COLUMN: Slenderman

I'm not a fan of horror movies.

Eerie movies? Sure. Creepy movies? Fine. But movies with jump-scares where hatchet-wielding maniacs might pop out all boogity-boogity at any second? Hard pass. I'm well aware of the number of fast-food drive-thrus I've visited in my life. I'm pretty sure my arteries have a finite number of jump-scares left in them, and there's no need to waste any on a screening of The Conjuring Pt. 14 or whatever. 

So, as someone fairly inexperienced in the realm of horror, a question: How do you know if you've been visited by a supernatural bogeyman, and, if so, what can one do about it? Asking for a friend.

Last weekend was interesting. I DJed for a nice crowd of kids. I went grocery shopping and made some carnitas. I went on a relaxing drive up north to breathe fresh air and check out some wildlife. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I saw Slenderman.

What's that, you say? Slenderman isn't real? He's just some fictitious monster from online creepypasta memes invented to give little kids jump-scares? Yep, I'm well aware. I don't even think there's a universally agreed-upon storyline behind the meme. Slenderman is just a tall, thin, faceless guy in a dark suit who shows up ominously in the background of your family photos as he stalks and abducts people, right? It's a silly urban legend that will probably one day be a terriblde five-part movie franchise. 

Except that I'm pretty sure Slenderman is real and I saw him this weekend. 

Saturday's plan was a roadtrip up north with a friend for an aimless drive through Grant Wood country. I'd received a text from my friend that he was on his way, so I was hanging by the front door, waiting to hop in his car and head for parts unknown. I'm not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, and I'd had a late DJ gig the night before, so I was still waiting for my brain to boot up. As I stood there in dire need of caffeine, I was totally zoning out and staring at the view from my front porch.

Across the street from my house is a vacant lot. Behind that is an alley. Whatever sits behind that alley is unknown to me, because there's a sizeable privacy fence that blocks my view of any goings-on. I was just absent-mindedly staring thataways-ish when the privacy fence suddenly swung open, revealing a doorway I never knew existed. And peering around the corner of that doorway was a pale face.

Keep in mind, this is all happening a good distance away from me at the far end of the vacant lot, so I couldn't really make out any features on the face (BECAUSE SLENDERMAN HAS NO FEATURES.) Then, the entire figure emerged from around the corner of this mysterious door. I couldn't make out much (BECAUSE NO ONE CAN CLEARLY SEE SLENDERMAN), but out walked a tall and thin bald man dressed in a dark suit. 

"Well, that's creepy," I announced to my cats and the thin air, but curiosity got the better of me. I stood fixed in the doorway, staring back at my odd new friend. He took several unnatural-looking steps forward and was now at the edge of the vacant lot across from me. His arms hung limply to his sides. And then he just stopped. And stared. At me.

He was a ways away, but it certainly looked like he was staring me square in my eyes. Eventually, I gave a quick little wave at this utter nightmare. I made sure it was not a wave that said, "Hi, please come over. I want to be your friend." It was clearly a wave that said, "I'm a busy guy with many things to do, but I acknowledge your existence and let's carry on with our day, shall we?"

Did Slenderman wave back? Nope. Did Slenderman instead remain motionless while slowly cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy? Yep. Did I pee my pants a little? No comment. I said a few more things to my cats and the thin air, but it's nothing I could repeat in a family newspaper, so let's just pretend I said, "Gosh, that's scary." He (it?) kept staring forward (at me? through me? into my soul?) for a few seconds more, and then slowly turned around and walked back through the gap in the fence in the same unnatural, fixed-arms manner as before.

There's no reason I can think for anyone to come out of that house, wander ominously towards me, and then retreat. A few minutes later, my friend showed up. I could've greeted him with a hello or even a "HAVE I GOT A STORY FOR YOU." Instead, you KNOW you have a best friend when you can greet him with, "QUICK, DRIVE UP THAT ALLEY. SLENDERMAN IS HERE" and he doesn't miss a beat and immediately heads up the alley. But nothing was there. Slenderman was gone.  

My best friend is also clearly smarter than me. "Wouldn't that be on your security camera?" he asked immediately. I hadn't even thought about that. I have cameras recording my front porch 24/7. Or should I say 23.9/7, because of the hours and hours of footage from this past week, the only missing video was the ten minute stretch when my new terrifying friend made an appearance. I did manage to get one grainy still-frame image as a memento of my daymare. It's about as conclusive as your average Bigfoot pic, but I know what I saw.

Okay, so maybe I have no idea what I saw. It was probably just a random person coming out of their house. Maybe they were waiting for THEIR best friend to pick them up. Maybe they had no idea how creepy they looked. Maybe they came out to get a closer look at the creepy guy staring at their house from across the vacant lot. Maybe I'M the scary one. If you thought Slenderman would make a good horror movie, wait 'til you catch the demonic terror of Awkwardfatguy. Hollywood, I await your call.