Saturday, December 24, 2011

Merry Fucking Christmas

I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six years old. I walked into the living room to find my parents putting the presents under the tree. I asked why Santa wasn't doing it. They said Santa was busy, so he had dropped off the presents and left.

I knew at once this was bullshit. If Santa can deliver a billion presents in one night, he can take the time to put them under the tree. My suspicions were confirmed with the discovery of several receipts in the trash. My parents had bought those presents. Santa Claus? Fictitious.

I discovered the same thing about the Tooth Fairy the year before. (Funny story: I didn't ask for a dollar, which was the going rate of teeth back then. I asked for a book. I woke up to see my mom trying to sneakily put the book I wanted next to my bed. I didn't tell her I caught her, but I did give her a big hug the next day.)

The Easter Bunny isn't real either. Neither is the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, Yeti, the Abominable Snowman, Bloody Mary, vampires, ghosts, goblins, fairies, and God.

Do you know what is real?

Fear is real. The sound of your heart beating, the sweat on your forehead, the hairs on your arms standing up. Santa Claus isn't real, but there's a man who sees you when you're sleeping. The Tooth Fairy isn't real but there's something out there that will take away a piece of you. There are many things that aren't real...but there are so many things that are. Bad things. Terrible monstrous things.

And on this darkest of nights, what do we do? We wait for a fat man to bring us presents. We don't despair into the night. We sit and laugh and watch cheesy movies and give each other gifts. Fear is real, but so is hope.

I learned that Santa Claus wasn't real when I was six. It took me over thirty years to figure out that I was wrong. Just because something doesn't exist, doesn't mean it isn't real.

So have a merry fucking Christmas. And a happy fucking New Year.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Them 8: The Convocation of Birds

They look like a flock of birds. Hey, they can't all be tall, slender men or little frozen kids. Some of them look just like dogs or birds.

Okay, they look just like birds. A flock of them will generate electricity, passing it through themselves. I don't know how or why. They've been known to cause lightning strikes. They are probably the reason for the myth of "Thunderbirds" (not the Gerry Anderson show though).

Like the Slender Man, they have proxies. They are called Nests. And there is a very good reason for why they are called Nests. Take a guess.

That's right, they are nests for the Convocation. The Convocation nests within a person's body and they become a Nest. I don't know what sort of special powers this conveys (does it convey any powers besides creepiness? no idea), but they are dangerous. They can cut open their skin to let out birds of the Convocation and the birds? Will mess your shit up. I have seen a flock of birds carry away a full grown man and drop him from a great height so that he ended up just a splatter on the pavement.

Supposedly, they come from or travel through a place called the "Bleak Shore." I have no idea if this is true or bullshit someone made up.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Them 7: The Eye of Judgment

It looks like an eye. That's it.

Okay, that's not it. Those targeted by the Eye of Judgment (or just the Eye, I guess) start to see it everywhere. It...grows on surfaces. In people. Victims of the Eye will see it everywhere they go. Big eyes, little eyes, brown eyes, blue eyes.

And it passes judgment. That's why I call it the Eye of Judgment. It judges people for their sins. No matter how small their sins may be. Murder, rape, genocide, littering. It will judge you.

And then? Then it takes someone else (preferably someone you have wronged) and possesses them. It turns them into a killing machine named Judgment. They will come after you and come after you and if you beat them back, the Eye will just possess someone else and come after you again.

It will never stop until it gets you. Until you disappear.

Like the blink of an eye.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Them 6: The Black Dog

It looks like a black dog. See the name? That's it.

You want more? Sometimes it's a big dog, sometimes it's not. Sometimes it looks like a Rottweiler or a Bullmastiff or a Boxer or a Bloodhound, but it always has black fur and red eyes.

If you've done something bad and you've hidden it away, if you are hiding something in your past, it will find you. It will always find you. I don't know why exactly it goes after certain people and not others - why it will let one bastard live and another die - but then again, at least I know a little motive behind it, rather than the zero I know about the rest.

There are survivors of the Black Dog. Yes, one of Them has survivors. However, I think it's just toying with them. The Black Dog can take years to finish off one of its victims. Years of psychological torture, of paranoia, of trying so hard to hide from it. But the more you hide, the better it will find you.

Sometimes, a survivor will say they escaped by revealing all of their secrets. They go to the police and confess all of their crimes. However, the person who told me this died a month later in his cell. His cellmate said he had been complaining about a dog in his dreams. Cause of death was inconclusive. Perhaps that's how the Dog finally gets the victims that escape - through their dreams. I don't know. All my secrets I've revealed. They are all out there.

Except for one. One secret waiting to be found. And yet, I have never seen the Dog.

I wonder why.

Sunday, November 27, 2011


I'm back. Writing on this goddamn blog. Why am I writing? Why do I care that anyone will read this?

Finder's dead. After her last post, I left my house and flew out to California to find her. I'm a hermit, but at that moment, I would have burned my house to the ground to find her alive and well. But I didn't.

Her body was found in a ditch, barely identifiable. Official cause of death was organ failure. Autopsy revealed that she had three different types of cancer.

The name on her death certificate was Fenella Bellamy. Her real name was Finder.

I stopped writing after I found her. Why write? My information didn't do any good. The one thing I thought I was good for and it turned it that it was completely pointless.

I'm a fucking fraud. I'm a hermit that hides in his house and gives out information that's worse than useless. Why is it worse? Because if you think you know about Them, then you might not run when you see Them. And if you don't run? You die.

You fucking die. That's how it all ends. That's how everything ends. Death. The big D. The fucking light at the end of the fucking tunnel.

So why am I now writing? Why start again?

I don't know. I had an urge to share my thoughts. A compulsion, you might say.

I'll still tell whoever is still reading this blog what I know. It won't matter. I once thought that the more information we know, the better prepared we are, but that's shit. The more we know, the more dangerous our lives are. Ignorance is bliss.

Well, fuck bliss. If I can't be ignorant, neither can all of you. So get ready for some fucking knowledge.

Friday, October 14, 2011

finder found it

found it i found it found the connection the pin on the map the place where all three met found finder found it finally found it

head hurts aches throbs pounds where was i going where have i been

the walls were crumbling
   the walls were bleeding
      the walls were heaving breathing pulsing
     sick stones and unhealthy hallways
   help me help me help me
i think im dying please help

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Them 5: The Blind Man

I know I've been neglecting this blog, but I haven't heard from Finder in the past week and I'm beginning to get worried. Anyway, this may just get my mind off of that, so here goes:

Yes, okay, this is a super-crappy drawing, but shut up.

The Blind Man is...well, he looks like an old man who is blind. Not that scary, right? I mean, not if you compare with with the Slender Man or the Rake or even the Cold Boy. I mean, what's a blind guy going to do to you? Fuck all, right? Just knock his cane over and bam, you're good.

Except the Blind Man isn't actually blind. Behind his sunglasses (or blindfold - I've heard some people who have seen a blindfold or a visor or even a fedora that covered his eyes) is, well, nothing. No eyes. None at all. Some witness say that it's just blank skin, while others say that there are these two holes, not eyes but pits, blacker than night.

And if these people remember seeing the Blind Man that's because Blindy doesn't really give a fuck about them. He can change your memory in a blink of an eye (your eye, not his, obviously). He can take away your childhood, he can fuck with everything you know or might know, he can make you forget your own name if he wanted to. If you try to attack him, you will find that suddenly you've forgotten how to walk, how to talk, how to fucking breath. Let me repeat this clearly: you do not want to fuck with this guy.

So, yeah. He also carries this book around with him. Some people say that there are names within of the people whose childhoods he's taken, but I don't think anyone's ever read it. Or if they have, the Blind Man just made them forget about it.

Blindy also has this cult around him called the Archive. They are weird little fuckers and they like to accumulate knowledge. Still, they are not as bad as the Blind Man is.

Yeah, this didn't work. I'm still worried about Finder.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Finder: Sorry

Sorry for not updating this past week on my progress. I sort of came down with a cold and then had a bout of paranoia where I thought the Plague Doctor was killing me. But no, just an ordinary cold.

Man, I'm an adrenaline junkie, but sometimes I wonder. These things I try to find can kill with a glance, can rip you apart with ease, can dig inside your head and eat your memories like candies. I try to act fine; I like my job. I like traveling places I've never been. I've gotten use to the smell of motels and the continental breakfasts and long drives, but sometimes. Sometimes I just have to sit down and stop.

Sorry. I still have a bit of the cold. I didn't get much work done because of it and because of my onset of paranoia, but now that's passed, I'll start tracking the movements of the victims. I'm going to see if they intersected anywhere and if they did...well, that's probably where they met the Plague Doctor.


Saturday, September 17, 2011

Signs & Seals: The Stick and the Serpent

The Plague Doctor doesn't like to announce his presence, but oftentimes after he leaves a place, someone will put up this symbol:

Looks like some sort of mathematical symbol, right? Well, nope, it's called the Stick and the Serpent. Sort of similar to the rod of Asclepius, except where the rod of Asclepius represents medecine and healing, this symbol represents the fucking Plague Doctor.

Nobody knows who, exactly, puts up this symbol. It just seems to appear, chalk-drawn on the sidewalk or spray-painted on a wall. If you see it, go the other fucking way.

Them 4: The Plague Doctor

Since Finder might be investigating him at the moment, let's take a look at the abomination known as the Plague Doctor.

Yeah, he's a quack.

So: the Plague Doctor. Looks like a, well, plague doctor. Robe, stick, beak-nosed mask. There are some reports that the mask isn't, well, a mask at all.

This guy doesn't show up that often -- that's not to say he isn't creepy as fuck, but you most often won't see him before he gives you the fucking Black Death. Yeah, he spreads disease. That's one reason why he's so fucking creepy: even once he leaves, you'll still die from whatever horrible fucking sickness he has given you.

And even if you do see him coming, you may not even realize it. He likes to show up at places where his appearance won't be noticed. Costume parties, carnival, Mardi Gras. Then he goes Masque of the Red Death on people.

I've never seen the Plague Doctor, but I have what he's done to certain Runners. When I tell you that you don't want to know what happened to them, you should believe me.

Finder: Inconclusive

The bodies at the morgue were...definitely dead bodies. They died of some sort of influenza according to the reports, but one that acted much faster than normal. Is this just a normal variation of the virus, though, or did the movie Contagion piss off the Plague Doctor? (Wait, TFR hasn't gotten to the Plague Doctor yet. Well, he will.)

Anyway, I'll stay in a motel here for another week or so to see if there are any more deaths. There were three in the surrounding counties, which counts as a pattern, but I'm not sure of there were any connections between the dead. I'll check that out next.


Friday, September 16, 2011

Finder: It Never Rains in Southern California

But it does drizzle a bit. I'm in SoCal right now following a lead. There was a news report on a small outbreak of unidentified influenza. Three deaths in two weeks. It might be nothing, but then again, it might be Something.

I thought the weather would be better here than the last place I was in (Chicago). It's supposed to be perpetually sunny here, but it was overcast when I arrived and it's been threatening to rain all day. It always bugs me when it only slightly drizzles -- make up your mind weather, rain or don't. I don't want to go out without an umbrella just to get stuck in the rain. (And no, I do not like pina coladas.)

Going to the hospital morgue now to check the patients that died. Fun.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Signs & Seals: The Twin Triangles

And now for another edition of Signs & Seals:

This is a symbol referred to as the "Twin Triangles." It is a symbol that represents or accompanies the Archangel.

The symbol sort of looks like two hourglasses, which might represent Death's Hourglass, death leading to the Archangel. Or not. The symbol isn't really clear and nobody really has explained what it has to do with the Archangel. In this respect, it is similar to the Operator Symbol.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Hello There

I'm Finder. I'm that "freelance operative" TFR mentioned in the last post. What that basically means is that while he sits on his butt all day surfing the net, I courageously wander the world looking for weird things, strange events that might possibly be one of the Bugbears.

Yes, I call them Bugbears. Got a problem with that?

Anyway. I don't swear like TFR does. I also don't smoke or drink. What I do is find weird stuff. Sometimes it's a Bugbear, sometimes it's just weird without origin. But I find it. And I send my reports to TFR.

Why? Because it's fun. Yes, sometimes I come very close to death, but that's the point. I'm an adrenaline junkie.

Anyway, TFR gave me access to the blog, so I'll be posting occasionally, updating on what I'm doing or where I am. Mostly to give any readers a break from his filthy swearing.


Them 3: The Archangel

Yeah, this guy. He's a mean son of a bitch that goes by the name the Archangel.

Are you my mummy?

The Archangel. Archie. Bringer of the Dead. Bad Motherfucker.

So yeah. The Archangel is, well, something. I don't think anyone has ever seen its true form. I don't think it has a true form. It takes the forms of the dead. Anyone who has ever died it can appear as. Sometimes as more than one dead person. So if you see Abraham Lincoln holding an axe running at you, then you can be pretty sure that's the Archangel. His favorite form, apparently, is a guy wearing a gas-mask.

Now, I say he can take the form of any dead person, but that's not entirely true. Apparently, if you are killed by another of Them (or one of Their servants) he can't take your form. Or something. Information is vague. Especially his motivations. Does he want to kill everyone in the whole world? I don't know, maybe. Sometimes it seems like he dicks around with people for shits and giggles.

Steward, crazy guy that he was, claimed that the Archangel was the afterlife, which is why he can control dead people. Since this is pretty depressing, I'm not going to believe it.

I have never encountered him, but one of my freelance operatives has seen him three times. I don't envy her.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Them 2: The Cold Boy

Next on the schedule, the Cold Boy. (I'm not doing these in alphabetical order, but rather in my own order which is "what I feel like writing about.")

Don't let this little moppet fool you.

The Cold Boy appears, as his name suggests, as a little boy, aged around seven to twelve years old. One person said he was around six, but he never seems to appear any younger than that or any older than twelve. No reason is given why.

Once you look past his little boy facade, however, you will begin to notice certain...irregularities. First, his face will often appeared blurred like a bad photograph. His skin, you'll notice, is actually ice and it makes a strange sound when he moves. Different people have reported the fact that he sometimes appears to have cracks in his hands or even his face.

Like the Slender Man, the Cold Boy likes to stalk his prey. Unlike ol' Slendy, TCB's targets tend to have one thing in common: they are often cut off from others or appear afraid of being cut off from others. When stalking his victims, he will sing to them nursery rhymes. Some have reported that listening to the nursery rhymes makes one sleepy or disoriented and others have seen victims follow TCB willingly after listening sometimes. What he does with these victims is unknown.

I received a report a little while ago that claimed the Cold Boy was much larger than anyone could guess. It said that he was "like an iceberg," with his true size and shape actually "underneath the waters of reality." The rest of the report was gibberish and there's no evidence that what it said is true.

I have seen him twice. Twice I have seen his touch freeze a person, their skin shattering like glass. I try to maintain a wide network of people to provide me with information; this is the only reason I believe he hasn't targeted me. I am not cut off. And I never want to be.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Signs & Seals: The Operator Symbol

Welcome to Signs & Seals, the portion of this blog that talks about the various iconography associated with Them. The first installment will be about, of course, the omnipresent Operator Symbol.

Symptoms of the Operator Symbol include: weevil attacks, intense ice cream headaches, and treefingers.

The Operator Symbol is associated with the Slender Man. According to some sources, it's a repellent against Slendy. Other sources say that it actually attracts him. Even otherer sources say that the symbol is a memetic device that causes us to think about Slendy and thus attract his attention.

Whether using the Operator Symbol is a good idea or a bad idea, the fact is that it shows up in a whole lot of places near the Slender Man. And now you know -- and knowing is half the battle. (The other half involves an inordinate amount of violence, so just stick with knowledge for now.)

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Them 1: The Slender Man

The a-number-one creepiest of the creepers. Tall, thin, wears a business suit, has no face and long fucking arms (or possibly tentacles). That's right, it's the Slender Man.

Fuck, I'm bad at drawing. Just think of this as the Slender Man as drawn by Rob Liefeld.

Take note: it's not Slenderman, it's the Slender Man. He's not Jewish. (Well, maybe he is. That would be a strange Bar Mitza - "Today, you are no longer a Slenderboy, you are a Slenderman!" Fuck, my mind goes to weird places.)

There's a fuckton written about this guy. Seriously, just enter his name in Google and you will find a ton of stories about him, most of them just plain old fiction. Some, however, are true. It's hard to find those nuggets of truth in the steaming pile of stories, though.

Here's what is generally accepted about him: he likes to abduct children. He has no face and doesn't speak, can turn his arms into tentacles sometimes (or make himself have four arms/tentacles or something). He's been called everything from a fairy to an alien to a tulpa (Google it, I don't want to explain), but pretty much nothing is known beyond the fact that he is one scary motherfucker.

I've never personally seen him and I count myself lucky because of that.

Oh yeah, and he sometimes uses human agents called "proxies" or "hallowed" or "hollowed" or whatever. Basically, he can make humans do whatever he wants. Why he does this nobody knows.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Welcome to Radio Free Phobos

We're here to talk about Them. You know Them. You may have seen Them or heard Them or felt Them. That's why you're here. That's why you're reading this.

Because you know you're not crazy. You can't be crazy. It's the world that's crazy, the world outside your window that doesn't make sense anymore. It doesn't make sense because of Them.

Who are They? Some call them Entities, Aspects, Embodiments. Others have a variety of names for them: Phobic Representational Entities or PREs, Boojums, Creepy Fuckers, even by the dull and, frankly, uninteresting name of Fears.

Me? I don't need to call them by any name. Just Them is fine.

I'll tell you about some of Them. What I know anyway. What I've read or heard or seen. I barely leave my house, but I still manage to find information about Them. They've gotten sloppy lately. Like they want us to know more about Them.

But that doesn't matter. All that matters is information. Fear is the mind-killer, as the saying goes. More information, less to fear.

I hope.