Sunday, May 8, 2011

Concrete Angels

If any of you watch Doctor Who then you might be familiar with the statue like aliens known as the Weeping Angels. If you haven' are lucky, because I can never visit cemeteries because of them. Why you may ask?

I...I rest my case.

The cemetery I wept in was filled with statues. Not to mention there were statues on the roof of a church we passed by. It was the worst. The area was a mostly Catholic center, the Catholic center of Buffalo , New York (although, it's actually Lackawanna) So I suppose it's not all that surprising. But ever since I watched that episode of Doctor Who I can't look at a statue without feeling like it's coming after me. I suppose that one could feel the same way with the Slenderman. Sometimes I feel like that's the reason why I can't see him. It's probably not true at all, I mean, wouldn't it make M's theory about the Operator Symbol useless? ...But then again, it could be.

What if the Operator symbol doesn't work. What if the reason some people can't see him until they take pictures of him or capture him on film is because we're watching him. He has to have some sort of cloaking ability, or glamour. I remember reading something about him being a fairy. I've never really believed in spirits, or angels, or anything of the like...I suppose it's an interesting theory but...

I don't know, it's just a supposition. I want to understand Slenderman, and what he wants, but at the same time I'm afraid to. What if what I discover turns out to be something worse than anyone could imagine? What if Slenderman created himself? Sometimes I dream about things such as these. I see him in an ancient forest within a circle of fungi, and I find myself dancing against my will. I can almost see that twisted look on his face. I can almost hear his laughter. All his servants are gathered around, watching me behind plastic faces. I feel a slight tug at my limbs and I'm dancing the river dance. Then I hear a shrilly laughter, coming from above. I dared not look up, but there were times when I often did. I knew the person's face well, it was Steph, but there was something different about her. It was like looking through a cracked mirror.

I like to think No. I want to think that it is nothing. Even still I know what the dream means, and it frightens me. I am wondering, especially now as I'm typing this, "Is Steph dreaming. Right now? If so, what is she dreaming about? Is she dreaming about me? Am I pulling the strings?"

Why do I worry so much about this? Steph's my friend, she would never betray me. Still, there is much doubt in my mind.

Not even an angel can help quell my troubles. In fact, they only make them worse.

There is one church in Lackawanna with a large statue of the angel on top the highest roof. The angel is shown raising a crucifix to the heavens, surrounded by many children. The church is called Our Lady of Victory Basilica, and it is one of the most beautiful churches I've ever seen in person. It is a shrine, first and foremost, commissioned by the late Father Baker.

I have never been inside the basilica before, but I am told it is just as beautiful. Maybe one day, but I have a feeling Steph would enjoy it much more than I. She always did love art. As for myself...I'm not sure what I would like to visit. But I always wanted to go to Ireland, just once. Or travel with actors on Broadway. Sometimes, I dream of dancing in Germany or Russia.

Poor Hannah.

Oh poor Hannah!

To think, that I thought she was going to become a famous dancer herself! Truly, I did! I watched her dance all the time, I even danced with her. I can still see her, out of the corner of my eye. That little pixie girl, with a smile akin to an angel's. I miss her, so much. If I could just see that face again, maybe I wouldn't be having these nightmares. But she's gone. I saw them bury her ashes. She's gone. It's all over. The world has lost yet another potential talent, another star just waiting to burst in the sky. I feel sometimes, as if it is my fault that she's gone. Maybe, maybe Steph would trust me more, if I took better care of her. Every time I call her it's like she gets more and more angry with me. I haven't called her in three days. I'm worried. She might run away again, and never come back, and then I'll be alone again forever. That is, without a friend. I know, that Trickortreat would surely kill me then. Sometimes I even consider running away myself. Perhaps I would be better off by myself, perhaps Steph won't be bothered much by me. But then what would I do?

But I must not think this way!

I can't.

Steph needs me right? She needs somebody? I really need to be there for her.

I'm trying, I'm desperately trying to get ahold of myself. It's just I get these thoughts, they aren't good. They're not good at all. They scare me. I don't want to die, not yet, but sometimes...

Ugh. Maybe I'm just overthinking things.

Hannah's funeral was today, to put things in the simplest way possible I am more exhausted than anything. I can't even shed a tear anymore without hurting my eyes. I looked at myself in the mirror multiple times today, I look like a mess. I had no desire to look nice at little Hannah's funeral. I couldn't bring myself to. It was too tragic, far too much of a terrible thing. A child that young should not be dead. The place the buried her, Holy Cross Cemetery, which is mostly a cemetery for the Irish. For some particular reason the man who paid for her funeral and cremation wished for her to be buried there. I did see him at the funeral today. He was lean, and tall, a rather handsome man in his mid twenties. Who knew where he got the money for the expenses. He seemed to be a rather eccentric man. He didn't need to smile and you'd feel attracted towards him. I found myself believing that he generally cared about me, and I think Mr. Nord did too.

Steph's father was more than happy to see me. I saw him talking to the strange benefactor as if he was an old friend. I tried to ignore his smile as I gave Mr. Nord my condolences.

"You look terrible, Rebecca. What happened?"

I didn't want to tell him that I blamed myself for his daughter's death. I didn't want to share with him the scene filled with flames that plagued my every thought. I did not want to talk about the monster underneath my bed. "I'm just tired. My AP Language Exam and AP US History Exam was last week."

"You could have called me. I would have given you as much help as you needed. It's the least I could have done. You have been such good help in the past month."

"Thanks, and sorry. I've just had a lot of things of my mind. I must have not been thinking."

"It's quite alright, my dear. Absolutely no worries at all!" piped up the man standing next to Mr. Nord. With the look of his soft brown eyes, I wasn't sure what to think of him. "Mr. Nord here has told me that you are well learned in the subject of literature."

"Well I do enjoy reading sir, but I'm not sure we should be discussing this right now..."

"Oh?" his feigned surprised bothered me so much. "I see. But then, I suppose you've never heard of The Scarlet Letter?"

"I have!" I exclaimed, thinking that everyone should have known about the book. "I read it a year ago in AP Literature."

"Ah! Then I suppose you know about the character Pearl?"

"Pearl? You mean the main character's daughter?" I asked.

He frowned, but I do not understand what would lead him to wear such an expression. I hope I said nothing insulting. "Gift", he insisted on those words. "I think, Mr. Nord and lady, that the deceased should be honored as a treasure today, finally buried to be uncovered in Heaven. I hope that one day, you both will see her there. My heart grieves, until that day. You know what else Mr. Nord told me, my dear?"

His words confused me, and made my ears blushed. I really had no idea what he was saying, I still have the slightest idea. "What else did he say...?"

"You have been a wonderful friend, to both of his daughters. I've heard word that dear Stephanie has been commited to the hospital in the past two weeks. You truly are a loyal person, I can't imagine how tough it is, for you to be watching all this happen to your friend and her family." Besides him, Mr. Nord was silently looking at a gravestone. If only I could have asked for his assistance then.

"It is, a little bit."

"And no doubt you want to help."

"I do...But I'm confused. What is it that you want me to do...?"

"All I'm saying, is that it should be you, not me, not the priest, not Hannah's father, but you that should be giving the eulogy today." He was looking at me straight in the eyes, in the same way a policeman would when probing you in a way masked by kindness and serenity. I felt, afraid, suddenly being given this option that was clearly out of the ordinary. "Why me?"

"Because you, my dear, were her greatest friend. And afterwords if you need some closure, you, your mother, and Mr. Nord and his kids should all come to our church service. We meet every Sunday, and every Tuesday, and I'm certain you'd enjoy our youth services on Thursdays and young Joshua as well." I followed his eyes as he glanced towards one of Mr. Nord's two sons, who stood underneath a tree as far away from everyone as possible, staring at me without even looking. He was still mad at me, I know it.

"I can't", I said to him. "I am not Christain, nor do I ever plan to be. I just want to be left alone, Mister. I can't bring myself to step inside a church, no matter how small it is." I looked towards the direction of the basilica, I was nervous at the time. I can't explain it, but churches scare me. "I'm sorry, but I just can't. I hope you understand..."

My answer seemed to disappoint the man. He tried so hard to feign a smile. I almost regretted making my decision. "Sorry..." I whispered, apologizing a second time.

"No, no! Don't be sorry!" He attempted to sound like he wasn't insulted. "I'm just letting you know, that the offer is always there, in case you are in need of a shoulder to lean on." He put his hand on my shoulder as if to prove this point. "In the end, if you have no one else to turn to, Father is always there, waiting with open arms." His voice grew serious, scary even. I think I was beginning to sweat uncomfortably. "All you need to do is accept Him." There was much emphasis on the "Him", and it seemed rather unnatural. It caused me to shiver, which didn't stop, not even after I left him.

It was Mr. Nord who saved me from him. "Leave the girl alone Christopher, can't you see she's got enough on her mind?" I had to think him before I ran off to find a safe place to hide, that wasn't where I could see Josh clear as day. Mr. Nord may be a bit short tempered at times, but he is respectful of other people's space. That's what I like about him. He knows what it's like after dealing with people trying to invade his privacy for so long. Perhaps that's why I look up to him. You have to look up to someone like him, someone who is so strong, he doesn't let anything sway his opinion. I sometimes wish I was like that. This entire situation could be easier. Seeing Leon at the graveyard wouldn't have come off as a shock. I didn't see where he came from, he practically appeared out of nowhere and I was pretty sure this was a private cemetery.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm paying my respects!" Behind him was a girl I've never seen before. She was short, and appeared to be Puerto Rican.

"Why? You've never even played with her? And who is that girl?" I demanded, "She doesn't look like Samantha!"

"My name is Marangeles" the girl answered for herself. She was wearing on her head a newsboy hat, so there was no way I could determine what she was thinking. All I knew was that she took things in a completely calm matter, which made me respect her existence almost immediately. "I've heard you and your friend got yourselves into trouble. Congratulations. I thought you would've been dead by now. You haven't updated your friend's blog in a week."

I was shocked. Here I was, being informed about the status of something nobody but me and my friend knew about, save for the tens of anonymous people on the internet. "How did you know?" I asked, even though I knew for certain, as much as I didn't like it, that she knew exactly what we were going through.

"I'm just like you, a victim of that damned monster's influence."

"Marangeles saved me from almost being ripped to shreds by a supernatural monster", Leon explained, unrolling his sleeves to show me a rather nasty scar that almost covered his entire left arm. I found that I couldn't quite staring at it. It was horrible, it looked horrible. It was a wonder he could still move it. "There's also a pretty nasty burn on my stomach, but I don't feel like showing you that piece of art. Anyways, it was when I was at Nietzsche's with Steph. After I told her to make a run for it, I was attacked by the same guy these loonies who call themselves his servants told me time and time again about. They said I was going to be killed by him, and I believed them. It was no use fighting him off, I didn't even bother. He was far too powerful, for a guy that was skinnier than my grandmother. I honestly thought I was going to die. Then Marangeles came out of nowhere wielding a cheap looking taser and next thing I know I was raped by the sound of nails in my brain instead of tentacles."

"I saved your life you jerk!"

"Oh yeah, and she also tried to hook up with me until I told her I already had a girlfriend."

"I was healing your wounds!"

"Attempting to heal my wounds."

As it turns out, Leon was forced to be hospitalized and was ordered under the threat of strict consequences to never share any information, which she did the same to me. Although I can share the information I just gave, plus the warning she gave me, "Do not try to be the hero. I know you feel worthless, it's only on every single blog you follow. We all do sweety, it's a normal emotion. But if you ever think that it's okay for someone like you to go out and risk your life trying to solve a problem that is impossible for you to fix, then damn it I'm going to beat some sense into you. You're just too good for crap like that that! So do me a favor and GET OVER YOURSELF!"

She yelled the last bit. I never felt so ashamed in my life. Her words are still sinking in, I don't think I'm ready to pull myself together yet. Not after the death of the sweetest girl I know.'s what I said at the funeral.

I have never known a sweeter, more imaginative, happier girl then little Hannah. She was my friend whenever Stephanie, her sister, wasn't around. And she would always brighten up my day with a smile. If she were here today, she would be dancing like the little pixie she was. Everything would be like a dream, and I would be living it. It almost seemed like she was unreal, at times. I almost forgot she was human. Her appearance, was like that of an angel. Her heart, was that of perfection. No one could love like her. Passionate, was her motivation. Everything was new to her. Everything was meant to be loved.

I loved her. I loved her almost as if she was my sister. And whenever I was with her, I felt like I was apart of the Nord family. When she went to sleep and never woke up, I realized that I wasn't dreaming at all. This little girl was real. Everything about her was real. She was probably the only real person I ever knew. If I could, I would join her, in that great flowery meadow in the sky. Maybe then I could teach her to dance. But I know, that Mr. Nord and his children need me here, to be like what Hannah was to me; a source of support and love. Which is why I choose to celebrate little Hannah's memory every day, so I could make sure that her purity lives on through good deeds and love.

No child that pure should have to die. No eighteen year old should suffer the loss of family and friends. Ladies and gentlemen, I know how some of you think of Stephanie. Please, for Hannah's sake cast away these rumors. Stephanie is not a murderer, nor is she dangerous. She is just like you and me, and she is scared, as I am, of what tomorrow brings. Let us face tomorrow together, instead of living in shadows. Let us look forward to the future, for the sake of little Hannah's memory...

I love you Hannah...

Rest in Peace, little pearl of my dreams.

Here is the song that was played...

There are reasons as to why I never liked statues.

I've also looked up some of the coordinates that I salvaged from the fire. As you see most of them are indeed set in New York, a remarkable number of them seem to be in Buffalo or near it.



42.908442, -78.865689



42.652579, -73.933474

42.902614, -78.744572



I'll try to see if I can visit some of the locations so I can get an idea of what they are.

I saw the post that might have been made by Steph, but I'm fairly certain a Proxy posted it. Whoever posted it, Steph, a Proxy, whoever! I have to go visit these locations. Now that I have a lead, I'm following it through. Steph, I thought you wanted to find your mother. That used to be all you talked about. I have no idea what these "nice men in white" are. I don't even know how you posted. Didn't you say you were banned from the computer until further notice?

But it doesn't matter because it's too late now. I'm doing this.

Thank you.

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