Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'slender man'.
Found 1 result
-
I use to be a junkie. Meth was my drug of choice. I loved the feeling of being invincible and the allure of attraction I felt when I was high. It almost took my life until that night in Ontario Oregon. That night at the old abandoned house on Oregon Trail Street on the outskirts of town. No one had lived there for decades and it was decrepit, derelict. It wasn't at all safe to venture but try telling two crackheads not to do something they have their warped minds set to doing and not only will they not listen but may even be argumentative and hostile. What had happened to me and my boyfriend at the time we deserved for being foolish. I stopped the meth because of it but my life didn't necessarily get better, just more aware that there are things, dangerous things, out there that you don't want to know and it's best to probably die of an overdose than to experience such...darkness. My boyfriend, Chris, and I lived along the Oregon Trail Street on the edge of town and we were not far from this house that was overdue to be torn down. Both of us intravenously used meth and we had made a date to party in this house. It was dark and although the house was on a somewhat busy stretch of road, nobody dared go there to explore. It had to be over a hundred years old and it looked haunted. Perfect for two junkies to shoot up and fuck. Or at least that's what we figured. It was dusk during fire season when wildfires would haze the horizon during sun down, and the sky casted colors of pink and purple before the sun slumped slowly into twilight when Chris and I made it to the house. When we entered it was dark but we had our phones and we only used the dim lighting of the phone rather than the flashlights because we didn't want to attract any of the curious. I brought my supplies; some blankets, lube, needles, and the dope of course. Chris brought nothing as he usually did to our little excursion. In retrospect, I don't even know why I dated him except for the fact that he was manly and hairy and handsome and had a large dick. He turned me on, high or not. When you're spun on meth sex most likely becomes an activity and I loved anal when I was flying. Chris was good at it, but other than that, he was a junkie without a job. Not really someone you would end up being with forever but for now he would do. We dared not go upstairs because we didn't know how sturdy the floor would be. We found an empty room with a huge closet and not as much glass or broken wood that would splinter us while we fucked like pigs. I decided the closet would be a good place for us to slam and fuck, but Chris wanted the door open just in case we needed to escape pronto from cops or whoever. So I set up camp while Chris gets the shots ready. Since it's dark I use the flashlight in my phone so I don't hit past my mark when injecting. We both get naked and by the time we do, the meth had dissolved completely in the rig so we were ready to shoot up. He made two extra points to slam later (slamming is what addicts call injecting drugs) and we started making out before both of us injected. He needed a tourniquet since his veins weren't on the surface of his arms like mine. I was an expert at slamming myself and by the time I was feeling the rush of the drugs through my body, he was still trying to find his mark. I was ready to get pounded by my big dick boyfriend and my asshole was vibrating for some action. “Hurry up fucker,” I said as I was rubbing my pussy and asshole which were both just sludged with the lube I had slopped on after the hit. It was at that moment we heard it. Footsteps. But these sounded more like someone in nice shoes would make, kind of a slight clacking sound. Chris stopped and became still as the footsteps seemed to walk around the front of the house and then stop at certain times as if the person was investigating something. Chris threw his needle into my bag then his phone that was propped against the floorboard after turning off the flashlight. I covered myself with the blankets and moved further back into the closet hoping the darkness would shield my presence from whomever was walking around out there. He gently closed the closet door leaving it a crack open as he watched into the darkness. The footsteps seemed to stop and an eerie silence came about leaving me wondering about who could be out there and if they knew we were here. I wanted to whisper but something in my gut withheld any noise from me, as if I knew whoever was in the house with us would find us if I peeped. Being high on meth made the simple task of being quiet rather difficult and my vagina was sopping wet and wanting my boyfriend who was gazing through the darkness. After about ten minutes of silence I couldn't take it anymore. My pussy needed to be fucked slow and good. That's what meth can do to ya. Make you a bitch in heat needing some pups to breed. I went quietly over to Chris, who was sitting flat against the wall in the dark and felt for his prick. I felt that he was raging hard but he was hesitant. I didn't care I was high and needed to fuck so I hopped my soaking wet pussy onto his massive cock which pulsated immediately afterward and we slowly grinded our genitals quietly as we kissed. He suddenly whispered very lightly into my ear, “what about my shot?” I ignored him and my wet snatch drenched his cock and balls making a slightly wet sound like a drenched mop hitting the floor. I wanted it up my ass but we would have to leave that to later. He wanted to moan and so did I as we got hotter and I could feel both of us about to orgasm as I got to grinding harder and clenching my pussy around his dick which was pulsating even harder. It was so hot in the closet and muggy that we were both sweating profusely. I could smell my pussy and his balls permeate closet as well as my asshole and his ball sweat which made it even hotter! He started sucking on my titties and kissing me when we both came. The orgasm was so intense for both of us. My fucking pussy just showered all over his cock which was convulsing sperm into my quivering sopping orifice. I'm a squirter too so when I came it sounded like a jet of piss rocketed to his stomach in loud watery splats. Then as soon as it was done, both of us didn't move. His cock had to go limp in me before it easily slipped out with more wet splats onto the wood floor. I finally lifted off of him feeling some wet trails going down my legs. Finally he spoke in a normal volume which startled me. “Can I do my shot now?” “Shhhh!” I quickly turned and covered his mouth, “there still could be someone in here!” “Hey fuck them, I'm getting my slam on!” He exclaimed as he got his phone out of my bag in the dark and flipped on the bright flash light. It was then I saw it. Behind him. Coming out of the wall with long black tentacles that seized Chris and gagged him. It was the upper torso of what seemed like a man, he had no eyes or mouth. No hair. Skin as white as bathroom tissue. He was wearing a suit with a black tie and a white oxford as white as his skin. But the suit was as black as the opaque abyss that was now night on the Oregonian horizon. The tentacles wrapped around him so quick I could hear his bones snap like twigs. His mouth was gagged by one of the tentacles and he choked shortly before I knew he was dead. The thing, this thin man, pulled Chris into the wall with him as if the wall were some kind of liquid and then both of them were gone as quickly as it started to happen. I ran out of the closet screaming and left everything behind, my clothes, my dope, the blankets, and raced outside before I step on a large shard of broken glass which went straight through my foot almost slicing it in half. I fell to the ground and the pain shot up my leg. I was hysterically crying and yelling for help when I turned around to see the figure of the man. He stood up right and he looked like a faceless man in a black suit with tentacles coming out of his back. He had to be about twelve feet tall and his arms… ...his arms were lithe and long with two huge white hands that dangled long pointed fingers. They were long enough to drag his knuckles. This thing, this thin man wasn't human, but something from a scary fairy tale I use to read in school. I couldn't believe my eyes. I begged it not to kill me as his tentacles seemed to pick him up and move closer to me. I tried to drag myself quickly only to feel its hand clasp onto my foot and drag me into the dark house on Oregon Trail Street. My screams were covered by his other cold white hand, it's fingers easily wrapping around my mouth to the back of my neck. The last thing I remember is it's face or lack of thereof forming a huge mouth that had thousands of thorn like teeth as white as it's skin, and a long purple tongue that pointed and coiled like an octopus trying to escape a fishermans net. It made no noise but it seemed to be screaming at me in silence. The only thing I could hear was a fuzzy electrical noise like an old tv with static and snow. I woke up in the hospital. It was night and the room was very dark and I was alone. I woke up screaming for a few moments before I realized where I was. Finally a few nurses came in and sedated me. I passed out and woke again the next morning with an older man in a blue blazer and a red tie sitting next to me typing on his phone. He was a detective, I could tell by his demeanor being as I've dealt with law enforcement before on semilike matters not as serious as the one I just experienced. Then a policeman came in with coffee and handed it to him before they realized I had come to. They told me I had been out for a week and that I almost died. I was found in the middle of the road about a block away from my house and that I had lost so much blood. I was naked and my foot had to be cut off because it was dead and infection had taken its course. They said there was a large amount of crystal meth in my blood but what concerned them was the marks on my body. When I looked at where they said the marks were, it looked like I was tied up with something, not rope, but something tough as if I was hustled by a giant squid. They asked if I was raped or kidnapped and I said nothing. What could I say? In fact I said nothing for about a week to anyone. Not even my friends heard a lick from me. It wasn't until the little girl who came into my room that strange night that I began to speak. The little girl with black hair, glasses and carnations came into my room when I was alone. This was long after visiting hours so it was strange she was there. “I brought you carnations for your loss,” she said in a sweet yet dark tone, “they represent loss and death.” I said nothing but she continued. “Your friend is with us now. He will come for you but later, not too much later but…” The door creaked open and to much of my horror I saw it. The thin man in a suit. No face. He was across the hall just standing there as the door opened by itself. The girl stopped and smiled. “See you soon.” She walked outside of the room towards this thing and gently held his hand as he turned and lead her down the hall. I remember no more after that. It has been a year since the incident. Chris was never found but his blood was found in the shots we had brought, our stuff, and something else; a long black tie. No meth was on site. Who knows maybe the thing slammed them, or some other homeless junkies that may have come to find them although usually they would have taken everything else I would imagine. Who leaves two iPhones and some decent clean clothes with a bag full of stuff? The only thing found were the shots and they had no meth in them, not even residue. Just the blood of my Chris. I was suspected of killing him but no evidence of me doing so was ever brought to light. They checked for DNA and they found three candidates, mine, chris, and unknown. I told them the story which they dismissed and said I was a delusional junkie who had taking too much that night. I haven't done meth since. But I don't think it was the meth. This thing was real. Like whether I was high or not wouldn't have mattered. Surely, it would have still happened like it did. I sleep with a knife under my pillow and as soon as everything clears with my records I'm buying a gun. Then I'm moving far away from here. The words of that little girl still haunt me. I expect to see Chris soon although I know the thing killed him. In fact as I look out my window I can hear him from a distance telling me that he is coming for me and demands a blood sacrifice. My things are packed and I'm ready to get out of here, but for some reason I have an urge to go back to that house. As if I'm missing something. I can't since I'm not allowed out of the sight of a police officer or my caregiver. Yet something beckons me there...and I need to go. I made it there on crutches somehow and somehow everything begins to be clearer...I knew I came here for some reason, I should have guess it would be for the (the end?)
