Look to the skies. Or not

Woke up this morning from probably the most vivid of the dreams about the kids in the forest I've had. I know you're probably all really tired of this being my dream journal but having 1 is kind of an indescribable mix of both terror and wonder that I always feel like I should be capturing better. Kind of like Disney World, except not as bright and over baring. I almost felt their fingers around my arm and the sharp, bright, pin pricks that came over my skin as they did. I don't remember much about the dream because I was woken up by Bondie running up onto the deck and dragging me back to the house. I was half asleep still when I tried to see what he was shoving in my face.

It was a brown paper package that looked like it had had something spilled on it. It had no return address, and was addressed to 'Andrew Skaine'. Bondie seemed really excited and kept jumping around saying things I couldn't quite hear when he would pace to the far end of the house, only making out half the conversation as he would walk back over to the kitchen on the other side. I opened the package and pulled out a book. It was a picture book with a little boy standing in front of a forest.

"What is this?" I asked, as Bondie came back into the room and started to look in the fridge for something to do.

"It's from James!" he said excitedly "your plan must have worked and he must have seen your blog because he sent me something! Don't know how he got this address though."

"Yeah he does that," I said, flipping through the book "how do you know it's from James?"

"The book!" he said, ducking out of the fridge "we use to read it! It's great! I think the author died a little while ago, but his mum use to say it was an old story anyway."

I don't know who the author was since the copy that James sent is beat up pretty bad. The only thing you can see is the title which is 'The Children Of The Woods'.

I read it a few hours ago. It's weird. I can't really explain it. This kid has to save the woods from

these bad guys and then these ghost kids come out and help him. The weird thing is (wait for it) it kinda reminds me of my dreams. The kids look a lot like the kids from my dream and the whole thing with the forest being threatened is there too. I don't know, maybe I read it when I was a kid and now it's rising to the surface of my dream subconscious since the word forest is probably in my top 5 most thought about at this point (right after hungry, and before horrible I think). Still it's weird that Bondie knows James, and now it's weirder that James sends this book. And after everything that's happened in the past 2 years I don't think a whole lot is weird.

I'll post pictures of it pretty soon if I can. James also sent a note.

I know James well enough to know that no letter addressed to me means he's pissed at me. Probably because I've stayed here for so long. Bondie says the chart in the note is like the charts James use to draw on his walls. If he's pissed at me then he should come see me. Maybe he can explain what all this means. Or at least what the fuck the note does.

Blogspot has decided to be an asshole most of the time and not let me post comments on the blog, so if anybody has any questions, just leave them in the comments and I'll answer them in the next entry. I'll get some pictures up soon. I think I'm gonna reread the book now and try to figure something out.

- M

Taco Place

Blogspot has been being a huge pain in the ass. It's weird to think about that kind of stuff again, but it's still a pain in the ass. I've been being lazy. Maybe it's because I was sick for so long, but either way it's not safe. I need to leave here soon. Bondie has had me here for too long, and every day it gets harder to keep from him that all this is really happening. I don't lie, I never lie, but I have been not telling him stuff in order to keep it hidden from him and it feels terrible. He'll read this later and think it's just part of the story, but still, it's hard to keep it all in. I taught myself pretty early to keep all this to myself or else it tends to end in your friends dying, but still it's hard sometimes. I feel like a fuck up just telling him that I'm some homeless writer who got fucked up by junkies and Bondie is smart enough to realize that something is going on.

Still, I haven't left. I'm able to now I think, but the idea of leaving just seems like something that I keep wanting to put off. Which is dangerous. In order to sort of make them more safe I've been going out of the house a lot and walking around this part of town. I also have been buying Bondie a lot of food and taking him out to eat a lot, which is a terrible trade.

'Hey, can I stay in your house while hiding from an evil force, and the government, and maybe waiting for my insane friend?'
'Yeah sure just buy me some food!'

Which is why yesterday we were eating at the taco place. Like everything was normal. Just eating mexican food and talking.

Totally normal. Totally fair.

The taco place is a weird setting anyway. There's a huge painting on the wall of people cutting up some kind of green fruit, a deer head across from that, and 2 TVs playing shitty movies all day while competing with the constantly playing Jukebox. I didn't know Mexican places were like that, and Bondie says they aren't, but every 1 we've been to has been like this. Bondie likes it though so I took him. Bondie was on about his 5th taco when he looked up at me and just kind of stared I think until I realized he what he was doing and looked up from picking at my own food. I'm hungry all the time, but I feel like I'm out of practice with eating.
"Something up?" I asked, which was stupid because of course something's up.
"I need to ask you something," he said.
"What?" I said.
I wasn't looking forward to this conversation, even though I didn't know what it would turn into. I'm not sure if this is true for everybody, but for me whenever people need to ask me something it turns out badly.

"Do you know James Mathews?" asked Bondie.
I think there was a silence, but I can't remember since it was so loud in that fucking restaurant, but finally I stopped staring at him and realized the whole time my mouth had been full of chewed up taco.

It's weird the stuff you think about in situations like that.

"I know a James Mathews," I said, sallowing my food "why do you ask?"
"Where did you meet him?" asked Bondie "you just say in your blog thing that it was like a little town or something? But where was that?"
"I don't remember," I said "I think it was near Boston, something like that?"
That wasn't a lie. I don't remember exactly where I met James. Where I was wasn't important when I was 1st traveling. If I thought to ask at all I usually forgot after a while. I tried to remember, but it's faded now. Now I just remember it was a small town, near the woods and the sea.
"Did he live in a big house?" he asked, his voice getting faster and he looked slightly worried "with a lot of other people?"
"No," I said "but he lived near a big house. I think it was a school or something. His parents were there a lot. I think they were teachers. I don't know."
"Where is he now?" asked Bondie.
"I don't know," I said, then I felt the side of my face go down as I realized I fucking shouldn't have been talking about any of this stuff with Bondie "It doesn't matter though, I just write about him You don't know him."
"Yes I do!" said Bondie "I knew him! He had black hair, and was tall, and thin, and he liked math like you said in your entry but you didn't put in the part about his charts on his wall! Did you ever see those? They were great!"
I watched as he tried to catch his breath and tried to think of what to say in the brief period of time you have to talk when Bondie is excited and he needs to breath. It was obvious he knew James, which meant I couldn't tell him.
"I didn't," I said to my food "I didn't know him. It must have been somebody else."
There was another noise filled silence and when I looked back up Bondie was still staring at me, but now he looked a lot sadder. And let me tell you his sad blue yes cut through me like a knife.





At least I'd like to pretend they did. Mostly it just made me feel the sweat going down my back more and my eyes hurt.
"Please, M," he said "you have to tell me. He's important to me. His parents helped me a lot. The orphanage I lived in was ran by them. It was the only 1 in that area that would take me in and not treat me bad because I was deaf and it's important that I like figure out if he's ok because he went missing and if he's a friend of your's. If you know where he is."
"Wait, why was this the only orphanage that would take you in?"
"Because a lot of them don't really have anybody who can teach sign language, and they had a special sort of teaching method they had made up and used with all the kids and they made sure we didn't go into some terrible foster care or something. All the women who worked there were great too," he smiled "A lot of people I meet had really bad experiences in foster care or whatever, but the orphanage was always good to me. I got lucky, so now I need to help his parents and figure out where he is and if you know you have to tell me!"
"Wait, you're deaf?"

And then there was the longest silence of all. All the music had gone off and the TV was set low and Bondie just stared at me, sadness turning into confusion on his face, his brows knitting together as he placed his hands back in his lap.
"Yeah, of course I am," he said "haven't you noticed me signing?"
"I mean, no," I said "guess not. I mean you talk more then you sign! And you talk to me all the time!"
"I just read people's lips," he said "that's 1 of the things the Mathews taught me! So I could get a job or go to school anywhere! I mean it doesn't always work, but it makes it a lot easier."
"But you listen to music all the time!"
"I just like the vibrations I guess," he said "I could see how it could be confusing. I'm sorry. I should have told you, that was stupid of me to assume you would just know."

Let me outline what happened really quick in case you haven't gotten it yet. Librarian saves me from dying, lets me live in his house, give me food when I'm sick and I didn't realize he was deaf.

I didn't realize he was deaf.

I'm retarded.

So course I had to tell him about James.

I told him that I had met him after being on the road for a while, about all our experiments, about what he realized when it came to the projects we were doing as best I could without mentioning Him and that the last I saw him James had gone to the sea.
"Do you know where he is?" asked Bondie as we walked back to his house.
"Not really," I said "Still at sea I guess."
"Are you in contact with him at all?"
"Not really, I mean sometimes," I said "I get letters and use to have them but I think they got taken with all my other stuff when I was sick for a while. He still reads the blog I think. I'll write about this and maybe he'll see it and find some way to send me something."
"Thanks!" said Bondie "I really just want to know that he's ok really. Like that's all I want. Just to be able to tell everybody he's ok."
Bondie seemed happy the rest of the night. I think he was just happy James wasn't dead. It is all kind of weird, Bondie knowing James and everything. I don't know if James will see this, but maybe he will. If he does maybe he'll send me a letter about it.

Until then I need to figure what I'm doing. I can't stay here for much longer, not while Bondie is getting closer to what's really going on. I heard from Shaun a little bit the past few days and that he's being fucking batshit. Evidently he was taken by somebody too. Maybe he'll post another video explaining what happened or an entry. I feel like I have to stay here though, at least to wait for him, but I know I can't. Either way I'll have to leave them, I just have to figure out what way. For now though my chest is still healing and I can't run yet anyway, so I have to stay here for a little bit more. Even if I don't want to. Even though it's dangerous. even though I wake up everytime I go to sleep covered in sweat and after the sweet moment of foggy sleep everything that's happened comes crashing back down me so I can't move at all even if I wanted to.

- M

The sunshine hurts my eyes

I've been here too long. I've been sick. I think that it was just from not eating or sleeping well for a while. My throat and chest are healing pretty well. I can't remember what happened to me when it comes to medical problems. The marks don't look like the kind you get from Him. They look like the kind of bruises left by the impact of somebody slamming their fist into you repeatedly. Everybody wants to know what happened. Bondie keeps asking. I tell him what I can, but I think it's only now that I can piece it all together enough to tell the story or write it down. Mostly I've been spending time on his roof. It's gotten hot again, so I can be outside without much trouble. I lay on the roof and sleep and try to get my left side to stop hurting and glare at Bondie when he brings me food and leaves pieces of paper around for me to use.

I'm a shit.

I don't really know where to start. The dreams with the kids are back. I wake up every night and stare into the red sky of the night in the city and wonder where I am. They've become the most comforting dreams I have, which says something about how the other dreams are. I use to live with my grandmother after my parents died. She was pretty old and she died a few years later so my brother mostly took care of me during that time (and all the other times of my life before this). My grandma was pretty foul tempered. She smoked a lot and had a raspy voice she liked to yell at people with from the same chair every day. She wasn't a big woman but she seemed tall, and high above where I was on the ground to me. I guess I was always kinda a small kid. I use to stare up at her and try to form the words that I needed to let her know I needed food or wanted to go outside.

"Spit it out!" she used to yell, trembling as she tried to speak "Speak up and tell me what you want! I don't have all day!"

I guess I should take her advice and just start and get it together and say what happened. Enough stalling. Grandma would have hated that shit.

But then Grandma also hated minorities.

I got a call from Shaun a few months ago. He sounded like he was running. It's hard to remember what I said to him or what he said to me, but I do remember the end of the conversation. He sounded scared and even more manic then usually. I think I was telling him to come and find me or asking him where he was so I could come and get him. Then there was static and I told him to get the fuck away from wherever he was. Then it over took his voice and was so loud I had to toss the phone away from me. It seemed to form a word, becoming a harsh, hallow voice. I can't remember what it said if anything, but I remember I yelled, telling him to run. It was like when I use to take the trains in New York and it would take me by surprise. The sound of it would shoot through me, forcing all the air out of me with the force of it, and only able to collect myself again when my brain realized it was just the train and the noise was from something I could see and touch. Except the train didn't come and there was nothing for my brain of seize onto and nowhere I could let all the air back into my lungs.

I spent most of my time after that looking for Shaun. I didn't hear anything from him and mostly walked around Chicago and it's suburbs, asking street kids and homeless people if they had seen him, which was hard because I wasn't sure exactly what he looked like. I didn't find him. I still don't know where he was during those months. At 1 point I went down to street level. The sun was just going down and I needed to find a place to stay or keep walking. I'm not really sure what happened after that. I think somebody grabbed me and took me into a van or something like that. Some kind of big car. I just remember that for the next few months everybody I saw either wore suits, or white clothing, or something you'd see kids in red walking around looking sad and beat up.

"They think it keeps Him away," said a girl in the cell next to me, I think mostly to herself "it might work. The way everything else might work."

Fucking suits.

I don't know why they took us there. I don't know who they were. I remember I got hurt a lot by guys who were bigger then me and there was a woman in a suit with a perfect blond bun all the time who use to tell people to put new bands on my wrist and sometimes give me injections of shit, mostly to get me to sleep. I feel like whatever I was taking made everything misty and hard to see. My memories are blotchy at best, with patches of clear areas through out, mostly of getting beat up or asked questions I didn't know the answers to. I wondered how I had been there so long without Him coming, how we all were after I realized how many people were there. I realized I had to get away. They gave us pens and pencils to draw with so the people around me didn't dig into their own skin, but no paper. I think they thought it was funny the same way I think they thought it was funny when they would eat in front of us when they were on watch.

I think after a while it wasn't that I wanted to escape the beatings, I didn't want to save everybody there, I didn't want to get revenge on the people who had taken me. I just got tired of it. Being there and watching all this shit, and having to do all this shit I didn't want to do, and being hurt every day. It was kind of like school I guess in that way. You just get tired of it. You just want to leave. They came a day it was raining, but I didn't know it then. I have clear memories of this day. I knew I had to do whatever I was gonna do before they gave me anything. I had to be as sharp as I could, even though I was still out of it from what they had given me the day before. I remember the guy in white who came for me grabbed me by the hair and pulled me onto my feet. He said something and laughed, but I didn't hear. I was too busy getting myself ready for what I had to do.

I don't know what that guy thought but I bet it was something like 'where did he get that fork?' Actually, to be honest, I bet it was something more like 'holy shit, holy fuck, holy shit, that hurts!'

I ran. I ran as fast as I could out of there. I could hear people yelling and somewhere an alarm was going off. I found the stairs and realized we were about 10 floors up. I got to the bottom floor and found a collection of labs and offices. I would have just skipped it if I hadn't seen something with 'S. River' pinned to a board. I ran in and grabbed it. There was a picture of him under it and I grabbed that too. On the table there were files. They all had different names on them and I thought about taking them too, but realized I didn't have much time. A guy in a suit came in and tried to grab me. We fell to the floor and I tried to get him off of me. He had a length of string that he tried to get around my hands. I think I kicked him or scratched him enough that he had to look away for a moment and I sat up as quickly as I could, throwing him off me. He tried to grab me again and I crawled over to where the string was and got behind him. I tried to get up, but he didn't let me, grabbing my pants. I already had the string in my hand. The movies make it look easier then it is.

I got up again and looked in the drawers of the desk and finally found a box cutter. I put that and the photo in my pocket. I was almost out when I saw her. The woman with the bun in the suit was there, with a gun. She smiled at me and lifted her gun, her legs spread and planted firmly on the ground. She smiled and said something like 'I think you want to go back upstairs now.' Then something happened and the air changed in the way I had become so use to, the fact it had been absent for months had seemed weird. He doesn't really make sounds, but the way he moves does. I think it sort of moves the universe around Him, and the universe makes a creaking, slow ripping sound. She knew He was there, but I don't think she knew what that really meant. What that really meant for her or any other living thing around us. I looked up and saw Him, as if in deep shadow in this usually overly lit and white place. Then He too stepped into the light of that place and seemed taller and more powerful then I had ever seen Him. Her eyes widened as I guess she realized what I was looking at. She turned and pointed the gun again. He raised his arm and for a moment it looked like He was about to speak, signalling for silence.

There was.

Then it went through her. She staggered slightly, surprised and looked up at Him. I ran after He started to do to her what He does to people, and I ran, having seen that enough times. I could hear her screaming and the rain that fell onto me as I pushed open the heavy door of that place was warm and made the ground easier to walk on with bare feet. The sky looked new and soft and I was happy to see it again, finally, after such a long time.

It really was just like high school.

I walked for a long time after that. Got new clothes and a notebook. Somehow got in the south side and passed out in a place I only planned to stay for a few minutes. Bondie brought me here and I've mostly been spending my time throwing up and willing my body to heal it's self. Bondie's not bad. He still doesn't look into any of this, which is the way I want to it to stay, though it won't if I stay here much longer. I need to leave soon. I need to find Shaun. I need to stop putting people in danger. It's been 2 years since all this started. I'll be 19 soon. I've made it a while. I just need to keep going. I just need to keep moving.

Internet is spotty here. I have to use Bondie's computer now that I lost the iphone. I'll try to update as much as I can. I need to leave soon. Until then, I'm just gonna wait for my bruises to heal.

- M

This is what happens when I leave

When that kid comes back I'm going to make sure he never posts on anybody's blog ever again.

- M

cold on the roof

I'm on my roof right now under the tent kind of thing we put on it. M finally came out of the bathroom and I gave him some food and stuff but he still won't talk to me. Now he's pacing around the roof, getting all wet and I'm on my lap top trying to figure out what to say to him. I feel like I should do something or give him new clothes but everytime I try to talk to him he just stares at me and there's this really awkward silence. The only thing he's said to me is when I gave him some coffee in the fish cup my friend sent me.

"Beth liked fish," he said.

"Who's Beth?" I asked.

Then he stared at me and went up to the roof. He seems pissed at me. Now I'm doing research on all this and reading all of the other stories now that I finished Seeking Truth. Some of the people are really good writers but some are pretty shitty. Right now I'm in that chat for the Everyman Hybrid thing, angora or whatever it's called, trying to get information. M keeps staring at me. Then he paces again. He touches his neck a lot where it's bruised. Sometimes he talks to himself. Just now he said something about 'getting the fucking shit out of there' and hallways and guns. I'm gonna keep an eye on him. At least there's stuff to do while the weather is bad I guess. Also people asked me how I was and I realized you guys kind of don't know anything about me and that's kind of weird so if you want to know anything about the person watching your friend just ask!

- Bondie

In the bathroom

So I took M to the hospital and filled out all his forms mostly with 'unknown' on everything which was kind of weird but the doctors seemed ok with it so that's good. They said that M seemed like he was in bad shape but mostly just from probably not eating or drinking for a while and they Iv'ed him and let him sleep for a while. I went back home, told my room mate what had happened, and then after a while went back to the hospital. I stayed in the ER for a while until they said M was ready to be discharged if he was over 18 and I guess he told them he was after I told them I didn't know his age (he told them his birthday was in July so I guess it's his birthday soon) and they let him go. He seemed pretty pissed off on the walk home and kind of like he was going to run away. I tried to make small talk but it didn't really work and I didn't tell him I had posted on here.

After we got back to the house I told him he could rest in my bed but he said my house wasn't high enough. I asked him if that was a drug thing and he gave me a really pissed off look and said he didn't do drugs and then asked if I did drugs and we sort of had this weird moment of silence until I told him there was a futon he could use if he didn't want to use my bed. He then dragged it out of my closet and up to my roof which was weird but people on here said it was just something he liked to do. Either he really believes these rules or he's just a weird artist kind of guy, which is something I'm pretty use to since the school I go to has a lot of those kinds of people.

He slept for a while up on the roof and I slept in my bed (which was better then the couch I had planned to sleep on) and hung out reading this blog. I thought about looking into this slenderman stuff (I feel like this is the way so many of these shitty blogs start) but then decided against it. Seriously this stuff doesn't interest me. Slenderman isn't scary. He has no face yeah but so what? It's just a scary picture of a guy in a suit. Marble Hornets is well made but just isn't my thing. After a while I heard something outside my door and peaked out and saw M walking around the house. He then went into the bath room and hasn't come out since. I'm not sure when he eats or does normal people stuff but if he doesn't soon I'll drag him out of the bath room and make him a sandwich or something.

I guess people must be wondering why I would do this. Just to let you know, I'm not a creep. I grew up in a shitty orphanage and right before I left for college it closed and all the kid had to go to foster homes or other places and I just wanted to help them. I know it sounds stupid but I just wanted them all to come live with me. So I promise if anybody needed help I would help them in Chicago. Now this guy needs help so I'll help him. Even if he is some weird kid in my bath room. So yeah I'll pass on anything you need to tell M and keep an eye on him until he's ready to go I guess. I wish there was more I could do but I can't do anything until he talks to me. Is he usually this quiet? Also does he have any family I can contact? As somebody with no family I understand it happens but his blog says his family was killed by Slenderman and that can't be true. So if anybody has any information like I said that would be great. Also my room mate wanted to know if there's anything he really likes to eat or any way we can get him out of the bath room so we can shower and stuff. Anything would be good. Also I did start Seeking Truth which is really well written for a story about slenderman. I wish it was just a detective story, that would be cool.

- Bondie

Anybody know?

Hey so I found this kid in a library (which is where I am right now) that's near my house in Chicago passed out and he won't wake up and he looks pretty bad. I found a notebook in the pocket of his hoodie that had the password and URL for this blog and also some weird notes (probably stuff for the blog I guess?) and like a few pictures in it and stuff. I'm not really sure what to do but it seems like there's a lot of people on here, whatever it is (I think I've heard of Slenderman but I'm not really into that stuff), so does anybody know who this person is? They have no ID or anything and they look like they could use help since he's been here since I got here hours ago and hasn't moved.

Details:

- He is wearing a yellow hoodie, blue ripped jeans, and black boots

- He is about 5'4", white, with longish hair (it's super dirty so I can't really tell if it's really dark or not)

- His neck is bruised, but not like it's been strangled. Really weird.

- On him was the note book, a photo of a boy with a red beard and lots of tattoos, a knife (box opener kind of thing), and a piece of rope

- The weirdest thing is he has like these plastic bands, like the kind you get at a hospital, on his wrist but like they're all worn and you can't really read any of it. The things I can make out on it are 'Risk', on the tightest band, the next band is almost completely white except for some numbers or something I think, and the the next is the oldest looking and just has 'M. S' and then is all white

He looks like he's in pretty bad shape. I'll probably take him to the hospital and then to my house. If anybody knows him I would really like the information. Maybe somebody could come pick him up? He looks like a run away. I just moved here so this is kind of weird for me. Any information would be great. Thanks.

- Bondie