Tall, Dark and Slender

Tall, Dark and Slender
 

Fear. No, not fear: terror, petrifaction.
 
The harsh autumn night was bitter and unforgiving, the endless abyss of black concealing all beyond in its sinister cloak of darkness. The wind blew wildly, and the chestnut saplings rocked unstably as their parents’ leaves crackled and shook in the gale, filling the horrific atmosphere with subtle yet unsettling clatters that, in the day, would be easily overlooked. These trees had formed an unpredictable maze of wood and greenery, and it was only now that Tyler had realised just how formidable they were; looking down upon him, watching him, like sentries of the forest.
 
The thick charcoal clouds smothered the light of the moon and the stars, leaving Tyler stranded in the nightmarish shroud of nothingness. His only weapon: a torch. God knew how much battery power the thing held, but all that mattered for now was that it was there, the only thing providing an undefeatable power to stop the darkness from conquering all that was left, including the boy that gripped it firmly with sweaty, shuddering hands. Its stained yellow beam flickered rapidly over the surroundings, scanning for danger, scanning for inconsistencies in the scene.
Tyler’s breath condensed as it embraced the frozen air, moisture forming on the boy’s face. He shivered and shook uncontrollably, his teeth chattering and his knees smashing together repeatedly. “It’s all gonna be okay Ty, okay, okay, okay...” His voice trailed off into the abyss he gazed into, echoing.
 
With very little new found confidence, the large and tall young man began to slowly move his feet; left, then right, then left again... He had beaten the first step; overcoming paralysis of fear and starting to move. Movement was his second greatest weapon, and he needed to master it, and fast. Fallen leaves and shrubbery cracked beneath his size ten trainers, in a steady metronome in amplification of his careful but certain footsteps.


Crunch. Crunch. Crunch...
 
A sudden crack echoed eerily from behind Tyler, and he turned sharply, instinctively, to check the source of the sound. The dirty yellow beam tore through the cloaking void, his maddened eyes scrutinising every inch of the area behind him, yet nothing could be seen.
Must’ve been a rabbit, or squirrel, or something...


The wind seemed to pick up speed, howling other-worldly through the obstacles it sliced through. The nightmare was getting evermore real.
 
Tyler continued to walk, it had baffled him just as to how he got here; he was watching TV, another episode of ‘House’ if memory served him well, before sleep kicked in and overwhelmed conscience. His parents were already wrapped tightly in each other’s loving embrace and warm, cosy duvet. But it made no sense: how did he get here? All the doors were locked and bolted, including the glass patio slider that sat to the rear of the living room.


Sleepwalking. That must be it. No other real explanations, not like monsters exist or anything...
 
CRACK.
 
The sound was back, but louder. Closer. Tyler could feel it, everything human in him knew; the hairs on the back of his neck had bolted straight up; his sweat beginning to flow torrents from his armpits, forehead and groin; his thudding heart as the nightmare grew evermore real. He knew.
 
There was something behind him.
 
His adrenaline pulsated through his veins, his heart pounding in primal instinct against his ribcage. It hurt to breathe, but his gulps of air, of agony, were no longer noticeable. The ground had begun to move much faster, flying by like the days of Tyler’s life as they flashed rapidly through his mind in anticipation of his final moment. Tears of salt and water had frozen on the boy’s cheeks and chin.
Had they? I had no idea I was crying.


The crackles of the fallen leaves had accelerated in the same fashion as when movement was the first thing he obtained. The torch no longer faced to the front, it now flailed uselessly at his side, the weapon that was keeping him alive now tossed aside for false hope; for the belief that he was getting away. Tyler dodged skilfully through the woodland, evading the oncoming tree trunks and spiny brambles that obstructed his escape. From what? There’s nothing there.
 
Tyler stopped, his blood still gushing through his body like rapids, but his feet had grinded to a sudden halt.
Stop being such a moron. There never was anything in the woods, and there never will be.
But he was having serious doubts, was his mind playing tricks on him? Surely not. But, if this wasn’t the case, then there could be only be one other explanation. Preposterous. In every sense of the word too. There was no such thing as monsters.
 
CRACK.
 
No. Not again. That sharp noise that had haunted him from... he didn’t know, hours, minutes or seconds ago, he didn’t care. But it was now. And, to make things worse, Tyler had lost all control of his body, it was his curiosity that had driven him to turn around, not rationality, and he knew that he would see something. He was dead certain he would jump out of his skin when he realised that there really was something in the woods with him. The seconds seemed years as he rotated, torch back in hand, as the light penetrated the darkness that formed a tainted wall of terror behind him.


Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
 
 He sighed deeply in relief. There wasn’t anything stalking him after all, just a ghastly apparition in the depths of his human instinct, a trick of the mind. Smiling as if under divine protection, Tyler swirled around spritely. Then stopped. Stopped dead. Little except a measly choke escaped his throat, no words, nor screams, nor yells for help could break free.
 
Mere metres from him stood a daunting figure, gazing with a face with no eyes. Tall, dark and slender. The ‘man’ stood at around ten feet tall, clothed in a pitch black suit darker than the void of unknown Tyler had been gazing into the entire time. A crisp white undershirt leaked from the collar down to his stomach, around its neck sat a crimson red tie, which did not even flutter in the violent gales whipping Tyler’s chestnut hair. Its face was devoid of anything: no eyes, no mouth, no ears nor nose nor brows. All that could be seen was a pale marble head, like a mannequin from the darkest depths of the dream world. It did not stir; just stood, motionless, head poised directly in the young man’s location, as if was staring into his soul.
 
Tyler could detect his draining sanity, as if this thing was consuming everything that he was, everything that he could be. But he couldn’t get away, he was frozen once again, fear binding him to the ground, like a concrete tomb developing around his ankles. But what was keeping him there? Why couldn’t he run?
Why run? I’ve got nothing to fight with...
 
The torch.
 
One moment he was completely paralysed, now he was sprinting for his life, finally aware of what was stalking him, what to avoid. But, if anything, this newfound knowledge had horrified him even more than the darkness and the gales and the silence and the thing, he knew that it was there. Everywhere.
 
As the stained light wildly swung left to right he noticed a small hut up ahead, complete with a pick-up truck and a dog kennel sat still outside. It was dim, but it was a sanctuary against all in the forest, the creature could not possibly fit inside such an enclosed space, and then Tyler could just grab the phone and dial for the police, and then everything would be fine.
One final push sent Tyler flying through one of the grimy thin windows on the side of the door; after all, there was no way it’d be open this time of night. He gasped and gritted his teeth as blood ran down his shoulder, glass stabbing into his flesh and muscle, yet he paid no heed to his injuries, for he was in a goldmine. Light.
 
The living room that he was now kneeling in was lit by a small lamp, which was bright enough to illuminate all objects inside. A rough, brown sofa, a television that was muted, but playing an episode of ‘Doctor Who’, in which the mystical and invincible Doctor fought creatures of dark dreams with everlasting bravery and courage. But Tyler was no hero, just an ordinary fifteen year-old. He surveyed the room for the TV remote, simply to relieve the nightmarish tension that the blustering winds produced as they blew in through the window. He found no remote... in front of him. He couldn’t bring himself to look over his back, if he saw that slender man again, he knew he would go crazy.


“Don’t be stupid,” Tyler whispered to himself, “that thing is gone, did you see it? Ten feet tall; he wouldn’t have a hope in hell getting in this cramped little hut.”
But what if he can. What if he has.


“No!”


He spun quickly, regardless of his conscience’s warnings, and... there was no remote, nor no creature like he saw in the wood.
What met Tyler’s gaze was a parting in the mouldy yellow wallpaper, torn away to reveal the grey-brown drywall. Upon the wall a note had been scribbled as if in a hurry. It read:

 
Can't run... he's ALWAYS behind you...
 

Tyler recoiled, as if he had been struck, for there was a blood stain splattered across the message... that leaked all the way over the doorframe... down the door... that was ajar...
 
“Oh God.”
 
The door creaked ever so slightly, the old and frail noise piercing the silence, before it flung open wildly, one again exposing the realm of darkness and terror. Now it felt like the darkness was crawling into the room, as if it was fighting back against the light, as if it was thirsty for revenge, as if it was unstoppable.  The crimson trail lead further into this danger, away from the house, however Tyler was too hypnotised by its origin to realise that he slowly trudged further away from the sanctuary of the cottage, away from life.
 
Plip. Plip.Plip


Like dripping tap water, the blood dived to the ground as it ended its suspension from the bloodied, pale face of the corpse, staring with concrete eyes and a tortured, gaping mouth. Tyler choked on his words, as he followed one last drop as it fell from its chin to the puddle, fracturing the subtle texture of the deep red ocean. Something flickered through his brain, something odd, impossible. He’d seen with his own eyes; surely he was just being delusional, with all this paranoia from his slender man stalker. But this didn’t prize his eyes away from the ripples of shining sanguine fluids that shone in the peering platinum moonlight that had emerged through the dense clouds. And as the blood settled and the reflection formed together, Tyler realised it wasn’t delusion...
 
It was behind him.