Thursday, June 16, 2011

Operation Wintergreen

You might have heard already, but Kal and Henry came back to Austin and now we've got ourselves a little crusader group that goes by the name of Operation Wintergreen. There's not a whole lot to say about it. We're heading off to Seattle, mostly because it's as good a place as any since we're definitely not going to be able to hide, and the place has a neat Goth scene from what I hear. No one else had any bright ideas, so Seattle was decided upon. And there we'll probably die. At least the weather matches the mood. And there's coffee. I do love coffee.

Love Under Will


Friday, May 27, 2011

The Tower of Babylon Rises

First of all, I apologize for the prolonged silence. It’s probably been like two weeks since I last posted or some such, and in all honesty most of it was spent in a drug-induced haze. It’s not something I’m especially proud of, but between that and some other shit that’s been going down I’ve not had much time to deal with blogger. Because seriously, it’s a fucking blog. In the greater scheme of things, it’s really not all that important beyond recording my story for the sake of posterity. Anyways, I’m here now so I guess I’ll wrap up the op Arkady and I did to save Babs.

When I last left off, Arkady and I had received a message from Javert telling us where he’d taken Babs. We checked the place out before hand. It was a fancy North Austin lake home in a gated community and everything. Place looked pretty boring on the outside. No armed proxies or anything like that. Javert seemed to be acting alone. Of course, if there’s anything I’ve learned during this bizarre fairytale of a life I’ve been leading, it’s never to trust appearances. Always be open to new, unpleasant possibilities.

The night before I charged a small ritual dagger of mine and brought a couple spell components with me. Nothing too big or fancy, as it all had to fit in my coat pockets. We decided that I would be the one to meet up with Javert while Arkady went after Babs and rescued her. I’ve never actually met Javert in person before, not really. This one-on-one would be a first, and I was curious. I’d love to meet the man who’d fucked over one of the few people I’d permitted myself to still care about.

We made it there pretty fast. I got out of the car and walked up to the wooden door. Arkady’s half of the op was up to him, so I had no idea what he was going to do. The front door to the big-ass house was cracked open, so I stepped inside. The place was barely decorated. Plain beige walls, with no paintings or accessories. I half-expected those fake suits of armor lining the hallways and red velvet carpet neatly laid down on the floor. No such luck.

The hallway I’d stepped into had rooms lined up on the left and right with no doors whatsoever. The end of the hallway opened up into what I guessed was a living room. The setup was great for an ambush I suppose, but I had a strange feeling there wasn’t one. Historically Javert waited for Arkady so they could have some dramatic and pretentious dialogue, so odds were good he hadn't set any traps.

The last door on the right had a staircase that led up to the second floor of the house. I heard a piano playing at the top, something fancy like Mozart or Brahms. Three guesses as to who that is, kids. And the first two don’t count. I checked my jacket for my dagger, quartz crystal, and vial of absinthe before making my way up the stairs. And no, the last one isn’t for comfort. Wormwood is used a lot in traditional witchcraft, and that happens to be the chief ingredient of that sweet, delicious nectar. I felt sad at having to use it in such a manner, but Babs’ life was on the line.

The stairs led up to a landing on the second floor. It was every bit as dull as the first, except for one noticeable exception. The rooms were laid out with that painter plastic stuff on the floor. Proxies aren’t renowned for their painting skills, so that probably meant this was an entire floor of Dexter-esque kill rooms. Lovely. I made a mental note to burn this place to the fucking ground once I was done here, but given Arkady and I’s record with Javert encounters that was almost a given. I followed the sound of music, which was gradually getting louder and louder as I navigated through the rooms and hallways.

So after a couple of minutes of walking I found myself standing quietly outside the room where the music was coming from. It was sort of nerve-wracking. I’m no good at physical combat, and I wasn’t sure how Javert would react. He was almost certainly expecting Arkady. Would he flip a shit when a surly, 115 pound Goth kid strode arrogantly through the door instead of his boytoy bibliophile? Would he be amused?

I stood there for a good five minutes running stupid questions through my head before deciding was thinking too much. I checked the watch. It was two minutes after the time written on the note. I couldn’t wait any longer. I reached into my jacket pocket for my quartz crystal and focused on the image of my Heavenly Guardian Angel. I needed strength. Closing my eyes and imagining the blue-skinned creature with glowing wings filled me with a sense of warmth and certainty about what I was doing. I put the crystal back in my pocket, exhaled slowly, and stepped into the room.

The room here was also bare. There was a raised landing where Javert sat at a large piano, playing slowly. I won’t lie, I half expected a small table with dinner for two and some romantic candle lighting. I was beginning to think these Slenderfucks blew their budget on the location and the grand piano without realizing they had nothing left for basic furniture. Javert looked up at me and actually raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise.

Javert: “Setoth? What an interesting turn of events.”

Me: “Yeah, sorry Arkady won’t be here to engage with you in intellectual masturbation. You’ll have to settle with me.”

Javert smiled weakly. I don’t think he enjoyed hearing his favorite pastime described with vulgar sexual overtones. He and Arkady did have a disturbing amount of things in common.

Javert: “Oh, I think I can make some accommodations.”

Without looking down the keys, he started playing Toccata in Fugue [link]. How amicable of him. In fact, it would have come off as rather kind of him had it not been for that whole “kidnapping-my-sex-buddy-with-intent-to-murder-her” thing.

Javert: “Well, that’s quite enough of that.”

Javert got up from the piano and stepped down from the landing.

Javert: “In a way, Setoth, I’m glad you’re here. It gives us a chance to talk.”

I kept my eye on him wearily, but my hands were at my sides. The last thing I wanted was him knowing about my dagger.

Javert: “I enjoy my time with Arkady. He is unique and interesting, but blind to His Light. This story of ours will end with his death because he is stubborn and refuses to see. But you…you, Setoth, have potential.”

Me: “Lemme guess. You’re going to give me the choice you never had,” I shot back.

Javert: “You’ve wasted your life in the pursuit of physical joy and debauchery. You’ve been chasing your own tail and for what? Another night, another drug, another nameless boy or girl to share your bed with. And when you die, what will they write on your tombstone? Here lies Damien, a loving and well-endowed whore?”

Me: “God I hope someone writes that on my tombstone.”

Javert: “Hide behind your derisive sarcasm all you like, but the truth is there even if you do not face it. You were drawn to him. Now, deep down inside, your very soul aches for him. I can see it in your eyes. You slave over your books and write your sigils, you study him and think about him, his nature, his work. It consumes you. You can pretend that your interest in him is one born of survival, but we both know better than that. Your death will mark the end of a meaningless life whose accomplishments will amount to naught, to fade away in the passage of time. Or you can accept His Light and join--”

He didn’t get to finish. Outside we heard the screeching of tires on asphalt, and then a loud crash against the building’s walls. The floor shook and trembled from the force of Arkady’s assault.

Me: “Sorry, you were saying?”

Javert looked at me. It was interesting, his face barely changed and yet his expression was completely different, slightly indignant like some form of misguided pity. He shook his head.

Javert: “So you are as hopeless as that slut you want to save?”

Me: “I suppose that’s a question of perspective. You seem to be under the misguided impression that dying destroys everything I’ve accomplished. But death is just putting the bow on a pretty package. Kill me now or kill me later, everything I’ve done has happened and cannot be erased. You can’t undo my past. Every second I live, every second I make something new or experience a new sensation, I have another accomplishment to add to a fulfilling life. And what do you two have? You kill people? Everyone dies. You’ve done nothing, added nothing. The infinite potential of the Slenderman, and it’s wasted on accomplishing the inevitable without building anything new. That’s cowardice, fear of failure. Fear that what you build may one day crumble. I pity you and your God.”

I didn’t bother really looking back on him after I said my piece. I ran. Back through the doorway and into the hallway where, as I more or less expected, I saw the proxies running towards me. Two of them in cheap dime store masks. I appreciated the Bill Clinton mask, and the other was a tacky drama mask. I didn’t pay too much attention to detail on anything else, just skidded to a halt. My cellphone fell out of my pocket, but had no time to pick it up. Instead I took maybe two steps back to the nearest door and slammed it shut. As soon as I locked it I felt a heavy weight smash into the door and bounce back. They were trying to break the damn door down.

With every subsequent hit, the door gave way just a little bit more. I had to think fast. The room I was in was a bathroom, kinda cramped which would have made any fight a close-quarters one. I’m not good at fighting, especially not close-quarters. But thankfully it seems the mirrors in the bathrooms came preinstalled. I did have one option. I could turn that into a Black Mirror.

I pulled out the dagger and the absinthe. I dipped the dagger into the greenish liquid and applied it to the tip and sharp end of the knife. The nice thing about the absinthe was that it was 140 proof, so the alcohol would treat the wound while the wormwood mixed with my blood. It would be a potent enough combo to make up for the lack of…well…everything else you need to normally do this rite. It was a temporary fix, but I only needed the enchantment up for a couple of minutes. Seconds, even.

I ran the dagger across my left palm. The blood started to flow freely and mingle with the deep green of the absinthe. I traced Astaroth’s Goetic Sigil as best as I could on such short notice sans the dots on each point, but that was all the time I had. The door smashed down and both the proxy goons stumbled in. They looked up at me, at the Sigil written in blood on the window, and then back at each other before taking a cautionary step back.

“Sorry fuckers. No dice.”

I drove the dagger into the heart of the sigil. Only instead of shattering, the whole blade up to the hilt just sort of went into the mirror, as if the glass was the surface of some body of water. The whole thing went black. I chanted out the Key to the Abyss and activated the Black Mirror.

And it comes to my realization now that most of you probably don’t know what a Black Mirror is. The name is a bit ominous, but it is actually nowhere near as scary as it sounds. All it does is allow a regular mirror to reflect what is present in the Astral Plane. Auras will show up, space and time will be distorted, and all manner of bizarre effects show up and are reflected on the surface of said mirror.

Course, I took it one step further. Astaroth’s invocation along with a Black Mirror doesn’t just reflect what’s happening, it actually causes the astral plane to completely reveal itself over the span of a good 30 feet. The two planes appear to overlap to any viewers within this area. And to two proxies who have never stepped foot into the plane, that’s gotta be one terrifying spectacle. But there were other changes I hadn’t counted upon either. As the astral plane bled over with our own I saw what affect Slenderman’s minions (or maybe the beast itself) had wrought on this domain.

Eyes. Fucking. Everywhere.

The walls were a disgusting, putrescent, glimmering black and spotted over with enormous eyes, each perhaps 3 feet wide, with gigantic black pupils and nothing more. The unblinking orbs gazed down at us from above and around us. The proxies stared up dumbfounded and trembling. The room had become elongated and twisted up like a Hellish kaleidoscope. I ran up the incline back into the hallway, which was stretched thin. The whole thing looked four times as long but perhaps two feet wide at the most, which put me far too disgustingly close to those fucking eyes. There I stood as every pupil in the hallway turned to stare at me. Shaking, I took a few nervous steps down the hallway towards where I figured I had dropped my cellphone.

Remember how I said my invocation was sloppy and quickly done, and that the Black Mirror probably wouldn’t last? Thank the Gods it didn’t.

From the bathroom I heard a loud explosion, like glass shattering. Suddenly the floor shifted and changed as space and time reasserted itself against the magick of Astaroth’s invocation. The hallway became linear once more and the dreaded eyes sunk slowly into the black filth that had coated the walls. As they did, the blackness started to recede. It gradually merged back into the walls with a sickeningly organic sound, like flesh being pushed through steel grating.

For a moment, everything was peaceful. I picked up my cellphone. The cover was flipped open, so someone had to have used it. I checked the phone logs. The caller had dialed Babs phone, which had been repurposed for Arkady. Yeah, sounds like it was Javert. I hit redial.

Everything got staticky. I was pretty sure it wasn’t the Black Mirror. The spell should have mostly worn off. But I could barely hear Arkady.


Arkady: “Yeah [static]…here.

Me: “Where the fuck are you?”

Arkady: “Not far……run……Slender……”


Me: “Shit! Is Babs alright?

Arkady: “She’s fine now……Slendy……finished killing me……”

Me: “God dammit! Get the fuck out of there!”

Arkady: “Leave? ……miss fun? Not a chance!”

Me: “You fucking idiot! You will not jeopardize this mission for your massive ego!” I screamed at him. That stupid fuck. But I knew yelling wasn’t going to change a fucking thing. I had to think fast.

Me: “Arkady, if you die now, how will you kill Javert?”

There was a pause on the other side. Maybe he hadn’t heard me. Maybe he had already stupidly charged to his death. But if he had heard me, there was no way he’d pass off this chance. Especially if I was the last person to talk to Javert. There was one last detail before I’d cut off the cell.

Me: “Don’t you fucking dare use Babs as bait so you can escape!”

I shut off the cellphone. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I had to figure out where the fuck they were. But before I could reorient myself to figure out how to leave this fucking house, I watched as one of the two proxies stumbled out of the bathroom. The one who had the Clinton mask on looked like the exploding mirror had sent shards flying into him. Pieces of jagged glass had impaled him across different parts of his body. Blood was pouring out of his wounds, leaving a gory trail behind him. He turned to look at me, then down at himself and started laughing like a goddamn lunatic.

“Ooooh, a half-dead psychopath. How original,” I taunted. Because seriously, on the list of my problems that’s gotten about as nerve-wracking as finding time to do my laundry. But of course, there was a catch.

There’s always a catch.

The proxy raised a weak hand and gripped the collar of his shirt. I pulled out my dagger, ready to plunge the damn thing into his chest and rid myself of another fucking menace. His other hand gripped another fold and tore upward, ripping the shirt in two. Amidst the streams of crimson streaking down his chest, I saw black bruises form and reform under his skin. The purple and black traveled upward and across his chest, settling for his below his left collarbone. And then the skin split open, revealing one of those sickening white eyes with oversized pupils.

What. The. Fuck.

He let out a loud scream, and more purple splotches of tissue erupted like a growing cancer in his insides. Each one settled across his skin and turned into a sore that opened into yet another eye. The mirror pieces in his flesh were alternating between colorless and that same black hue from the Black Mirror invocation. The proxy stumbled forward a bit, then stopped and straightened himself up. I was expecting him to lunge at me, but instead he put his hand on the wall with his palm flat against its surface. He then gradually sank into the wall like the black substance from the astral plane had when the mirror shattered. There was that same organic sound as he fused with the wall and disappeared.

I sat there for a moment struggling to find some understanding of what the fuck happened and where it had gone. I took a few cautionary steps backwards and turned behind me, but the hallway was empty. After a few more seconds of standing there, I figured just sitting around was gonna do no good. This was a problem that was going to have to wait.

At the opposite end of the hallway was the stairs I’d used to get up here. I started running towards them as fast as I could until the wall to my right exploded out towards me in a fleshy pillar of purple. The front end of the pillar formed into a vaguely humanoid shape, an upper torso with an arm that clawed its way out of the organic tip. The appendage grabbed my left arm and pinned me against the wall. A head gradually formed into the shape of what I assumed was the proxy’s unmasked face. It was a face that was plane and unassuming, a John Doe you could find on any street corner that would be totally unmemorable were it not attached to an unholy abomination of flesh.

The skin on the head of this…thing…that was one a proxy split down the middle of its face and receded on either side, exposing the muscle tissue as it peeled off and revealing a mixture of its ivory skull and that same black substance coated in unblinking eyes, all staring straight at me. A second humanoid arm exploded out of the wall behind me and wrapped itself around my neck, strangling me. The creature laughed in my face. It was a disgusting, wet laugh filled with bile and phlegm.

And you know what’s truly fucking sick? If it hadn’t been choking me I woulda laughed at that point in time. The black stuff in the astral plane coating the walls was using the remaining magick in the mirror’s invocation to possess the proxy.

That’s right kids. The fucking house was trying to kill me. And the way I see it, there is no sane response to that. So you might as well laugh.

Thankfully my right arm was still free, so I dug into my jacket pocket and clawed at its inside trying to find the dagger. The limb around my neck released and reached for my arm in my jacket pocket. It dug its bony fingers into my flesh and tried to pull my hand out. I could feel the blood drip down into my coat. But my hand wrapped around the cold hilt of the dagger. I pushed out my hand quickly in the same direction the creature was pulling and drove the dagger into the back of its neck. It screamed out in that same sickly voice. But I guess the slash freed the structure from the confines of its flesh. I heard a wet ripping sound and the vertebrae extended out of the torso a good eight inches. The teeth of the skull bit into the side of my neck just below my ear as I craned my head to avoid it’s lunge. The bite hurt and I yelled out in agony, but managed to spit out the remainder of the invocation I had charged into the dagger.

The back of its…flesh…thing lit ablaze as I finished the last syllable. The creature let go of me and twisted it’s spine a full 180 degrees to look at itself. Grabbing the quartz crystal from my jacket pocket I quickly drew the Binding Hexagram in mid air. If I could hold it in place long enough I could possibly get the fire to spread onto the building. The Hexagram shimmered between us thanks to the Black Mirror shard’s effects. With both dimensions bleeding together by the House’s will and the Mirror’s enchantment, my ward could hold this fucked up behemoth in place in both planes.

The fire gradually spread from the beast onto the wall, as I’d hoped. Pieces of burning chea wall plaster dropped down to the ground and hit the carpet, spreading fire very slowly. The Hexagram started to crack under the strain of the house’s influence, but I figured I’d already done enough damage. I had to make my escape. I turned towards the stairs and ran. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed down a set of stairs that quickly before. Getting out was easy as I ran through the gigantic hole Arkady had made in the building with his car.

Making it back to the apartment took for-fucking-ever. With no cash, having most of my limbs full of pain, no transportation…most of it was unpleasant. Eventually I was able to convince a kind lady at some fast food chain (too exhausted and traumatized to give a fuck where it was) to let me make a phone call. I got a friend to take me back. Arkady was already there, as was Babs.

The two of us had a sit down and decided Babs needed to get the Hell out of Austin. It wasn’t safe. I asked her if she had any place to stay. She mentioned a summer shack in Georgia her family had. She still had the keys. That got me thinking, and I contacted Kal and Henry. They were in Virginia, which wasn’t too terribly far, and they needed a place to stay. Seemed like the ideal situation would be to get Babs with the rest of the group and have everyone settle down there for a bit, at least get some real rest and a shower. Given the conditions she’d faced here, it didn’t take too much convincing. We said our last goodbyes and she headed off for Georgia.

So now you know why I’ve basically destroyed my consciousness with drugs over the past few days. Hope you don’t mind, and if you do then go fuck yourself.

Love Under Will


Friday, May 13, 2011

Babylon Falls

Sorry for the long absence. Things got out of hand last week, and Arkady and I have been spending most of that time prepping for, and executing, a new op. Things are still a bit fucked, but at least we're back in control.

As for what went down...I went to Bab’s place late last week. Walked up to her condo on the fourth floor, made my way to her front door, and rang the doorbell. No response. Curious, I decided to give her a call and see if maybe she had gone out for a moment. I heard her cell phone ring inside the condo, but no one picked up. I knocked on the door, and still no response. I started to worry. So I jiggled the door knob a bit. It was loose. I felt a bit weird about doing this as I am big on respecting privacy, but given all the fucked up shit that's been going on in my life I decided I'd rather be safe than sorry.

The door swung in slowly and I stepped into her place. I tried to keep from making too much noise in case someone was still inside. In retrospect the knocking and doorbell ringing would have been a dead giveaway anyways, but I was really on edge. The last thing I wanted to believe was that Babs was in trouble, especially if it was the Slender One. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a matter of cleaning my conscience. But dealing with the Slender One, is like playing with fire. Anything could happen to her with him in the picture. I was standing in the short hallway that led into the living room. The kitchen was behind the living room. Everything was empty and the lights were off. I stood there in the doorway for a good 5 minutes making sure I couldn’t hear anything. Unsure of what to do, I rang Bab’s cell again. Her phone lit up on the dinner table. I walked over and examined it. It was a gaudy looking cheap piece of shit. Pink case with the Unicursal Hexagram carved into it. It was sitting next to a mixed bag of E and oxycotton. Bad news. Probably wasn’t cops if they left this grab bag of evidence.

I picked up her cell to check her phone logs, but stopped. I had to calmly remind myself this didn’t mean something bad had happened to her. Maybe she just left and forgot her cell. I put her phone down and stepped outside. The next best option was to ask around I figured, so I stepped to her immediate neighbor's door and knocked on it. An older woman answered. Fuck, she looked hideous. Obviously at least 50, dyed blonde hair…she’d clearly gone through a couple different plastic surgery enhancements. She wore about as much makeup as I had on at the time, which isn’t flattering if you’re trying to go with a natural look. She looked like a Barbie doll that had been run through a dishwasher, and she didn’t look to pleased to see me either.

“Hey…your neighbor [Babs], did she…leave recently?”

She stared at me for a moment.

“Hell if I know. I mind my own god-damn business,” she said.

Christ. I hate dealing with assholes.

“Oh. Well, her door was unlocked and I’m just worried she might have gotten hurt or something,” I said, fighting down the punch-this-bitch-in-the-face reflex that was making its way down to my fist.

“Serves that little whore right. Don’t think I don’t know what she’s up to and who she’s shacking up with in there. If her little drug dealing thug buddies finally got their hands on her it’s her own damn fault.”

She gave me a look over again.

“Don’t you have an Anne Rice convention to get to?” she asked, before slamming the door in my face.

Fucking bitch. The mental image of me beating her in the face with my signed copy of “The Vampire Armand” flashed through my head and made me smile, but I brushed it aside. There are other things more deserving of my attention.

I walked back to Bab’s condo and picked up her cell. As much as I respect privacy whenever possible there was too much at risk to ignore here. I checked through her call records. Most of the numbers were on her phone book, but several from today weren’t. I didn’t realize she was so popular. I hit redial and sat down. The phone picked up.

“Congratulaciónes señor o señora! Has ganado un gran premio muy especial de nuestro compañia por ser el…”


Fuck that noise.

I was on my way to dialing another number when I grabbed her bag of E, deciding I needed to find a suitable place to hide it. That was when I saw it. A police badge. I picked it up and carefully examined it, not stopping to think that I had just put my finger prints on police property. But I quickly realized it didn't matter. It was from the San Marcos police department. That was where Arkady was from before he fled to Austin. Which meant this had to be the work of Javert.

I put Babs' cellphone and pills into my jacket and bolted out the door. I got back at around midnight, but Arkady was gone. I left him an email and decided that I was going to have to hook him up with a prepaid cellphone. Shit like this requires an open line of communication. In fact, not getting him one earlier was downright fucking stupid of me. When he got home I told him what happened. We came up with an interim plan to try and find her the next day.

Fortunately it was all for not. When we woke up and started heading off, we found a note from everyone's favorite douchepig Javert on our front door, complete with a location and a time. Arrogant fuck.

Shit, I'll have to post the rest later. Cops showed up. Dunno if it's for us or not. We might be in trouble.

Love Under Will


Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Quick Apology

Sorry for silence. Thinks got fucked. In the middle of an op with Arkady. Will post details soon. On the run. Take care.


Monday, April 25, 2011

Well Laid Easter Plans

Easter break has come and almost gone for my uni. I’ve spent most of this time…uh… “relieving unresolved stress” from the Labyrinth escapade (and according to Arkady, rather loudly…sorry mate…) and getting myself mentally back in order. Mostly a fellow Thelemite girl that I would occasionally do sex magick with when I got started with this Crowley stuff. Tracking her down took a little bit of work, since I’d kinda misplaced her phone number. But it all worked itself out in the end.

I’ve reconfigured my room a bit to start on rituals and get back into the groove with this Slender business. I also tried to reclaim Porfiry’s body but naturally it was gone. Fiddlesticks. But that’s life I suppose.

I did briefly consider, and I do mean briefly, getting the girl (let’s call her “Babs”) to help me with the Slender One, but common sense and a desire not to drag other people into the mythos sort of slapped me in the face and reminded me that that would be a terrible idea. Really terrible. Like, “Summon Slenderman into my Living Room” terrible. And I try to limit those kinds of catastrophic mistakes to “once in a lifetime.”

I’ve considered briefly looking into this Javert fellow, but he and Arkady have some great chemistry going and I feel like I’d be intruding. You know what they say, three is an orgy but four is forever. With Porfiry gone and Arkady wanting Javert all to himself (I think that’s also mutual) I’m kinda just stuck playing with myself until someone interesting comes along.

I had so much fun writing that last paragraph. You don’t even know.

Anyways, that’s about it for me. I’ll keep you guys posted and let you know when something exciting happens. With our luck, it’ll probably be something soon.

As always
Love Under Will


Friday, April 22, 2011

Resurrection: Sixth Communion

The ceremony cradles my head in trance
I brush dust from my teeth
Fleeing hands and spiders
plead for salvation
They wash the clawed of a priest
ritual mockery rectified doubt
I'm holding with arms open wide
sleeping endless sleep
on a bed of nails
Wake me up with your kiss

I'm waiting for consummation
I'm waiting for contemplation
I'm waiting for confrontation
waiting for a place to
Lay my body down

The proud encasing of another soul
buried deep 'neath the shroud
Flourished with the venom
of the serpent's son
I close my eyes retreat
The prayer hands lays down
on the edge of my sleep
Sister Death in lepers's guise
through crimson eyes
of the holy one
All will learn to see

Invocations are invitations
to the bloody red sheets
The circle is broken
by the sleeve
A sacrifice of one

Resurrection- past reflection
Revelation- last discretion
Confession- Confession

By Rozz Williams


Saturday, April 16, 2011

Labyrinth Part 2

So there I was staring up into the colorless eyes of Asmoday. The 32nd spirit of the Goetia met my gaze with his own, his face contorted into a snide smile.

“Well, well, well Damien. Look at what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Asmoday said, his voice an exact match to the ones that had danced in my head just moments before.

I stared haplessly, my mouth agape in awe and amazement at the sight of the demon. Its imposing figure shone in the light of the library, its pale skin glowing faintly like moonlight. The creature it sat upon craned its neck up and snarled angrily at nothing in particular. I took an involuntary step backwards, not out of fear (as would have been rational) but rather to try and take its towering figure into view.

Before I could take another step, I felt a strong burst of wind kick up through the aisles. I braced myself against the headwind as books flew off the shelves by the dozens, hurled by the gale force winds onto the ground before an updraft threw them into the air where several of these books, despite nature and reasoning, froze. Their pages turned by the wind while they hung suspended in mid air. I fell to one knee, determined not to fall to the ground in a helpless state. And from the center of those damned tomes floating in the air erupted lengths of cold, steel chains. Each one snapped around my limbs and tightened, holding me immobile. I tried to move my arms and legs, but the chains retracted into their books with incredible force. I couldn’t move. There I was, bound to these books and completely helpless.

Asmoday laughed.

“You poor, stupid child.”

“What the fuck is going on!” I shouted, though I have no doubt that the fear in my voice was very obvious to my demonic captor.

“Oh Damien. You still don’t know? Of course you do. You may be a fool, but even you are not so blind!” His voice was thick with contempt.

I struggled for a moment to understand what he meant, but he was correct. It was as if my mind had formed some horrific protective barrier, aware that such an idea would have been too horrible to allow into my conscious thought. But in the face of absolute fear and hopelessness, there was nothing left to protect me from the terrifying possibility.

If Asmoday were a Goetic demon…he had to have come from my own psyche.

As if he could read my thoughts (and one would imagine, given the circumstances, that he could), Asmoday laughed again. Seeing my face change with the sudden understanding must have given him immense joy.

“Now you’re getting it, Damien,” Asmoday chuckled. “I am your self-loathing made manifest. Your self-hatred turned against you. That never ending desire in your mind to destroy yourself slowly and so painfully.”

“No! I refuse to bel-”

And that was as far as I got. As I’d started speaking, I felt a strange feeling rise up from the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was going to throw up, but as it rose into my esophagus, it felt…different. Like a roiling wave were churning as it went further up. The movement felt more defined, more furious as it rose, until it reached the back of my throat and I hacked it all out. It was then that I saw what had unsettled my insides.

Maggots. I was puking fucking maggots.

They squirmed infront of me I coughed them into the ground. I watched them wriggle in a fist-size batch, their small fat bodies glistening in the soft candle light. My stomach revolted at the thought of those disgusting little creatures inside my guts. I felt a second wave of vomit rise up, a reaction to the filthy site before my eyes, but it was too much. I couldn’t hold it in, and a second wave of the vermin escaped my insides and projected onto the floor in front of me. Tears streamed from my eyes, my mind unable to comprehend just how vile this experience was. I wanted to die. More badly than anything, I wanted to die. If I’d had anything else left in me I would have thrown up more, but I felt empty inside.

As if to remind me that more suffering were to come, the chains pulled on me. I felt my shoulders slowly separate out from their sockets, stretching me out. Pain shot through my arms and legs. Asmoday laughed.

"That ought to have shut you up."

His mount stood up and walked slowly towards me, the ground shaking with every slow, ponderous step it took. It stopped a few feet away from me, its sickening yellow eyes glaring at me while Asmoday continued his speech.

“You know, you should really be proud of how long you survived before I finally got my chance to kill you. Not that you actually will be proud. I won’t let you. But it is amazing that, despite how much you really hate yourself, you made it all the way here. Gods know you tried your hardest to end it all. Why else would you have tempted fate with that Slender Man, or let that blood thirsty lunatic into your home while you slept. Somehow, Damien, you managed to survive. But no more. Your self-loathing brought you here before me. And now you die. But not before I strip every piece of arcane knowledge from your mind. It is the pain and suffering you and I both know you deserve.”

I screamed. I screamed in defiance. I pleaded. He must have enjoyed it, the sick fuck, because my wailing was uninterrupted by maggots. Asmoday raised a palm up into the air, and before me appeared a Goetic sigil. Bolts of black lightning shout from its curves and shapes into my eyes. Everything went dark. Burning pain traveled along my skull, and I felt everything get lighter. My mind started to get blurry. I couldn’t focus coherent thought as the storm of darkness continued to fry my mind. My thoughts were blanks, half-formed and then dissipated no matter how hard I tried to concentrate and drive the pain away. The bolts stopped.

My thoughts numb, my mind incapable of producing real thought, I looked up at the sigil that burned away a large portion of my mind. The sigil vanished.

“Well, that’s part of you gone forever. Did that hurt, Damien? I suspect it did. You screamed something awful.”
My dumb mind could not produce sound. I gave no answer. A second sigil formed in front of me, that of another Goetic demon. But which one I couldn’t tell. Such wisdom was locked away from me. Another bolt of darkness burst from the sigil and into my eyes. The pain was less than before, perhaps because I had not enough mental capacity to even acknowledge such suffering. But the loss was just as real, and much worse. Somehow, even in my diminished capacity I understood what I was losing.

The burning stopped. The world had stopped being distinct shapes and had devolved into a sea of blurry colors, devoid of any real meaning. I tried to voice dissent, or something like it, but I have no idea how it came out. I was struggling simply to struggle, and I wasn’t even sure why. In fact, that by itself was curious…there was something in me still fighting. And despite everything in the world melting away before the void of absolute thoughtlessness…I became aware of that instinct to fight.

And then there was a moment of clarity. That realization that there was something so intrinsic to my being that I was fighting beyond all rationale. It wasn’t life, or I wouldn’t have surrendered when the chains had enveloped me and I started puking maggots. No, it was knowledge. Precious knowledge. It defined me. It made me everything I was. It was my True Will in every sense of the word. And with that realization also came the understanding that no part of me would ever destroy my knowledge, no matter how much I hated myself. It was the purest pursuit, the highest reason, the True Will give aim. If nothing else, I could never hate myself enough to turn away from the acquisition thereof.

Whatever it was that stood before me was NOT Asmoday. And whatever it had done, it could not have taken away what I knew. Everything went black for but a moment, and form returned to my consciousness. I was no longer in the library. I was in a black forest. Dead trees covered this bizarre wasteland, the sky a sickly green color illuminated by an ambient and sourceless light.

In front of me stood the Slender One. It’s eyeless face was tilted to one side, as if it were studying me curiously. Tentacles slowly dripped out of its coat, those same unseemly tendrils stretching out towards me. But not today.

“No. I’ve had enough of you,” I snarled.

And it was true. In that moment, he didn’t matter. I had found the axis of my existence, the fulcrum onto which I could shift the world. It was that realization that enabled me to find the answers I’d sought. He could do whatever he liked, it would not change how I knew my destiny.

There is a belief within Thelema that the whole of one’s existence would be summarized as the True Will. It was like the orbit of a planet, the course of one’s whole life time planned along the most natural path. And when a Thelemite reached an understanding, an intrinsic knowledge of this True Will then he could meet and discuss with it. Imagine being able to speak to your entire past, present, and future all at once. Every meaningful relationship, every thought and deed, every minor decision you could ever make, brought before you at once. It happened to Aleister Crowley when he met Nuit, the being that gave him the Book of the Law. That night, it happened to me.

Between myself and the Slender One erupted a shining gold light. It illuminated the sky and swallowed up the green ambient light of the forest. A radiant beam shone through the trees, and even the Slender One himself shrunk back before its beauty. My eyes, however, never left it. The light receded, and my eyes fell upon it. It was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Humanoid, tall and genderless, four-armed, with slightly blue-tinged skin. It bore six beautiful golden wings along its back. In its left hands it held a mace and a sword, in its right a shield and a scepter. Its bare flesh was covered with hundreds of human eyes, all golden. Every eye wept tears of blood which streaked across its skin and pooled at its clawed feet. Its long mane of flowing gold hair came to shoulder length, the silken strands gently swaying in the wind of the Slender One’s domain.

My Heavenly Guardian Angel, my destiny made manifest.

The Heavenly Guardian Angel stretched its wings. The light shone ever more brightly as the Slender One backed away, raising its arms defensively to its face. The angel lifted its upper most arms and pointed its shining scepter at the Slender One. A beautiful ray of golden light emanated from it and shot forth like a wave towards the Slender One. I watched as the light struck the creature, as the shadow of its corporeal being twisted and writhed under the mystickal assault laid down against it. I must applaud the Slender One. It survived a whole 5 seconds of pure exposure before it faded away.

I knew it wasn’t dead or gone. It had merely retreated. But it didn’t matter. The Angel rose up and shone its light upon the entire dead wasteland. I watched beautiful green grass grow where there was once only death. Up above us, clouds swirled together into a beautiful storm. A bolt of lightning struck one of the dead trees. And then another. And another. The forest slowly burned. I watched the wind carry ashes from the burning trees onto the ground. Flowers sprouted from the barren earth. Life renewed itself as the ruined, hollow grounds of old gave way to a vital new existence. It was all so clear to me. My past and my future.
The angel accepted my wordless understanding. It nodded as I watched the spectacle, and then lifted me up in its arms. We rose through the storm clouds and into the darkness of space. I watched the stars shine brighter and brighter. Shooting stars hurled through the empty darkness, filling the void with limitless light. It was here in this place that the Heavenly Guardian Angel finally spoke to me, directly, and revealed to me all things that will come to pass.

What exactly did the Angel say, you may ask, about my future? To tell you would be meaningless. To put it into words as the Angel did would be a vulgar travesty. All that matters is that I have been given the Law, and I will execute it. There is no recourse.

To you, my readers, I say to you what I have always said, knowing now what truth shall be made manifest.

Love Is The Law
Love Under Will


The Labyrinth

I’m finally back. My absence was mostly unplanned, and I still do not know exactly how much time was lost to me. You see, readers, I've been on quite the journey since you last heard from me. I have decided to chronicle it mostly for the sake of Kal and Henry. From what little I've gathered from their blogs and such they seem to be out and about still. My cellphone is lost and neither of them are online at the moment, so I've decided to write out this story here for them to find. I'm far too tired to wait until morning to message them. They can read this when they wake up tomorrow, when I expect to still be asleep.

It started perhaps half an hour after my final post, the one detailing our little summoning gambit to buy Kal some time. If you recall, I signed off saying I had plans to get epically hammered. That’s a bit uncharacteristic of me, but I’d grown so tired of…Hell, existing that I felt the need to black out some part of my life for some amount of time.

The process of getting drunk is a bit blurry. I can’t tell you much of what happened except that Arkady, though mildly disappointed, decided I deserved the right to erase parts of my life from memory and dealt with it relatively well. The rest is just flashes of color and blurry recollections of various areas of my apartment. Lost in my bacchanalian revelry, I drifted aimlessly about and enjoyed the sweet bliss of thoughtlessness.

So imagine my surprise, then, when everything shifted into focus all at once. One minute I could barely make heads or tales of my own apartment, and the next…everything was put back in its place. My mind was still slow and my reasoning still faulty, mind you. But I wasn’t so far gone to realize just how odd this phenomenon was. Perhaps it was because of this surprising turn of events that I didn’t immediately notice what should have been obvious. The lights in the apartment were all turned off. Only the screen from my laptop provided any illumination into the hallway where I stood. But it was enough to cast a pale light against the white walls around me, where I watched as shadows gradually reached out from the darkness just beyond the computer’s comforting glow. Each one slithered across the wall slowly, glistening with an unclean sheen that made my skin crawl.

“Oh. It’s you.”

What else do you say in a situation like this? He stepped out of the darkness and into the hallway of my room. His thin, empty face turned in my general direction while his eyeless gaze bore holes into my mind. His suit, cleanly pressed, clung to his gaunt frame as the tendrils of shadow slipped out from the openings in his clothing. It was a strange thing to notice, how clean his appearance was in contrast to his slimy alien appendages. But those were the last thoughts that came to mind as I was suddenly thrust into oblivion.

I thought I was dead. I had no reason to believe otherwise. Where once was the long-limbed menace stood in my hallway was absolute stillness. No walls, no glowing screen. Then, warmth and a sudden flash of light. I opened my eyes and found myself alone. I had awoken on a hard wooden floor, which was rather different from my own carpeted apartment. I definitely was not home. Slowly I sat up and looked around at my surroundings. The place was filled with enormous wooden bookshelves twice my height and filled to the brim. There were tables scattered about, interestingly enough with old wax candles lit to provide the only lighting in the building. I scanned the white walls of what I assumed to be a library in search of a window, but found none. Nor did I see any doors. This…was troublesome.

I stood up and shook off the wave of exhaustion that hit me once the shock receded a bit and I became aware of myself again. My limbs ached and my body protested as I gradually trudged my way towards the nearest shelf. I picked a book at random, for no particular reason at all, and pulled it out of the shelf before cracking it open. There were a half dozen different things I was expecting, from a normal book to a book written in an alien language to a book filled with empty pages. What I was not expecting was the Grimoire Verum (link), which I then held in my very sore hands. Confused, I scanned the other books in the shelf. The whole damn thing was lined with occult manuscripts, books on ancient mythology and folk magick, Gnostic scriptures and more! Every single book in that shelf contained some bit of esoteric knowledge. I walked over towards the next shelf, my pain all but forgotten with this sudden reversal of fortunes, and checked the books there as well. Sure enough, more books on the same subject. The library might not have been that large, but there had to be thousands of books here!

I was giddy with excitement for a moment, but quickly composed myself. As unbelievable and fortunate as this was, I was still stuck in a library that seemed to have no exit. I knew better than to waste my time with physical escape since I clearly wasn’t in any place rational. But what I did have was an entire occult arsenal at my disposal, which I reasoned should make breaking out of this place easier. There had to be something in one of these tomes that could at least point me in the right direction. Success was almost certain, I was convinced. At least, I thought I was. Despite being certain I had everything I needed, there was this strange sense of uncertainty in the back of my consciousness. It was almost like a tiny voice whispering into my ear and building a sense of doubt, but doubt in what I wasn’t so sure. There was nothing I could tell myself to allay this wordless fear that gripped the pit of my stomatch.

I sat down at a table and started reading, getting an idea of what approach to take. But all the while, that uncertainty started to slowly fester in my mind. Book after book I devoured over the span of hours, or maybe days, but all the while the sensation of doubt ate away at me. The voice was slowly growing louder, and more pronounced. I decided to chalk it up to exhaustion. By then I had been up and reading for hours, my eyes were hurting, and I could not for the life of me focus on the book. I assumed if Slender Man wanted to come get me then I’d be just as defenseless asleep as I would be in my current dazed state. I crawled up onto a table and tried to drift to sleep, but found it immensely difficult to do so. More than just the doubt, I began to feel as if someone was watching me. I did a cursory walk through the aisles, hoping to catch a glimpse of some phantasm that was disturbing my much needed rest, but found nothing. I climbed back onto the table and tried to fall asleep. It did not come easy.

I woke up a few hours later, dizzy and in more pain. The voice of doubt in my mind had grown worse, and it began to tear at my psyche internally. As I would mull over escape plans in my head I would involuntarily flash to moments of failure, like when Porfiry nearly killed me despite my protective sigil. Or when Slender Man playfully cast aside my wards and stole my own research subject from me. The thought that I might never leave this place crept into my head constantly, no matter how hard I reassured myself that I was perfectly capable of engineering my escape. I picked up a book and tried to ignore it, but it distracted me from my reading which only shook my resolve. I felt like I was suffocating, as if the light of hope was being gradually smothered by an ebony tide of sourceless fear. My hands trembled as I held the book, my frustration nearly uncontrollable now that I was almost paralyzed with doubt. My thoughts led me to Kal and Henry, and the little girl. Where they alright? Did I really save them, or did I just prolongue the inevitable?

And still I felt that strange presence in the deserted library, as if some creature were lurking in the corners of the room and staring at me. I felt like a prisoner being watched over by a guard. That feeling gradually anchored itself in my mind, and slowly I began to see this endless sea of books not as a source of salvation, but as a prison. I aimlessly walked between aisles and started knocking down books from their shelves, kicking them across the room and shouting in frustration. All the while, that cancerous dread that had been building up inside me continued to erode away what little sanity I had left. I mentally directed criticisms at myself about this whole fiasco, everything that had gone wrong since the Slender One entered my life. About the stupid summoning plan to disprove his existence, about the sigils and nearly being killed by Porfiry. About how my books and research amounted to nothing. It was like I was shouting at myself within my own mind.

“Well, great job there kiddo. Look what you’ve gotten yourself into? An entire fucking arsenal of arcane knowledge and all you can do is impotently shout like a wild animal trapped in a cage.”

“God, you’re pathetic. Call yourself a Thelemite? If you’re so fucking smart, why aren’t you out of here yet?”

“You think you saved Kal? You can’t even save yourself. They’re dead. You’re dead. You’re all fucking dead and you don’t even know it yet.”

“You gave that stupid little girl hope when you saved her, only to have it taken away when Slender Man finally kills her. Who’s the monster now?”

“Just give up. Kill yourself and be spared the embarrassment.”

“Yeah, why don’t you kill yourself you worthless dog? You’ll never amount to anything.”

The sharp tone of the comments finally snapped something inside me. A something that made me realize in that entire moment of hopelessness and dread, that those criticisms weren’t just imaginary accusations. They were voices. Real fucking voices. In my head.

I fell to my knees, clutching my head and screaming to drown out the talking, but no matter how hard I screamed the voices were there, drowning out all sound but the corrosive venom they continued to spew.

“You can’t shut me up! You can’t shut me up! You can’t do anything! You’re fucking stupid! Keep covering your ears, see if that does any good! Scream like a child, a stupid little child!”

A splitting headache erupted through my head. It felt like my brains were pouring out of a gigantic crack in my skull. I lost my sight, my feeble brain trying to continue functioning against the horrific wave of stimulus beating itself against my consciousness.

And then the pain stopped. Everything. My sight was restored, and I saw the floor right beneath me where I had curled up to hide from the pain. I relaxed my breathing down to compose myself. The voices were gone. Everything seemed quiet. I waited, perhaps for a few minutes. And then I slowly lifted my head up, hoping to the gods that I had just woken up from some awful dream. But I hadn’t. I was still in the same stupid library, sitting on the same stupid wooden floor, lost in the same stupid aisles of books. But I was not alone. Before me stood a creature, the one I knew had been watching me this entire time. It sat atop a gargantuan monster easily as tall as an individual bookshelf, with sharp tusks, menacing eyes, and covered in fur. The creature was humanoid, but with three heads. That of a man, of a bull, and of a ram. The center head, the human head, bore a crown with an esoteric sigil upon it. Its outstretched leathery wings were poised behind it, immobile as it stared down at me from its enormous height. I looked up at it, all too familiar with the beast that gazed down upon me.



Monday, April 4, 2011

The Plan

Don’t have too much time to type. Got a brand spanking new bottle of La Clandestine ordered and it came in today. And it’s a perfect time to celebrate. Don’t really wanna dwell too much longer on how fucked over Arkady and I are. No, tonight is to be joyous because nowadays such opportunities are too few in number.

Shit had gone to Hell on FoL’s side. Arkady and I talked about it for a bit, and we ended up devising a plan. Remember how I fucked this entire mess over by bringing the Slender One to me? Well we decided that Kal and Henry needed some cover now that Henry has caved under the stress of watching his girl die. The Ars Goetia is all but faded back at their place, no doubt because of Henry’s mental state (not that I blame him). I called Kal and told him that I was gonna set up a distraction for the Slender One and that he needed to take Henry and the little girl with him and run far away.

Over on our end, Arkady and mine’s mission was simple. We were going to summon the Slender One again. Only neither of us can take him, much less me in my hurt state (arm still healing after what Porfiry did to it). So we got a little clever. We spent the entire day driving around Austin at random locations inscribing copies of the Goetic Summoning Circle I had used that stupid, fateful night. We also bought a bunch of those cheap voice recorders and recorded the incantation I had used along with a 10 minute long delay before the incantation kicked in. We went to one circle and set up the recorded incantation, then drove to the next circle and placed the next incantation. The idea was that the Slender One would be summoned to the circle and the incantation. The recorder would break and immediately free him, but by the time the Slender One would have gotten there Arkady and I would have set up the next recording. We would have effectively spent two hours summoning the Slender One all across town.

For the record, no I did not once stop to think about the horrible horrible possibilities this plan had, like if someone were to walk in during the Slender One’s summoning. I would like to retroactively apologize to the wandering vagrants of Austin who might have been killed by this gambit.

Called Kal as soon as the whole thing started. Got a call back when he said he was almost out of Denver. That was about 20 minutes into the gambit. I called a few minutes after we set down the last incantation and he said everything was going well. They were a bit shaken up, but given what they’ve gone through that’s understandable.

Moral of this story is that Kal and Henry and the little girl are safe and I’ve got me some delicious wonderful absinthe to drink…and drink…and drink until I can’t feel feelings anymore.

Love Under Will


Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The Oneiric Plane Experience

I really don’t like Javert. It may be because he’s about as pretentious and self-important as Arkady while working for the other side. It may be because he happen to nearly break a few of my favorite limbs. While I suspect the answer lies somewhere between those two extremes, I’ve finally got enough of an opening to explain what happened to me.

Kal and I tried to enter Oneiros. We found the entrance in the astral plane, and he led me to where the rift between the Astral Plane and Oneiros was. I try explaining this to people who aren’t into the occult a lot of times with varying success, but Astral travel and Oneiros isn’t something you “see.” Yeah, there are visual elements but most of it is your mind trying to make sense of the information its receiving. And sometimes the mind doesn’t have a visual equivalent to what it encounters in these places. Such was the case for the Rift. I could feel its pull when Kal brought me there. I know where it was, its dimensions, everything about it. But there was no “physical appearance” to it, no visual element.

I pushed Kal into the Rift. We could have entered Oneiros another way, but there was no guarantee we’d enter anywhere near the Slender One. Might as well use the same path he did to at least ensure we were following in his footsteps. So he did, and I stepped through the rift. Somehow, we ended up in different places. At the very least, he wasn’t wherever I was. The place looked like a cross between a city and a jungle. Buildings rose up into the sky, but were twisted and spiraled, as if bent by unseen hands. Trees were everywhere. The sky was the brightest shade of black you could ever see, contrasted against the dull grey of the buildings. Every single window in every single goddamn building shone a pale white light. Everything was lifeless. I had no idea what the Hell this place was. Someone’s dream?

And that’s when everything changed. The buildings shook, the ground trembled. The buildings began to grow upwards, reaching towards the sky and twisting into stranger shapes. Some split apart, others started to twist together like branches entwined. Up and up they went, covering the sky until everything went grey.

Then I woke up. Back in the real world.

I need a drink.

Love Under Will


Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Kicked Out

Fuck! Something bad’s going on! I just got kicked out of Oneiros after escorting Kal in there. As far as I know he’s still in there. He’s not answering his cellphone. Arkady’s gotten into a fight with proxies, shit’s torn up around here, more proxies outside I think, can’t get back in everything’s fucked to shit. FUCK! Worst of all I can’t get back in. No matter how hard I try I can’t get into Oneiros, which shouldn’t even be possible. I think I might have pissed him off. Nothing I can do but hope for the best. Laptop batteries are dying, will have to post explanation when I get back.

Love Under Will




Kal, I’ve read up on your experiences and did some research. It all makes sense.

Oneiros. Or rather, the Oneiric Plane.

In Greek mythology Oneiros was the personification of dream. Within an occult context, in particular with respect to certain ancient Gnostic traditions, there is a place deep within the Astral Plane known as the Oneiric Plane which contains the collective dreams of humanity. Just as the Astral Plane reflects thought-forms and patterns, so to does the Oneiric Plane with respect to dreams and the subconscious. It could be that the Slender One hides there, or at least was born there.

It explains the children. Because they are so young their subconscious is not so repressed and manifests in their active imaginations. It may be that the Slender One is able to follow these children’s “waking dreams” from the Oneiric Plane and into the real world, which explains his affinity with them. Similarly, it may be that he only chases those whose subconscious mind he can penetrate, which is why he only chases those who seek him out or have seen him before.

Oneiros is harder to reach than the Astral Plane. You might not be able to make it there on your own. Call me ASAP. I’ll provide you the details. We might both have to do this. And I’m probably going to need Arkady’s help for part of it.

Love Under Will


Thursday, March 24, 2011

The Lazarus Effect

Life is relentless. There are times when, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t catch a break.

It was early in the morning, maybe 3? Arkady said around 3. I was peacefully asleep for the first time in days, as my insomnia had become a bit more pronounced since the incident at the grotto. Arkady was saying something about Moonlight Sonata. I supposed at the time it was my fault. I’d been listening to some of his classical music from time to time because quite frankly my nerves can’t handle anything remotely spooky. So I figured I had just somehow encouraged him with my mild interest in the music of yore. I flipped him off, said something incoherent, and went back to sleep.

I woke up maybe a few hours later, for no real reason. A shame, really. I felt like I’d only gotten a few short hours of sleep. I stretched and climbed out of bed. The first thing I noticed was that Arkady had gone. His mattress was empty, and half of his weapons were missing. Maybe if I hadn’t been so damn tired I would have put more thought into it, but my half-zombified mind just didn’t want to work. For all I knew, Arkady was off hunting slenderproxies, or doing some scouting of new locations, or maybe he saw a squirrel in the front yard and decided it needed to be taught a lesson. Didn’t matter to me at the time. I needed coffee. So I set the coffee maker and walked back into my room, where I noticed something sort of interesting. For some reason, my digital alarm clock has showing all 8’s. The thing was clearly broken, but I had no idea whatsoever what had caused it. Rather than fidget with the damn thing I just decided to look outside and get a general idea of how late it was. Maybe I had overslept, and that’s why I’d felt so tired. So I pulled aside the curtain. Nothing but fog as far as the eye could see.


I closed the blinds. Arkady was gone. I had no weapons, but I still had the sigils I’d made, including the new alchemical sigil. I grabbed a different cloth and wrote the sigil on it, with a binding hexagram over it. I switched out of my PJs into my regular clothes, donned my boots, and decided that this time waiting wasn’t going to do me any good. He had been in my house once before, so it certainly didn’t afford me any real protection. And Arkady may still have been out there somewhere.

Stepping out into the fog brought back unpleasant memories. The air was cold and damp. I could see my breath with every exhalation, as the warm mist dissolved into the great white expanse in front of me. The waning moon hung above, glowing a sickly yellow down on the landscape and faintly illuminating the night sky. The fog was so thick that I could barely see more than a few feet out. Buildings were obscured by it, so after walking a few minutes in the dark I no longer had any idea of where I was supposed to be. I say “supposed to be” because I was under no illusion that I was walking a straight line between two points. I kept alert, listening for tentacles as I stumbled along.

After a while, the fog started swirling, moving like a river current further into the shadows. I decided to follow suit, since there was nothing I could do to fight this until I could lay eyes on the Slender One. Why prolong the inevitable? I stared out into the churning sea of white for a moment, deciding I needed to compose myself before continuing on. Mental fortitude would be necessary if I were to encounter the Slender One.

Somewhere behind me, I heard something move. It was faint, a shuffle of leaves and grass. Heavy footsteps. I tightened my grip on the rag, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. I turned around. And there he was. Not the Slender One, but perhaps just as disturbing.

It was Porfiry.

This didn't seem right. Not at all. Arkady and I both watched this miserable wretch burn in the fire the Slender One had created. But there he stood before me. His eyes were hollowed out, empty sockets. His face was badly scarred with burn marks, those I recognized from my sigil and those I assume came from burning down that house. But this time I had something else planned.

Porfiry lumbered toward me awkwardly, then broke into a sprint I was not at all expecting. It was amazing, the change from stumbling blithering doll dragged along by strings to...whatever the Hell Porfiry had become in his second death. He ran towards me at full speed and knocked me down, tackling me into the ground. He fell ontop of me and raised his arm, ready to bring it down on my head. My back ached, my head reeled, but I had enough sense to latch onto the rag with the alchemy sigil and bring it up for him to see. And...he stopped. He stared at the symbol absentmindedly, his head tilted slightly. He seemed least as much as someone with no eyes can be. And I knew I had the bastard.

I called out the Keys to the Abyss and wove the spell. There was a quiet lull, and Porfiry began to scream. Or rather, did something like a scream. They don't really have a word for whatever the fuck he did, but he did it. It echoed and reverberated throughout the foggy night like the howl of a werewolf. I focused on the spell. Porfiry fell off me and staggered backwards, hunched over and realing in pain from the weight of some force. My force.

I picked myself up as I continued the incantation. It took a moment, but Porfiry finally realized what was happening. He raised himself up to get a good look at me, and I began to see what damage I had wrought. His ribs seemed to have been wrenched outward and had been burst out of his chest. The ivory tendrils of his rib cage glistened under the foul looking greenish-black blood that poured out from the fresh wounds. I watched as they pulled further and further out, splitting skin as they traveled outward. There was an almost satisfying crack as they did so. Porfiry clutched his bleeding chest with one hand and lurched towards me slowly, no doubt eager to make the incantation stop. I moved backward slowly, continuing the incantation as I tried to maintain my focus and fight down the revulsion that had my stomach turning knots whenever I looked at his innards struggling to spill out.

Unfortunately for me, it seemed that the damage his rebellious body parts were doing also seemed to enrage him. The more I watched his soft, possibly dead tissue rip under the strain of his bones, the more furiously he clawed towards me, the more clumsily and angrily he stumbled at me. He inched his way closer as I gradually lost focus on the spell, his steps coming closer while I could barely keep my backwards pace and continue the assault. His filthy blood spilled all over the ground. Underneath his skin I could see his organs moving ever so slightly, his exposed lungs a sickly pinkish-grey. They expanded tensely, perhaps from the pain I had inflicted upon him. He was perhaps five feet away from me when I realized I couldn't possibly cause him enough pain or kill him before he got to me. And the anger... the fury of his approach was enough to tell me I needed to make my escape. So I turned and ran, Porfiry's foosteps behind me. I ran indiscriminately, my assailent not too far behind me, until I finally came upon a shadow in the clearing. As I ran towards it I could make out the general shape. It was an enormous church, stone and certainly not something I remember ever seeing in Austin. There was stained glass all around the outside, various depictions of religious symbols that were way too insigificant to notice given I was about to be mauled by a lunatic who seemed to think having exposed innards were more of an irritation than a life-threatening condition.

So...a church? Well, what the Hell right?

I ran towards the door and stepped inside, trying desperately to close the door behind me. Porfiry slammed his body against the door, knocking me back a bit. But I still had control of the door, even if I could feel his weight against it. One of his arms reached through the door as I closed it. Rag in hand, I pressed it against his flesh and watched steam arise as it burned through his skin. I started the incantation once again, focusing on his arm. It slowly wrenched backwards against the rotation of his elbow joint. Again, Porfiry's screams resounded and reverberated throughout the church. His arm continued to bend backward, as if an invisible spirit were bending it in ways it wasn't supposed to be bent. And then there was the snapping sound. His elbow cracked, and the arm bent backwards ninety degrees. I continued the incantation, and the arm slowly rotated on its broken elbow joint. I screamed the incantation, adrenaline pumping through me as I watched the limb contort in ways the human arm was not meant to contort.

But that adrenaline quickly turned to fear as, somehow, Porfiry managed to regain enough control of his broken and battered arm to bend it against his will and grab hold of my arm. And he squeezed. The pain was unbelievable. His inhuman grip tightened against all rational understanding of human anatomy, his backwards and broken limb crushing my own through an opening in the door. My incantation dissolved in incoherent screams and I lost my footing against the door. I felt the full force of Porfiry's body slam against the door once more, pushing me back and knocking me on my ass. I staggered back on my hands and feet as the infuriated Porfiry stepped through the door, his limp and cripped arm hanging loosely and contorting oddly under his control. He raised it up, his elbow cracking as further bones broke in this disgusting display of absolute power. He closed his hand again and again while he walked towards me, as if to say that what I had accomplished meant nothing to him.

Porfiry dropped his arm and lunged at me. Unsure of what to do, I raised the rag at him and decided to try the incantation once more, but Porfiry stopped a foot or two away from me. For a second I thought he might have been entranced by the sigil, but I was mistaken. I was mistaken because I had not anticipated direct intervention. I saw that Porfiry wasn't looking at me, but at the front of the church. I turned my head slowly, for the first time that night less afraid of Porfiry and terrified of whatever was behind me. In front of the altar stood the fully formed fiend himself. His eyeless gaze had fallen upon me in the middle of the pews. I stumbled over the invocation as my concentration slipped. I simply couldn’t stop staring at him. I don’t think I have ever really gotten such a good look at him before. Seeing him at the fire was nothing in comparison to this.

The invocation fell flat, and there was silence. Nothing but silence. He stood there watched, perhaps mocking me or maybe studying me. My arms at my side, my sigil wrapped around my limp hand, and suddenly I found myself walking towards him. I don’t really know what I was thinking. I don’t know if it was him or me that commanded my legs to move. Maybe he wanted me to come to him, or maybe I just decided I was tired of playing games and just wanted to rip open a new orifice in that stupid empty face of his, just to have the pleasure of ramming that alchemical symbol down his throat before he finally did me in.

The reasoning or the result I’ll never know. As I moved in my trance I heard a loud crash which immediately drew my attention away from the Slender One. Arkady had smashed his way through the glass window holding a burning Molotov cocktail whose bottle seemed suspiciously familiar. He hurled the bottle at the Slender One, who caught on fire. I heard a shriek behind me, and turned to see Porfiry hurl himself onto the ground seconds before he seemingly faded out of existence. I looked back up at the Slender One. Despite the fire burning across his skin, he seemed completely unfazed. Arkady grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out as I stared at the Slender One. The fire on his skin burst out around the ground with unnatural hunger, devouring the felt carpet and spreading across the whole of the structure. Jesus, the crucifix, and the rest of the statues burst into flames as black tendrils crept up them, slowly spreading the flames further and further.

I don’t remember much after that. It was the last image I saw, that of a pale-skinned Jesus bursting into flames, before I realized that I had blacked out. I don’t know how long I had been out, but I awoke back in my bed. Arkady and I discussed what happened. It looks like I have more work to do. The good news is that this experience may have shed some more light on the Slender One’s behavior. It’s possible that I may be able to refine my technique in dealing with him. But I don’t know if I can continue working at this pace. Every time I get closer to the answer, I come closer to death.

But please don’t get the wrong impression. I don’t fear death. I fear dying without knowing.

The story you read is only half of what happened. Specifically, my half. Arkady has also recollected his experience and written about it here.

As Always,
Love Under Will


Friday, March 18, 2011

Of Alchemy and Sigils

I apologize for my inactivity as of late. Surprisingly enough, the Slender One and his minions have actually been out of the picture since Porfiry’s capture and subsequent…well…whatever happened to him. My lack of posting has actually mostly had to do with creating new sigils to replace the highly variable and mostly untested “Operator Symbol.” Over-reliance on anything whose true effects are unknown is a mark of…well…under less difficult circumstances I’d say “stupidity,” but I don’t consider the people who use it to be “stupid.” Many of the blogs I’ve read have some rather intelligent people. I think there is a tendency to rely on the Operator Symbol because it is familiar, something to draw comfort from and give the hunted a sense of protection. But it’s simply too variable to rely upon. Too many questions, too many contradicting accounts. Seems to be a common theme running through these stories.

Thus, I decided to make my own sigil. It’s been a full week long adventure trying to figure out how to start and where to go from there. But the fruits of my labor have, I believe, born something that is certainly worth testing. I’ve decided to chronicle the thought process involved, mostly as a point of reference for myself in case this turns out to fail and I manage to survive. Hopefully this will not be the case.

The first issue is what kind of sigil I wanted to design. Though the Ars Goetia seemed the obvious choice at first given how I first came into contact with the Slender One. But I had relied on the Operator Symbol during that particular encounter so I cannot say for certain the Ars Goetia was directly responsible for his summoning. What I am sure of is that the Goetic Circle had some sort of effect, since in my first interaction with him he never appeared fully. I have some faith in the Ars Goetia, enough that I’ve invoked a Goetic demon to keep watch on my apartment, but whether or not the Slender One is a Goetic demon of some sort I cannot say. It would stand to reason given Tulpa Theory that he is, but then again that is about as valid an interpretation as the Slender One being an alien. So trying to recreate him in a Goetic sigil is too likely to be a waste of time.

I had considered looking into Austin Osman Spare and his Alphabet Of Desire to create a sigil, but as much respect as I have for the man I simply don’t buy into a lot of what he taught. The conscious mind, in my opinion, is hardly strong enough by itself to generate the sort of change the Zos Kia Kultus believed was possible. I’ve seen too many smart but weak-minded people break under the strain of practicing magick. While I did a cursory reading of a few of his texts (including the titular Zos Kia Kultus), I decided against using it.

Unsure where to go, I started re-reading some of my Crowley books. Perhaps it was a stroke of fate or good fortune, but when I had read through my third book and found myself exhausted and out of ideas, I decided to consult the Tarot. Yes, yes, I know its tainted with all that new-age non-sense, but believe it or not before it became the art of charlatans it was used a lot by Crowley, who invented the Thoth deck that many erroneously use nowadays, and actually had a use beyond pretending to see into the near future. In fact the Tarot is better used as a tool for divining the magickal currents in one’s own life and more how the currents of the universe were changing, and how the True Self was moving along its path.

The stroke of good fortune had less to do with the cards, however, and more to do with a book. Crowley’s “The Book of Thoth” contained information on how to properly use the Tarot, so I decided to crack open my ebook version of it. And that’s when I feel upon a passage which dealt with alchemy and its relevance within the Tarot. This in turn gave me a brilliant idea. I decided I was going to create an alchemical blueprint of the Slender One. If I could determine his alchemical composition based on what I knew, I could possibly use hexagrammic wards to bind individual components of his existence.

Crowley wrote that the ancients believed all existence to be conceived of the three pure elements. These were Fire, Air, and Water. These were not literal elements, but rather forces whose properties symbolized the basic characteristics of all matter. The alchemists of old (whose studies are more relevant to my own), likewise had a similar theory which dealt with three primary elements or forces. Sulphur corresponded with fire and represented Activity, Energy, and Desire. Mercury/Quicksilver corresponded with water and represented fluidity, intelligence, and transmission. Salt was considered “the vehicle of these two forms of energy, but itself possesses qualities which react on them.” Fire, air, and water would crystallize into a fourth element, earth, and together form of a Triangle pointed down with a single pendant hanging from its bottom point, representing the Earth fusion of all 3 points into one force.

So from here I formed a basic triangle shape with a pendent using the alchemical symbols, replacing Earth (the catalyst or combination forces) with the alchemical symbol for salt. I also utilized the Tau cross to represent the connection between Salt the element and Earth. It was the basic triangular format for all matter.

From this basic blue print I had to apply what I knew about the Slender One. For starters, his time signature was different. He is known to be capable of moving outside of normal space/time, which led me to look closer at the relationships between compounds. The interaction of Sulphur and Mercury (activity vs transition) would naturally lead to the formation of a salt component, but only when included with a Saturn solution (time). In other words, the salt component should, theoretically, be a function of transition and activity via time, right?

Salt = Mercury + Sulphur
Where "+" = Saturn
Salt = Mercury (Saturn) Sulphur

Except in this case, there seems to be inconsistency between transition and activity. Saturn only appears occasionally, and doesn't seem to be a function of the interaction between Sulphur or Mercury.

Salt = Mercury & Sulphur

This probably seems somewhat nonsensical, but all this really says is that the Slender One's ability to transition (Mercury) or provide motion (Sulphur) combined together (Salt) does not seem to be reliant on the presence of time (Saturn). Really, saying

Salt = Mercury & Sulphur + (Saturn?)

Is about as sensical as having a space/time bending tentacled childnapper.

At first I ran with the theory that his activity/transmission interaction happened parallel to the Saturn current, so that his presence in our own space/time dimension was an echo of occurrences within his own separate dimension, like it's own system in chemistry/physics. Formulaically,

Slender Salt = Mercury + Sulphur
Salt = Mercury + Sulphur + Saturn

Which can be simplified to

Mercury + Sulphur + Saturn = Salt =|=Slender Salt = Sulphur + Mercury

Where the symbol "=|=" represents a balance between both systems.

But even if his existence within our own space/time dimension were illusory, he would have had to intersect with our own from time to time to interact with the Hunted. And for him to intelligently affect the Hunted, he would have to have precognition of our own actions in order to sync his echoes with the Saturn currents to even touch the Hunted. It may be possible if he were to study us long enough to guess our patterns, which would mean he could refine his interactions with our space/time dimension the more he dealt with the Hunted until he could sync his echoes with our dimension to finally hone in on the kill.

This did have the added benefit of explaining part of why electronic equipment and such malfunctioned around him. If his echoes disrupted the normal space/time continuum it may be partly because he does so like a new kind of wave, which could very well cause interference with other kinds of waves (light, electromagnetic, etc). So his physical component is an element of his echoes outside this dimension forming waves within our own dimension, which manifest in a variety of different spectra (light waves of different wavelengths corresponding to different colors and thus manifesting as his appearance). But it also carried the horrifying implication that he could manifest in different places at once. His echoes could reflect multiple times across the current at once, meaning he could appear in different places at the same time, or even worse multiple times at the same place.

This could balance our previous equation a little bit better with alternative phenomenon. In his own dimension, the Slender One could have a different substance to travel through rather than Saturn, whose echo can be felt on our side of the equation as new phenomenon.

Mercury + Sulphur + Saturn = Salt =|= Slender Salt = Sulphur + Mercury + Substance X

The problem, however, is that there doesn't seem to be an equilibrium in the interaction between systems. He effectively injects himself and his substances into our dimension, including this Substance X representing interference. He does not remove anything from our own system, however, in order to do this. Furthermore, the Slender One is drawn to those who seek him out, and is not a phenomenon which involves itself upon uninterested parties. Children are the exception, certainly, but nothing about the way they interact with space/time would suggest that they are capable of something adults are not. He clearly enjoys tormenting adults even if he hungers for children. It makes his limitation to those involved in the mythos seem counter-intuitive to his actions.

I did decide to put that idea to the side as “possible, but highly unlikely.” The more I questioned it, the more complex that format seemed to become. So instead I decided to try a different approach and see if it made more sense. The following is more or less the papers I worked on demonstrating the development of the sigil. I used alchemical notation for Mercury and Sulphur, a pendant/triangle formation as described in the Book of Thoth, and then the astrological symbol for Saturn which is often used in alchemy. I then created two bindings, a general Tetragrammaton and one which utilizes the Key of the Abyss:

Please note: The Hexagrams drawn around the alchemical symbols (whose meanings can be found in Liber 777) are drawn in a particular fashion. The direction of strokes and order of triangles fits with the corrosponding alchemical substance's Hexagrammic Banishing Ward written of in the Hexagrammic Banishing Ritual, which can be found in Crowley's "Liber O vel Manus et Sagitae," a copy of which can be found here:

The next theory of mine seemed more sensible. It could be that the Slender One was composed of a completely different alchemical substance. I considered the idea that his Sulphur and Mercury components may both be fused under a different sort of substance, one with characteristics of both. His transition is a part of his activity. Because of this, his interaction with space/time (Saturn) would have to be different because it wasn’t a catalyst between Sulphur and Mercury. Rather, it could be a byproduct, that by mutating his activity he creates a Saturn component which inserts itself in the space/time continuum, thus making him highly malleable in terms of activity and in terms of space/time. This time rather than using the triangular format I merged the Mercury/Sulphur/Earthen Tau Cross symbol in a triangular wheel and from it I placed the Saturn sigil. I placed this sigil within the Tetragrammaton and bound it with a Saturnian Hexagrammic ward. If he has his own Saturnian signature merging with our own space/time, then it could be possible to seal his specific Saturnian signature in space/time:

And the thought process which accompanied it:

I found this theory to be more consistent behaviorally, because it made the Slender One capable of interacting with the Hunted more simplified manner (Occam’s Razor). But one major problem was that his activity and desire would have to constantly be in transmission for the two substances to be the same. While his activity component did change to some extent, there were also constants in his behavior which suggest some differentiation between the Sulphur and Mercurial components.

From the blogs, the general picture I formed was that his desires were the same. Children, torment, mortal followers…these were all constant. It was how he went about achieving these goals that changed. Which led me to my final adjustment. I realized that even if his goals could not be understood, the Slender One kept them constant. His interactions with the world, and how to achieve these goals, were very Mercurial. This led me to believe that the Sulphur element of his existence was in fact dominant, giving it more prominence. Running perpendicular to this is an interaction between Mercury and Salt, representing the constantly transitional nature of his physical existence.

His Saturn component then is not running parallel to our own space/time, but rather a byproduct of his ever-changing physical nature. And because of this, his location in space time is malleable as it is formed from his Mercurial transitional element and his physical Salt component, since his space time component represents his physical nature constantly in transition directed by his Sulphuric energy component. Though it does not explain why the Slender One need be summoned by the awareness of others, it is at least independent of this phenomenon. It could simply be that he is immediately aware of others being aware of him. Possibly even that he is not at all aware of those who do not know of him. It's worth looking into, but at least we have a basic blueprint to start with.

Giving me this completed sigil bound within the Tetragrammaton:

And now all that remains is to test my theory.

As always...a disclaimer?

Disclaimer: The above work is the product of Setoth, writer of the online magickal diary-turned-Slender One journal Vox93. This work is purely theoretical in nature and is based of the aforementioned author's understanding, interpretation, and experience with the so called "Slender Man Phenomenon" and the works and writings of Aleister Crowley. It is completely untested. Use at your own risk. Should anyone choose to use his works, Setoth is not liable or responsible for any damages incurred by those incorporating these sigils into their fight against Slender Man, including death, dismemberment, organ-rearrangement, or the death/dismemberment/organ-rearrangement of friends and family. This is true regardless of the Sigil's correct usage or misusage.

For best effect, it is recommended that users of these sigils read:
Liber O vel Manus et Sagitae
The Book of Thoth
Liber ABA
Message of Master Therion
Corrospondent sigils can be found in Crowley's Liber 777

And of course, The Book of the Law (Liber Al Vel Legis). It is the Law of the New Aeon, after all.

Love Under Will


Tuesday, March 8, 2011

”The Method of Science, the Aim of Religion”

“In this connection there was also the point that I was anxious to prove that spiritual progress did not depend on religious or moral codes, but was like any other science. Magick would yield its secrets to the infidel and the libertine, just as one does not have to be a churchwarden in order to discover a new kind of orchid. There are, of course, certain virtues necessary to the Magician; but they are of the same order as those which make a successful chemist.”
-Aleister Crowley

Since the events which transpired on Saturday, I’ve been studying this Slenderman phenomenon almost every waking hour. Arkady can attest to this, as I’ve woke him up a few times with the music I play when I bury myself in research. At least, I was studying him. I’ve had to stop simply due to the sheer volume of inconclusive data that makes scientifically approaching Slenderman nearly impossible. You see, there seem to be two different kinds of information available on him. The first kind is primary accounts of individuals fighting against Slenderman, usually presented in the form of journal entries. The second kind are write ups by individuals who create theories of how or why Slenderman behaves as he does. The second set has its uses, but beyond a certain point it becomes a game of wild guessing and meaningless conjecture because it simply cannot be verified. And to be fair, the only way to verify these sorts of things is to rigorously experiment on the subject, which in this case seems to carry a very high mortality rate. I most certainly do not have any inclination of dealing with him any more than I have to.

The primary accounts have also become problematic. There are so few direct interactions with Slenderman that there is no way to cohesively explain the seemingly contradicting behaviors of Slenderman. Take, for example, the “Operator Symbol.” There does not seem to be any sort of consensus as to how Slenderman perceives or interacts with it, whether it calls to him or acts as some sort of repellant. This is caused mostly by a serious shortage of hard data on Slenderman. Simply put, he tends to interact with others on his own terms, which makes studying him all the more difficult.

Likewise, we have no way of knowing how many individuals may have perceived something in him that could have resulted in conclusive information, but simply died at his hands (or that of his followers, of course) before they could report on any sort of journal entry or otherwise make this knowledge publicly available. Add to that a large number of “bloggers” setting up false journal entries about Slenderman as part of a writing hobby and we have a large pool of data which could very well be tainted.

Thankfully, that may be coming to an end.

Not too long after Arkady moved in, I started noticing myself being followed. A figure whose features I couldn’t quite make out had been watching the apartment intently. At first I thought I might have simply been playing tricks on myself, seeing things because of paranoia resulting from Saturday’s incident and a bunch of my reading. But I kept seeing him or her constantly, always in the distance.

I talked to Arkady about the figure. It didn’t take him long to verify that it was a character by the name of Porfiry. Arkady had some dealings with him, mostly beating him senseless and breaking various bits and pieces of/off him. Arkady referred to him as a “Slenderproxy,” a term that denotes mortals who serve Slenderman. I asked him questions about his behavior, which he obliged (sparing me no gory details), and if he thought Slenderproxies were normal humans or if they had changed. Arkady couldn’t say too much on the subject, but based on his descriptions I believe I have something I can go on.

After putting some thought into it, I’ve decided that if I can’t study the Slenderman phenomenon myself I can go after the next best thing. Based on Arkady’s experiences in dealing with Slenderman and the slenderproxies, it seems that the proxies have more interactions with Slenderman, and a very different sort of interaction. Given that they are (or were) human, there is at least a point of comparison that can be drawn, a base set of data that I can refer to in order to see if Slenderman has had any noticeable effect on humans on both a magickal and anatomical standpoint (besides the obvious, re-arranging of organs and so on). All that I require is a test subject. Arkady seems to think this Porfiry is no challenge, so securing him as a specimen should be no problem. Then I can start substantiating or refuting my theories. What a stroke of good fortune for a change.

As Always,
Love Under Will