A collection of Slender Man creepypasta, or short frightening stories.


Der Großmann

Oh kay… That is creepy. Where did the Slender Man come from? Did his idea spontaneously come to us on SAF?

I've been following the signs for quite some time.

There are woodcuts dated back to the 16th century in Germany featuring a tall, disfigured man with only white spheres where his eyes should be. They called him "Der Großmann" [Sic], the tall man.
He was a fairy who lived in the Black Forest. Bad children who crept into the woods at night would be chased by Der Großmann, and he wouldn't leave them alone until he caught them, or the child told the parents what he or she had done.


Even then, there is this chilling account from an old journal, dating around 1702:
(Translated from German, some words may be inaccurate)

"My child, my Lars… he is gone. Taken, from his bed. The only thing that we found was a scrap of black clothing. It feels like cotton, but it is softer… thicker.
Lars came into my bedroom yesterday, screaming at the top of his lungs that "The angel is outside!" I asked him what he was talking about, and he told me some nonsense fairy story about Der Großmann. He said he went into the groves by our village and found one of my cows dead, hanging from a tree.
I thought nothing of it at first…But now, he is gone. We must find Lars, and my family must leave before we are killed. I am sorry my son…I should have listened. May God forgive me."

There is more evidence of the slender man, but this is one of the oldest translatable accounts. Anyone else in the thread found anything like this?

The Tall Man

I know of an old Romanian fairy tale, highly unpopular even in its earliest iterations. It might be based on a particular event, or perhaps it is an extrapolation from existing Slender Man stories. The translation I'm most familiar with goes a bit like this:

Once upon a time there were twin girls, Stela and Sorina. They were brave little girls, and had no fear of the dark, nor of spiders and other crawling things. Where other young ladies and even young boys would cower, Stela and Sorina would walk with their heads held high. They were good girls, obedient to their mother and father and to the word of God. They were the best children a mother could ask for, and this was their undoing.

One day, Stela and Sorina were out with their mother gathering berries from the forest. Their mother bid them stay close to her, and they listened, as they were good children. The day was bright and clear, and even as they walked closer to the center of the forest the light barely dimmed. It was nearly bright as noon when they found the tall man.

The tall man stood in a clearing, dressed as a nobleman, all in black. Shadows lay over him, dark as a cloudy midnight. He had many arms, all long and boneless as snakes, all sharp as swords, and they writhed like worms on nails. He did not speak, but made his intentions known.

Their mother tried not to listen, but she could no more disobey the tall man than she could forget how to breathe. She walked into the clearing, her daughters shortly behind her. "Stela," she said, "take my knife, and cut a circle on the ground big enough to lie in." Stela, who was not afraid of the tall man, nor afraid of the quiver in her mother's voice, obeyed what her mother said. "Sorina," the mother said, "take the berries and spread them in the circle, and crush them underfoot until the juice stains the earth." Though Sorina wondered why her mother asked her to do such a thing, she obeyed, because she was a good girl.

"Stela," the mother said, "lie in the circle."

Stela, though she worried she might stain her clothes, did as her mother asked.

"Sorina," the mother said, and bid Sorina cut her sister open with the knife.

Sorina could not; would not.

"Please," her mother said. "If you don't, it will be worse. So much worse."

But Sorina could not, and she threw the knife away and ran home, crying. She hid under her bed, afraid for the first time in her life. She waited until her father came home from the fields, and told him of the terrible thing she had found in the woods. Her father comforted her, and told her she would be safe. He went to the woods, his axe in hand, and as he commanded, she stayed by the hearth, waiting for his return.

After some time she fell asleep. When she woke, it was to the sound of knocking on her door at the darkest hour of the night. "Who is there?" she said.

"It is your father," the knocker said.

"I don't believe you!" said Sorina.

"It is your sister," the knocker said.

"It cannot be!" said Sorina.

"I am your mother," said the knocker, "and I told you it would be worse." And the door, locked tight before her father left, fell open as if it had been left ajar. And her mother stepped in, her sister's head clutched in one bloody hand, her father's in the other.

"Why?" wept Sorina.

"Because," said her mother, "there is no reward for goodness; there is no respite for faith; there is nothing but cold steel teeth and scourging fire for all of us. And it's coming for you now."

And the tall man slid from the fire, and clenched Sorina in his burning embrace. And that was the end of her.


They say that monsters come only at night,
That light will drive them away.
But not all creatures follow this rule,
Safety not certain during the day.

He hides on the fringes of your vision,
Brief glimpses of the distorted.
He slithers and writhes behind your eyes,
Reaching for you, limbs contorted.

Before you know it your children are taken,
And now it's come down to you.
His breath is oppressive, his presence acidic,
He feels pity is undue.

Suddenly, trapped in his grasp so tight,
You struggle to break yourself free.
He laughs and he gurgles and he screeches with glee,
He turns your head for you to see.

Your children are crying though their eyes are removed,
They collapse, still and silent.
His arms and legs bend pulling you closer,
The man's eyes dark and violent.

He strikes and he cuts, your skin flays open,
Your soul to weak to resist.
This should not have happened, if only you had listened,
Never go into his forest.

Henderson Horse Farm

Case: The Hederson Family owned the farm and land since the mid 1800s. The owners were Ted Wilcox Henderson(age 41), Judi Henderson (wife, age 36) and Tracy Henderson (daughter, age 6).


On the morning of June 15th (about 8 days after picture was taken) neighbors called the local police, complaing of screams, and the sounds of gun fire.

Sheriff Clint Denterman (age 54) and two deputies, Dan Parks (age 24) and Chris Fines (age 33) came to the farm at 8:34 am. The horses in the barn were torn apart, almost as if attacked by wild animals. Inside the main house reports said that there was blood all over the living room, kitchen, and hall way.

Ted was found in the bed room, barricaded behind some furniture. next to him was the body of his wife, killed by a shotgun blast to the chest. Ted still had the weapon in his hands.

From Dan Parks' report:
"Ted had a freaked out, far off look in his eyes. He seemed to not realize that we were in the room. We asked what happened. Where was his daughter. But he didn't answer."

Ted was charged with the murder of his wife. Due to his mental state he was sent to Jenkins Mental Hospital.

For almost a year and a half Ted did not speak. On the 3rd anniversary of the murder Dr. Dauton called the Sheriff. Ted was speaking.

From the recoding of Dr. Dauton, June 15th, 1956 8:30pm

DAUTON: Ok Ted… go ahead

TED: (almost out of breath) It's on? Am I safe?

DAUTON: Yes, you are safe. Now tell me what happened that night.

TED: The horses…. horses actin up… the horses…


TED: W…went out there… dead… all dead… the eyes… no…. no eyes

DAUTON: What did you see?

TED: Ran… ran inside… got gun… Tracy crying… Judi screaming… r…ran to them… He had them… was holding them…

DAUTON: Who had them?

TED: Skinny fella… suite… Looking at me… Judi screaming… shoot me… SHOOOT ME SHOOT MEEEE!

(Ted starts screaming for a period, then slams hands onto table)

DAUTON: You shot Judi?

TED: Saved her… saved her…

DAUTON: Did you shoot Tracy?

TED: No… It went after me… They went after me… shot them… shot them… keep shooting… Tracy… let Tracy go… drat it LET HER GO!

(Ted started to had a yelling fit, suddenly starts slamming his face into the steel table. Two orderlies grabbed Ted and Dr. Dauton injected him with some tranquilizers.)


Ted Henderson was found dead in his room at 3 am on June 16th. Ted was somehow able to get out of his restraints and chew through his wrist, bleeding to death.

The picture was studied several times. The experts agree that the man in the suit may be the one that Ted was saying was the one who attacked his farm and stole his child.

Tracy Henderson was never found.

Alta Missing Skiers

I work in a radio newsroom, and I saw this come down a few months back. Didn't think much of it then, but all this "Slender Man" stuff made me think of it.

I copy and pasted this from the wire copy,

Received: Feb 12, 2009 at 07:49 PM

INDEX: Mountains, Environment
20-year-old Skier Found Dead After Month-Long Search.


JASPER, Alta. -
The body of a 20-year-old woman has been found after a month-long search in the Rockies west of Jasper.
RCMP and park officials confirm the body to be that of missing skier Amanda Fischer, who has not been seen since leaving on a trip with three friends in early January.

Her remains were discovered today by park officials. Reports suggest her body was found contorted, and in an advanced state of decay, high in a tree. Investigators have refused to comment how her body could have been left in such a condition.
On January 10th, Fischer, along with boyfriend Douglas Bellanger, 21, and friend Natasha Pierce, 20, left their cabin at Mica Mountains Resort. That was the last time they were seen alive.

A second friend, 22-year-old Thomas Chambers left them a day before the disappearance, to return to Calgary, allegedly due to health concerns. He was questioned by RCMP two days after the other three were declared missing.
During questioning Chambers allegedly told officers that he had left the other three and returned home due to recurring night-terrors featuring a tall man in black peering in through his cabin's window.

Investigators confirmed they had ruled Chambers out as a possible suspect, but considered him a key witness. A source within the RCMP, who spoke on condition of anonymity, revealed to the Calgary Sun that officers had confiscated a digital camera and a camcorder at the time of the interview, which were never returned.
RCMP have been unable to question Chambers further, as he himself has been missing since January 21st. His home was found ransacked that morning, and he has not been seen since.


The hunt continues for information or clues that could lead investigators to the location, or bodies, of Bellanger, Pierce and Chambers. The disappearances are considered linked, but RCMP refuse to comment further. (Cal Sun)(The Canadian Press)"

Eerie similarities? Or maybe there's something more going on here? I'll poke around and see if I can find other stories that might be linked to this.

Man… if anyone could find copies of whatever was on the digital camera… or the camcorder… that was confiscated, that would be pretty sweet.

Dr. Jeffrey Scripter

May 7, 1937
After several weeks of working up the nerve I finally asked Mary's father for permission to ask for her hand in marriage. Mr. Daugherty took me aside and told me, "Jeff, I've been wanting you to ask me this for quite some time now. I would be delighted to have you as my son in law. I know you will treat Mary every bit as well as she deserves." It was a little more business like than I would have liked I suppose but, all the same I am as happy as I can ever recall being. Once Mary returns from her trip to Boston with her sister Samantha I shall ask her at once.


May 8, 1937
I don't often write of my official duties in this journal, as I feel it would be unprofessional however today has been all too peculiar a one to leave out. A new patient was admitted today. He is a young man named Douglas Reynolds. Douglas was found wandering the streets of Northbridge barefoot and apparently unresponsive to all attempts of communication. The Northbridge police decided to take Douglas to the station and attempt to discern who he was. When the police tried to take him in, he lashed out screaming. An officer sustained minor injuries before he was ultimately subdued. In his pockets was a wallet containing identification stating his name and his address. Strangely he lived in Charlton, did he walk the 15 or so miles barefoot? In any case what was he doing so far from home? All questions I'll have to ask him in the morning I suppose.

May 9, 1937
Mary returns home tomorrow, I simply can not wait to see her again. I've got the ring in it's case next to the bed and it seems to be calling out for her as much as I am. I shall await her at the train station, and propose the instant she steps onto the platform. Some may feel it foolish for a doctor to allow his emotions to run so unchecked, but for Mary I'd interrupt the Boston Pops for all to see! The only slight disappointment I have in my heart is that Douglas was unresponsive today. We have also been shipped a chest from Douglas' home. It appears to have been the only item of psychological interest in his house. Oddly this old chest is covered in shipping labels. It seems that it was a box containing personal effects of Douglas' father who died in the Great War. It only just recently having made it's way to Massachusetts after years of mis-shipping. However, all that will have to wait until next Monday however, there are things far more important I have planned this week.

May 10, 1937
Mary said yes!

May 12, 1937
I wish I could write of the wonderful weekend I had but what has just transpired today has really shaken me. It must be said or I will explode; Douglas Reynolds is dead. I had decided that first opportunity I had I would visit Douglas and try to speak to him. It was late in the day when I finally found myself without a list of chores to perform. Douglas had been placed in a far cell of the C wing. Reserved for the comatose and catatonic, the wing was dead silent. Although I could have fired a pistol without so much as a stir from the patients I still felt the need to stay hushed.

I reached Douglas' room and opened the door. I could not believe the sight presented before me. Douglas had somehow relieved himself of his restraints and was standing on his bed frantically thrashing his arms against the walls of his room. The floor and walls were soaked in crimson and dark matter. Spread in wavy swaths some strange symbol like a quadri-peaked star or perhaps a four legged octopus were repeated over and over. Douglas turned to me, his eyes were blood red, his face smeared in bodily fluids. He looked straight at me his eyes fierce and piercing.

All of a sudden I heard a scream from the hall. Confused and scared I ran out the door into the hall. As I did the screams intensified. Men who had not stirred for years joined the awful cacophony of horrified yells. They screamed and screamed and it felt as if there was no end to them. Surely they must stop to breath I thought, surely they would pass out and stop, anything, anything to end the horrid noise that emitted from the once silent cells. As I put my hands to my ears to shut out the choir of pain and terror Douglas stumbled out of his cell. "He has followed! We are better to be dead! All better to be dead than his!" With that first and final proclamation Douglas fell to the ground dead, and the screams stopped.

I can not describe what it is I feel at this moment after these events. I can only hope and pray that there will be some answers in the chest, because I am in need of answers more now than I have ever been.

Missing Girl Case

Stirling City Post posted:
Rash of Animal Mutilations Blamed on Coyotes.

By Tom Chisolm
Posted: April 21, 1987

Stirling City, CA - A rash of pet deaths in northern Stirling City over the past several weeks has been blamed on coyotes, according to the Butte County Animal Control Department.

"After a particularly harsh winter, food supplies may be low, forcing wild animals to venture into town in search of prey," Animal Control Officer Joel Driscol said.

As many as nine dogs and cats have gone missing since January, and have been found in various states of decay. Many of the pets were disemboweled, or otherwise seriously mutilated.

"It was unusual, I'll admit," Driscol said in an interview. "The wounds were unusually precise, and it's rare that a wild animal would leave so much of the carcass uneaten."

"My daughters are extremely upset by this,' said David Elkins, owner of the most recent victim, "They're ten and eight, and don't fully understand what's happened to [the cat]."

  • * *

Stirling City Post posted:
Police Have Few Leads in Missing Girl Case

By Will Higgins
Posted: June 15, 1987

Stirling City, CA - A spokesman for the Stirling City Police Department admitted this week that there were no promising leads in the case of eight year old Katrina Elkins, who went missing from her home Thursday night.

"It's like she disappeared into thin air," said neighbor and family friend, Marybeth Carlisle.

Police were called to the residence at 6:30 AM on Friday morning by Katrina's father, David. He realized that Katrina was missing when he went into her bedroom to wake her for school and discovered that she was not in her bed.

The only possible witness was the victim's sister, ten year old Alice, with whom Katrina shares a bedroom. Alice has been unable to provide many details to investigators, however.

"It seems that [the girl] suffers from an overactive imagination," SCPD Sergeant William Hohne said, "she told us the last time she saw her sister, was through the window where she was 'hugging the tall man'."

According to witness statements, over the past several weeks a man had been coming to the girls' bedroom window at night, where he would tap on the glass, 'make faces', and watch the girls.

Police investigators initially dismissed the account as a dream, as the bedroom window is on the second story, with no support beneath it.

"[Alice] Elkins reported that, on the night of her sisters disappearance, they were again awakened by a tapping at the glass," Sergeant Hohne explained, "She heard her sister get out of bed, and have a short conversation. When she didn't hear her sister get back in bed after several minutes, she got up and went to the window, where she saw her sister in the side yard, 'hugging the tall man'. According to the witness, the man looked up at her, grinned, and indicated that she was to come down as well with a 'snaky arm'. It was at this point that Miss Elkins became extremely frightened, and returned to bed. The tapping continued for some minutes, but finally ceased."

Police scoured the Elkins' yard for clues, with no success.

When asked why Alice had not told her parents about the tall men before, she explained, "He scared me. He told us to not tell Mom and Dad, or we'd be in trouble. He told us that he was our friend, and that he would give us anything we wanted, but we had to keep his secret. His smile was scary… and his voice. He said nice things but he sounded mean."

Police believe that there is no link between the disappearance, and the vicious killing of the Elkin's cat by disemboweling in April.

Diamond Lake

All this talk about a slender man from the forest rang a bell with something that happened to me when I was six or so. One fine summer day my dad said we should go camping. We had never gone camping before. At that moment my mom got this funny look on her face and said no, we where never going camping, ever. She shook her head and mumbled to my dad “you know why, that skinny thing” That was the end of that. Mind you, this all happened like fifteen years ago when I was just a little girl, I really haven’t put much thought into it since, but this recent thread reminded me to ask mom about when I saw her yesterday at church.


I asked her in the parking lot after Mass and she got real quiet, just like when my dad mentioned we should go camping all those years ago. Then she spoke.

“Well, it was over thirty years ago now and you’re an adult, so I suppose it’s okay if you knew. I was just a teenager, and Mike was just barely older than I. Him, your aunts Laurie and Kim,-“

“Who?” I asked, never having heard of either people, but she didn’t explain and kept talking.

“-we went camping up by Diamond Lake. Those days it wasn’t so built up and it was a nice place to camp. The second night we where there Laurie said he has to pee so she got up to do her business a few paces away from the campfire. But she didn’t return after a few minutes and we got worried and we went after her. We found her just a few yards from us, staring into the dark tree branches. Kimberley was closest to Laurie and she sorta nudged her, and when she nudged her she didn’t reply. And she didn’t reply when she pushed her and yelled at her, but Laurie didn’t move. I was just about to ask her what she was doing when I heard this…noise calling my name. It wasn’t a voice, it was like the sound of nails on a chalkboard. I don’t know if it was real or if it was in my own head, but it called me and I was too terrified to move or run or even call out to Mike or my sisters.

Then, out of the woods this tall thing in a business suit came at us. It wasn’t walking on it’s legs though, it bobbed along on these huge tentacles, like an octopus, if an octopus could walk. I don’t remember exactly how many it had though, it was just lit by our campfire. I was paralyzed but Mike wasn’t, he started after it and told us to run back to the tent. Suddenly I snapped back to myself and I did, I ran back to the tent and I hid there under all four of our sleeping bags, crying and trying not to listen the horrible sounds I could hear. No screaming, there was never any human voices. Sound of crunching and tearing and popping.

Two days later people came looking for us. I was still hiding under the sleeping bags but they found Mike first, then what was left of our sisters, high up in the trees, skewered like sis kabobs. Whatever it was it wasn’t just content to kill our sisters, instead it left Mike alive, with the eyes of both of our sisters in his mouth. They blamed him and he’s been in prison ever since but I don’t think he knows or even cares where he is, that skinny thing took his mind. They listened to my story and said we were on LSD. But my family, they knew Mike could never do anything like that and they believe me. Weird things happen. Weird things.”

It’s all a bit out there, but it has a lot in common with some of the other slender man stories so I thought I’d post it. This happened in Eastern Washington in 1977 and my uncle is in prison but I thought, up until yesterday at least, that he killed a guy in a fight. I’d never heard of my aunts before though and I’m not getting any Google results for Laurie or Kimberly Ward, but that may be because no one’s bothered to put that stuff on the internet yet.

Edit- I'm just paraphrasing here, these aren't direct quotes from her. I'd try to get more info but I don't think she really wants to talk about it anymore.


I always found it odd that my grandpa, who was a real smart man. Always worked construction and other seemingly low pay jobs, even though he had his college diploma in business management.

Well, one day when I was at his house we were watching tv when the local news had a story about some kids who gone missing and how some other children in the area were talking about a skinny tall man in a suit. My grandpa shook a moment and I asked whats wrong. He turned the tv off and asked me what I knew about his time in WW2.

All my dad told me was that Grandpa was a paratrooper. My grandpa laughed and told me that is what he told my dad. In reality he was a OSS field op. He said he was involved in many missions that remain secret to this day. Before I could ask what that had to do with missing kids he started to speak.

Near the end of the war grandpa and a team of agents were sent on a mission in the Black Forest in Germany. They were disguised as civilians. Their mission was to meet up with a group who was going to give them some stolen Nazi plans. As they set up camp that night they heard a noise. Hiding their weapons they saw what looked to be a Nazi solider walking towards them. At first they thought he was drunk how he looked to be stumbling around until he got to their camp fire and they saw that his leg was broken. As they asked the solider what happened Grandpa said the solider just mumbled something then passed out. They figured that maybe there was a car wreck or maybe he was attacked by someone when the Nazi suddenly sat up, screaming "He's coming, oh God he's coming!"

My grandpa was shouting this in perfect German, I didn't know he could speak any other languages. Grandpa then said that a guy on his team, Jim, pulled out his Thompson and pointed it towards where the Nazi came from. The others grabed their weapons when they saw him.

A man in a black suit was walking towards them. Grand said he yelled at the man in german, french, any language he could think of to make this odd looking man answer who he was. It got closer and closer till they saw it's face.

At that moment I saw my grandpa's face become pale, eyes gone distant.

He said there were no real features, just odd looking orbs and at first a little line for a mouth. It stood there looking at the men, then the Nazi on the ground. The Nazi was crying, mumbling to himself. One of the team yelled for the "man" to put his hands up. At that moment the "man" shot up in the air. Grandpa said that's when they saw the tentacles. Grandpa and his team opened fire on the thing. It seemed like their bullets weren't doing anything as the "man" used one of its tentacles to grab the Nazi. The Nazi screamed in terror as he was dragged through the air. Grandpa said he aimed his gun at the poor bastard but something hit him and he fell to the ground.

Grandpa said it seemed like time around him and the "man" just slowed down. He could see the bullets hit the "man" but they seemed to be adsorbed into him. The "man" looked down at Grandpa, then in a flash the man and the Nazi were gone. He said everything was so quiet. A little while after that the people they were waiting for showed up. Asking what happened. No one said anything.

After the war Grandpa got married and was going to work for this company in New York but had a massive panic attack when he saw all the men in black business suits. After that moment he worked any jobs that didn't involve wearing or being around strangers in business suits.

Ongoing S. Man Investigation

Date: Oct. 23, 2007
Sender: Maj. Tomas C. Witmoore
To: Col. Steven Bitman
Sub: Ongoing S. Man Investigation.

Colonel, as per your request, I am updating you as to our last investigation into the case. Having received the report from the police, we sent out a team to the last known site that the Slender Man was seen. Timeline of investigation is as follows:

0200: Car with the husband and wife pulls into the parking lot of the police station. Approx. 5 minutes later, police notice the car idling in the parking lot, and go out to investigate. The two civilians are then helped out of the car after pressure bandages are applied to their wounds, and brought into the station.

0230: After half an hour, both subjects are calmed down to the point where they could speak. Police are informed of what they were doing in the area, and why they were at the station covered in, according to the report, was "Blood, bits of human tissue, and unidentifiable pieces of what appeared to be some sort of bone or rock."

0300: The police sent the report in to the FBI, while sending out several deputies to the area, to investigate.

0315: All communication with the deputies is lost. Subjects sent to the hospital.

0330: Report comes in that the husband and wife fled from the ambulance at a red light. Location of them is still, at this time, unknown.

0400: FBI teams arrive to the police station, where they set up a perimeter around the area that the subjects had said they were camping in.

0415: First FBI team is sent in to find police deputies.

0417: Agent finds what appears to be a "clear bag, full of human intestine."

0420: Agent finds several corpses, including the police deputies, hanging from the trees in a circular pattern. Corpses have been opened on the front, with the ribcage cut in two. Internal organs seem to be in some sort of clear bag, arranged in their proper place in the human anatomy, except for the intestines.

At this point Sir, we are contacted and asked to form a perimeter around the area. Fog continues to thicken. Nothing has been seen, as of yet, but I believe it is simply a matter of time. Requesting further instructions.

Date: Oct. 28th, 2007
Sender: Maj. Tomas C. Witmoore
To: Col. Steven Bitman
Sub: Ongoing S. Man Investigation

Sir, as you requested, I am sending you another update. We’ve received yet another report of the Slender Man appearing. This time, it seems to have shown up near the edge of the Yellowstone National Park. Our analyst seems to think it may prefer to be near/around trees, as the body type of it appears to blend well with the trees. I have taken over as the head of this task force, and I am doing my best to keep things under control. The loss of the first team we sent in on the 23rd of October to attempt to remove the bodies that were discovered, is a shocking event. One that touched the people working on this task force deeply.

As to why so many of them committed suicide, I cannot say at this time. I reviewed their files extensively after the autopsies. All came back as confirmed suicide. None of the five men that committed suicide had any notes in their profiles to suggest suicidal tendencies. The psychological examination that everyone undergoes showed no suggestion of any mental disorder that might have pushed them to end their own lives. Investigation into this is still ongoing, we are interviewing family members and friends at this time.

I have sent in a suggestion to cease any further attempt to remove the bodies from the trees in which they were found in.

The sixth man, Sgt. Conner is currently in the hospital on base. He has been heavily sedated every hour, on the hour, after the incident. I have received the reports of the doctor on call at the time of the incident, and the report indicates that reattachment of his tongue is impossible, due to the damage caused by his teeth. The report states that the tongue was beyond repair. We are currently discussing which mental health facility he will be sent to for evaluation after he recovers. Despite what he had done to his brother, the psychologist we had brought in to evaluate him has stated that he has not been in a normal frame of mine for quite some time. I would venture as to say since the failed attempt at the body recovery.

To: Col. Steven Bitman
Sub: Ongoing S. Man Investigation

The latest attempt to study the Slender Man was a disaster. I was adamant in my belief that trying to enclose the Slender Man into a contained area would be a mistake. Time line of the incident is as follows:

0600: Task force, with Major Thompson in command, arrives in area where Slender Man was last sighted. Perimeter is started to be established.

0620: Temporary HQ for analysts and equipment is started to be established. Perimeter is still not complete.

0645: Perimeter is established. Men are sent out to set up weapons and equipment for recording and analyzing.

0700: Three men sent into the area inside the Perimeter to set up motion-sensitive video camera, thermal camera, sound recording devices.

0705: The three men return, having finished their task. Reported seeing ‘wisps of fog near the bases of the trees.’

0705-0750: Nothing of note. Wisps of fog appear at tree line. No other movement or unusual sound noted.

0815: First of the sound recording devices picks up unusual sound. Described as ‘small children laughing‘ Noted that it sounded as if there was more then one child.

0823: The motion-sensitive cameras are activated simultaneously. Nothing of note except fog. Childrens' laughter continues off and on, several minutes between it being heard.

0852: First camera on north-eastern edge of the perimeter captures footage of Slender Man. Appears to be looking directly at the camera.

0900: Second and third cameras both capture video of Slender Man. Second camera is in the south-west area. Third in the north-west edge. Both recorded images nearly simultaneously.

0925: All recording equipment are disabled. Repeated attempts at contact fail.

1000: Recovery teams discover the corpses of the first task force. Major Thompson found alive underneath a fallen pile of sandbags.

Date: Nov 15th, 2007
Sender: Maj. Tomas C. Witmoore
To: Col. Steven Bitman
Sub: Ongoing S. Man Investigation

I apologize for not sending you a response sooner. I have been informed that my visit to the doctor about my recent insomnia has been sent to you. Sir, dealing with the aftermath of the last attempt to analyze the Slender Man has been very difficult. Though the scientists say the video and sound that was recorded is important, I do not find this to be very comforting over the fact that we lost over a dozen lives.

As to the question of what exactly was gained, I honestly cannot say. After many hours of studies, the exact nature of the Slender Man is still in question. Nothing has shown how it moves, or if it breathes, or what it exactly looks like, nor how it seems to be surrounded by fog when it appears. It has been suggested that it might be able to find fog banks. Some sort of defensive mechanism, perhaps. Personally, Sir, I do not believe it feels any need for a defensive mechanism.

More information will be sent after today’s meeting.

Date: Nov. 29th , 2007
Sender: Maj. Tomas C. Witmoore
To: Col. Steven Bitman
Sub: Ongoing S. Man Investigation

Sir, I have recently visited Major Thompson. Our conversation follows. Note that he wrote down his responses.

Witmoore: Steven, thank you for seeing me. I was thinking you’d deny a visit again. I will make a deal with you. I will be completely honest with you if you ask me a question, if you will do the same with me.

Thompson: Yes.

Witmoore: The video on the cameras was recovered, but it cut off before the attack occurred. Can you tell me what happened?

Thompson: It came. It came to us.

Witmoore: It approached and attacked?

Thompson: It appeared. No movement. Never saw it move. It was in one place, then another place. No movement.

Witmoore: Did it have any weapons? The bodies of the soldiers showed no marks that would resemble that of a knife or wounds of a gun.

Thompson: It came and they died as it did. They couldn’t fire at it.

Witmoore: Did it touch them?

Thompson: I don’t know. I heard them fall down. Heard them die. The rattle of their breath.

Witmoore: Did it leave once they all died?

Thompson: No. It drew a line on their bodies, and they opened.

Witmoore: What do you mean opened? It removed their vests?

Thompson: Like a flower. Like a door. It drew a line down, and they opened. It watched as they opened, and began to work.

At this point, he refused to answer any more questions, and I left shortly after.


January 27, 2009
I'm really not sure how to begin this journal. My doctor (my psychiatrist, Dr. Bronn) suggested I start keeping one at our meeting last week. I think she thinks it'll help me get through the "dreams". I don't think they ARE dreams, though, even though she and my wife keep insisting they are. I don't know what they are, though. I just can't explain

Maybe I should start at the beginning. I guess that would be a week and a half or so ago. Around the 15th, during that weird warm spell we had in the middle of winter. Not that winter really gets cold here in California but 90s in the Bay area in January is weird no matter what. I was up late one night, working, and took the dog out for a last pee before bed. Normally I just stand out in the front yard with him but I decided to head over to the Iron Horse Trail this night. It's a nice trail just a half-mile or so from my house. We walk there a lot during the day but I don't usually go there during the night. I guess I've always been a little spooked in the dark. Probably has something to do with growing up in the country, maybe.

I'm rambling again. OK, taking the dog to the Iron Horse Trail. Like I said, it's about a half mile there, all residential until you get to the trail itself. The trail is surrounded by houses but it feels pretty secluded when you get on it. It's strange. You can see tons of stars, even though you're in a city, and that night was especially bright. The trail was empty except for the dog and myself. We walked in the scrub (Jon calls it "the pucky brush") so the dog could do his business and I was watching the sky.

The trail goes on for a long way. I'm not really not sure but I think it's around 20 miles from end to end. Anyway, we wandered up the scrub for a ways, almost to the turn-out for the nearby park. That's maybe another quarter mile, but I doubt it. There's a big tree there that's been knocked over. Actually, I think it was cut down because of storm damage or something. Anyway, it's laying on its side right next to the path back to the park. The dog finally decided to crap once we got back there so we stop and, again, I'm looking at the sky, watching stars and the moon.

It was a warm night, like I said, but suddenly I started shivering. Not like the shiver you make when you're cold, either. Or, not really. It was more like the shiver you get at the end of a good long piss. Pleasant but still out-of-bodyish? I really don't know how to describe it. Maybe it's not something everyone has. I couldn't stop!

A hundred shakes later, I finally stopped. I'm not sure how long it was, actually. Everything still looked the same, the stars, the moon, the dog hunkered down next to me, so maybe it was an instant, but it seemed like an hour — a lifetime!

My dog, Buck, was whining. Maybe he was doing it while I was shivering, but I don't know. I'm not even sure if I heard him right after I came back to myself or if, again, it was hours later. It wasn't just his normal whine, though, like when he really wants to go out. It was

I can't even say what it was. It was a death whine. I had a dog when I was little that died of cancer, Anne, and I remember her whining and crying when it was finally getting so bad we had to have her put down. Buck was doing that but he was slobbering and foaming, too, with his hackles up and his eyes rolling around.

The first thing I thought was that he found something bad in the grass. A sharp piece of metal or some poison or something. I was panicked, of course. Dr. Bronn asked me why I didn't pick him up and rush him home or to an animal hospital or something and I don't know why I didn't. I couldn't even think to do that. My thoughts were

My thoughts were to stomp his skull flat.

I — I can hardly bring myself to write that down, even now, a week or two later. Not that terrible thoughts get less terrible over time. But for some reason, right then, I just wanted to kill my dog.

I shivered again, just once, and the thought went away. I stooped down to see if Buck was OK and he was back to his normal Golden Retriever self. His hair was laying flat and he wasn't slobbering or anything and he gave me a big lick when I got down to his level. Nothing was wrong. I hugged him and stood back up and we started walking back to the street to come back home. We didn't walk in the pucky brush, this time, but on the paved trail.

When we reached the sidewalk, I stopped and looked back at the trail. I saw a bicyclist out for a late night ride coming down the path. The light on the front of his bike lit up a stray cat on the side of the path. Nothing weird.

We came back home, I put Buck in his kennel, and went to bed myself after brushing my teeth. My wife and son were already asleep and I read for a few minutes and then went to sleep.

I think I'll have to wait until the sun comes up tomorrow to write down the dreams I had that night. Those are what made me go to Dr. Bronn in the first place. I want to stop having these dreams.

January 28, 2009
Called Dr. Bronn about these journals. I don't want to write them but she thinks I need to. Thinks I need to come to terms with what I—with what happened. We'll see if I can.

January 31, 2009
Turns out I couldn't bring myself to write anything down after my first entry. It just brought up too many memories. But why would I have all of these memories? I couldn't have done any of the things I remember. There wasn't enough time and, besides that, my family is OK anyway. I didn't hurt them like I remember. Thank God!

I guess these entries are good for something, though. I remembered something I left out of the other entry. When Buck and I got to the sidewalk and I looked back, I did see something other than the guy on the bicycle. There was SOMETHING by the tree. There's a small wood there, maybe twenty or fifty trees in the part of the park near the trail and there was something else, too. I—I didn't see it but I FELT it. Just something wrong.

These last few days have felt wrong, too. Not the same kind of wrong, though. I've been having—dreams. Nightmares. Visions that I can't wake up from of hurting my wife and son. And then, the next day, I don't remember them as dreams. It's like I really did the acts I imagined and there's this horrible sick shock of seeing them healthy and walking around. Seeing my son play with his toys is like some sort of dream instead of reality. I haven't been able to kiss my wife without feeling like I'm kissing a corpse.

Last night was the worst, though. I didn't do anything to my family. But last night, HE called to me. I laid there and listened. I couldn't move. And he told me, over and over, what I was going to do. To my wife. To my son. To myself.

I think I need to be committed. I don't think I'm safe. I think I might hurt my family. Oh God I don't want to hurt anyone


Transcript #21

Session Three, 11 AM:

Dr. Phillips (P): Alright, Joseph. Do you think you can stay calm today?

Joseph Lhie (J): I don't want to talk about this again.

P: I know, but we need to go through this until you can come to terms with what happened to your friend.

J: I know what happened to Ned. I'm not crazy.

P: No, Joseph… You're just very ill, that's all. It wasn't your fault.

J: Of course it wasn't my fault! I didn't loving kill him! We didn't do it!

P: Stay calm, Joseph. You don't want me to have to sedate you again, do you? I know you don't like the sedatives.

J: Fuck no, I don't want that again, no sir, I do not want that again.

P: Then you need to stay calm with me, okay?

J: Okay. Okay.

P: Now, this tree man -

J: Tall man. He wasn't no tree. He was just tall and all… Branchy.

P: Right. Tall man. He wasn't real, Joseph.

J: I been telling myself that, doc… But he loving was real! Hell, he weren't even no drat person… But he LOOKED like a person, like one of them X-Files guys or something…

P: Joseph. He was. Not. Real.

J: He was real! He weren't meant to be real, you could tell! …like he was wearing a man's face as a mask or somethin'… It didn't fit right, doc. No sir, it didn't fit right. But he was real.

P: This 'tall man' didn't kill Ned. You need to accept that.

J: No sir, he didn't kill Ned. We did. But he made us kill Ned. Yes sir. That's what he did.

P: The 'tall man' wasn't real Ned. You and your friends were drunk and angry. That's all there was.

J: No sir, we weren't drunk at all. We only had a few beers, we was just going out in there what to shoot at some gators! Then it came all sorta sliding out of the trees an…

P: And you shot Ned.

J: No! We didn't kill our friend! No sir! Thing was all looking at us funny, and we're wondering, who's this guy? Who wears a loving suit in the Bayou? Why's he so tall?

P: Who does wear a suit in the Bayou, Joseph? He was a hallucination.

J: It weren't no hallucination! It weren't no real thing either. It was… fuck, I don't know how to tell it! It was loving there but not there, doc! Wearin' the skin of a man like a different suit… Didn't fit right… No it did not…

P: You said he took you over. Why didn't he take over Ned, Joseph?

J: Ned were always kinda… Weird. Heard voices since he was fourteen, but he was a real solid buddy, y'know? We didn't care he talked to himself, seeing as he was just our old buddy. I guess that's why he couldn't make him do things.

P: He couldn't take over Ned because you killed him, Joseph.

J: We didn't kill him. It killed him. Yes sir, it was the thing.

P: The body was full of bullet holes, Joseph, not 'spear arm' wounds, whatever those would look like. Three of them were from your gun.

J: We didn't fucking kill Ned.

P: You killed your friend. It's important you accept that, so you can begin to move on and we can start fixing you.

J: We didn't do it.

P: Joseph, you -


P: Joseph, calm down!


<Tape ends with a struggle and indecipherable screaming from Patient J as the orderlies pin and sedate him.>

Disappearance of Boy

The Oklahoman
August 21st, 1987

New Discovery In Disappearance of Boy

Tusla, OK— A new piece of evidence has turned up in the investigation of the boy that disappeared from an elementary school in Tusla. The boy's father, it was discovered, was filming his son's first day of school, and the home video footage was released to local authorities. He took his own life shortly after the boy's disappearance. No word yet on any suspects, though police are drawing similarities to the 1963 slayings in Lake Texoma. The voice on the tape has yet to be confirmed and though the film's video is largely destroyed, the audio remained in tact.


I know you guys said no more text, but I just have to share this with you. I went looking through some of my dads old books (He wrote journal entries and cooking recipes in the same book for easier accessibility), and I found something that sort of scares me. Its written in sort of a simple scratch lettering, like if it was written in the dark, which is kind of odd, since he normally writes very nicely. The notes in parenthesis are mine.

Oct 27, 1991 (Two months or so before I was born)
"I've been having these dreams again. They always start on nights when the trees hit the windows. I keep dreaming about my son. He is going to be born in a few months, the doctor says. But whenever I have these dreams, I hear this ominous sound like the air is just being pushed by some invisible subwoofer, and is rushing past my head in a pulse. Then I saw a man. I think it was my boy all grown up (It's not me, goddammit). He is tall and skinny, I can't see his face, but his eyes are dark spheres, and he has a weird gait as he moves toward me. His hair flows past his shoulders, and it looks like hes walking on that. I hear something being repeated over and over:
When you fear me, I love you, when you cower, I draw near to protect you, I will always protect you, I will always watch you. Your blindness is my omniscience, your weakness, my omnipotence. Until the day you die. Until the day you die.
I don't hear the words, but they always stick in my head. I'm going to watch over my son. Until the day I die, until the day he dies."

There are more, but I don't want to flood the thread. If anyone actually cares to read another, i'll post it.

Fear Dubh

In Scotland there is the legend of the Fear Dubh (The Black Man). This creature is said to haunt solitary footpaths at night, generally those that pass through woodland. It is reputed to be entirely malevolent. I can remember my granny telling me stories about a lot of Scottish folk tales, she only ever mentioned the Fear Dubh once, and that was in church. I was about eight, and was spending the summer holidays with her.

She took me to church one Tuesday morning, and told me to wait by the font while she spoke to Father MacAndrews. And all she said was the name, and then "He's been at the bairns' window again". The priest just nodded, and said he'd be round later.

I was a curious child, so I took a walk around the house later. It was built on the edge of woodland, so close that the branches of an ash tree almost touched the window. Ivy grew up the side of the house, but it was dying back in long thin patches, the leaves wrinked and sort of wet-looking.

My grany made me say my prayers that night, and put her rosary beads under my pillow. And I fell asleep to the sound of wet leaves brushing against my window. And I dreamed of a thin man who looked at me, even though he had no eyes, and tried to touch me, even though he had no hands.

I can't actually remember much of the next few days. My mum says it was the trauma of my grans' funeral that's made those days so blurry, but I don't understand why, because I coped okay with other funerals round about that age. And I don't understand how Father MacAndrews died of a heart attack the same night (he was only thirty, and fit as a butchers' dog).

And if Gran died of a stroke, I don't understand why the police sealed off the house and woodland. It wasn't the local police either; they were all big serious men in dark blue with riot gear on. You'd have thought that their presence would have meant that local vandals would have stayed away, but they didn't, and poor Grans' house got firebombed a few weeks later. The walls are still standing though. You can see the long thin streaks that the smoke's made on the white walls. Looks almost like an octopus' tentacles, reaching for you.

I've still got the rosary, and even though people laugh, I sleep with it under my pillow. Because if I don't, I dream. About the sound of wet leaves sliding softly across a window, and the way he is still watching me, even though he has no eyes.


MAY 8, 1993:
Three campers were announced missing today. They had gone on a week long trip into the nearby woods. Their campsite was quickly located, but all that was left were "blood and little strips of flesh[…] all over the ground," according to the leader of the rescue team, Chad Lewis. The official speculation is that the campers were attacked one or more grizzly bears, which then dragged the bodies elsewhere, though the team admits there "weren't any grizzly tracks we could see… just footprints, and we didn't see any dragging marks on the ground. The weird thing is, there are four sets of bootprints, but[…] didn't find any extra boots in the camp." When asked whether this could be the work of a serial killer, Mr. Lewis refused to answer, saying "we don't want to jump to conclusions." A camera was found at the scene, and the police are attempting to develop the pictures despite damage to film.


MAY 22, 1993
Chad Lewis' team has located the remains of the bodies of three campers who went missing two weeks ago. They had been "impaled in the uppermost branches of a tree, over 200 feet above the ground. “A grizzly couldn't have done that, and there aren't any black bears here. This definitely wasn't an animal, the bodies were[…] limbs torn off, and most of the internal organs had been removed. We found [the organs] at the foot of the tree[…] eight miles from their campsite. It appears that this was a deliberate murder, though[…] extremely odd circumstances. When questioned about details, Lewis shook his head, saying "We can't specify yet. The police are working on it. In the meantime we're issuing a warning people should avoid activities in the woods until further notice."

MAY 28, 1993
The local police chief has released baffling details of the murders of three campers in a press conference today. “We determined that the men's deaths occurred after they were impaled on the upper tree branches, leading us to believe there were multiple killers, as it would be nearly impossible for one man to have lifted three adult men, all over 150 pounds, to the top branches of the tree. However, there were no marks of abrasion on the arms or legs we recovered that would indicate they had been restrained beforehand. We believe they were drugged, and then transported to the tree.” When questioned as to how the killers had transported the victims, and why they had chosen that particular location to kill them, the police chief said “There would have had to be multiple vehicles, as there was thick forests and a river between the camp and the tree. This tree could possibly have some kind of religious significance to the killers, as there were deep gouges all over the trunk[…] like claw marks, which at one point form an image of an elongated figure of a man” The police report states that the killings were possibly the work of cult. They have managed to recover a single photograph from the camera recovered at the scene. Anyone with information is encouraged to come forward…


It took me a while but I tracked down the photos that go along with this story.

I first heard the story in 1983 while living in Arkansas.

It's about a young hunter making his first kill on opening day and vanishing while the entire family looked on.

The Elliot family owned a 200 acre tract just west of a small town named Bee Branch. Over the years they hunted and harvested all forms of furry critters on the farm.
Two State record bucks have been brought down by the bow-hunters in the Elliot clan.


Family tradition requires that upon the day of their first kill, which is the turning point into manhood, they must have their picture taken with their quarry in front of "The Big Tree". This was a very big deal in the family because that meant your photo gets added to the wall of fame.
This is where young Eldon Elliot joins the story.

Eldon had watched, listened, and learned well from his Father the ins and out of reading the game trails. Eldon had spent many hours in the woods with his head full of dreams of this year being his year to have his picture put on the wall and if the size of the footprints were any indication he just might be putting the mounted head of another State record on the wall as well.


Opening day of deer season found Eldon waiting for sunup sitting in a tree stand, waiting for that big buck to show up.

His work and perseverance paid off at exactly 8:33 AM that day. Eldon held his breath as the biggest buck he had ever seen in his 14 years walked out of the woods into his line of sight. He ever so slowly drew back his bow, adjusted his aim for the distance to his target, and began to relax his grip on the bow string to let the arrow fly. That very second a twig snapped and the monster buck dropped flat to the ground and vanished as they often seem to do. The arrow took flight on what would have been a
perfect clean kill shot and came to rest in the shoulder of a young spike buck that was standing behind the big guy.

Eldon watched in disbelief as his dreams went up in smoke.

Well not all of his dreams. His picture was going on the wall because the spike buck dropped about 20 yards from where it was shot.


One twig snap changed his fate from a 250 pound monster buck to a yearling not much bigger than a German Sheppard. Shear utter disappointment and embarrassment was what Eldon felt the moment that little tiny buck dropped. All the walking, watching, planning, and bragging went out the window with that shot. The bragging…… how would he ever live down all of the bragging he had done.

Eldon's Father was still proud that his son had made a kill and the family loaded up the trucks to head over to the big tree for the official photo session.

The following photos were the three shot burst that his Uncle Bubba Ray took the moment they heard the shriek and Eldon vanished before their eyes……..

Optic Nerve HQ

SENT: MAY 8TH, 2009

A friend of mine who works with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department sent me this article while investigating the suicide of famed manga artist Go Waita. At first I just skimmed through it but then something caught my eye. Figured someone in the S.MAN case might want to see



by Hiro Koga

Feb 19th, 2009
Go Waita has written and drawn close to 230 guro stories in his 40 year career and in that time he hasn't given an interview until now! As I sit in his studio I am greeted by pictures of his most well know creation, The Suited Demon.

Koga: I like to thank you once again for inviting me into your studio. It is a real honor to be the first person to interview you!

Waita just slightly nods.

Koga: Well, I guess my first question is about your most famed creation, Suited Demon…

Waita: I didn't create him.

Koga: Oh… well who did? A friend?

Waita: He's real.

Koga: Real? A creature like that is real? Rapeing school girls…

Waita: The sex and surprise sex in my stories aren't my idea. That's something the editors and others wanted… the demon is real.

Koga: How do you know this?

Waita: I've seen it… it killed my sister.

Koga: You seen it kill?

Waita just looks at me. He then stands up, walks to his bookcase and pulls out a large, old sketch book. He opens it and shows me drawings of the Suited demon carrying a young child into the woods. As I flip through the pages the story that plays out is like one that plays out in many of Waita's books, except no graphic sex.

Waita: The girl in those pictures is my sister. She was seven years old when the demon took her.

Koga: How did you see this happen?

Waita: I followed her and the demon into the woods. I was eleven at the time. I thought that the demon was a man… a child molester trying to harm my sister. I followed them into the woods… that's when I watch it happen.

Koga: You didn't try to help?

Waita: I couldn't I was stunned in terror when I saw it's true form… when I saw it tear into her… It didn't see me… or if it did it didn't care. I must have sat there for several hours because my father was the one who found me the next morning. I tried to tell the police what I saw but they said that I must have been in shock. That I must have been forced to watch some killer murder my sister.

Koga: I see… I'm sorry to bring it up… but if this haunts you… why base so many of your stories on it? Almost all your books are on this demon.

Waita: You don't get it… it's all I can draw…

At this time Waita looked upset. He went to his book case pulling out all his sketch books, opening up pages of half done works, most looking like they were the start of normal pictures but suddenly they are invaded by the suited demon.

Waita: See… see… I tried to draw different things… normal pictures, portraits, even other types of stories…. but it always comes up… FOR FORTY GOD drat YEARS!

I could see at this point that Waita was very angry with me. I quickly left his studio. At the time of me writing this I almost scraped this interview until he called my office, demanding that I print this.

Waita killed himself last week. When I tried to see if there was any way to see those sketch books my friend with the TMPD said that Waita killed himself by setting himself and his studio on fire. I picked up several of his Suited Demon books. All of them have the same thing, S.MAN kidnapping and murdering girls in the woods (with extra panels of sex thrown in, talking with his publishers they stated that in fact they did ask him to throw in the sex/surprise sex aspect to the stories.)

I'm waiting for the reports to come in from the fire department to see what caused the blaze. I'm wondering if this was a suicide or if the reports will say anything about blue flames… like that house fire in 93!

FROM: FIELD AGENT *, N.American branch
DATE: JUNE 16th 2009 1243 hours

When you guys gave me this assignment back in 88 there were about, I would guess, three to maybe four S.MAN reports a year… now it's 2009 and I'm getting hits of S.MAN sightings drat near 20 to 30 times A WEEK!

I have been on this case for the past 21 years and we are no closer to catching it or even finding out how to kill it! I have been saying for years that there has to be more than one and with these reports that flood my in-box and the things our Europe and Asian sector agents have sent I can only say that this fucker is every where. Either this thing is breeding or… I really don't want to think about it.

Something Agent , from the Japanese field office, told me has been kicking in my head for the past couple days. She said that maybe this thing isn't breeding… but these others are WAKING UP. That maybe these things have been hibernating for god knows how long and how they are up and feeding. It makes some kind of sense with the stories of this thing dating back to the Dark Ages of Europe and beyond that.

That leaves the six million dollar question… If 's theory is true… how many of them are there?

DATE:** JUNE 17th, 0300 HOURS

I have to say once again Agent **'s suicide came as a major shock to me and every one who had worked closely with him these past several years. He will be missed…

But I already sent you that email yesterday. This is more about the "white elephant" in the room… the S.MAN Project.

A tiny part of me felt honored to be picked to be the new lead on this, but there is a large part that is saying I should not even open file number 1!

You asked me what I thought of the Project, if there is any chance of any "good" results.

I'm going to be perfectly blunt about this… it is of my personal and professional opinion that this project should be scraped immediately!

I have read the notes, looked through the files. There is no way on God's green Earth we will be able to do anything to stop this thing. In all my years with working cases for Optic Nerve I have seen things and proven many times before that supposed "Gods" can be killed.

But this… Slender Man… There is nothing in any records of anything thing even remotely hurting it. Reports ranging from small arms fire, artillery fire (the report from that Nazi Artillery team… that's what made me think about this)even full scale forest fires doesn't do anything!

This is a complete and total waste of time and man power. There is nothing you can say to me, or anyone in this branch that will make us change our minds. In a sick sad way the only thing we can do is keep a record of this thing.

We can't kill it
No way in hell we can capture it

Unless a miracle happens and someone, somehow, puts a dent in the thing, I consider this case to be changed from SEARCH/CAPTURE/DESTROY to OBSERVE/RECORD/STUDY.

DATE:** JUNE 17th, 1300 HOURS






DATE:** JUNE 18th, 0930 HOURS

This was just emailed to . It's the old man's answer to the mail **** sent him two weeks ago. Thought it pertinent.

Re: I just thought of something, need your thoughts


I apologize for not being able to respond sooner and hope you are doing well.

I appreciate you contacting me about this concern of yours, but let me be absolutely clear: It is my belief that the scenario you are describing is absolutely impossible. While The Slender Man can take on human appearance, the idea that he could mimic a team member of yours is unthinkable. Let me walk you through my reasoning.

If the figure depicted on "Der Ritter" is indeed The Slender Man, as I insist it is, then we know that it has not always worn a suit, but rather, in the medieval ages, a suit of armor. This, not to mention the title of the wood cut, would make it quite clear that it was trying to mimic a knight. Knights, as I am sure you know, was the elite class of soldiers doing the bidding of barons and kings in the Feudal Age. If The Slender Man wanted to appear not only human, but a part of the human elite, why not go higher? Why not a baron? Because it can't, quite obviously. It can appear quite human, at least from a distance, but up close it could never fool anyone, and it knows this. Thus it settled for being a knight, who sometimes even wore full helmets, in an attempt to appear inconspicuous yet not undesirable.

So the question follows: Who is the most powerful yet faceless people today? Men in suits, of course.

I hope this puts your mind at ease, and again I wish you luck in your efforts. Do not hesitate to contact me again if you have any more questions.

Yours Truly,
* * *


Guys, I don't know what to fucking do, I'm really fucking scared

I spend a lot of my time outside at night cause I work till 3 AM and sleep in the morning. I walk back home just because I like being alone at night, and I usually carry my shitty 15 year old camera with me

I usually walk down the middle of the road cause it's a weird feeling, you know, no fucking cars or whatever. I was snapping pictures tonight when all of a sudden this tall guy walks out from the Eastern road of the intersection. I mean, a fucking business suit, 3 fucking AM. So I figure maybe he's drunk, really well-balanced drunk, because he walks really fucking slow and looks straight ahead. I mean this guy moves so slow it's creepy and unnatural. There's something off about his silhouette too. He stops somewhere in the middle of the intersection and i take a picture, cause drat this is fucking weird. I only noticed after I went through them that he's fucking looking at me! you can see his head is turned…

Well, I'm not in the mood to get raped tonight or anything, so I turn around and speedwalk up the hill. At the top there's an old gas station that's been closed for 5 years and a parking lot, and I have to cross the lot on my way home. I still feel my skin crawling after seeing that dude so just to make sure I turn around and there he loving is.

I mean fucking seriously, this guy must be wearing running shoes cause I didn't hear a single fucking step and my ears are pretty good. Not to mention there's no other sound whatsoever. I'm sure menss dress shoes make noise even if you're trying to be quiet. I'm freaking out now, because this is really fucking odd. Not to mention he looks like he's holding rope or some fucking thing, I mean look at the silhouette. So I start running. I was hoping I'd lose him cause it really is foggy, and it's a neighborhood where you can easily get lost if you aren't familiar with it. Whatever amount of time later, I look back (this was seriously at least a mile away from the parking lot):

What the fuck. I realize that besides for when he walked to the middle of the intersection, I have not seen this guy fucking move. When I turn around he's just standing there. I just ran over a mile, and presumably so did he, and I can't even see him breathing. fuck all. And you can see whatever the fuck he's holding better here. What is that, fucking rope? At this point I figure fuck it, I'm going to run flat out, all the way home because I'm close now and I prefer this fuck not to know where I live. I start running and I get the idea to take some pictures just for the hell of it, I mean what if this dude starts following me around tomorrow? I only got one that wasn't blurred all to fuck.

Goons, what the fuck is that. Those fucking trees behind him are old and pretty goddamn tall. The dude could have torn the top leaves off of them. His magical fucking no-sound shoes are at least 6 feet off the ground. I can't fucking see what it is that's keeping him up but it looks like whatever I thought was rope before. I can bet he wasn't moving when I took the picture because the motion blur is pretty much the same for the background as it is for him. What the fuck. It's early morning right now and I think the sun's coming up, but I can't fucking tell for sure because every window is locked, every shade is drawn. I keep hearing tapping sounds on the window. I thought it was the tree in my backyard at first (its branches sometimes touch both the first and second floor back windows) but the tapping came from the front. And there isn't any fucking wind. I'm making GBS threads myself here. Goddammit, what do I do.

Deadly House Fire

The following is a transcription of a tape found after a deadly house fire in 1993.

(Start of Tape)

Sarah: Why are you making me do this? What have I ever done to you? Why can’t you just leave me alone?

Male voice: Please say your name into the microphone.

Sarah: S..Sarah West. He’s going to (Inaudible) you know!

Male voice: Who’s going to come back?

Sarah: (Sobbing.)

Male voice: Who’s going to come back, Sarah?

Sarah: That thing! God, haven’t you been listening to me! He’s going to come for me, and then (Inaudible.)

Male voice: Please speak into the microphone.

Sarah: He’s going to come for me, and then he’s going to find you. You can’t stop it, you can never stop it. He finds you, and what he does to you is worse than death. Let me go, please? I promise I won’t tell.

(At 0:50 the tape interrupts and goes silent. Sound resumes at 2:03.)

Male voice: Tell me what I want to know, and I will let you go.

Sarah: (Sobbing.)

Male voice: What is he, Sarah?

Sarah: (Yelling) I DON’T KNOW! (Sobbing.) I..just don’t know. He looks like a man, but, he’s wrong, yha know? He’s too long. His face, it’s just like a piece of cloth with a human face formed out of it. But, can see behind it slightly, like an old worn out handkerchief. He moves so fast, God, why does it move so fast?

Male voice: And what does he do to you if he finds you?

Sarah: I saw what he did to them. He took them, and he held them up, and they started to shake, like they were having seizures. As soon as they went limp, he would pull off their arms and legs one at a time, like the petals of a flower. And then, (Unintelligible Sobbing.)

Male voice: Then what would he do, Sarah?

(At 5:34, a boom is heard in the background.)

Sarah: He’s coming! Please don’t let me die! (Sobbing)

Male voice: Don’t worry, he will never hurt you again. What would he do with them after he did that?

Sarah: He turned them into something else….Something wrong.

(At 5:38 a louder boom is heard. A scream and several gunshots are heard. The tape ends with a hollow distorted electrical noise at 6:01)


Okay… I’ve been pondering this all day.

Let me preface this by saying that I am an extremely skeptical person. I do not believe in God, I do not believe in fairies, I don’t believe in magic and I think stories about “alien abductions” or conspiracy theories are irritating beyond belief because so many people waste their time believing them. My job requires me to think of cases in terms of proof – I am a biologist, and unfortunately I get confronted with all sorts of kooky theories more than I’d like. But I’ve never been able to get a grip on the following story, which has haunted me for years. I’m still not sure what it is, and I never had a name for it until I came across oblique references to the “Slender Man” from a friend who’s interested in cryptozoology (and who forwards me this kind of stuff just to annoy me).

As a kid, I used to live in a rural area that only really got urbanized in the early ‘90s. Apart from the village’s main road and a few smaller roads, the east of the village was a dense, murky forest and the west of the village was bordered by the Scheldt river. Since the Scheldt had been more or less straightened out by engineers a long time before I was born, a lot of its former subbranches had been cut off and had become marshes. Further uphill from the marshes were a number of farms, extensive wheat fields, grassy plains and an abandoned brickyard.

We used to live in one of the oldest houses in the village, so creaky floors, cracks in the walls that produced strangely melodious sounds when it was storming, or generally strange movements and sounds outside the house at night were pretty common, and I was used to them even as a toddler. I slept in a particularly noisy bedroom with a very high ceiling, a very tall door and a large window. One of my only memories of this room is quite a terrifying one. When I was about five years old, I awoke in the middle of the night because my window had been blown open by a strong gust of wind. Now, I probably would’ve gone back to sleep because I was used to the sound and the feeling of the chilly autumn wind, but this time I heard and felt nothing. A very strong sensation of terror gripped me, and I wanted to scream for my parents, but found that I couldn’t speak a word, nor make any sort of movement. At that moment, the door to my bedroom opened with a very loud bang, and in the opening, lit in the back by the dimmed lights from the hallway, stood a vaguely human figure so tall that it easily filled up the available space. The figure looked impossibly slim, and its legs seemed to fade away near the ground, while its arms were flung wide and far. Although I couldn’t discern any sort of feature, I got the dizzying sensation that it was looking at me. Then, I heard its voice, which didn’t seem to emanate from its mouth, nor did it feel like it was directly speaking in my mind – rather, its voice came from all over the room simultaneously, surrounding me. Its sound was very deep and disjointed, as if someone was speaking through a metal tube. The creature thundered the word “Jozef” at me. Jozef used to be a fairly common Dutch name. When the creature then started shrieking at me, I somehow regained control of my voice, closed my eyes and screeched at the top of my lungs. I only opened my eyes again when I heard my parents dashing up the stairs. The creature was gone.


As I came of age, I dismissed this experience as an extremely vivid nightmare, possibly even a hallucination, since I became very ill the next day, and according to my mother, I had an abnormally high fever. The only thing that haunted me about the story, which I couldn’t erase from my mind, was that when my parents were running up the stairs, my door was still wide open, while I knew that it had been shut when I fell asleep.

I nearly forgot about this ordeal until I was about 20 and started inquiring about my family history. I was asking my mother a few questions, purely out of curiosity. This mainly had to do with the peculiar fact that a lot of her male ancestors died at a very young age – she was a baby when her father had died due to stomach cancer, she was a toddler when her uncle died in a car crash, and she’d never known her mother’s father because he’d died in 1947. My great-grandfather’s brother died young as well, in a freak accident while watching a lightning storm from the window of his bedroom – he was struck by lightning and killed on the spot. Another one of her great-uncles drowned in the Scheldt after losing a wager to see who could swim fastest after lunch. Nearly all of them were local villagers and farmers.

Now, as I was asking about my great-grandfather, whose fate piqued my interest, my mother became very dismissive, and told me I wouldn’t want to know the story behind his untimely death, since “it was an ugly mess”. Obviously, her attempts to not speak about it only increased my interest, if only because I had in fact known my great-grandmother for a short period, and she, too had refused to talk about her deceased husband. So eventually, my mother told me the story.

In 1940, Belgium was occupied by Nazi Germany. Because my future great-grandmother, whose name was Agnes, and her husband had a big grocery store on a transit road between two villages, their house was chosen by the Germans as a makeshift garrison. My family hated it. They spoke only very little German, and the soldiers made no effort to learn any Dutch. They treated my family as if they were mentally incapacitated yokels, and ate all of their food. There was one exception, however – a young soldier named Peter, who was actually interested in the village and frequently asked for directions to the best walking routes through the nearby forests and marshes. Grudgingly, my great-grandfather accompanied him, but over the next months, they hesitantly developed some sort of friendship, because it turned out that Peter not only was an adamant trekker who loved being outdoors, he was also an amateur photographer, just like my great-grandfather.
In the late Summer of 1942, something terrible happened. One evening, my great-grandfather and Peter were exploring the marshes and taking a few pictures. A few hours later, well past midnight, my great-grandfather came home, looking like an utter maniac, wide-eyed and sweaty, shaking and unable to utter a coherent word. The other Germans in the house were very alarmed, and while two of them guarded my great-grandfather, the rest went to look for Peter. From what my mother told me (and she heard the story from her own mother, who was about 9 years old at that time), the Germans came back in the early morning with some of Peter’s equipment, visibly shaking and completely silent. The next day, they took my great-grandfather, who was still dazed and alternated between screaming fits and apathy, with them and relocated to another house. My great-grandfather was sent to a German factory where lots of young Belgians were forcibly sent, because he was blamed for Peter’s death*, even though the local commander admitted to Agnes that they knew he hadn’t killed him. The commander hoped that my great-grandfather would “straighten out” again under the heavy routine of the labour there. He was wrong.

In 1946, one year after the war had ended, my great-grandfather came back home. He had obviously been treated very badly at the factory. He was completely emaciated, had a bunch of nasty scars and was deathly exhausted. The worst thing was, he was now completely apathetic to anything. He mostly didn’t eat and slept a lot, stared off into space or went on strange long walks without explaining where he had gone. The day before he died, he destroyed nearly all of his old stuff, and ripped out all pictures of all albums he had collected – he only kept one picture, which he paraded around the house like a lunatic, constantly pointing at it: “It’s him! It’s him!” he kept repeating, until he collapsed on the living room floor and drifted off into a coma. The next day, he died.

My great-grandmother wanted to burn that last picture, but my future grandmother managed to salvage it, and later kept it in her attic. Last year, after she had died, I quietly searched her house for the picture… and I found it. I wish I never had. The horror of my encounter with the terrifying creature, the “Slender Man” as you all call him, came back in full force. You can call me stupid for only making the connection at that moment, but my great-grandfather’s name was Jozef.

I apologize for the bad quality of the picture, but it was pretty wasted when I found it, and my scanner is a piece of junk. I have a higher-resolution image available on request.

  • In my village’s official history, Peter’s death was described as an accident. The official explanation was that he had sunk into a pile of gravel while on watch-out, and suffocated. This is ostensibly untrue, because there was no need for watch-outs in my village in 1942, and no soldier in their right mind would think of a pile of gravel as a good lookout spot.

New Jersey Turnpike

Perhaps the most famous sighting is reported to have taken place on October 11, 1966 in Elizabeth, New Jersey. The entity was sighted by two boys, James Yanchitis and Marvin Munoz, as they were walking home along Fourth Street and New Jersey Street when they reached a corner parallel to the New Jersey Turnpike. The turnpike is elevated and there is an extremely steep incline going down from the busy street above which leads to Fourth Street. A very large, high wire fence runs along the edge of the other street below where the boys were walking, making it incredibly difficult to near impossible for anyone to want to climb up the incline to the turnpike above. There are bright street lights in that area, which gave the boys a good glimpse of what they called "the strangest guy we've ever seen." Yanchitis noticed the strange entity first. "He was standing behind that fence", he stated later to investigators. "I don't know how he got there. He was the biggest man I ever saw." "Jimmy nudged me", Marvin Munoz reported to police, "and said, Who's that guy standing behind you?' I looked around and there he was… behind that fence. Just standing there. He pivoted around and looked right at us… then he grinned a big old grin." There had been recent reported incidents of violence in the nearby neighborhood, such as a middle-resident being chased by a "tall man" down that same street and on the same night, so the boys fled quickly.

Well-known author, paranormal investigator, and journalist John A. Keel visited the two boys in Elizabeth, New Jersey, three days after the incident. Along with Keel came UFO lecturer James Moseley. Munoz and Yanchitis were interviewed by Keel separately in the home of Mr. George Smythe and both boys told the exact same story. "The man was over six feet tall, they agreed, and was dressed in a black business suit that seemed to absorb the street lights." The boys also said "He had a very pale complexion, and little round eyes…real beady…set far apart." The most frightening and bizarre aspect of the encounter is the fact that "They could not remember seeing any hair, ears, or nose on this figure."

Peppermint Tree

So do we agree that The Slender Man has something to do with trees? Because I'm wondering if I should be freaked out by the ancient peppermint tree that is growing not a dozen feet from my window.

Put it this way. Sometimes when you get up in the night for a glass of water, and you look out the window, it'll look like your tree has one or two too many branches.

When that happens, stop looking, turn off the light and go back to bed.

I like the tree/plant connection because you could cast him/it as a strange creeper or vine or spiderthing which is just trying to look like a person as a form of camouflage. The impersonation is imperfect, though, so he falls right in the uncanny valley. He can be killed, and what's left just looks like rotten wood, but… well, another one grows to take his place. This means he can be seen anywhere plants grow, especially forests and jungles, and anywhere in time because he can live to be very old and the spores are very old and travel on the wind and stuff, and a bullet will snap off a thin branch but nothing else, and an axe to the neck will just get lodged and make him irritable and shriek at you, and if he touches you you get a rash or sting like poison ivy, and he appears in old nursery rhymes to frighten children out of running away from home, and there's only one or two Walking Men at any given time, but maybe there's a whole grove of Still Men planted somewhere, and fire is your best weapon which is why he only comes out when it's foggy or stormy…

Emergency Call

So, it looks like The Slender Man phenomenon is more widespread than we though. It's amazing what you can find on the web- these were leaked. Not going to tell you WHERE I found them though. Seems Slender Man has been sighted in England, at any rate, if these reports and photos are to be believed.

Emergency call transcript, Jul 20th 2003:

Operator: Hello Caller, what is your location?
Caller: Help… Please help…
Op: What is your location, please caller?
Caller: [inaudible] know! we're in some old house…
Op: Where is the house located?
Caller: Somewhere on [inaudible]. Somethings here.
Op: What is the emergency?
Caller: Somethings here! Something bad. It's hurt my boyfriend, it just [inaudible]
Op: You and your boyfriend have been attacked?
Caller: Yes! Please send help. Anything!
Op: Sending officers to your location now. Please stay on the line, caller.
Caller: I can't! It'll hear me! Oh, god… [Inaudible.]
Op: Caller?
Caller: [Heavy breathing]
Op: Caller, officers will be there soon, please remain calm
Caller: [Unidentifiable sound]
[Caller disconnect]

According to the reports the emergency service traced the call to a mobile phone just outside city limits. When officers and paramedics arrived on scene they found an abandoned building, with no-one around. The door was wide open, broken into. On checking the interior they found nothing- except a camera.

When the pictures were published, they found these. Creepy, huh?

Oh, but it doesn't end there. Canvassing the few houses out there garnered reports that the place was 'haunted' they'd seen strange things around there, wouldn't let their kids play there, standard stuff like that. Some kid had died several years ago, pretty nasty. On a whim, I wanted to see if I could track down the statements from that time- I found one, from the brother. Pretty interesting reading… I've excerpted the best bits, got rid of all the distraction. The kid seems pretty upset when you read through it- understandable, really.

Extracts of witness statement, 16 may 1963
… I don't know why we went to the house. Just seemed like a fun thing to do. I don't know why the old owners left. It's been empty for a long long time. We got there at about ten I think and we went to look around. James did some silly stuff. Like throw a brick at a window. He's always trying to get me in trouble….[six sentences cut] it took us ages to break into the house but when we got in it was strange, really odd. All the old stuff there, all the old stuff from the old family. Even plates on the table, everything. It was really dusty, nothing has been in for long time… upstairs there was loads of writing on the wall it didn't make any sense. Pictures of a man. A tall man with long arms. The writing was scary. I didn't like it….[paragraph cut] when we went into a bedroom my brother said it was a girls bedroom. he got on the bad and started making moaning noises. My brother's thirteen. He was laughing, I told him he shouldn't. Because the girl might be watching…[two sentence cut] I don't know why I thought someone might be watching but it felt like it was. I really wanted to get out of the bedroom. The window was open and it was really cold…[paragraph cut] I looked out of the window. I saw someone. Someone really tall and plae, wearing black. He was really thin. I thought he might be the house owner and I was scared. I shouted at my brother. My brother came to the window. He got all pale and started looking funny. The tall pale man was coming closer. My brother told me to get out of the room and hide. I hid for ages and I heard steps on the stairs and then I didn't hear anything any more. I waited for hours but when I got out of the cupboard my brother was gone. I've seen the thin man twice since outside my house. I'm scared…

Oddly enough, on the 26th of the month Simon Doyle, brother of James Doyle was reported missing. Three months later two bodies were found at an abandoned train station badly mutilated. They were tentatively identified as Simon and James.

As for what happened to the family that owned the house before? I think we can guess. The words we know for sure were painted on the wall read as follows:
He is coming, the slender man is coming
He knows.
He knows where you sleep and where you live
Only he knows what he wants
He watches
He wants

Who knows what else has happened? Where else he's been? By the way the investigation has officially been taken off the hands of [REDACTED] police and handed off to a more 'experienced' squad, apparently. What are they keeping from us this time? Just what is going on?

Mississippian Mounds

PLATE 17 Mississipian Mound Near Crab Orchard Lake in Illinois
This variety of mound is generally attributed to the Mississippian culture between 900 and 1450 CE, after which the culture seems to have largely dispersed or collapsed. Photographs of these earthwork monuments routinely develop unusual dark artifacts not visible at the time the photo was taken. In this picture, the artifacts areas appear to be slender, vaguely humanoid shapes (see inset detail). Note the scale in inset A: the railing in front of the "figure" is approximately three feet high, so the figure would be in the range of 8-9 feet tall. According to local legend, these are the ynirono or "tomb guardians".

Excerpted from: Richard Hauser's Cults of the New World (2003), p. 203

It is generally assumed that the drastic decline in the pre-Columbian civilizations of North America was due to epidemics introduced via contact with European explorers. However, recent archaeological data indicates that this decline began as early as 1350 and that the arrival of Europeans only served to weaken an greatly reduced population. The causes for decline in the prospering Mississippian and Oneota civilizations, therefore, remain a great mystery.

The key to this mystery may lie in recent excavations such as the 2000 excavation of the mound at Shiloh by the Southeast Archaeological Center. The unfortunate flash flood on March 23 left little physical evidence, but dig directors David G. Anderson and John Cornelison Jr. took extensive photographs and notes. In a May, 2001 interview, Dr. Anderson related:


"The presence of the steep river bank at the mound site meant we could go in horizontally and take samples of [far beneath] the mound, up to 50 feet below ground level. That's by far the deepest anybody ever dug, and we didn't expect to find anything there since the funerary artifacts are generally five to eight feet below ground level. The lowest strata were pretty iron-rich - which is unusual to the area - and I can still remember when Barb [Dr. Barbara Tully] found the bones. Fifty feet, straight down through the earth, there were human bones, thousands of them. All of the iron we were finding - that was from blood."

This is the first evidence of such mass graves in the area. In a time of increasing political turmoil and tribal warfare, it is uncertain if these were the battle dead or sacrificial prisoners - the presence of blood remains certainly indicates the latter. Another possibility forwarded by LeRousse et al. is the spread of a hemorrhagic illness similar to the Marburg and Ebola strains, which would also explain the precipitous population decline.

Plates 17-19 illustrate artifacts typically displayed on photographs of earthworks such as the ones at Shiloh and Crab Orchard Lake (i.e. those constructed circa 1350). The detail insets show the artifacts to be slender figures much taller than a human with multiple long, curving limbs. It is uncertain what these figures might represent, but it is generally agreed that they were not present at the time the photo was taken. It is these artifacts that may have lead to the recurring "Slender Man" scares in the midwest in the mid-20th century. And, as loath as we are to admit it, there may be some truth to these scares: de Soto's initial inroads into the North America.

Wilks Estate

5/24/95** 1994: Wilks Estate. One subject reported nothing out of the ordinary before taking photograph. Lower stairs area was said to be very dark. Subject states that after the camera flash she heard a sound like a watermelon being *unable to understand subject*.


5/25/93** Subject unable to recall events after manor power failure. Unable to question other two identified subjects. Camera and film acquired from Gloria Cready, current resident of Woodview Mental Hospital and Psychological Rehabilitation Clinic. Film mostly uncontaminated despite mass of blood and human tissue present on camera. No positive ID on anomalous tall and slender subject. Facial blur caused by possible contamination.

6/7/93** Early digital analysis indicates tall subject may have no eyes. Anomalies, previously thought to be film errors and flash artifacts, now thought to be appendages.

6/10/93** Final identified subject reported missing along with other thirty-three patients and staff of Woodview Mental Hospital and Psychological Rehabilitation Clinic south wing. -

6/18/93** Further inquiry to cease immediately. (see report No.3339-2)

Iraqi Desert


HQ: Echo 1 come in.

Echo 1: Echo 1 reporting. Still no sign of convoy.


HQ: Any activity at all?

Echo 1: Negative, It is pitch black out here, nothing moving at all.

HQ: Stay alert. Insurgents may be in area.

Echo 1: Hold on… I see something. Johnson give me a spot…

[massive static]

HQ: Come in Echo 1. What do you see?

Echo 1: It's [static] the doors [static] blood [static]

HQ: Repeat, is there wounded?

Echo 1: N…[static] Wai…[static]… the fuck shot…. [gunfire then static]

HQ: Respond Echo 1. Whats going on?

Echo 1: [paniced tone] Oh god keep fir… [gunfire, static]

HQ: Echo 1… Echo 1 respond… Echo 1 respond!

REPORT: Another four man Army Ranger Team went out to the last location of Echo 1. What was found were several discarded M16 rifles, clips empty, the radio, smashed, and the remains of several Humvees. Blood was found inside the Humvees but no bodies or any other signs of struggle were found. The night vision camera was found 300 feet away from the Humvees. The only image found was the one shown. It is unknown what the figure in the back ground is or if it was some kind of defect on the camera it's self.

Deep Sea Excursion

Radio and video transmission from the bathyscaphe Nyx, following a deep-sea excursion on April 6th, REDACTED.

Transmission Resumes

(Following a burst of static, video and radio return. Outside Nyx is a wall of blackness lit only by powerful lights attached to the hull.)

Jonas REDACTED : "…ack online. Can you hear me? Over."

Patricia REDACTED : "Some interference, but clear enough to hear. Over."

J.: "Thought I was lost there for a minute. Any idea what's causing interference? Over."

P.: "No clue. Usually you come in nice and… wait. Port camera. What's that?"

J.: "Hn?"

(In the lights on the port side are long, irregular streaks through the plant life on the sea floor. The plants near the path are sickly and dying.)

P.: "Looks like something gouged into there."

J.: "Wait… there's scoring on the rock below. drat. Whatever did that had some serious kick."

(The port camera zooms in.)

P.: "There's a lot of them… seem to be going off in either direction. Did you notice any of these earlier?"

J.: "No. Rock face is clear behind me. Maybe whatever-it-was didn't start feeding until now."

P.: "You're… going to follow it. Follow the trail of something that cut through rock."

J.: "As long as it doesn't try to nip me, I'll be fine."

(The bathyscaphe follows the scorches through the plants. They continue on for several dozen yards.)

J.: "Hey… I see something."

(There is nothing visible in the wall of darkness.)

P.: "What do you see? The cameras aren't picking it up."

J.: "Hang on. Scooting in…"

(The bathyscaphe gradually crawls forward. For a moment, a tall, vaguely humanoid shape leans out of the dark. The cameras all go dead.)

J.: "…No way."

P.: "Jonas, the cameras went dark! What do you see?"

J.: "…sorta like a guy in a suit. And now you think I'm c… wait. What in the hell are… shit, he sawmother of fuck, what are"

P.: "Jonas?! What's—"

(Screaming, hard metallic crunching, terrible wet popping sounds.)

Generalized Description of the Slenderman

File SM852035
Generalized description of the Slenderman


  • Tall, thin humanoid with indistinct features, with between 2 to 6 boneless arms
  • Torso is of normal proportion, limbs lengthened to point of mild to sever deformity
  • Additional arms are frequently hidden.
  • Appears to be wearing a suit (black tie, black pants, black coat, black shoes, white shirt)

eyes may or may not glow.

Habits and habitat

  • Known to be predatory to humans
  • Frequently associated with fog (Either prefers foggy areas or capable of summoning it, unknown)
  • Frequently associated with woodland areas.


  • No combat encounters, data or projections on record.
  • Strong enough to lift a fully grown man. (confirmed, incident SM165608)
  • Intelligence level unknown
  • Capable of traveling long distances, quickly without appearing to become fatigued (anecdotal)
  • Possibly amphibious (tenuous, assume true)
  • Capable of climbing with ease.

Mobile Vegetables

The scariest ones for me were the series where it looked like a normal if creepily elongated man at first, but as he got closer he got more and more elongated and wrong looking.

Perhaps some sort of mobile vegetable life which can mimic a person quite successfully whilst stalking but once it is sure of its prey the true horror of its form gradually reveals itself as it closes in for the kill?

It strikes me as a super intelligent and telepathic hunting tree thing, also able to start fires in order to conceal its actions, or at least hypnotize witnesses into starting fires and/or destroying evidence.

It's probably not alien either. I like to think of it as having preyed upon humans since the dawn of time, mimicking the changing forms of clothing through history in order to best blend in, the black suit and tie version being the most current but not the only form of camouflage it has taken. Being a tree there are no remains in the fossil record, but it's been preying on us since we were in caves, hiding itself by wiping the traumatic experience from the memories of witnesses so it can safely continue to prey without reprisal. And yet some hideous lovecraftian horror lurks in the back of our minds still on dark misty nights out walking in the forest…

Henry Coe

I found a man named Henry Coe's alleged recollection of what seems to be the Slender Man.

He was out hunting deer last year, way off in New Mexico or something. He found a quiet place to set up, and waited awhile. Around 3 o'clock or so, he heard rustling, and sure enough, it was a deer. Two deer. He was an amateur hunter, and didn't really know what more to do than wait, then shoot. He watched them pretty closely, but they were acting very nervous and skittish. Coe thought they may have heard him, so he did his best to slow his breathing and be quiet. They calmed down, and, suddenly, bolted off, so fast that one of the deer tripped over its own legs and went flying to the ground. Coe figured this was all he'd get to bring home, so he aimed for its head, and pulled the trigger. He said there was a click, and the bullet just fell out of the barrel- no force behind it, it just slid out and landed at his feet. He tried to fire a couple more times, but nothing happened beyond a click.

Frustrated and hungry, he decides to see whether he could follow the other deer and bag some lunch. He leaves his post and walks further into the woods. He walks awhile, but he doesn't see any wildlife. He keeps walking and sees the deer rifling through a cooler next to a tent, eating the sandwiches and the bags. He aims, but hears something else, and looks to the direction he came from. He sees a figure that looks like an emaciated man, walking in a jerky, but purposeful, gait (he describes this like "stop-motion with every other frame removed"). He watches as the figure speeds up and seems to be trying to tackle the deer. It speeds up, inhumanly, supernaturally, and suddenly "sprouted a bunch of branches". The deer runs off, but, to Coe's horror, the figure is still floating toward the tent, full-speed. It reaches it, and shreds the tent open in seconds. A family of three was in that tent, a chorus of visceral, horrified screaming starts as the figure rips the people from the battered tent. The couple's six-year old daughter tries to scuttle away, and is pinned to the ground instantly by the figure's apparent fourth arm. The figure turns around and looks at Coe; this is the last thing he remembers.

This is the illustration he made for the police.


He allegedly went into a psychosis when he drew the creature's arms and eyes; there are holes in the paper from the pen he used.

He was eventually admitted to a state mental hospital. However, it had to be closed due to an unseen mold hazard. He was relocated to another facility, but disappeared afterward. He was later found in his old room at his former (now decrepit and abandoned) hospital, whimpering crying incoherently.


My grandmother was a poor peasant from Russia; I never knew my grandfather, Pyotr. The last anybody heard of Pyotr was in 1939, when he “disappeared” to a gulag in Siberia. My father was born a couple months after that, in 1940, and in the winter of 1941, when the Germans were deep in the heart of Russia and stories of killings spread, my grandmother decided that she would not lose my father to the Nazis, to Stalin, or to hunger and the cold. She fled—she has still not told anybody how—and she reached America with the rags on her back, a spoon that had been blessed by the Patriarch Nikon, and my father, who was originally to be named Abraham, but out of fear of action triggered by a religious name, had been officially named Dimitri. My grandmother held him tightly, calling him “my sweet Mitya.”

According to the authorities in the Soviet Union, my father had no father; my grandfather was wiped from existence as he was taken away. When I was younger, I could not wrap my head around it; how could a man exist and leave proof of his existence—my father—and yet not exist? I later realized that it was simply denial on the part of the authorities. Little did I know that my younger self, who saw a paradox of existence and non-existence, was right. How could somebody exist and not exist? It must be corrected.

My father married twice. The first marriage was childless but not altogether unpleasant. The second marriage produced my older brother and me. My grandmother always had a strange way of showing her emotions about my father’s choices. During the first marriage, I am told, she did not scold him for picking a Jewish bride, as Russian mothers of that generation were expected to. She sat without emotion during the ceremony, clutching the heirloom spoon. Later, she took my father aside and, clutching his arm with surprising strength in her bony fingers, whispered with urgent eyes: “The world corrects its mistakes; it does not care who it hurts. Do not bring children. It is a mistake. It must be corrected. It will come. He will come.”

I am not sure why they never had children—perhaps the warning, perhaps medical reasons, perhaps something else. The second marriage, though hardly the most fruitful, saw two children born. My grandmother arrived to pay her regards to the birth of my older brother, telling my father, “You have made a mistake. It must be corrected. It will come. He will come.” She did not pay her regards to my birth two years later.

Growing up, she seemed distant to me. Whenever I was over, she would move as quickly as she could to grab her blessed relic and hold it tightly. She looked at the air around her, muttering in Russian. I asked her what she was doing, and she reluctantly acknowledged my presence, saying, “Something cannot come from nothing. It is a mistake. It must be corrected. It will come. He will come.”

My older brother protected me from schoolyard bullies and tried to help me as much as he could as we grew up. He gave me advice about the things boys had to know—school, card games, girls—and by the time he was eighteen and graduating high school, he was my hero and provided all the guidance I needed. About that time, things started to change. It was not the people so much as the air, which seemed to hold less oxygen and felt static at all times, constantly threatening to send out a spark at any point and any time.

My grandmother sensed the change first, and started to withdraw from us more, if it was even possible. My father noticed, and took us by one day. My father banged on her door and we heard footsteps inside, but the door never opened. “Open the door,” my father shouted at the door, “it’s Mitya. I have the boys.” We left in confusion.
To celebrate his graduation, my brother went on a fishing trip at a friend’s cabin in the woods two hours away. When they arrived, the four friends noticed that none of them had brought a bottle opener. My brother called me, begging me to bring one from home. “Couldn’t you just run by a convenience store?” I whined. I relented after only a couple minutes; I loved to drive.

About halfway through the trip, my father called me on my cell phone. “Have you heard from your mother?”, he said, “Because she should have been home a while ago and I haven’t heard a thing.” I was a bit worried, but figured she just was working late. “Oh,” he said, “let me check the driveway, I think I hear her car.” I heard him go outside and stop, then call out my mother’s name. “Huh,” he said, “that’s weird. She left her car running in the driveway, but she’s nowhere to be found.” I began to ache and felt a bit hot. “I think…”, I started, but the phone call had ended. I was about to dial again when I felt a sharp pain in my temples, as if chisels had been hammered into each.

I don’t know how the car stopped on the road or how I didn’t crash. I was numb, worried, and hopeful that I had just fallen asleep at the wheel. “You’re just a worrier,” I thought to myself. Still, my grandmother’s words rang in my head. “It is a mistake. It must be corrected. It will come. He will come.”

When I got to the cabin, I found my brother in the front room, staring at the kitchen table. “I didn’t feel well,” he said, and I noticed that his face was pale and sweaty.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested.

We went into the woods, walking along a trail that had been partially grown over. Neither of us talked. He looked at the ground in front of him; I looked at the trees. Some of them seemed odd. They didn’t sway like the others. They didn’t look quite like the others. The just didn’t feel right. When I looked again, the oddness was gone, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see something that looked almost like a tall, slender man.

We stopped by the side of the lake. I could not see where his friends were fishing. I started to pick up flat pebbles and skip them across the surface of the water. My brother was always better at this, and I turned to make a joke and suggest that he try. I looked over my right shoulder and turned and turned and he wasn’t there. I was a bit spooked, but reasoned that he might want to be alone. I was about to turn back to the water when I heard a guttural sound that only said: “RUN.”

I shot back towards the trail and ran as fast as I could, stumbling over vegetation, feeling something bearing down on me, getting closer, closer…
As I ran, I realized what was happening. My grandfather did not die; he never existed. My father should not exist, nor should my brother, nor should I. It is a mistake. It must be corrected. It will come. He will come.

Missing Teenager

DATE: July 15th, 1993

Officer Jackson questioning missing girl's friend, Crystal Marie Parkriner

JACKSON: Please state your name and age.

PARKRINER: (clearly upset) I already told you…

JACKSON: Please…

PARKRINER: (sighs) Crystal Marie Parkriner, 16 years old… Why aren't you out there looking for Alice!?

JACKSON: Ma'm please calm down, we are looking for her, we just need to hear your story to maybe better help us find out what happened. What is your relationship to Miss Elkins?
PARKRINER: She was my friend…

JACKSON: What were you and her doing in the park.

PARKRINER: We were doing a late 16 birthday party… her parents flaked out on her since America's Most Wanted ran that story about her sister again.

JACKSON: Her sister?

PARKRINER: Yeah… couple years ago her sister was kidnapped, you know Katrina Elkins.

JACKSON: Was Alice upset or maybe suicidal?

PARKRINER: She… she wouldn't do that.

JACKSON: Ok, tell me what happened.

PARKRINER: So… men, Donnie…

JACKSON: Donnie?

PARKRINER: Donnie Parkriner, my brother. Sal… (sighs) Sally Danes and Richie Farms decided to take Alice to have a birthday party since her parents been putting off doing anything for Alice. So we got some things and decided to have a camp party…

JACKSON: What things did you bring with you for this party?

PARKRINER: (getting annoied) Beer… food… cigs…

JACKSON: Any drugs?


JACKSON: OK, go on

PARKRINER: We got there like 7 pm so we were setting up the tent and stuff… Alice seemed ok.

JACKSON: Was she drinking?

PARKRINER: No… she didn't drink. She was looking at the lake for awhile… It was like, 9 pm when Alice started acting strange.


PARKRINER: She… got quiet. Kept looking out at the woods… then she started walking into the darkness.

JACKSON: Did any of you follow her?

PARKRINER: I did… but it was like she was listening to someone else… like she was listening to directions by someone. I couldn't follow her. Donnie got a flash light and we went on… we started finding her clothes on the ground but we couldn't find her…. Please find her… (crying) she's out there missing and maybe hurt…

JACKSON: We are looking for her…

Cessna Stationair

Transcript from CVR recovered from Cessna Stationair N [REDACTED]

  • HOT Crewmember hot microphone voice or sound source
  • RAD Radio transmission from accident aircraft
  • CAM Cockpit area microphone voice or sound source
  • CAB Cabin area microphone voice or sound source
  • -1 Voice identified as Pilot-in-Command (PIC)
  • @ Non-pertinent word
  • # Expletive
  • [ ] Editorial insertion
  • … Pause


1834:25 HOT-1 Jesus Christ, I shouldn't have flown back tonight.
1834:34 HOT-1 [sound similar to human sigh]
1837:43 CAM-1 [sound similar to crew seat movement]
1840:05 HOT-1 [unintelligible]
1843:10 CAB [sound similar to baggage sliding across floor]
1843:11 HOT-1 What the hell was that?
1843:17 CAB [sound similar to passenger seat movement]
1843:38 HOT-1 Shit.
1843:58 CAM [sound of autopilot being engaged]
1844:21 CAM [sound similar to crew seat movement]
1844:28 HOT-1 Holy # mother #!
1844:29 CAB [sound similar to tension spring snapping]
1844:30 HOT-1 Who the # are yo— turn around.
1844:31 HOT-1 Some # man in black hiding out on my plane. I've got a # crow bar you idiot. Turn around.
1844:35 CAB [sound similar to deep inhale]
1844:36 CAB [sound similar to baggage sliding across floor]
1844:58 CAM [unintelligible] [screaming]
1844:59 HOT-1 Where's your # # face? [spoken in screaming voice]
1845:02 CAB [sound similar to external door being slammed shut] [note impossibility, similar sound]
1845:04 HOT-1 [unintelligible] [garbled]
1845:05 CAM [sound similar to single ECAM chime]
1845:08 HOT-1 [sound of human grunt]
1845:09 CAB [sound of crow bar? hitting side of cabin]
1846:13 HOT-1 I hit you # #! I hit you! Get off my # plane [intelligible]
1846:17 CAB [sound of laughter]
1846:20 CAB [sound similar to fabric being torn]
1846:21 HOT-1 [unintellible] [screaming]
1846:23 CAB [sound similar to dripping water continues for 30.4 seconds]
1846:25 CAB [sound similar to slurping? continues for 23.8 seconds]
1846:58 CAB [sound similar to human grunt]
1847:18 CAB [sound of cracking]
1847:29 CAB [unintelligible whispering]
1852:31 CAM [roaring noise begins and continues for 28.5 seconds]
1852:36 CAM [sound of clicking]
1852:43 CAM [sound of loud cracking]
1852:44 CAM [sound similar to stall warning repetitive chime continues for 2 seconds]
1852:45 CAM [sound similar to prop engine stalling]
1852:50 CAM [sound similar to radio static continues for 2.7 seconds]
1852:59 CAM [roaring noise greatly increases in amplitude continues for remaining duration]
1853:10 CAM [sound similar to single ECAM chime]
1853:15 CAM [sound similar to crackling continues for 1.4 seconds]
1853:20 CAM [sound similar to single ECAM chime]
1853:31 CAM [sound similar to single ECAM chime]


The following image, taken recently by "Jason E", a student at University of California, Santa Cruz, in a wooded area near Santa Cruz, CA is notable as one of the few photographs of the Slender Man in which he is the intended subject of the shot. Jason left a message on my page and when I replied and requested that he send his photo, Jason wrote the following along with the image:


We were just hanging out in the woods near ucsc on thursday what with me and Ed not havin class. Theres a few trails and one went by near where we were so people would walk by every once in a while.

Maybe like 3:30 or 4 this hot chick in shorts goes by shes got another girl with her and a couple of kids I think and I go to get out my camera (dont judge me man i like to take pics of hot chicks so what lol its a free country). I get it out and im like, poo poo its too late, they were goin pretty fast and where I was i couldnt see them any more (in the pic you can kinda see the edge of the trail up at the top left) so i was just about to turn off my camera when I seen the guy off in the woods. So I took this picture and then looked down at the screen to see if I got him you know, it shows the pic for a couple seconds after you take it on the lcd? but the screen is small and i cant tell so i look up and he's gone.

Me and ed went back later and checked out the pics. I had to resize it down to 800/600 so it would be small enough to e-mail but I got the full size one too if you want it man just let me know. I dunno it could be just some dude or gently caress ed says its just a weird shadow but i dunno. You said to send it so here it is.

Jason's school e-mail address now bounces, I suspect he graduated or transferred.



911 call received from Mr. [REDACTED of REDACTED Parish. Caller stated that he was concerned for the safety of his nearest neighbor (Mr. REDACTED). Caller states that he had been awoken at midnight by the sounds of some commotion, a dog barking loudly and furiously followed by shouting, a single gunshot, horrible screaming, and finally silence. Caller informs 911 operator that the home of Mr REDACTED is "a few hundred yards away" from his own, and thought it odd that the sounds had traveled so far through the woods. 911 operator dispatched officers to the scene.


12:48 AM AUGUST 23:
Officers arrive at the residence on Mr. REDACTED to discover the an area of the outer wall of the residence ripped away, leaving a gaping hole (approximately 15-foot wide by 10 feet high) where the entry door had been. Debris spread from the tearing down of the wall was spread both inside and outside the residence, in an area approximately 20 feet in every direction from the hole. Unable to determine whether the wall had been knocked down from inside or outside the home, one officer on the scene reportedly said the wall looks to have simply exploded from within. Signs of a struggle were evident in the upstairs bedroom. Some furniture had been knocked over and the matress "looked like someone went slash-happy with a sword", in the words of one responder. A shotgun with one spent shell was on the floor, but officers were unable to locate any buckshot scoring of the walls or other objects in the room, and the window glass was unbroken.

Officers Were unable to locate any sign of Mr. REDACTED . Small traces of blood were found in the adjacent bathroom sink but this is not likely a result of this event, as an adjustable shaving razor was also in the sink.

Though the caller had reported hearing a dog barking and officers did find a bag of dog food and water/food dishes on the floor in the kitchen, the dog was nowhere to be found.

Though many photographs were taken, the data got corrupted somehow, and only one photo was usable.

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