Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Ticking (11)

Tim here.

I don't want to have to tell you this, but...
Max is dead now.

.....He was killed by a dead man.

You see, this is what happened;

We were eating dinner, and I was trying to give them survival tips.

The first goddamn thing I said was "Do not go anywhere alone."

Guess what Max did.

He went alone up the stairs to use the bathroom.

The next thing Nat and I knew, two loud crashing thumps could be heard, and a scream. The scream wasn't from Max. That was 100% Daniel. We rushed up the stairs as fast as we could, and found the door to Daniel's room splintered to pieces.

Inside of the room lay Max, covered in blood that was oozing from both sides of his face, was laughing.

" sure got me! hahahahah!"

The zombie stood over Max, and slowly said,

"Embrace the Archangel. Embrace it."

Max grinned.

"You think I'd come upstairs unprepared....."

A kitchen knife slashed Daniel's throat open, and Max laughed his ass off.

Moving the body off of him, and wiping the blood off the center of his face, Max called Nat and I over.

"Guys....I'm sorry..if I was a bit...rude, yknow?...Uhhh..I have to go now..but guys...listen...the Deathwatches..they've stopped, guys! They've fina-"

Max died trying to finish what he started.

We're glad we didn't have to tell him the truth.

The Deathwatches didn't stop...his ears had just been sliced off.

I don't know what to do next.

Three down, two to go.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Ticking (10)

Hello, fellow bloggers.

This is Tim. You may know me as the asshole that betrayed his friends, right?

I'm here to set the record straight...I didn't leave them willingly. Trust me.

I had to leave...I had to find answers.

And I found some alright.

I killed one of those Agents Peter was related to, and got my hands on some inportant info.

We're being experimented on.This is a mutual demonstration between the "Fears", as Peter calls them, and that Club Band thing. It's a survival test. They want to see how long until we are killed.

But I've found a way out. A weak point. Another door.

I don't know just appeared to me one day. And ever since, I've been lurking these city streets.

To my friends, they haven't seen me in two weeks, I think.

But to me,...I haven't seen them in months. Almost half a year, in fact.

I just kept running, and now I know a few parts of this place.

Of course, it's always changing, so in reality, I know nothing at all.

That fucker Peter. He's on The Fears' side. He's watching me blog this right now...hahahahahah

aren't you!? huh!?

I'll get you for killing my friends, Rob and Daniel!
the ticking's getting faster



like a heartbeat

like the drum of a heartbeat.

the deathwatches...I will drown them in water

drown out their sound

Monday, August 29, 2011

Ticking (9)

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Nat here.

Hickory dickory dot, the mouse ran up the clock.

I had a dream last night. Or, you could call it a nightmare.

Some person named BReather tried to tell me about something. We were in the middle of a rumbling storm, and he was shouting something. I don't recall what, but it was pretty damn important. Finally, when he got the point across, he pushed me into a humongous chasm.

I started to fall, and fall, and fall, for what seemed like forever.

Finally, I reached the bottom of the hole and hit the ground.

I wasn't hurt. This was a dream/nightmare.

But something was awake inside of the chasm. A monster.

And then I wo


guys, tim's back

outside the window, I swear!

lemme go tell Max

Tim's in the house.

He's gonna tell us what happened later.

First, he wants to sleep.



hes saying..something. Words are garbled.

went back to sleep. guess he was just excited

Tim's listening to the Deathwatches

he can hear them too

he has this look about him

his brown hair is burnt a bit at the fringe, there;s a fresh cut on his cheek...

what happened to you, Tim?

we'll blog again when the blog cals for it

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Ticking (8)

Hello. This is Max...the "jock".

I owe it to you guys to notify you...of what happened to my best friendd, Rob. While he was typing this, you see, Rob started to convulse. His chest started swelling to some enormous size, and feathers poked out of his mouth. Soon, his body was ripping apart.

His blood and the remainding parts of Rob's body have now ruined my prized couch...the very couch we had taken four days of hillarious misadventures to acquire. The carpet's also ruined.

o, I almost forgot to el you about the birds.

The birds that were ripping theirselves out of Rob's torso

they kept twirping,...they just would not stop.

I watched the light go out of Rob's eyes. His last words were;

Tweet. Tweet. My beak is ever so sharp....
i dont know whatthatmeant.

The birds disapeared...I think...I don't remember where they went, actually.

 Wahat's happening>

Why is it happening to us?


moving out of this room

Nat's whimpering in the closert I need to go comfort the kidd

comforted him, he's fine, I guess. Not crying anymore, at least.

Panicked. I sent emails to all of my friends.

No one has replied back....

all my friemds on facebook...have changed their pics

they're all shadow people, for some reason

if only Tim was ere...he was the leader of the groupo, really he'd know what to do

the rest of the internet hardly results load on google

not evenn for porn man


sorry, had to be a little lighthearted thee

i miss the tall man. at least he didnt kill us

bet all he wanteed to do was give us a guh

yes im drinking right now whjy do you ask nat

okay bedtime sorry

before i go i havbe tom ention

I hear it too.

The Deathwatches, as Stephen King called it in that novel Insomnia.

It won't stop.

I want to cut my ears off.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Ticking (7)

I feel weird.

I feel like whistling. I feel like...

I dunno.

Can't stop looking at the sky....and my fingers...they've gone numb...

Rumbling in my throat...

Brian's staring at me funny as I write this

finger...his fingers are mocking my typing

i can hear them



claws claws claws caws caws caws

ravens, blackbirds, eagles, firebirds, phoenixes

inside of me

a nest

somehow reached inside

when did i agree to this?

uhgggg I feel like my insides are about to implode

Nat's asking if I'm alright

I'm alirhgt, I'mfgsfdgfh

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Ticking (6)

My memory is fucked up beyond repair. I keep remembering a friend named Fred fixing up that bus, but I also don't remember him doing that. Like, listen; there's two memory lines in my head.

 (They're parallel.)

When I think of that time, I see both of the lines at the same time.

It's very confusing.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Brian hasn't been the same since yesterday night (?) I think. It's always dark here.

We were eating our small dinners when Brian gets up and fixes himself a glass of water. Somehow. Even though the house isn't connected to the original lay of land anymore, the plumbing in the house still works. After he drinks it...he...he started to act dumb. He couldn't lift his fork, couldn't chew his food...we had to pick the dude up and carry him to the couch, where he slipped into unconsciousness.

He hasn't woke up since.

Max and Nat won't stop fighting. Aghhh.

and the ticking...louder....

oh! Almost forgot to say...

The phones are working somehow.

But..the only thing that can be heard, instead of a dial tone

are birds. Endless chirps from an endless amount of birds, tweeting.

...hahaha tweeting...twitter...ha

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Ticking (5)

Holy shit
You….you won’t believe this. None of you will.
But I have to tell you, don’t I? Or that thing I see in my dreams every night will slit my throat with his claws and eat my eyes and save my kidneys for a snack later, right? That’s what’s
Okay, look; we’re trapped.
A few hours ago, we were brainstorming on what to do next when we heard one of the upstairs windows breaking. Heading up to the second floor, we find a hooded man in Daniel’s old room. The hooded man ignored us, and walked over to the exact place Daniel…expired at. The body’s gone, after we had stowed it away in the kid’s closet, but dried blood still caked the cold floor.
We didn’t say a word to the Stranger. We didn’t know what to say. There was this….presence that leaked out of him. We felt that if we had opened our mouths…we’ll catch flies so to speak. That if we open them, we’d be letting poisoned air in. We’d be letting a Presence in.
The man took his right index finger, and dragged it through the rusting blood. He traced the word “Embraced” under the symbol. For a second, he considered the triangles, and according to his mannerisms, one could have concluded he thought it was a job well done. But he looked back down, and hurriedly added the phrase, “Tune in, drop out” underneath.
The hood got up, and silently jumped back out the window, ignoring the fact that humans can die at that height. We knew better though; that thing was not human. It wasn’t even close to human.
But thanks to that thing, we have finally figured our location out.
Now, I wish we hadn’t.
You see, our house has been moved. Yeah, like The Wizard of Oz I guess, but our house isn’t damaged in the slightest. The house lies in the center of a gigantic square, formed by….
Four towering city buildings.
Yeah, I know. Crazy. Bet you’re going to leave the blog now, huh? Never think of this again, huh? But please, we need your help. Nat’s spazzing out again in the downstairs closet, Max seems to be suffering from Cabin Fever or some shit, and Brian is laying down on the couch and eating our last bag of potato chips.
And the ticking is getting ever-so-louder.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Ticking (4)

We never had a friend named Fred.
Max was looking over the blog, and we noticed that in the first entry we mentioned someone named Fred, who happened to be a mechanic. Honestly, I don’t remember who fixed that bus up, but it wasn’t a kid named Fred.
What’s happening to our memory? Is that tall thing fucking us up beyond repair?
And that reminds me; where the hell is he? Ever since we posted last, that….thing...has run off somewhere.
 It says something when we worry more when we can’t see it.
We’re still locked inside of the house.
And outside? What happened to the sun, guys?
It’s been night time for the last two days.
Also; ticking.
For the last four days, there has been this…noise increasing.
There’s a clock somewhere. I can hear it.
And it’s getting louder.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Ticking (3)

Okay, I should tell you who’s here before I tell you what’s going on.
First, it’s me, Rob.
Then, there’s Nat. He’s the most timid of us. Jumps at the slightest of noises nowadays. Breaks down when he sees or knows the Slender Man is nearby. That behavior is going to get him killed, for sure.
Max is up next. He’s the jock of the group. Can be a bit mean sometimes, but for the most part, he’s a cool dude. Likes to think he’s funny. Prone to cuss the tall guy out whenever he looks in the goddamn window.  The opposite of Nat.
Last but not least, there’s Brian. Definitely not the least. Brian’s….chubby. Not fat, mind you, but chubby, which is strange considering how much that fucker eats. Kind of a disgusting dude, but we love him anyways.
Now you know the gang. You’re familiar with  the dynamic of the house now.
Now I can go on. Gotta keep calm though.
We’re locked inside of the house.
Can’t get out.
Also, we have no idea what time it is. I mean, we’re pretty sure it’s daytime, but…
It’s completely dark outside.
What time is it right now? Eastern, if you can.
Oh god the tall guy is back.
He’s the onlylighthere.
He’s not leaving this time
Shit nat and max
Max and nat are having their little spaz attacks now
Slender is tapping on the window.
He wants us to open the window.
Max is opening the window.
I want to tell them to not open it
But can’t can’t can’t whispering inside of my head
how is he opening it anyway it's supposed to be locked

Slender is now tapping on max’s head
Tip tap tip tap
Tick tock tick tock
Max is bleeding profusely from the nose.
Slender is gone
Max is on the floor

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Ticking (2)

Fuck man Fuckfuckfuck.
Daniel’s dead. He’s deaddeaddead.
He killed himself in his room. It took us four hours to finally find the key to the door, and we find him dead, in a puddle of his own blood. He slit his wrists. With the blood gushing out from his wounds, he wrote the word “Embrace” on the window next to his bed.  
We can’t leave the house. We won’t leave the house. You see, whenever we look outside, we see the Slender Man hiding behind a tree across the street.
He’s taller than the tree itself, so there’s no point in hiding.
Why is he trying to hide from our gaze?!
I hate this. I hate this.
Tim still isn’t back. He hasn’t been back since last Tuesday. I hope he’s okay.
The clocks have stopped in the house.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Ticking (1)

Hi, my name’s Rob. I work as a…delivery man, of sorts.

You see, me and my friends had this old school bus. We found it one day near our city junkyard, and my friend Fred (the technical genius of the group) got it fixed up all nice and shiny.  After that, we rode around it for a few weeks, just stopping by towns on a road trip.

That was when we met this kid named Peter Rivers.

He told us that if we delivered random stuff for him during the next few months, he have us become very rich men. We, of course, didn’t want to believe him at first. But that was before he handed us a check with a substantial amount of money. 

That’s when we started to believe him.

Or not. I have a feeling that we would have ended up belie

Shit. Not enough time for a full description.

Okay, listen, the point is we took the deal. Like idiots.

This was January. The deal lasted until May.

It was great, okay? All we had to deliver were mostly clocks of various sizes. Pocketwatches, grandfather clocks, alarm clocks. Anything that ticked.
We’re not (complete) idiots though. At one point, we thought  we were transporting bombs, or hell, maybe even drugs.

But that didn’t fit. Peter mostly had us deliver to…old people.

Wealthy fucking old people. Like, they’re houses and cars and shit were just ridiculous considering their monetary value. Seriously.

Unless he had a raging fetish for blowing up old people, we severely doubt he was a terrorist of suburban proportions.

But I’m going off into a tangent again. Look;

The dude ran off somewhere. Left. Fucking left us.

We were out of the job, man.
And all the money promised? That we had for a few months and relatively squandered little of it? That one?

 All gone. Seized by this company that is so –legit-  it doesn’t even have to give us its real name. Instead, it has some retarded Beatles song or whatever as its name. Like, no joke. Really.

No money. No job.

We had some money left, mind you. But not a notable amount.

A month passed by with us slowly dying in the house we all shared…..we were all depressed. And the depression made us tired. Lazy. So we started surfing the internet.

And if you’re reading this blog at all, then I’m confident you know what happens next.

I discovered The Slender Man. And to make a long story short,

He’s real. We’ve all seen him.

So that’s what I’m here for. Help, I guess.

We’re scared, okay? We don’t want to die.

So, any advice or help will be very much appreciated.

(and soon...please....Tim's run off somewhere, and Daniel....)