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't...you 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...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. Here...here'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.


42.850059,-78.799755

41.279924,-73.933474

42.908442, -78.865689

42.826148,-78.823360

40.755986,-73.99822

42.652579, -73.933474

42.902614, -78.744572

41.034526,-73.930055

42.884216,-78.777332

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.

The Funeral

Okay first off, let me say something about Leon. He's not really that bad of a guy, or at least he wasn't that bad of a guy. Steph seems to think he's betrayed her. It's understandable. She was the only person who supported him other than Tiya, but Tiya's transferred to another school since last year. He's nineteen, as I already said, and still in high school. Many people aren't going to be supportive of a guy like that. Steph, surprisingly was...she feels sorry for people easily, and can come off as quite a bit trustworthy. Not anymore, it seems. She refuses to trust everybody, everybody except me, she says. I think this is all starting to get to her. She's obsessed with trolling this troll back in any way possible. She's even brought a couple of tissues with her at the funeral. I asked her why, she said it was for the troll. The Bitch.

I didn't see her at the funeral at all. I really thought she would come. It probably devastated Steph. I saw her ran off in the middle of the funeral. They were burying his ashes in a grave, and marked it by a tiny stone. It wasn't anything grand, but it did have this sort of atmosphere.

It was raining, like it's raining right now. It was raining all day actually. It's like nature knew that we were honoring the death of a wonderful, lively guy. Hm, it's funny. Just a few days ago Steph read in the paper about the Supreme Court ruling concerning Westboro Church's protest of a dead soldier's funeral. As many of you know Westboro is infamous for targeting the gay community with hate. It's no surprise that Steph was so passionate about it, she wouldn't stop going on and on about how unconstitutional it was. An army brat who has a dead gay friend...I think it struck her more sensitive areas. She was listening to Lady Gaga all day yesterday since it was the Lady Gaga concert in Buffalo. We knew at least two gay guys in our school who were going, even our Participation in Government teacher was supposed to be going. She called me crying, rambling on about how Frank was supposed to send her pictures of the concert through her phone.

I'm beginning to wonder just how much this affected her. I couldn't find her anywhere after the funeral. We had a couple people sent out to search for her in the batch of trees near the graveyard. I wasn't allowed to go with them, of course. My words did not help to woe them into letting me search. An hour went by, and she still didn't come. I was getting worried.

She finally showed up at the gate of the graveyard, fending off some unknown thing. I don't think she even noticed I was there until I had to snap her out of it. The most she had was a bloody nose, thankfully. Nothing serious happened to her. I asked her what she was thinking, running off like that. She told me, "I saw her. She was in my dreams."

"I think we knew each other."

I'm going to try talking her into posting about what happened in the forest. But right now all she's focused on is finding out who this person is.

I think she also saw Slender Man. I'm going to call her later today to check on the poor dear.

Keep holding on, love. <3

Sorry about not posting yesterday guys (I'm back, by the way)

I was busy....reading stuff....on this Slender Man dude. Okay, can someone say Creeperstein? How many people does this guy stalk anyways? I lost count after the tenth blog (not that I was counting in the first place). Yes, I admit, I was sort of stupid to believe that this shit wasn't real. I realize that now. But since he just killed my best friend I suppose I have no choice now don't I? I mean, what if this guy's stalking me too? I bet he's out there right now, looking out my window...

Only he's not. Heh.

I wonder why, is he busy with all of these other people? Does he follow some sort of schedule? Some people say he can travel through time and space (does this mean he's an extra dimensional alien?), Rebecca had to explain the entire thing to me, and why he managed to disappear with Frank right in front of my eyes. I'm still shaken up about that. I think about him all the time you know? I keep thinking about him, that day, and Frank. But there's always someone else there, someone watching. I know who she is, I know I see her before, but now that she's bothering my friends I want to know her name, her address, everything so I can beat the crap out of her.

Yeah, I'm mad, I'm mad as hell. But it's not Rebecca's fault, so I can't blame her. I don't even know who to blame for all this. I guess I blame myself... even though Rebecca insists that I'm not to blame. "Everyone is in the same boat, some have it worse then others". Who's everyone? The people who write the blogs and post videos on Youtube? Or everyone, everyone. You guys believe that writing about him would make him stronger right? Tulpa Effect or something? So why the hell we do it? I'm an optimist so I like to think it's a sort of confidence booster. Sure, a lot of these blogs are tragic to read, I think I cried once or twice last night. But at the same time reading the blogs touched my heart in a weird, fluttery, way. It makes me want to join them, but as Rebecca said countless times, I really can't. That is unless Josh here can learn to take care of himself. *glares*

I know where I would go if I were to run. New York City. It worked for M right? And I do live in Buffalo. So, why the hell not? I think I thought about stowing away on an airplane during my stay in the hospital... I was pretty depressed. You may not realize it with the way I act around people, but I'd like to say I cried enough to fill a pool. A small pool, not a public pool, but you get the idea. I was supposed to watch Repaul's Drag Race and be tested on it by him. But I can't do that now, I guess. I was really looking forward to it too.

We were also supposed to go to college together, in California. We both got accepted and I already sent most of my stuff in.

Fuck my life.

And to any gay/drag haters right now I want to say one thing from the bottom of my heart: Just once, can you bring yourself to have a bit of compassion? If not, well fuck you then. Everyone have a moment of silence for Frank Anthony Williams Jr.

The watermark at the beginning ruins it, but it's the thought that counts right? Sorry for stealing your picture Rebecca...

I know, it sucks, but I spent all night working on it.

The funeral is this Saturday. There's not going to be a wake. I think they're going to cremate his body and bury the ashes. Or something like that. I'm not sure what they'll do, I've never had to go to a funeral before.

Nobody close to me has died before.

I'm borrowing my mom's little black dress, she has no need for it at the moment, now that she's away. Oh right, didn't I tell you guys? They sent her away to some other hospital, the bastards. Now Dr. Fitzpatrick is completely in charge of me at the moment. I can't say whether or not he's particularly happy, but I'd say he's close to being upset. Well, at least I managed to spend some "quality time" with my mother before she left. And what did I do? I asked her the most idiotic question you could ask your sick mother. I asked her what she knew about Slender Man. Like I said, not the best idea in the world. I have never seen her so angry, I swear she was about to choke me. It's funny, I was more focused on defending myself against the white coats that were trying to restrain her as oppose to defending myself against my crazed mother. Because, she was, you know, my mother. I didn't want to see a bunch of jerks in white holding her down like that regardless of how insane she supposedly is. They make her out to be stupid. Let me tell you this, I know she knows something. Something just keeps her from saying anything, whether it be fear or something else. She started laughing immediately once they managed to hold her down, but I swear she was crying. I could see tears forming from her eyes.

They didn't let me see her again after that. But I managed to talk to Dr. Fitzpatrick about her. Guess what? Apparently he knew her from the time she was my age (actually two years younger). She always had problems, he said. She always would claim that she could see a man, stalking her day in night; on the streets, in her home, in her dreams. Apparently it all began with the death of a best friend, it drove her into a depression worse then mine (although according to him I'm handling this well, yay me). A few months later she met a guy who was supposed to comfort her, she expected him to comfort her, but it turns out he was a jerk who cheated on her and left her when he got another girl pregnant. Something along those lines. My memory's kind of hazy. Once again she went into a state of depression, almost breaking and losing her mind to grief. Church saved her, she actually told me this. Don't ask me how or why, I'm not much of a church person myself to be honest, but the hope that they gave her kept her together. Dr. Fitzpatrick told me he left her alone during those times. But then, some months after her graduation, he heard word that she had come back from boot camp in the Air Force which she planned on going to after high school (I know this because I read her yearbook from the 80s, yeah I'm such a bad girl). I asked him why she was brought back, he told me that she was suffering from psychosis at the time, and having Bi-polar like symptoms at the time. He didn't know what actually happened at the boot camp, apparently. This time it was my dad that saved her. I asked him if he ever witnessed any instances where mom went batshit insane before. He says no, but I feel like he's lying. He wouldn't look me in the face and started crying and hugging me, whispering that we would get through this together. I think that he thought I was bothered by something....

He's right, but I'm not going to tell him anything until he gives me answers. In the meantime I'm going to contact the mysterious troll (or "Bitch" as Rebecca calls her) since apparently she hates Rebecca. And who could blame her? (I'm kidding, by the way).

In the meantime I'll continue to plan for....

Yeah. I don't even think I want to watch Repaul anymore. Not even in his memory.