-Sam- Once upon a time

It’s my sister’s tenth birthday today. It’s also been ten years since the first time I saw him.

(Happy birthday, Alice. Happy anniversary, big guy. Fuck you.)

This is where I could angst about how I never got a normal childhood, but that’s not gonna happen. I don’t even remember most of it. After the first time that blank white face appeared in the window of the maternity ward, everything turned into a horrible blur of nightmares and sickness and seeing things that weren’t there, or maybe they were, I don’t want to think about it. Sis got the worst of it. He was there for her entire short life, and…

god, she was so sick. My parents didn’t even notice and I spent three years trying to take care of a sick baby and myself and those were the best years of my life. Because at least I wasn’t alone.

It was her third birthday when I came home from school and no, no I can’t talk about it I don’t want to talk about it. I came home and they were all gone.

(He always shows up on her birthday. Every time.)

I couldn’t even recognize them as my parents anymore. Just a bloody mess on our bedroom floor. They died trying to protect her but they couldn’t. He always wins in the end. And my sister, my little baby Allie, was just gone.

Nobody ever found her body. The police came, the police left, the police convicted some innocent man of my parents’ murder. The newspaper had an article about a couple killed in their home. There was never any mention of a baby. Nobody believed me.

Did you hear that? Nobody ever believed I had a sister.

of course then they sent me to doctors and stuff. They tried to tell me I’d invented the Man because I couldn’t cope with my parents’ death. I…started to believe them, I think, in the end. He stayed away. There were a couple years where I didn’t see him at all, where I lived with my grandma who was nice enough but not really the mothering type, where I was almost happy. I was starting to get better, just a little bit. That should have been my warning sign right there. Maybe if I’d stayed on my toes, expected the worst, I wouldn’t have woken up at four in the morning last year on Valentine’s Day to the smoke alarms and flames.

It’s been a whole year. How has it been a year? It’s like a movie in my head, jumping out the window with nothing but my coat and shoes and glasses. Leaving everything behind. There was one moment where I turned around, I could have saved my grandma, but I just. I just didn’t. He wanted me to run, so I ran. I couldn’t stop.

I can never stop

-Sam

-Spencer- Team, I know I said...

That I wouldn't be saying anything about The Loop.
(In less eloquent a motion, of course)
But the boss is drinkin' and in a talkin' mood now and now that the delivery is done it seems that 've calmed down a bit.

If I keep sain' that, do y'think I'll start to believe it?

Loops. I fuckin' hate them. If we live on pages of paper in a stack then Loops are that little bit of space in between each of 'em. And I'm not sure what everyone else's Loops are like, but mine are fucking weird (READ: Understatement)

The package got delivered, that's what counts. Don't really like these guys; they're a peice of work.

"You realize that if you weren't needed for your services...." Black suit numero uno looked at me, and I found m'self thinking that they really need to wear nametags.

"Well, it's a damn good thing we're needed then, isn't it?" I was grinnin', o'course; this guy was eyein' August and it was pissin' me off. I'm far from short and was almost chest to chest with this guy until he pressed the package into my hands, stalking off in what I could only assume to be an arrogant huff.

"How's the Zeke situation going, by the way?" I called, and he gave me a glare of seething anger before tossing me a rather large stack of bills.

Wowee. If I couldn't deal with these guys, I could certainly deal with their cash.

"It's a thin line that you're treading on, _________."

He's lucky that semi passed by just as he said that name, or else...

Let's not get into that. From there, it was into the loop and-
And...

Sam still hasn't recovered. not surprised, o'course; it was her first time and sometimes it can mess y'up in the head for days or weeks 'till you're back to normal. She'll be fine.

... Just don't get it. Jus'don't get it.

"Guys, wait up a bit, can't y'see I'm stuck in a crowd here?"

"...Spence?"

"What?"

"Spence, there is no crowd. We're all alone in here."

Ahahaha.
Ahahahahahaha.

Maybe they didn't know'em.
There were four more in the crowd since las'time.

Why won't y'let me forget, y'bastard?

And every time, it gets worse.

-August- Return to Slender, guaranteed not to strike since ...

Now, telling you would spoil all the fun, wouldn't it?

I can't say I like this idea.

Blogs are connected to computers and computers have routers which have IPs which can be tracked by evil incarnate.

Speaking of the government.

Spencer, I don't know what in the world is going through your head while your brain floats in that moonshine I made for you well over a month back, (you're not supposed to drink it after more than two weeks, you idiot!) but this is a bad, bad, bad idea. You know I have beef with men in suits and not just the slender ones.

Hi there.

Name's August St. Claire.

I don't believe we've met.

I specialize in building and problem solving. Before I got caught up with the lush currently sitting across from me and downing another bottle of bourbon, (apparently now through my last five quarts of moonshine - Jesus man, how are you not dead yet?) I worked on a farm. We weren't your run-of-the-mill grain-and-leather harvesters, though; papa and I specialized in aliens. More specifically, crop circles and UFOs. To narrow the margins further: faking them.

It started off easy enough. Throw some paper shapes on the ground and arrange them until they make a pretty picture, the blow it up about 150 times and press it into your corn field. When people began to grow bored and the crop circles weren't paying the bills, we switched to UFOs. When those failed? Fake aliens, made out of chicken, pastries, and a whole lot of eggs and honey to hold it all together.

Let's just say that we got so good that we started getting a little too much attention.

You see, I've been followed by men in suits my entire life.

-Amanda- So The Boss Started This Blog

So Spencer thought this blog thing would be a good idea. Yeah, no, I don’t think so. But I might as well use the damn thing. Quicken the end or whatever the fuck.

So, yeah, I might as well make some sort of introduction for this doomed thing. I’m Amanda, that’s all any of y’all get to call me. That means you, Steele. I’m one of the poor fuckers who got sucked into this whole delivery thing. At least it pays well. Even if I have to deal with nutjobs all day. And then there are the customers. The poor, doomed idiots.

I’ll deliver anything you want, no matter what it is. Bones, blood, bodies, cryptic as fucking hell messages, I’ll take anything. Just have to give me something to make it worthwhile. And no questions. Never any questions. Got that? Good.

dghjaldsa.aq,as;

And that’s Poe, my crow. Fucker needs to learn not walk across my damn keyboard. Found him on side of the road one day. Apparently his mother had kicked ‘im out of the nest or something so I took that ball of feathers home. May’ve been one of the stupidest decisions I’ve ever made. And I don’t regret it at all.

So, yeah, that’s me. I have to go bitch at Steele about something or other. He deserves it for all the shit he does. Fuck ‘im.