I'm doing this

Zero of A hint of serendipity has named tonight as the night that the Slender Man is damaged. He's asked everyone to write a story about how it happened. And so, because it's late and because it feels good to get a sort of fake revenge on the fake thing that ruined my friend's real life, I'm doing it. I'm keeping it purposely vague because...well, because I put far too much thought into this and I feel like myths work best when anyone can step into the hero's role. And...I don't know, maybe this is stupid, but I feel like this is a good idea. I heard a quote once that fairy tales don't exist to tell us there are monsters, but rather to tell us that monsters can be defeated. I think it's important for every monster to have a weakness, or, if not a weakness, some kind of safeguard so that the monster doesn't get you. And maybe if Jill could have done something to reassure her that the Slender Man wouldn't get her...well, I don't know.

So this doesn't mean I'm playing the game, and it doesn't mean I believe any of this. It just means this is a weird sort of therapy, and it doesn't hurt. It feels good to write a revenge story.


They came out of the night like leaves blown on a cold wind. From all points of America, across snow and desert, through forests and plains, called together by the loss and fear they'd suffered. By the determination to end that fear.
The Hero was among them, or perhaps they were all the Hero. None could deny the cold grip of fear around their hearts, but even with that fear tugging at their veins, they knew that they coudn't turn back now. And they only had to look to the side to see that they were not alone.
They had weapons- guns and swords and baseball bats, makeshift clubs and talismans. They did not stride across a field of battle in a blaze of glory, but they did not quail. They crept forward, hearts beating out of their chests, some holding hands tightly, some crying, but all moving forward together. And they stopped.
One spoke- "We know you're watching. Come out, you skinny fuck."
There was low, nervous laughter from somewhere in the group. And then silence. They waited.
Amd then they heard the low rustle of branches behind them, and all of them turned, knowing exactly what was waiting for them. The Monster, a patch of darkness in the night, featureless head rising like the moon, tentacles waving like branches in the wind. They shuddered under its faceless gaze, but they did not run. They raised their weapons high.
"On three." said someone. And they counted up to three, steeling themselves, ignoring every nerve in their body that screamed run, run, run.
And they charged the Monster.
It was confusion, a blind, inelegant battle, all flailing tentacles and wild swings. The air echoed with gunshots. They were lucky not to be murdered by their comerades. And then the confusion stopped dead. There was a terrible inhuman screech of rage and pain, and a rain of black-green fluid that burned like acid as it fell on their skin. They drew back from the Monster as one, and saw it standing in the returning moonlight as the eclipse passed.
One of them had hit the Monster.
It swirled around them, losing its form. On the ground at its feet lay a twitching patch of darkness- one of the creature's tentacles, severed by a knife, or sword, or bullet. Those who dared to take their eyes from the creature saw that it was dissolving into the earth. And when they looked up, the Monster had vanished again, before they could strike the final blow. But it had been hurt. It was vulnerable.
And because it could be defeated, it had lost its power. There would be rules, now, to bind it, ways for children to pull the covers over their heads and deny it entry, safety measures and barriers and weapons that would work against it. It would never hold the same blind fear again. And so the Hero, or Heroes, had their victory.


Monday, December 20, 2010


I'm probably going to really regret this, but after yesterday's post I opened up that favorites folder that I'd titled "slenderman" and started reading through blogs again.
Looks like this game is coming to a head for a lot of you, two days from now on the winter solstice. I guess I'll follow the game, but the fact that it's indirectly killed one of my good friends has kind of ruined the fun for me. I'm still not angry at the players. In fact I've been in contact with Pete, and he's been nothing but helpful....It's not the player's fault that Jill took this as real. If it wasn't this, it'd probably have been something else...

In any case, I hope you all stay safe. Don't confuse this fiction with reality, don't put yourselves in danger over an imaginary monster.

And happy holidays.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

The funeral

Jill's funeral was yesterday. It was a good service. Apparently Jill actually had a fairly large family, or a lot of extended family. The service was crowded. I had a sort of horrible moment when we were walking to the grave- almost every man was wearing a black suit and tie. Twenty or more black suits. But they were all human, of course.

Jess and I cried through the whole thing, and Christian held our hands the whole time. None of us got up to talk about her, but we all talked to her mom afterwards, and she said we were a comfort, that she knew how much we loved Jill, and she was glad she'd had such good friends. That set me off again- I started sobbing and apologizing, and her mom hugged me and said it was okay.

After the service I said goodbye and got dinner and headed home. Jill's mom offered to let me stay with her, but I couldn't face seeing Jill's house without her in it, so I drove back to Flagstaff, into the rain, instead. But when I was walking across the parking lot to the Subway where I ate dinner, I saw that X symbol written in chalk on the sidewalk, and below it, a picture of a fish. I took a picture, I'll put it up later, when I find my camera cord.

I was understandably freaked out by the symbol appearing like that. I'm sure there's a good explanation for it. It's a game on the internet, so of course other people knew about it. But the strangest part is that it didn't make me frightened or upset, at least not after that initial shock. It makes no sense, but when I looked at it, I felt...soothed. Safe. I don't know why, and I'm not sure I entirely trust that feeling, but I drove home and went to bed and, for the first time since Jill died, I slept through the whole night.

And today I'm going to make a snow angel.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Trying to Understand

I can’t sleep, so I’m going over what I know. I’m not sure why I’m still trying to play amateur detective. She’s dead, I can’t help her. But I guess that’s how I am- I have to keep poking at something, turning it around until I understand it. I can’t believe I can write about this. It’s only been a week. I’m going to her funeral tomorrow, driving down in the morning, and hopefully I can get some sleep before then. It all feels so far away.

I keep going over past entries in my blog. It’s ironic that I spent all this time wondering why I kept updating, only to turn to it constantly for reference and information. In hindsight, I’m glad I kept writing.

Jill was found in Texas. Assuming that’s where the woman got hold of her, she was heading east-ish. So she was definitely lying about where she was on her twitter, and probably to Pete Biggs (the guy from The World That Never Was who has commented a few times). I can’t see a reason for her to do that, other than fear that she be traced, but it’s very strange that she should lie to Pete as well. As far as I know he wasn’t interested in tracking her down. (If you were, and have any info, can you please email me, Pete?)

The way that her body was found is similar to how slenderman victims are found in stories. In fact it’s almost the same, except without the black plastic bags that seem so prevalent…so she either told her killer about her delusion or the killer was also a believer in the slenderman myth, and was trying to make it seem real.

There are at least three people involved in this thing. There's Jill, the woman on the phone who may or may not be the killer, and whoever burned the posters around my house. This last person may or may not be the guy in the blue scarf, and I'm not sure if what's been happening in Tucson is directly related to what happened to Jill, but it seems logical, right?

I've been talking to Jill's mom on the phone pretty frequently. Even though she's dealing with her own grief, she's been kind enough to keep me updated on what the police are doing. Apparently the flowers she got were bought from a grocery store near her house, and the police haven't been able to find any fingerprints or any way of tracing them, that implicates yet another person in this crime, or else it's Tucson Guy again, and he made a day trip up to Tempe.

The thing that really gets me about this is that, if Tucson Guy is actually behind all the stuff in Arizona, why is he doing it? It makes me wonder (and I'd never consider this if it weren't so late) if this Slender Man myth isn't something darker, something a bunch of crazies have latched onto and are using to, that's really stupid. But something about this whole thing just bothers me, and the more I think about it, the more I feel like there's something I'm missing, some vital piece of the puzzle that I've dismissed as unimportant.

But that's absolute hubris, that comes from reading too much Agatha Christie. Real life isn't as tidy as a mystery novel, and in real life I won't solve this crime, the police will. Or maybe no one will. And that's the thing that I'm afraid of- that we're all missing that puzzle piece and it'll never be found, and the killer will get away free and kill again. Real life is messy, it's filled with dangling plot threads. That's why I like writing fiction so much, that's why I love design- because I'm in control of what happens, and if a line doesn't go where I want it to or a loose end isn't resolved, I can erase and put that line in the right place, tie that loose end back up. I can't do that in real life.
I'm rambling. This entry's going nowhere, and I'm getting a headache from looking at the screen in the dark. And I haven't figured out anything at all.

Monday, December 13, 2010

From Flagstaff

It took a lot for me to open this page and start typing.

I went home the day after posting that last thing. Right now I'm in my old bedroom in our old house, and Ted is making soup downstairs for dinner while Mom grades papers (she teaches middle school) and plays christmas carols. Andrew's coming home soon too, he'll be here on thursday, and Aunt Caroline's going to be over tomorrow to help Mom and I make cookies.

The cookies thing is a holiday tradition: we spend 2-3 days making ridiculous ammounts of Norwegian cookies from recipes passed down from my great grandparents. We make krumkake, rosettes, wreath-shaped cookies, and my personal favorite, drommer. Closer to christmas (as in, on the day before) Aunt Caroline makes lefse, which is a sort of potato-based tortilla. Ted doesn't help, usually, because he does most of the cooking for dinners and the like. He's an amazing cook.

It's a comfort to be home. I didn't realize how much I missed my family and my hometown. I haven't gotten in touch with any of my friends here just yet, because I want some time to myself to just be with my family. Dad's going to visit with his wife Laurie and daughter Hannah, they'll be here in a few days. They usually spend at least part of christmas break with us, and then actual Christmas at their home in San Bernadino, with Laurie's family. I always think it's a little strange that my parents get along as well as they do. It's not like they're best friends, but they like seeing each other once a year, and of course Dad wants to see me. The strangest part of it is that Dad and Ted love hanging out together. There's absolutely no awkwardness between them. They go out to basketball games together. Andrew calls it a bromance.

I think I'm avoiding what I came on here to say.

I'm done with the meds, by the way. Kevin only gave me so many (in hindsight I think he might have been making sure I didn't try to hurt myself, which is maybe the sweetest thing he's ever done for me. The scary thing is that he was right to only give me a few). I've been crying a lot more lately but somehow it feels better than nothing. I think going home was the best thing for me to do- I'm surrounded by people who love me and care about me. Mom and Ted are being understanding and wonderful in general. They keep doing little things to cheer me up. And Andrew's going to take me ice skating when he gets here even though he hates it because he always falls on his ass.
That's still not what I meant to say, though.

Jill's funeral is in four days. I'm going to drive down to Phoenix by myself, even though Mom, Ted, and Andrew all volunteered to go with me. But I want to do it on my own.
There's been no forward movement on finding her killer. Apparently the police in Phoenix are working with the Texas police, but there's really not that much to go off of, just a voice on the phone. Apparently no one in the little town even remembers seeing Jill, so she could have been killed somewhere else and taken to the woods.
I hate writing these sentences, they make me feel sick.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

What happened on thursday

I'm sorry about that last post. This is a lot for me to deal with. I had Jess edit this because she was with me when I got the news and I don't remember parts of it...the comments in purple are hers.
Oh, and the reason I'm writing so calmly is that I'm on mood stabilizers. They're not prescribed, but don't worry, Kevin gave them to me and he's very careful about the dosage- I'm not drinking or doing anything dangerous.

What happened was this: The whole school had thursday off. It's meant as a day of rest between class and finals, which started friday.  It's called Dead Day and that irony just occured to me, oh fuck I'm crying again.

Okay. Get through this.
Jess and I were studying together for our english final when I got a call on my cell from the police. (It was about 2:30 or a little before) They told me Jill's body had been found in Texas, and could I please come down to the station. I remember dropping the phone and going over to the couch, but beyond that I don't remember much until we got to the station.

Ali dropped the phone on the ground and I grabbed it. The police officer on the line asked if everything was ok and I said yes, Ali was on the couch and she was gritting her teeth really weirdly, I guess she was in shock. Anyway I asked what was wrong and the officer told me what he told her, and I said okay and hung up. It sort of didn't hit me until much later, but Ali wants' this told in order, so let's see...I went over to her and gave her a hug. She was sort of acting like a robot but she gave me her car keys and I drove us both to the police station. I was in the waiting room while they talked to her.

The police told me Jill's mom had gotten a bouquet of flowers with a typed note that morning, which said "Claim Her" and then, beneath that, the name of a small town in Texas (they didn't tell me the name of the town). Apparently the police in Tempe talked to the local Texas police and they conducted a search, and found Jill's body in the woods. I'm a little hazy on this, and I really wish Jess had been there to remember for me, but I think I demanded to know how she died. The police officer was pretty reluctant to tell me, but he did in the end.
Jill was found suspended in the branches of a tree, eviscerated with her organs rearranged. At this point I asked if her fingers were broken. Again, he didn't want to say anything, but he did end up admitting that they were. And that was about when I lost track entirely of what I was doing. (Ali was in there for about two hours and I couldn't hear anything. at one point they brought in water for her and I saw her sitting up straight through the open door. She looked really upset obviously.)

Finally they let me go...I think they asked about all the stuff I'd told them about before, and then about who'd have Jill's mom's adress. I don't remember a lot of it. I guess they got what they wanted, though, because they let me go home and told me I should call right away if I saw anything suspicious. Jess drove me home, and halfway through the drive she pulled over into a neighborhood and started crying, which set me off too, so we just sat there in the car and hugged each other and cried for a while (that was the first time in this whole thing that either of us cried, and Ali seemed a lot more normal afterwards).

Jess spent the night, of course, and while she was making dinner I made that post. I, I still am very angry. I should have done more. I don't know how, but I should have done more. I keep going over and over the past few months, trying to find a point where one descision could have saved her.
The rest of the week was a loss for me. I thought I saw her fucking delusion one time. I thought I saw a blank white face watching me from the bathroom window, but when I looked out again it was just this hanging lampshade she'd hung outside when we moved in. (I heard Ali scream from the bathroom and then laugh a little bit and tell me everything was ok, and please take that lamp down.)
Jess spent the rest of the week at my place, and so did Christian. Kevin stopped by for a little bit but of course Sarah wanted him home so....I'm not going to say what I think about that, no point in burning bridges. But we didn't do anything that whole time, not studying or anything. At one point I called Mrs. Wu-Kliene and asked if there was anything we could do, and she told us the funeral was planned for the 18th, which is the first official day of winter break, and it'll be in Tempe. She sounded weird on the phone, but of course that's only to be expected...we said we'd go.
I emailed my professors about the exams, explaining what happened, and I'm getting slack from most of them, so right now I'm packing to go home to Flagstaff and make up the exams when I get back to school. Jess is going home after the funeral (she lives in Colorado) and I'll drive down to Tempe for it I guess...I have to find something nice to wear.

I feel like my whole body is full of novocaine.

(Jess again- Something Ali didn't talk about because she hates thinking about it is that the killer hasn't been caught yet. The police think it was either the woman on the phone or an accomplice, but either way the woman on the phone is their best lead and they're trying to catch her. I want the killer to get electrocuted for what they did. They deserve to fucking die screaming. Jill Kleine was one of the nicest most intelligent people I ever knew and to take advantage of her when she was having a breakdown and then fucking kill her like that is sick and evil. She might have been hallucinating about the monster guy she thought was after her but whoever killed her really is a monster.

One last thing: I know Ali said she doesn't have an audience but I see she has some followers...if you're there, let her know. She needs to know people care right now, especially when she gets off the meds.)

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Tuesday, December 7, 2010


Since the last post on Friday, I've heard no word from Jill, although she apparently called her mom. The call wasn't from her cell, which she left behind when she ran away. Her mom says that the call (from a restricted number, naturally) was somewhat distorted but there was no background noise, just a lot of static. She said she heard a woman's voice say "Is this Mrs. Wu-Kleine?" and when Jill's mom said yes, the woman said "Someone wants to talk to you.", and then Jill came on (her mom said it was probably Jill, but her voice sounded weird. 'croaky and thick' was the phrase she used). Jill said "I didn't want to go, I didn't want him to kill me. Remember my name. Remember that I told him my name. Remember that I never told him her name." Then she started crying, and Jill's mom said she asked her if she was okay, and then Jill said something unintelligable and the line went dead. The police weren't able to get a trace on that call either.

My on-campus stalker is back, too. I've seen that guy twice more, always on campus. I don't think it's enough to go to the police, even with what's happening with Jill. It's been warmer lately so he must be sweating in that coat and scarf, but he's still wearing them, and he's added a baseball cap to the ensemble (maybe he thinks I won't recognize him with it on? If so, he's a pretty crappy stalker). Both times were on Monday- once walking over to the student union, and the second time waiting for the bus. He was on the other side of the street the second time I saw him, but I recognized him anyway.

In other news, the police don't know what to make of the burned posters, and neither do I. I looked around a bit more and it's just those two that were burned, which is unnerving because they're the only ones near my house.

So what do I make of this, in the coldest, most logical terms I can think of?
  • Jill's stalker might be stalking me now, or he might be a she, and has gotten to her and is now holding hostage
  • Alternatively, and this is what I'm hoping for, she's with a nice, normal woman who is taking care of her, and is hallucinating the broken fingers. It says a lot that the preferable option here is Jill being delusional.
  • Her twitter, at first, seems to point in the direction of her being held against her will- the most recent update on the 26th was "shehasmeshewillfeedmetohim", which is...negative. But I'm still hoping (what the fuck) that she's imagining that a stranger who is trying to help her and might have to restrain her is secretly working for slenderman.
  • Either way, her obsession with slenderman is still going strong, judging by that tweet and what she said to her mom on the phone. I thought that first part, "I didn't want to go, I didn't want him to kill me", sounded familiar, so I looked over the folder of slenderman stuff in my favorites, the one I haven't opened since mid-november. Turns out she was misquoting the text from under the picture the first time slenderman appeared in the Somethingawful forums. The full quote is: "we didn't want to go, we didn't want to kill them, but its persistent silence and outstretched arms horrified and comforted us at the same time..."
  • Jill's mentioned comforting arms in her most recent email, too, and in comments on other people's blogs.
  • One last thing: In her twitter, on the 22nd of November, she posted something about "18 days". Eighteen days from the 22nd is the 9th of December, which is three days from now. I don't know what that date signifies to her- from the tone of the tweet (even with the gravity of the situation I feel like an asshole saying 'tweet') it sounds like either a date for her giving up and coming home, or when she thinks slenderman will leave her alone. Like she's waiting something out.  
That's my stupid analysis, it doesn't mean anything really, and it certainly doesn't help. But I realized the other day that the only alternative to sitting on my couch feeling helpless and afraid was to start doing my own fake investigating. The thought that any part of it could be useful at all makes it worth it.

Friday, December 3, 2010


Jill called me.

Jill called me and left me a voicemail on my cell phone.

Jill called me and left me a voicemail on my cell phone and I ignored the phone when I heard it ringing in the other room because I thought it was someone I didn't want to talk to.

The message was really short. It was just her sobbing and what sounded like grinding her teeth, and then she said "she broke my fingers" and there was loud static and feedback, and then the line went dead.

I told the police and they have my phone right now. They can't trace the call.

I can't even think right now. Kevin's over but he'll have to leave soon because Sarah wants him home, and Jess is going to spend the night over here, but as much as I love them both they are absolutely not helping. How can they help? How can any of us do anything?

I don't even know if she went south or north when she left. I don't even know if she's really being hurt or just imagining it.

I doesn't matter. I've written it a thousand times and it never comes true.

If anyone's still reading this, which I don't think anyone is...please, please pray for Jill. Or, if you don't pray, think positive thoughts or send energy or do whatever, just...she needs something. Whatever you can give. Because I'm not able to give enough.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Someone is fucking with me.

I'm beginning to be very, very glad I had the locks changed the other day.
So on Monday I was walking from the art building to this nearby convenience store that lets you pay with the school meal plan. You have to go through a pedestrian underpass to get there, which I mention because as I was walking back with my coffee, I noticed this guy in a big grey coat and a dark blue scarf around the bottom half of his face, standing on the side of the underpass, watching me. The coat and scarf weren't that weird, because Monday was bitterly cold. I was wearing a scarf too.
But the next day, when I came out of the library (which is on the other side of campus by the way) I saw him again. Same coat, same scarf, same brown hair. I've never seen the guy around campus before, so it's not like he's in my classes or anything, and he didn't say anything at all. Just watched me walk to the bus stop. I made sure he didn't follow me. Call me paranoid, but I kept remembering the fact that Jill had said she'd seen someone around the house, and that was what had triggered her first breakdown.

I haven't seen the guy since Tuesday, although I've kept an eye out for him. But I'd chalk that up to me being a scaredy cat if it weren't for what happened today when I got home from school.

I mentioned hanging missing person photos for Jill, didn't I? Yeah, in this post. Well, I posted them up and down the street I live off of, and today when I was walking home from the bus stop, I passed one of them.
Someone had set fire to the bottom of it.

Somehow they did this without burning the telephone pole it was stapled to, although I suppose they could have pulled the staples off of the bottom, held it away, and set it on fire. However they did it, it was really, really creepy.

There were two posters between the bus station and my house, and at first I didn't see the one that was nearer to my house, but then I found a scrap of it on the sidewalk. This one was burnt almost entirely, but whoever the arsonist was, they weren't doing it haphazardly, because they left Jill's picture almost untouched.

I took the scrap with Jill's picture home with me, and then came back with my camera and took photos. I'm going to send them to the police tomorrow.

This is the one nearer to the bus stop. I've blacked out the personal info, obviously.

And the scrap I found near the turn-off to my street.

What the hell is this, guys? I'm scared, and I'm mad, and I really do not need this kind of shit with finals coming up. I'm already close to failing some classes and I can't take the stress of constantly having to look over my shoulder.

I think I want to spend most of winter break in Flagstaff.