Christmas Festivities

I've decided to come back after a few of the negative responses some people had given me in my last post.

I say that but nothing worth nothing has happened as of late. Ever since I started this thing things have quieted down.

I'll be lying if I said it wasn't nice. It allows me to do my own thing.

Work on my own experiments.

Just to let these...2? followers of mine I'm not dead.

If any of you can make me give a shit about you, maybe I'll talk.

I can't really explain much though. The experiments will reveal themselves soon, though.

That's it on my end. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it.

In Which...

You all are given the honor of my presence.

I know, I know, it's exciting. The only thing I dislike about myself is I can't be in my own presence. Yet. I'm working on that. Slowly but surely, we can all be given the honor together.

Introductions would be the proper thing to do, I would assume. Where I would explain who I was, what I did. The purpose for the little bit of internet space that is called my own. Why this exists.

But explaining what I would explain is probably not the right thing to do. So let's avoid that.

My name will be the last thing that you hear, the ringing in your ears deafening. Knowing who got you. Why you were made a target. Two words, the name defining the person that is me, whispered in the dark. Gerard Noble.


Every death has a purpose. It is the ultimate will that says so. There is a reason things happen, and things happen for a reason. If I was a math expert, I would say x = y, with x being the 'reason', and y being the 'things that happen'.

But alas, as it were to be, math is not the reason why I'm here. I'm here because of the paranormal entity known as the "Slenderman".

Oh, that got your attention, didn't it?

There is always something that will go bump in the night. It reflects human nature's fears, and their desires. Everyone has a different horror chasing them around, always there whenever they close their eyes. When they're alone. When they think they're alone. There is always something out there, watching.

Waiting.

But why is this well dressed entity after so many people? And more and more people as time progressed. What started with one person now has a high number in the hundreds-thousands all being followed.

By a man with no face.

Or a face so horrifying we have to dull our brain's senses enough to give it it's notorious blank gaze.

We all are driven away by our adversary's horrifying nature. Yet we all have different reactions. Whether it be scribbling in a notebook like a loon, making a video series capturing them being hunted, or starting up a blog so they can tack away on the keyboard for sanity.

We know we do things. But do we know why we do them? Or why we think we do them? What if what you're thinking right now was planted by someone telling you to think that. Just a second ago you were face to face with some horrifying creature that should be on a different planet. Then you looked away.

And you don't remember any of it. But the seed that they planted is sprouting inside your brain, having you think things you never would have originally.

Chew on that for a bit.