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
93/93
Previous/Next
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
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
93/93
Previous/Next
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
Oneiros
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
93/93
Previous/Next
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
93/93
Previous/Next
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.
Fuck.
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 fascinated...at 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
93/93
Previous/Next
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.
Fuck.
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 fascinated...at 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
93/93
Previous/Next
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
So,
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: http://www.sacred-texts.com/oto/libero.htm
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
93/93
Previous/Next
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
So,
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: http://www.sacred-texts.com/oto/libero.htm
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
93/93
Previous/Next
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
93/93
Previous/Next
-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
93/93
Previous/Next
Monday, March 7, 2011
Arkady
So, some of you may have heard by now from this guy named Arkady about our alliance. It was a weird situation. Apparently he’s on the run from some guy working for Slenderman and has ended up here in Austin. I guess the official term is “Slenderproxy.” I dunno, most of my studies have been related to Slenderman himself, but that’s another story for another time. Yesterday he sent me a message suggesting that we might be able to work together for mutual gain. He’s had a lot of experience dealing with Slenderman and his minions. The way I see it, having someone else on my side with that kind of experience could be pretty useful.
We decided to meet up and discuss living arrangements. I’ve agreed to lend him food and lodging in return for some assistance and his information regarding the Slender One. At first I thought this situation was going to be fruitful but…then I actually met him. First of all, for a guy who hasn’t bathed in either days or weeks, he is obnoxiously pretentious. Making references and allusions to Crime and Punishment gets old fast. He seems to think very highly of himself, like he’s some kind of ubermensch. Oh, and I’m pretty sure he’s an addict. He pops painkillers like they’re candy. I swear if I hadn’t experienced some of the things he was talking about first hand I’d think his brain had gone to shit from drug use.
But I suppose he could still be of some use. He’s really gung ho about fighting Slendy and this guy named Javert. Hopefully I can channel some of this for my own benefit. His obsession with violence could alleviate some of the stress incurred by fighting Slenderman off and save me a lot of effort. Plus he could distract Slendy's minions while I continue on in my research. And if he can buy me enough time to figure out a solution to this long-limbed bastard once and for all then double bonus points for me. He’ll be worth his weight in food.
So now we’re sorta living together. We’ve only got one set of keys, so he comes in at night when I’m already at home and back from class. He can eat whatever’s mine, though he’s not allowed to touch my absinthe. After what I’ve gone through, I need all the comfort I can get. Grabbed my old, smaller mattress from storage. It was mine before I got this apartment, which afforded me more bed room. He seemed depressingly overjoyed at that and the shower. Though in all fairness, I think we were both rather thankful about the latter.
Anywho, here’s to hoping this turns out to bring something useful to the table.
As Always,
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
We decided to meet up and discuss living arrangements. I’ve agreed to lend him food and lodging in return for some assistance and his information regarding the Slender One. At first I thought this situation was going to be fruitful but…then I actually met him. First of all, for a guy who hasn’t bathed in either days or weeks, he is obnoxiously pretentious. Making references and allusions to Crime and Punishment gets old fast. He seems to think very highly of himself, like he’s some kind of ubermensch. Oh, and I’m pretty sure he’s an addict. He pops painkillers like they’re candy. I swear if I hadn’t experienced some of the things he was talking about first hand I’d think his brain had gone to shit from drug use.
But I suppose he could still be of some use. He’s really gung ho about fighting Slendy and this guy named Javert. Hopefully I can channel some of this for my own benefit. His obsession with violence could alleviate some of the stress incurred by fighting Slenderman off and save me a lot of effort. Plus he could distract Slendy's minions while I continue on in my research. And if he can buy me enough time to figure out a solution to this long-limbed bastard once and for all then double bonus points for me. He’ll be worth his weight in food.
So now we’re sorta living together. We’ve only got one set of keys, so he comes in at night when I’m already at home and back from class. He can eat whatever’s mine, though he’s not allowed to touch my absinthe. After what I’ve gone through, I need all the comfort I can get. Grabbed my old, smaller mattress from storage. It was mine before I got this apartment, which afforded me more bed room. He seemed depressingly overjoyed at that and the shower. Though in all fairness, I think we were both rather thankful about the latter.
Anywho, here’s to hoping this turns out to bring something useful to the table.
As Always,
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Confrontation part 3
DAMMIT! He’s FUCKING WITH ME I know it!
I’m so sorry. Something slammed against my window this time. Hard. There’s no way I’m letting that fucking thing inside. I had to stop and inscribe the Tetragrammaton…well…I’ll explain further on down.
Last I left off, I was running towards my apartment. The fog was still thick on the ground, and by now I was sick and fucking tired of it. I’m exhausted by running and screaming and just…fucking everything. I’m tired of it all. Everything hurt so bad, and my legs were so sore that the fog felt like cobwebs holding my legs down. I stumbled through the dark and onto the road that led to my apartment, thinking to myself that the worst had to be over. But it wasn’t. It had really just begun.
In my defense, by this time I was so numb from my experiences that I wasn’t thinking. It took a while for me to notice at first, but I gradually came to realize that the street was completely empty. No cars, no people. Nothing. The police were supposed to be patrolling. No sign of them at all. I went from a slow run to a walk, and then just stopped together. No apartment lights were on. I turned around and looked for any sign of life, but as far as I could tell there wasn’t anything.
And then I heard laughter. Human laughter. It came from down the street at first. I ran forward to catch sight of it, but the laughing died down before I caught up to it. Then I heard it behind me, back from where I came. I turned around, and the laughter faded away. And then I heard it coming from everywhere. All around me, laughter filled the empty street. I couldn’t take it. I ran. Gods help me, I ran straight towards my apartment and never looked back.
I managed to open the door and slammed it behind me, locking it and then sliding down onto the floor. I was done. I was fucking done. I didn’t care anymore. It was over. The outside world could go fuck itself.
For about 10 minutes, I sat there in the darkness of my apartment trying to get back to a normal breathing pattern. My mind was too tired to even begin swimming through all the horrible things that had just happened. Suddenly there was a loud crash in my kitchen. I jumped up and backed up against the door. It sounded like something wooden had fallen against the kitchen tile. It took me a moment to realize it was one of the dining room set chairs my parents had given me. But that led me to wonder…what the Hell caused it to fall?
My mind gradually came to a conclusion too horrifying to accept. It was inside the house. It was in my fucking home.
I ran through the darkness into the hallway leading to my room, slamming against the wall with my shoulder as I clumsily stumbled around trying to find my way there. I traveled down the hallway, pushed against the door and opened it effortlessly. I flipped the light switch and slammed the door behind me, making sure to lock it. I fell back, too tired to stand up anymore.
I didn’t understand. What was it? What was fucking with my head? Did it want to kill me? Thousands of questions flashed through my head as I stared at my door in disbelief. What was happening? I crawled backwards on the floor over some paper. I looked down on it. It was the enormous print out of my Goetic summoning circle with the Operator Symbol in it.
And there it was. I’d come full circle. In my haste, in my arrogance, I’d invited this fucking thing in. But it had a name. I had given it a name. I knew for certain. It was Slenderman. It had to be. Nothing else made sense.
But I had a chance. I could fight it. The Ars Goetia brought it here, after all. I grabbed a nearby cloth, one I used to clean my glass table, and wrapped it around my hand. On it, I inscribed the Tetragrammaton, and bound within was the Operator Symbol. I was going to need this to finish the ceremony to banish this motherfucker from whence he came.
I set up a few candles in the parameter and light them and start doing the Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram with some modifications. At first things were going smoothly and I could get the incantation off. That is, until I heard something knocking at my door. The door to my room. I choked out the rest of the incantation as the knocking got more violent. A tentacle smashed through the door, tearing a fucking hole in the wood. It lashed out towards me just a few short syllables before I could finish the final Keys to the Abyss and wrapped around my throat, choking me and lifting me into the air. Two more tentacles came out from the darkness of the hallway, one grabbing each of my hands before I had much of a chance to move at all. I struggled as my brain was deprived of oxygen and the color gradually faded from my vision.
Somehow, I freed one of my hands, and thank the Gods it was the one with my Sigil cloth. Tetragrammaton firmly in hand, I grabbed the appendage around my throat. I couldn’t see what happened, but it let go. I could feel the intense heat from the contact between the sigil and the thing’s…skin? I don’t know, all I know is that it let go of my fucking throat and I could breathe once more. I almost wish it hadn’t. I almost wished it had fucking killed me, to spare me the sight. Dozens of the fucking tendrils had exploded into my room, slithering into everything I own from the darkness beyond. I had one shot at this. I kicked the candle at the edge of the summoning circle and onto the paper. The edge caught on fire.
Zazas, Zazas, Nasatanada Zazas! I breathed out, completing the last utterance of the Key of the Abyss.
The flames from the paper burned through the Circle of Solomon, and the tentacles pulled themselves off the surfaces, thrashing wildly in the air before catching on fire. Each one slowly started to burn and pulled out from my room, illuminating the rest of the apartment in a putrid green glow. I backed up into the foot of my bed, terrified as the darkness receded. I waited in silence for a good twenty minutes. I finally got up and looked out my window into the night. The fog was starting to dissipate. I started to feel like I was safe again. For now.
I spent the next half an hour up until these updates warding this room with Tetragrammaton symbols and Operator Symbols. My room is completely warded. I’ve religiously been reading up on Slenderman and trying to learn as much as I can. From what I gather, this isn’t over with. Not by a long shot. I’ve got plans to implement the Ars Goetia next as a final defense, this time with other demons instead of this Slenderfucker.
I decided to include a picture of my Tetragrammaton charm at the bottom. I’ve also included a picture of the original Tetragrammaton as a point of reference, I drew this in a hurry so parts of it might not be clear.
Jesus. I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry readers. I’m sorry Kal. I’m only glad that you aren’t dead yet. I’m going to figure this out, I promise.
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
I’m so sorry. Something slammed against my window this time. Hard. There’s no way I’m letting that fucking thing inside. I had to stop and inscribe the Tetragrammaton…well…I’ll explain further on down.
Last I left off, I was running towards my apartment. The fog was still thick on the ground, and by now I was sick and fucking tired of it. I’m exhausted by running and screaming and just…fucking everything. I’m tired of it all. Everything hurt so bad, and my legs were so sore that the fog felt like cobwebs holding my legs down. I stumbled through the dark and onto the road that led to my apartment, thinking to myself that the worst had to be over. But it wasn’t. It had really just begun.
In my defense, by this time I was so numb from my experiences that I wasn’t thinking. It took a while for me to notice at first, but I gradually came to realize that the street was completely empty. No cars, no people. Nothing. The police were supposed to be patrolling. No sign of them at all. I went from a slow run to a walk, and then just stopped together. No apartment lights were on. I turned around and looked for any sign of life, but as far as I could tell there wasn’t anything.
And then I heard laughter. Human laughter. It came from down the street at first. I ran forward to catch sight of it, but the laughing died down before I caught up to it. Then I heard it behind me, back from where I came. I turned around, and the laughter faded away. And then I heard it coming from everywhere. All around me, laughter filled the empty street. I couldn’t take it. I ran. Gods help me, I ran straight towards my apartment and never looked back.
I managed to open the door and slammed it behind me, locking it and then sliding down onto the floor. I was done. I was fucking done. I didn’t care anymore. It was over. The outside world could go fuck itself.
For about 10 minutes, I sat there in the darkness of my apartment trying to get back to a normal breathing pattern. My mind was too tired to even begin swimming through all the horrible things that had just happened. Suddenly there was a loud crash in my kitchen. I jumped up and backed up against the door. It sounded like something wooden had fallen against the kitchen tile. It took me a moment to realize it was one of the dining room set chairs my parents had given me. But that led me to wonder…what the Hell caused it to fall?
My mind gradually came to a conclusion too horrifying to accept. It was inside the house. It was in my fucking home.
I ran through the darkness into the hallway leading to my room, slamming against the wall with my shoulder as I clumsily stumbled around trying to find my way there. I traveled down the hallway, pushed against the door and opened it effortlessly. I flipped the light switch and slammed the door behind me, making sure to lock it. I fell back, too tired to stand up anymore.
I didn’t understand. What was it? What was fucking with my head? Did it want to kill me? Thousands of questions flashed through my head as I stared at my door in disbelief. What was happening? I crawled backwards on the floor over some paper. I looked down on it. It was the enormous print out of my Goetic summoning circle with the Operator Symbol in it.
And there it was. I’d come full circle. In my haste, in my arrogance, I’d invited this fucking thing in. But it had a name. I had given it a name. I knew for certain. It was Slenderman. It had to be. Nothing else made sense.
But I had a chance. I could fight it. The Ars Goetia brought it here, after all. I grabbed a nearby cloth, one I used to clean my glass table, and wrapped it around my hand. On it, I inscribed the Tetragrammaton, and bound within was the Operator Symbol. I was going to need this to finish the ceremony to banish this motherfucker from whence he came.
I set up a few candles in the parameter and light them and start doing the Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram with some modifications. At first things were going smoothly and I could get the incantation off. That is, until I heard something knocking at my door. The door to my room. I choked out the rest of the incantation as the knocking got more violent. A tentacle smashed through the door, tearing a fucking hole in the wood. It lashed out towards me just a few short syllables before I could finish the final Keys to the Abyss and wrapped around my throat, choking me and lifting me into the air. Two more tentacles came out from the darkness of the hallway, one grabbing each of my hands before I had much of a chance to move at all. I struggled as my brain was deprived of oxygen and the color gradually faded from my vision.
Somehow, I freed one of my hands, and thank the Gods it was the one with my Sigil cloth. Tetragrammaton firmly in hand, I grabbed the appendage around my throat. I couldn’t see what happened, but it let go. I could feel the intense heat from the contact between the sigil and the thing’s…skin? I don’t know, all I know is that it let go of my fucking throat and I could breathe once more. I almost wish it hadn’t. I almost wished it had fucking killed me, to spare me the sight. Dozens of the fucking tendrils had exploded into my room, slithering into everything I own from the darkness beyond. I had one shot at this. I kicked the candle at the edge of the summoning circle and onto the paper. The edge caught on fire.
Zazas, Zazas, Nasatanada Zazas! I breathed out, completing the last utterance of the Key of the Abyss.
The flames from the paper burned through the Circle of Solomon, and the tentacles pulled themselves off the surfaces, thrashing wildly in the air before catching on fire. Each one slowly started to burn and pulled out from my room, illuminating the rest of the apartment in a putrid green glow. I backed up into the foot of my bed, terrified as the darkness receded. I waited in silence for a good twenty minutes. I finally got up and looked out my window into the night. The fog was starting to dissipate. I started to feel like I was safe again. For now.
I spent the next half an hour up until these updates warding this room with Tetragrammaton symbols and Operator Symbols. My room is completely warded. I’ve religiously been reading up on Slenderman and trying to learn as much as I can. From what I gather, this isn’t over with. Not by a long shot. I’ve got plans to implement the Ars Goetia next as a final defense, this time with other demons instead of this Slenderfucker.
I decided to include a picture of my Tetragrammaton charm at the bottom. I’ve also included a picture of the original Tetragrammaton as a point of reference, I drew this in a hurry so parts of it might not be clear.
Jesus. I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry readers. I’m sorry Kal. I’m only glad that you aren’t dead yet. I’m going to figure this out, I promise.
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
Confrontation, part 2
I apologize for the abrupt stop. In the middle of my typing I heard something move just outside the window. Given the events I was in the process of telling you about, I’m not in any mood to fuck around and let things slide. I did some investigating, but I couldn’t find a damn thing. I guess now that that’s over with, I can resume from where I left off.
I heard the gravel shift from within the grotto, but I could not discern how or where. Everything around me was still empty, with no figure in sight. I took a step back from the altar as fear swelled in my chest and tripped on something. I fell on my ass and looked down at what I thought at first was a snake coiled around the base of the altar. Only I realized that this thing had no eyes, or a mouth. It was a long, solid black mass of darkness slithering across the floor, and it wasn’t alone. On either side of the altar, three, maybe four more of the long slick appendages slid out of the fog and around the stone construct in the middle of the grotto.
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream. I don’t know why I didn’t.
I scrambled on my hands and feet backwards, till my head bumped against the crucifix. I looked up at it as the light shone down into the room. The diffuse light of the lamps above the crucifix shone onto the fog and partially illuminated the writhing black masses in pale light, making them shift in the fog like the long fingers of some malevolent and incorporeal spirit, like shadow puppets bleeding into their hazy surroundings. It was at one with the mist, which took on a new and gruesome character with the arrival of these avatars of darkness. The tentacles slid downward onto the floor, getting lost in the heavy fog. I heard the terrible sound of gravel being moved again. They were coming for me.
I’m thankful that I somehow managed to maintain enough resolve to do something. With no way of escaping the grotto behind me, I did the only thing I could have done to escape. I leapt up, pushed down one of the racks holding the candles, and ran forward. I leapt onto the altar, eager to get my feet out of the fog and away from the tentacles that slid down below. I looked outside again, uncertain as to what lay out there. I couldn’t make out anything in the dense fog, but I knew that out there could be no worse than being stuck in here with those things. I leapt down from the altar towards the only way in our out of the grotto and immediately turned right as soon as my boots hit grass. Behind me, the all too familiar scraping sound became more pronounced. I scrambled forward as I frantically tried to make my way towards the stairs. Faster I ran as behind me, the slithering became louder, this time on grass and away from the gravel. I reached forward…and ran into the chain link fence. Suddenly, I was filled with pure terror. No, it wasn’t possible. The chain link fence was in front of the grotto. I hadn’t gone that way. I should have been at the stairs! How did I get here?
I screamed and kicked the fence, then climbed over it as fast as I could. As I hit the ground on the other side I heard something hit the fence. One of the appendages had ran into the chain link fence. The tendril slid upward along the metal links. I put one hand along the fence and ran parallel to it as fast as I could, determined not to lose my place again in this fucking fog. After running a good 40 feet, I leapt over the fence and ran forward where I was almost certain the hill sloped up towards the parking lot outside the newest dorms. Mid run I stopped and turned around. I couldn’t hear movement anymore. There I was, in the middle of this thick fog, and everything was dead quiet except for the beating of my heart. I took deep breaths and walked backward, slowly. My mind raced. Somehow, the silence was even more frightening than the damned noise those tentacles made. I had no fucking clue where those things were coming from. And then I slipped again, but not on a tentacle. My heel hit something hard, and I feel back…onto a flight of cement stairs.
No. No, the first time I mighta gotten lost in the fear and confusion but there was no fucking way that I’d gotten to where I was. This isn’t possible, and I swear by it. I looked up and sure as Hell, there were the cement steps, the metal handrails, and the dense foliage on either side above the stone walls. I didn’t understand how I’d gotten there, but I realized that I didn’t care. I could finally get up the hill and towards the damn street. I clawed my way up the steps til I got on my two feet and made it to the top. There was the sign with the familiar “Lady of Lourdes Grotto” written on it. I never thought I’d be so fucking happy to see those words written on a bunch of scrap metal before. My heart was racing. I was panting heavily, trying desperately to breathe again at a normal rate. But the fog was still thick. I knew I wasn’t safe. I had to make it back to the apartment.
Previous/Next
I heard the gravel shift from within the grotto, but I could not discern how or where. Everything around me was still empty, with no figure in sight. I took a step back from the altar as fear swelled in my chest and tripped on something. I fell on my ass and looked down at what I thought at first was a snake coiled around the base of the altar. Only I realized that this thing had no eyes, or a mouth. It was a long, solid black mass of darkness slithering across the floor, and it wasn’t alone. On either side of the altar, three, maybe four more of the long slick appendages slid out of the fog and around the stone construct in the middle of the grotto.
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream. I don’t know why I didn’t.
I scrambled on my hands and feet backwards, till my head bumped against the crucifix. I looked up at it as the light shone down into the room. The diffuse light of the lamps above the crucifix shone onto the fog and partially illuminated the writhing black masses in pale light, making them shift in the fog like the long fingers of some malevolent and incorporeal spirit, like shadow puppets bleeding into their hazy surroundings. It was at one with the mist, which took on a new and gruesome character with the arrival of these avatars of darkness. The tentacles slid downward onto the floor, getting lost in the heavy fog. I heard the terrible sound of gravel being moved again. They were coming for me.
I’m thankful that I somehow managed to maintain enough resolve to do something. With no way of escaping the grotto behind me, I did the only thing I could have done to escape. I leapt up, pushed down one of the racks holding the candles, and ran forward. I leapt onto the altar, eager to get my feet out of the fog and away from the tentacles that slid down below. I looked outside again, uncertain as to what lay out there. I couldn’t make out anything in the dense fog, but I knew that out there could be no worse than being stuck in here with those things. I leapt down from the altar towards the only way in our out of the grotto and immediately turned right as soon as my boots hit grass. Behind me, the all too familiar scraping sound became more pronounced. I scrambled forward as I frantically tried to make my way towards the stairs. Faster I ran as behind me, the slithering became louder, this time on grass and away from the gravel. I reached forward…and ran into the chain link fence. Suddenly, I was filled with pure terror. No, it wasn’t possible. The chain link fence was in front of the grotto. I hadn’t gone that way. I should have been at the stairs! How did I get here?
I screamed and kicked the fence, then climbed over it as fast as I could. As I hit the ground on the other side I heard something hit the fence. One of the appendages had ran into the chain link fence. The tendril slid upward along the metal links. I put one hand along the fence and ran parallel to it as fast as I could, determined not to lose my place again in this fucking fog. After running a good 40 feet, I leapt over the fence and ran forward where I was almost certain the hill sloped up towards the parking lot outside the newest dorms. Mid run I stopped and turned around. I couldn’t hear movement anymore. There I was, in the middle of this thick fog, and everything was dead quiet except for the beating of my heart. I took deep breaths and walked backward, slowly. My mind raced. Somehow, the silence was even more frightening than the damned noise those tentacles made. I had no fucking clue where those things were coming from. And then I slipped again, but not on a tentacle. My heel hit something hard, and I feel back…onto a flight of cement stairs.
No. No, the first time I mighta gotten lost in the fear and confusion but there was no fucking way that I’d gotten to where I was. This isn’t possible, and I swear by it. I looked up and sure as Hell, there were the cement steps, the metal handrails, and the dense foliage on either side above the stone walls. I didn’t understand how I’d gotten there, but I realized that I didn’t care. I could finally get up the hill and towards the damn street. I clawed my way up the steps til I got on my two feet and made it to the top. There was the sign with the familiar “Lady of Lourdes Grotto” written on it. I never thought I’d be so fucking happy to see those words written on a bunch of scrap metal before. My heart was racing. I was panting heavily, trying desperately to breathe again at a normal rate. But the fog was still thick. I knew I wasn’t safe. I had to make it back to the apartment.
Previous/Next
Slenderman is real. God...I'm so sorry Kal
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I just spent the last hour putting wards and pentagrams on pieces of paper taped across my room. Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram done at least 4 times. I don’t know if any of this is going to work. I’m just praying it does. The Goetia is next. Burning through candles like mad. Everything is completely fucked. Fuck. I’m scared.
If you’re reading this…I’m sorry. I owe you all an apology. I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up bad.
Lemme explain.
I finished studying for my accounting exam by about 9:00 at night. Deciding I’d had enough and I wanted to visit the grotto for some me time, I picked up my iPod and headed out the front door. The night was young, and I had a lot of listening to do. As soon as I stepped outside, the first thing I noticed was the fog. It was thick and covering the ground. I got excited, thinking to myself that I was so damn glad that the atmosphere was so gloomy and spooky. My mind flashed to the story about the boy I had posted just yesterday. All of this was perfect for Rosetta Stone. I closed the door, briefly considered bringing a bottle of absinthe with me, then decided that I’d rather just wait until afterwards. I didn’t exactly want to lug all the stuff I needed to prepare it, and I didn’t wanna put it in a bottle either. It would get warm without ice, but if I put the ice in the drink to keep it cold it would just water the mix down further.
Reading this, I gotta tell ya that I’m actually, genuinely laughing. Not four hours ago my fucking absinthe mix was the biggest problem of my night.
Jesus fucking Christ.
So I stepped out into the night. It was a bit cooler than normal, but still a bit too warm for a jacket. Fishnets and a t-shirt gave me all the warmth I’d need. I walked out of the apartment area and into the campus, slowly making my way to the grotto. The whole time, London After Midnight played through my headphones. I was completely oblivious to the world around me, enjoying the night air and the mysterious fog that playfully wrapped around my ankles as I stepped further and further towards the grotto.
I made it to the steps and descended deeper into the gloom, til I could make out the shine of the lamps above the cross in the grotto. The fog diffused the light into the air, creating a soft glow just outside the entrance. I stepped in and looked up at the crucifix hanging behind the altar along the back wall. The metal racks on either side held an assortment of candles, some lit and some snuffed out. Three bouquets of roses were placed on the altar, soaking in orange juice jugs filled with water. Clashed with my mood a bit, but I wasn’t gonna let a little thing like cheap plastic containers spoil my night.
So I stood between the altar and the cross, plugged in my headphones to my iPod, and started listening to the melancholic melodies of Rosetta Stone. I imagine I got through a couple of songs, but I dunno how long I was just listening to the songs. I was blissful and enjoying myself, lost in the music and the feel of the night. I don’t know why I was pulled out of my reverie, but at some point I had caught something indistinct moving in the corner of my eye. I turned around and looked out of the grotto into the dense fog. It had gotten thicker. I could barely see a few feet out. The chain link fence wasn’t even visible. In the distance I caught sight of that movement again. There was a shadow framed in the pale white mist. I shouted out to it, gods know why. I pulled my headphones out of my ears, wondering if he or she might be shouting something at me. But there was nothing, no response. I waved my arms to get their attention, but still nothing. Then, without warning, they faded into the mist, leaving no trace of their existence. I shrugged, figuring it wasn’t my problem. But I still felt uneasy. Something about this scene wasn’t settling well with me.
I approached the altar and stood between it and the cross. I laid my arms to rest against it and looked out into the fog, searching for any hint of movement. I don’t really know what I was hoping to see, but I couldn’t make out a thing. For once, I wasn’t so glad about this damned mist. My joyful mood was giving way to anxiousness and worry, and I wasn’t even sure why. What was it about the shadow I saw out there, somewhere in that endless abyss of dreary white? What about it had my stomach tied in knots?
Everything was quiet. A strange, uncomfortable sort of quiet when you’re expecting something to happen and it doesn’t, like watching something beautiful hanging on the edge and you know it’s going to fall and shatter into a million pieces. I waited in silence as the fog rolled and settled like a pale white sea. And then, I heard it. A rustling in the foliage somewhere nearby. It was faint, but getting louder. It sounded as if someone were making their way towards the grotto.
I looked around, scanning the nearby vicinity for any figures in the night. But I could see nothing. I leaned over the altar to get a better view, making sure to keep it between me and whatever was still outside the grotto. The sound changed, from a rustling of leaves and grass to something scraping across gravel, but I still couldn’t see a damn thing. But then I realized something. Something terrible, which made my stomach turn as I struggled to keep down its contents. If it was scraping across stone and gravel, it had to be inside the grotto with me.
Previous/Next
I just spent the last hour putting wards and pentagrams on pieces of paper taped across my room. Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram done at least 4 times. I don’t know if any of this is going to work. I’m just praying it does. The Goetia is next. Burning through candles like mad. Everything is completely fucked. Fuck. I’m scared.
If you’re reading this…I’m sorry. I owe you all an apology. I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up bad.
Lemme explain.
I finished studying for my accounting exam by about 9:00 at night. Deciding I’d had enough and I wanted to visit the grotto for some me time, I picked up my iPod and headed out the front door. The night was young, and I had a lot of listening to do. As soon as I stepped outside, the first thing I noticed was the fog. It was thick and covering the ground. I got excited, thinking to myself that I was so damn glad that the atmosphere was so gloomy and spooky. My mind flashed to the story about the boy I had posted just yesterday. All of this was perfect for Rosetta Stone. I closed the door, briefly considered bringing a bottle of absinthe with me, then decided that I’d rather just wait until afterwards. I didn’t exactly want to lug all the stuff I needed to prepare it, and I didn’t wanna put it in a bottle either. It would get warm without ice, but if I put the ice in the drink to keep it cold it would just water the mix down further.
Reading this, I gotta tell ya that I’m actually, genuinely laughing. Not four hours ago my fucking absinthe mix was the biggest problem of my night.
Jesus fucking Christ.
So I stepped out into the night. It was a bit cooler than normal, but still a bit too warm for a jacket. Fishnets and a t-shirt gave me all the warmth I’d need. I walked out of the apartment area and into the campus, slowly making my way to the grotto. The whole time, London After Midnight played through my headphones. I was completely oblivious to the world around me, enjoying the night air and the mysterious fog that playfully wrapped around my ankles as I stepped further and further towards the grotto.
I made it to the steps and descended deeper into the gloom, til I could make out the shine of the lamps above the cross in the grotto. The fog diffused the light into the air, creating a soft glow just outside the entrance. I stepped in and looked up at the crucifix hanging behind the altar along the back wall. The metal racks on either side held an assortment of candles, some lit and some snuffed out. Three bouquets of roses were placed on the altar, soaking in orange juice jugs filled with water. Clashed with my mood a bit, but I wasn’t gonna let a little thing like cheap plastic containers spoil my night.
So I stood between the altar and the cross, plugged in my headphones to my iPod, and started listening to the melancholic melodies of Rosetta Stone. I imagine I got through a couple of songs, but I dunno how long I was just listening to the songs. I was blissful and enjoying myself, lost in the music and the feel of the night. I don’t know why I was pulled out of my reverie, but at some point I had caught something indistinct moving in the corner of my eye. I turned around and looked out of the grotto into the dense fog. It had gotten thicker. I could barely see a few feet out. The chain link fence wasn’t even visible. In the distance I caught sight of that movement again. There was a shadow framed in the pale white mist. I shouted out to it, gods know why. I pulled my headphones out of my ears, wondering if he or she might be shouting something at me. But there was nothing, no response. I waved my arms to get their attention, but still nothing. Then, without warning, they faded into the mist, leaving no trace of their existence. I shrugged, figuring it wasn’t my problem. But I still felt uneasy. Something about this scene wasn’t settling well with me.
I approached the altar and stood between it and the cross. I laid my arms to rest against it and looked out into the fog, searching for any hint of movement. I don’t really know what I was hoping to see, but I couldn’t make out a thing. For once, I wasn’t so glad about this damned mist. My joyful mood was giving way to anxiousness and worry, and I wasn’t even sure why. What was it about the shadow I saw out there, somewhere in that endless abyss of dreary white? What about it had my stomach tied in knots?
Everything was quiet. A strange, uncomfortable sort of quiet when you’re expecting something to happen and it doesn’t, like watching something beautiful hanging on the edge and you know it’s going to fall and shatter into a million pieces. I waited in silence as the fog rolled and settled like a pale white sea. And then, I heard it. A rustling in the foliage somewhere nearby. It was faint, but getting louder. It sounded as if someone were making their way towards the grotto.
I looked around, scanning the nearby vicinity for any figures in the night. But I could see nothing. I leaned over the altar to get a better view, making sure to keep it between me and whatever was still outside the grotto. The sound changed, from a rustling of leaves and grass to something scraping across gravel, but I still couldn’t see a damn thing. But then I realized something. Something terrible, which made my stomach turn as I struggled to keep down its contents. If it was scraping across stone and gravel, it had to be inside the grotto with me.
Previous/Next
Friday, March 4, 2011
Quick Random Update
So I got a brand new CD in. Rosetta Stone's Adrenaline Deluxe! It's a fantastic album! I love it, it's a bit like Fields of the Nephilim but got a bit more rock 'n roll and less of a Western feel to it. I really, really dig this album! So many good songs so far, like this one.
Now, usually when I get a new album I like to really immerse myself in it. Usually this means finding some good, atmospheric place to listen for a little while. Every single song on the album gets at least one play through. It's kinda hard to pull off on a relatively boring campus like my own, but there is one place that I can think of where listening to Rosetta Stone would be perfect. Our university has this "grotto" that's like a mini prayer/worship area. It's small and made of stone, cut into part of the large hill. Inside is a single altar for the worship area and some cherubs and such in the masonry. The back wall has an enormous crucifix and a large metal stand that holds a bunch of candles. There's a statue outside of I think the virgin Mary.
Basically the grotto is situated between the soccer field/track and the rest of the campus, facing the soccer field. There's a set of stairs leading down the hill to the soccer field. When you hit the bottom of the stone steps, you can go straight and make it to the benches in front of the track. But to your left at the bottom of the steps is the grotto. I took some pictures of it a while back with a terrible camera when I was out with some friends.
I know! So delightfully Goth, and perfect for Rosetta Stone. I apologize for the lighting, and that I snapped the photos rather quickly. But I think you get the general idea. It's beautiful. Tonight I'm gonna be busy, but tomorrow is National Absinthe Day, so I can't imagine anything better than going to the grotto with a bottle of my favorite drink in the whole world and rock out to Rosetta Stone til way too early in the morning. I'm getting excited just thinking about it!
Oh, there was something else that deserves mention. When I was going through freshman orientation, one of the alumni got all the incoming freshman together and started telling them all sorts of ghost stories about the campus. My favorite one actually took place in the grotto! The story goes like this; two students from the university were walking back from the soccer field to their dorms late one night. One of the students, having just finished a strenuous run, decided he wanted to stop and take a rest at the grotto. The two sat down and started chatting, and all of the sudden an eerie fog appeared. The fog was so thick that they could only see a few feet out, not even far enough to spot the chain link fence surrounding the track. Everything seemed empty and desolate. Both boys were nervous, but neither wanted to tell the other how scared they were, and so they told jokes to disguise their anxiousness. As their laughter died down, the boys heard footsteps coming down the cement steps. Both stood up and watched a younger student emerge from the fog. The two boys introduced themselves to the new arrival. The boy shook their hands and introduced himself as well. He was a new student who was eager to start classes and make new friends.
The three of them sat down on the benches and started talking. All three had a fondness for soccer, which occupied most of the discussion. Then the newcomer started asking questions about professors and opinions on different classes, which the other two were more than eager to give advice about. The discussions went on as the boys, wrapped up in their pleasant conversation, lost all track of time. Eventually, the youngest boy stood up and stretched. He told the other two that he had greatly enjoyed the conversation, but it was time for him to leave. The other two, concerned, asked him if he was so sure he wanted to leave while the fog was still thick. The newcomer smiled at them both and told them he was sure he would be able to make his way back. He turned around and walked out into the mist, but before he was lost in its murky depths he shouted back at them to be careful, because it was going to start raining soon. Both boys felt a chill run down their spine as the third disappeared into the night, but neither was willing to admit that they were slightly afraid at the strange warning the boy had given them. They sat down and went back to discussing classes when, not five minutes after the newcomer had left, they heard a thunderclap in the distance. Both boys stood up and scrambled up the hill, hoping to outrun the rain.
The next morning, both boys kept an eye out for the new student, but never found him. They asked around, but no one knew of anyone who fit the description. They eventually started asking about the boy by name, and no one had ever heard of anyone by that name before. That is, until they asked a friend they met up with at the library. The librarian overheard their conversation and seemed very dismayed, asking the two boys about the newcomer. When they described him, the librarian's face turned pale. She took the boys up to the old news archive and pulled out a newspaper. There was a picture of him in a newspaper published six years earlier. The story had been written a few weeks into the semester of his first year in college. He had been walking home late one foggy night from a soccer field when, while crossing the street above the grotto to head back to his dorm, he was struck by a car traveling too fast to see him in the mist. The boy had been pronounced dead at the scene.
I don't put much belief in the story myself. Seems like the kind of thing they tell freshmen as part of the bonding experience, but just the same it was really freaking cool and totally adds to the spooky atmosphere. Maybe Rosetta Stone will bring out the ghost of that mysterious boy?
Here's to partying with the restless dead.
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
Now, usually when I get a new album I like to really immerse myself in it. Usually this means finding some good, atmospheric place to listen for a little while. Every single song on the album gets at least one play through. It's kinda hard to pull off on a relatively boring campus like my own, but there is one place that I can think of where listening to Rosetta Stone would be perfect. Our university has this "grotto" that's like a mini prayer/worship area. It's small and made of stone, cut into part of the large hill. Inside is a single altar for the worship area and some cherubs and such in the masonry. The back wall has an enormous crucifix and a large metal stand that holds a bunch of candles. There's a statue outside of I think the virgin Mary.
Basically the grotto is situated between the soccer field/track and the rest of the campus, facing the soccer field. There's a set of stairs leading down the hill to the soccer field. When you hit the bottom of the stone steps, you can go straight and make it to the benches in front of the track. But to your left at the bottom of the steps is the grotto. I took some pictures of it a while back with a terrible camera when I was out with some friends.
I know! So delightfully Goth, and perfect for Rosetta Stone. I apologize for the lighting, and that I snapped the photos rather quickly. But I think you get the general idea. It's beautiful. Tonight I'm gonna be busy, but tomorrow is National Absinthe Day, so I can't imagine anything better than going to the grotto with a bottle of my favorite drink in the whole world and rock out to Rosetta Stone til way too early in the morning. I'm getting excited just thinking about it!
Oh, there was something else that deserves mention. When I was going through freshman orientation, one of the alumni got all the incoming freshman together and started telling them all sorts of ghost stories about the campus. My favorite one actually took place in the grotto! The story goes like this; two students from the university were walking back from the soccer field to their dorms late one night. One of the students, having just finished a strenuous run, decided he wanted to stop and take a rest at the grotto. The two sat down and started chatting, and all of the sudden an eerie fog appeared. The fog was so thick that they could only see a few feet out, not even far enough to spot the chain link fence surrounding the track. Everything seemed empty and desolate. Both boys were nervous, but neither wanted to tell the other how scared they were, and so they told jokes to disguise their anxiousness. As their laughter died down, the boys heard footsteps coming down the cement steps. Both stood up and watched a younger student emerge from the fog. The two boys introduced themselves to the new arrival. The boy shook their hands and introduced himself as well. He was a new student who was eager to start classes and make new friends.
The three of them sat down on the benches and started talking. All three had a fondness for soccer, which occupied most of the discussion. Then the newcomer started asking questions about professors and opinions on different classes, which the other two were more than eager to give advice about. The discussions went on as the boys, wrapped up in their pleasant conversation, lost all track of time. Eventually, the youngest boy stood up and stretched. He told the other two that he had greatly enjoyed the conversation, but it was time for him to leave. The other two, concerned, asked him if he was so sure he wanted to leave while the fog was still thick. The newcomer smiled at them both and told them he was sure he would be able to make his way back. He turned around and walked out into the mist, but before he was lost in its murky depths he shouted back at them to be careful, because it was going to start raining soon. Both boys felt a chill run down their spine as the third disappeared into the night, but neither was willing to admit that they were slightly afraid at the strange warning the boy had given them. They sat down and went back to discussing classes when, not five minutes after the newcomer had left, they heard a thunderclap in the distance. Both boys stood up and scrambled up the hill, hoping to outrun the rain.
The next morning, both boys kept an eye out for the new student, but never found him. They asked around, but no one knew of anyone who fit the description. They eventually started asking about the boy by name, and no one had ever heard of anyone by that name before. That is, until they asked a friend they met up with at the library. The librarian overheard their conversation and seemed very dismayed, asking the two boys about the newcomer. When they described him, the librarian's face turned pale. She took the boys up to the old news archive and pulled out a newspaper. There was a picture of him in a newspaper published six years earlier. The story had been written a few weeks into the semester of his first year in college. He had been walking home late one foggy night from a soccer field when, while crossing the street above the grotto to head back to his dorm, he was struck by a car traveling too fast to see him in the mist. The boy had been pronounced dead at the scene.
I don't put much belief in the story myself. Seems like the kind of thing they tell freshmen as part of the bonding experience, but just the same it was really freaking cool and totally adds to the spooky atmosphere. Maybe Rosetta Stone will bring out the ghost of that mysterious boy?
Here's to partying with the restless dead.
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
HELP I'M BEING STALKED BY SLENDERMAN! WHAT DO I DO?!?! FUCK!!!!!
Hah! Saps. Half of you read the title and clicked thinking OMFG THIS FICTIONAL INTERNET CONSTRUCT HAS STRUCK AGAIN!!!!!!
Alright, so lemme give this a bit of context. Remember my arthaus post? Well it seems to have gotten the better of me! I was trolling the net for interesting indie horror films because I’m tired of the drivel that gets presented in modern day horror cinema. My ideal horror film experience does not involve watching people get tortured for an hour and a half. Sorry “Saw” and “Hostel.” Anywho, one I kept seeing referred to online was this flick called “Marble Hornets.” So I checked it out and…would you believe it, it was that Slenderman stuff Kal sent me! A live action film and everything! I highly recommend it if you haven’t seen it. Just youtube Marble Hornets, it’ll lead you to the channel. It’s a series of rather well done short videos about this Slenderman character. I wasn’t all that taken with Slenderman himself, but I absolutely adored ToTheArk and his films. The director made some brilliant stylistic choices!
Anywho, the troll baiting is there because as I went to see if there were any other directors making movies like this (similar to the Hellraiser series getting licensed to a bunch of people…though admittedly only the ones officially done by Clive Barker were any good), I stumbled upon this bizarre community and…get this…people actually BELIEVE this shit. I’m all for IC stuff, I play RPGs plenty. And for a second that’s what I thought was going on but…no. No people actually think he exists. That's why Kal got so encouraged I'm sure. So the title was there to freak out any of those lunatics who religiously google search Slenderman to find out who he’s been stalking lately.
Guys, seriously. Get a life. Go outside.
No? Alright. I'll make you a deal.
See this?
THIS is the Circle of Solomon. Beautiful design. It's used in the Ars Goetia and a bunch of other rituals. And that thingy in the middle is apparently called "the Operator Symbol." I guess it does something fancy and Slendy related. So you paranoid rocket scientists who are just now putting two and two together can probably guess what I've got planned. That's right, I'm going to summon Slenderman. Oh and this has been carefully thought out, for all you detail oriented losers out there. Consider the Tulpa theory, as explained in (Slenderia).
See, if Slenderman exists because he exists as a thoughtform, then the Ars Goetia is a perfect choice for bringing him forth. As you might have read in a previous blog of mine the Ars Goetia is believed to summon "internal demons" or archetypes from the mind. So it should bring Slendy right to me. Bonus points if you believe in that absurd Crowley variant of the Tulpa theory. So the plan is to print this baby out on larger paper from the office later tonight and finish the ritual. Office won't notice the large paper so we're good!
I expect you dorks to type me up messages about how I'm playing with fire and dooming myself to certain death, yadda yadda yadda. I'm going to ignore these. And continue with the ritual. And I assure you that weeks, months, and even years from now I'll still be alive. Or if I'm not, it won't be due to Slender-related causes.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go out and talk to human beings. Because that's what people do when they aren't imaging themselves to be the targets of fictional horror monsters.
As always,
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
Alright, so lemme give this a bit of context. Remember my arthaus post? Well it seems to have gotten the better of me! I was trolling the net for interesting indie horror films because I’m tired of the drivel that gets presented in modern day horror cinema. My ideal horror film experience does not involve watching people get tortured for an hour and a half. Sorry “Saw” and “Hostel.” Anywho, one I kept seeing referred to online was this flick called “Marble Hornets.” So I checked it out and…would you believe it, it was that Slenderman stuff Kal sent me! A live action film and everything! I highly recommend it if you haven’t seen it. Just youtube Marble Hornets, it’ll lead you to the channel. It’s a series of rather well done short videos about this Slenderman character. I wasn’t all that taken with Slenderman himself, but I absolutely adored ToTheArk and his films. The director made some brilliant stylistic choices!
Anywho, the troll baiting is there because as I went to see if there were any other directors making movies like this (similar to the Hellraiser series getting licensed to a bunch of people…though admittedly only the ones officially done by Clive Barker were any good), I stumbled upon this bizarre community and…get this…people actually BELIEVE this shit. I’m all for IC stuff, I play RPGs plenty. And for a second that’s what I thought was going on but…no. No people actually think he exists. That's why Kal got so encouraged I'm sure. So the title was there to freak out any of those lunatics who religiously google search Slenderman to find out who he’s been stalking lately.
Guys, seriously. Get a life. Go outside.
No? Alright. I'll make you a deal.
See this?
THIS is the Circle of Solomon. Beautiful design. It's used in the Ars Goetia and a bunch of other rituals. And that thingy in the middle is apparently called "the Operator Symbol." I guess it does something fancy and Slendy related. So you paranoid rocket scientists who are just now putting two and two together can probably guess what I've got planned. That's right, I'm going to summon Slenderman. Oh and this has been carefully thought out, for all you detail oriented losers out there. Consider the Tulpa theory, as explained in (Slenderia).
See, if Slenderman exists because he exists as a thoughtform, then the Ars Goetia is a perfect choice for bringing him forth. As you might have read in a previous blog of mine the Ars Goetia is believed to summon "internal demons" or archetypes from the mind. So it should bring Slendy right to me. Bonus points if you believe in that absurd Crowley variant of the Tulpa theory. So the plan is to print this baby out on larger paper from the office later tonight and finish the ritual. Office won't notice the large paper so we're good!
I expect you dorks to type me up messages about how I'm playing with fire and dooming myself to certain death, yadda yadda yadda. I'm going to ignore these. And continue with the ritual. And I assure you that weeks, months, and even years from now I'll still be alive. Or if I'm not, it won't be due to Slender-related causes.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go out and talk to human beings. Because that's what people do when they aren't imaging themselves to be the targets of fictional horror monsters.
As always,
Love Under Will
93/93
Previous/Next
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)