Not A Creepypasta: The Story of Blake Hartman

Chapter Four: fear.

This time, Blake knew to look away. Something was off, however. While she was experiencing the same symptoms from her first encounter, they weren't nearly as severe.

"That's enough," the voice repeated– decidedly Slenderman's voice, although it was less audible and more like telepathy. Who else could it be? Blake huffed.

"What? This ghostly kid dressed up as Zelda–"

"It's not Zelda, it's Link," the ghost interrupted, sounding completely over it.

"Oh, whatever. This ghost kid's being really obnoxious! And I thought finally seeing a ghost might send shivers down my spine, but nooooo, this one just had to be the undead equivalent of a jerky teenage boy." The ghost scoffed. Blake scoffed right back. "Oh, and that's the other thing–"

"SILENCE," Slenderman commanded. Blake shut up real quick, but not before letting out a final "hmph!" The ghost disappeared, and silence did indeed fall, if only for a moment.

"You... are not afraid." The way he said this made it hard to tell if Slenderman was asking a question or making a statement.

"Nope," Blake replied matter-of-factly. "Sorry. I'm sure you're super scary. I just don't really get scared, y'know? Like, it's actually kind of a problem. I've been to doctors about it. So, in other words... It's not you, it's me, heheh!"

Slenderman was not amused. He disappeared, then reappeared incredibly close to Blake– now only about 4 feet away, right in front of her. Her symptoms got worse, and she fell to the ground on all fours with dizziness and nausea. Static filled her vision. It took all of her power not to black out again. But despite the illness, Blake still seemed more irritated than anything else.

"You are a specimen unlike what I have seen before. Introduce yourself. I am certain you already know what your kind calls me. I do not know what you are called." Blake took a deep breath, trying to stabilize.

"You know... it would... ugh... be easier for me t... to introduce myself... if... if I wasn't so busy trying... not to... lose my lunch–" Suddenly, a sharp pain coursed through Blake's skull. She cried out. "ARRGH!" Her voice echoed through the woods, only worsening the ringing in her ears.

"Do not be flippant," the creature said sharply. Blake finally completely fell down, unable to support herself. But still, she held onto her consciousness with amazing willpower.

"God... fine... my name is Blake D... Blake Diana Hartman." The sickness abruptly– okay, well it didn't stop, but it was much less dramatic, now. Slenderman had gone back 10 feet, although he certainly hadn't walked there, as far as Blake could tell. She slowly sat up, a bit winded.

"Your name. I recognize it. I have heard it somewhere before," said Slenderman coolly. Blake perked up, accidentally looking Slenderman dead in the would-be eyes. A legend knew her name!

"Wait, really– GAH!" The sickness once again overwhelmed her after she once again made the rookie mistake of looking directly at Slenderman. He was quiet for a moment, waiting for her symptoms to grow milder again. After it seemed like her breathing was steady once more, the creature spoke.

"I heard it from someone who claimed to be a lover of yours. You ruined her life, so much so that she would do anything to lose all memory of you. Even something as drastic as becoming my servant. Do you know of whom I speak?"

"Uh... wait just a minute. No. No, you're making that up. You live in, like, the woods. I'm from New York City, and so was she. You're just lying to try to do one of your dumb mental torture things. Well: I'm not gonna fall for it, buster!" Blake exclaimed. To respond to this, Slenderman simply laughed. It was a hideous, painful laugh that made Blake think her eardrums would burst. It was hard to tell when it ended, since it echoed off the trees, but it gradually got quieter before it stopped altogether.

"So pitiable... it is entertaining. If I cannot prove it in words..." Slenderman fell silent– almost. It was quiet, almost unintelligible, like hearing a phone call from one floor beneath you. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A black leather jacket with several "Tool" band patches sewn into it, a Green Day band tee under it, and dark blue jeans, faded and torn with use. It really was her. It was Chloe, although half her face was obscured by a black surgical mask, and she didn't even seem to recognize Blake. Blake was gobsmacked, and her normally flush cheeks went pale. She could feel shivers down her spine, goosebumps on her arms. Her jaw was wide open. She was as still as a statue– as still as the tall, slim creature before her.

"Ah... so you can be frightened."