When did it stop being a joke? This went from giggles to shits pretty fast.

At first, it was just curiosity. Urban legends, old forum threads, weird videos that barely made sense. You told yourself it was all fake. It looked fake.

The concept of killers with such characteristics, being public, was too dramatic to be true.

And those called “proxies”, controlled by that one horror character called Slenderman. Where are we? Some kid's made up horror story?

You've been telling yourself that since you started looking in it. Those stories of people investigating then disappearing were just that, stories, made up tales.

Until the packages started showing up. No return address. The first one was small. A dead bird, carefully placed inside a cardboard box, with a ribbon like a sick last minute Christmas gift. You still weren't able to shake off the feeling of nausea you had when its smell reached your nose after opening it.

You told yourself it was a prank. Just some teenagers thinking they were little comedians, trying to scare someone with “ooh, I have your address” and “ooh, you shouldn't have done that”. Halloween was close, after all.

Then, the letters arrived. No greeting, no signature. Just some words written over and over again. Things like “you'll regret it“, “it's not too late to go back” or your full name written all over a paper, with other personal information.

For this moment, you were just a bit more convinced that maybe these weren't jokes.

The third one… this finished convincing you.

Giggles turned to goosebumps. You stopped opening them after that. But they kept coming.

Sometimes you’d hear something outside your door at night. Soft, dragging sounds, like something being placed down very carefully. Sometimes they were footsteps, heavy footsteps, too heavy to be just another rat. You told yourself it was the neighbor's dog.

Until it appeared dead in your front yard.

You stopped sleeping properly. Started checking the locks twice. Then thrice. Leaving always a hidden weapon next to your bed. Just in case.

You're never too cautious.

But things were still weird. You couldn't feel safe anymore. Not even in your own house. This fucker, whoever they were, was good at this game. And you didn't even know what they wanted.

And just when things couldn't get worse tonight the power went out. No warning. Just darkness swallowing everything at once.

Your phone barely had any battery left, so you decided to use a flashlight you had around, which you hadn't seen since forever, sincerely. As expected, it barely had any battery too, its weak light made barely more than make the shadows look worse.

The silence was heavy. Defeaning. You felt chills run down your spine as you walked around your house searching for batteries.

You moved slowly through your house, every step sounding louder than it should, wooden planks cracking beneath your feet as you went up the stairs, deciding to check the attic. The beam of light shook slightly in your hand as you turned a corner,

and froze instantly at the sight.

Someone was there. Standing in the dark. Still. Watching. Observing you.

A white, expressionless mask stared back at you, the eyeholes empty and unreadable. The figure looked like a male, wearing a dark orange-y jacket and black pants. He didn’t move when you found him. Didn’t react. Like he had been waiting for you.

Your flashlight flickered. For a split second, the room went dark, and when the light came back, he was closer.

Not by much. But enough.

At that moment, everything clicked. You knew exactly who had been sending the packages.

And this figure didn't come for a chat, as it seemed. Instead, he took a knife from his pocket. Slow, tauntingly.

“You didn't listen.” his voice was cold as ice, as the edge of the knife as he started taking some steps closer.