Thursday, March 29, 2012

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

she was lonely and she killed herself. she didnt see the slender man, they said. she was just a lonely child.

and after that, our marriage fell apart. i started drinking and olga...olga cheated on me.

they showed me pictures.

i remember.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

how did hazel die? she killed herself.

they showed me pictures. theyre trying to break me.

why did she kill herself? slenderman did it.

why did she kill herself? paleman did it.

why did she kill herself? shut up shut up shut up

what are you running from?

Monday, March 26, 2012

why didnt we have any children? we had a child. she died.

hazel. hazel hazel hazel.

they showed me her picture. i spit in their faces.

please let me go.

i didnt kill her.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

i didn't kill her i didn't kill her i didn't kill her i didnt kill her i didnt kill her ididntkillher ididntkillher ididntkillherididntkillherididntkillherididntkillerididkillerididkilleridid
what are you running from they asked
and they gave me the answer:
the past

slender man doesn't exist they say
its all the past

fuck you
i don't believe you
fuck you

i didn't kill her

Thursday, March 22, 2012


"What are you running from?" they asked.

They strapped me down on the chair again and showed me more movies. This time, they were spliced in with news footage. Footage from my wife's murder. Footage accusing me of killing her.

They showed me doctored photographs of her and the "teacher" she was supposedly having an affair with. Of course they were faked. Anyone with Photoshop can fake a photograph these days.

They showed me interviews with "witnesses." I heard people call me "crazed" and "wild" and "wife beater." They showed me faked footage of me wielding an axe. I wanted to scream at them, but I stayed silent. I didn't want them to have the satisfaction. Eventually, I just closed my eyes.

And then they stopped. They turned off the lights and they asked me "What are you running from?"

"The Slender Man," I said. "I'm running from the Slender Man, you morons."

"What are you running from?"

They weren't going to listen to me. They were trying to trick me. It wasn't any use.

"What are you running from?"

I yelled at them to shut up. I yelled at them to let me go. I just yelled.

"What are you running from?"

The straps on the chair got tighter and the projector starting showing images of Olga. Olga from before she died. Olga's lifeless body. Olga's autopsy. Olga smiling.

"What are you running from?"

They started flashing Olga's picture, back and forth, alive and dead. Olga alive, Olga dead. Olga alive, Olga dead.

"What are you running from?"

I pulled away from the straps as they dug into my arms. I tried to break the goddamn chair. I screamed as loud as I could. Still, the image of her cold and pale face stayed on the wall, as if she was the one asking the question.

What are you running from?

What are you running from?

What are you running from?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012


They're allowing me access to my laptop. So I can tell you guys I'm okay. Stressed but okay.

I'm in a locked room. No windows, only one door. Just a mattress on the floor, no actual bed, so nothing I can use as a weapon. Every time they open the door, there are at least two of them, so they overpower me.

They've been showing me stuff. Films, mainly. They strap me to a chair and then show me some random clips of the ocean or something. I can see words interspersed, like this is a Clockwork Orange or something and they want to brainwash me. But they don't tape my eyes open, so I can still close them. That's what I do most of the time.

And then sometimes, they just project a light onto the wall and then they stand in front of it. I can only see a silhouette of a man then. Nothing else. Today, the silhouetted man told me that I was sick, that I have a virus that they can cure. He said he was going to cure me by telling me the truth.

And then he spun this whole web of lies, about how the Slender Man didn't exist, about how he was just an idea someone had come up with that somehow spread.

Then, to top off this entire charade, he told me I killed my wife. I fucking screamed at him then, but he was silent, didn't even say anything back.

He told me that Olga was having an affair with another teacher. That she was going to leave me. And when I got to the school, I saw her kissing him, which is why I ran into the classroom. And, apparently, murdered her. Which is so completely ridiculous, I started laughing at him.

And then they started showing me fake reports. Fake police reports about domestic abuse - like I would ever hit Olga, like I would ever do anything back to her. And then they showed me some fake testimony from the "teacher" that Olga was supposedly seeing - who was obviously an actor.

Because I know my wife wasn't having an affair. She was afraid for her life, because of the Slender Man. The Slender Man killed her. I know that. That's what happened.

And nothing they say can change what happened.

Monday, March 19, 2012

(Have a Cigar)

Do you know the truth? Can you tell truth from fiction?

What about the fiction you tell yourselves? The stories to keep the nightmares at bay, that keep you safe and sane? What about the memories, once forgotten, now covered, papered over with falsehoods? Can you tell truth from fiction when you have been telling yourself it is the truth for so long?

We will show you the truth, Adam Krug.

We will strip away the fiction.

We will open your eyes.

And you will thank us.

And you will see.

This is the best of all possible worlds.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

(Welcome to the Machine)

We saw you. We were always watching.

Welcome, Adam Krug. Welcome to the Panopticon.

This is the best of all possible worlds.
Fuck! They almost fucking caught me. I was sipping my coffee and suddenly I hear the door open and I turn to see three guys in, like, suits. I grabbed my stuff and went to the back door of the diner - except when I checked outside, I could see them waiting for me, van and everything. Finally, I went to the restroom where there was a window and escaped through there.

You guys are right, I have to be more careful.

Day Eighteen - Feeling Keen

I ditched the "Burning Chrome Plumbing" van. They looked left and I went right. Okay, it was slightly more complicated then that, but basically: I am getting better at losing tails.

I'm in a diner a few towns away from where I was. The coffee is good and there's free wi-fi, so I think I'm just going to stay here for a while. The refills are free, too, which is good because I love coffee and I have very little cash left.

Bye for now.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Day Sixteen - Mise En Scene

I've been finding these posters around the city. They say things like "Everyone Is Happy. Everyone Is Fine." And "Believe In Us. We Are In Control." And then they all end with the line "This Is The Best Of All Possible Worlds."

They look creepy and very much like 1984. I hope it's a viral marketing thing. I hope it's not real.

Fuck, I just saw the pizza van again. I mean, it doesn't have pizza on the side, but I still recognize it, especially since it followed me all that way. It says "Burning Chrome Plumbing" now, though. Weird.

I'm not taking any chances, though. Back to the road.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Day Fourteen - Getting Clean

I give in and got a motel room. God, the shower felt amazing. Do you know how dirty you can get with a week of not showering?

Nothing on television. The only book to read is the Gideon Bible and I don't feel like reading that. Nothing to stop the painful memories.

Olga. My wife. I don't know why he targeted her. I read that he likes children, but we didn't have any. We tried, but it never happened. But she...she was a teacher. She was always around children. I remember long days in the fall, helping her grade papers.

Perhaps that's how she first saw him. She never told me. We never used to keep secrets, but maybe she didn't think I would believe her. Perhaps I wouldn't have believe her. I don't know.

All I know is that one day she came to me and said she was in trouble. Not with the principal or the school board or a parent, no. In trouble with something else. Someone was following her, but she couldn't elaborate for me. We went to the police, but without a description, they couldn't really do anything.

And then, god, and then the visitations. The night visitations. I would wake up and find her gone from the bed. She would be out in the garden crying. She kept saying she was trying to stop him. Trying to stop him from coming back. I tried to get her to tell me who, but she wouldn't.

I finally saw him on a cold day in February. I was picking Olga up from school and I saw her in her classroom alone. Except then she wasn't alone. There was man with her, a man in a business suit. I tried to peek closer, to see if it was a member of the school board or a parent perhaps, and then I saw his face. Or lack thereof.

I ran into the classroom. I saw her crying. The Pale Man was standing in front of her and...I'm afraid I blacked out here. When I woke up, she was dead. Her body was spread across the desks. The police had already arrived and were trying to ask me questions. And the Pale Man was gone.

It felt good to get that off my chest. I guess sometimes you just need to get clean.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Day Eight - Not Too Late

I lost them and then they found me again. Fucking proxies.

I ditched my car. That's how they were finding me. I'm on a Greyhound now, getting the hell out of dodge. I don't see the pizza van anywhere, so I think I lost them again. Good.

I'm getting tired of running. It's not how I thought it was going to be, I know, but it's the loneliness. Sometimes it gets crippling. Does anywhere hear me? Does anyone read these posts? Perhaps I should comment more.

I can see in the Pale Man on the side of the road. Why does he just stand there? Why doesn't he just kill me? Then at least I'd be with Olga.

Can't think about that. Need to keep going.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Day Five - Stay Alive

I think I'm being followed.

It's a white van. It's a pizza van, actually. It has the name of the pizza company on the side -- it's called "All Tomorrow's Pizzas," cute, real cute. But it's been following me, I know that. I turned left three times and so did the van.

I need to find a way to lose it. I'm not going to get trapped by a gang of proxies.

I'm not going to die. Not tonight.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Day Four - What's In Store

I've been reading all these other blogs. Blogs about running, about stalking, about fighting, about dying.

I'm worried. Like, really worried. Back in my home town, I felt safe. I felt like I belonged there. I mean, I married my high school sweetheart. That's a cliche, I know, but I don't care. I married her and I loved her until the day she died. Until the day the Pale Man took her.

And now I'm alone and away from my home town. I have no home now. I don't know what the future holds. Probably insanity and death, if what I'm reading is any indication.

But fuck it, I'm pushing onward. For Olga.

Always for Olga.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Day Two - What To Do

Making my post titles rhyme amuses me. It's one of the few things that does now.

So, now that I'm on the run, what do I do? I've already taken out a chunk of my life savings from the bank. I mean, I don't want to be traced through my bank account, but I also feel kind of uncomfortable carrying a lot of cash. So I went and deposited it into several other banks. So now I have a nice spread - if one bank is compromised, I can just move onto another.

I also bought a hunting knife. I know it won't work against the Pale Man, but if any proxy comes after me...well, I'll wave it around and probably look incredibly stupid, since I've never stabbed anybody. Don't know if I could, actually.

I'm nervous about getting a gun. I've always been crazy about safety in my house and a having a loaded gun...yeah, that would make me super nervous.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Day One - On The Run

Something tells me that this isn't as easy as others have made it out to be. I slept in my car today, since I didn't want to spend the money on a motel. I woke up with a crick in my back that wouldn't go away.

Yesterday, as I finally left my home, left the town I had lived in for the past twenty years, I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. And then I saw him. The Pale Man, the thing who had destroyed by life, had killed everything I ever loved. He was standing by the side of the road, as if he was a hitchhiker, just looking at me as I drove.

I hit the gas and didn't look back.

Hello, my name is Adam Krug. And I am now officially a runner.