. poor Harriet .

  Harriet is a 17-year-old girl with chestnut eyes and frizzy dark brown hair. Harriet is a disturbed 17-year-old girl. Her eyes are always blood-shot and her chestnut color has dulled with tears. Her wavy locks have become more of a frantic mess. Her eyes are sunken from restless sleep, and she’s been tired of the world for the longest time. Her skin is pale from hiding from the sun. She rarely goes out anymore. She lives with her uncle and aunt. But her father lives with her.

  Every morning she has to wake up to the sound of his voice; his sharp, snarky remarks about everything she is and everything she isn’t. When she brushes her hair, he is there in the mirror, speaking to her in his cold, condescending tone. He would tell her not to bother with her looks when she’s not even worth looking at. She would fight him at first, with silence, not knowing what to say. But deep down, her heart was breaking. When she cries, he just brushes it off and leaves in a huff.

  Every morning she has breakfast with her aunt and uncle, at the round dining table with the quaint white-red chequered cloth. And every morning her father sits between her and her relatives and continues the verbal abuse, while drinking coffee as black and bitter as he was. After attempting a few nibbles of her toast and scrambled eggs, Harriet doesn’t dare eat another bite at the constant nit-picking of her father. She just sits at the table, head down low, and silently tears trickle down her freckled cheeks. Her aunt and uncle look at her pitifully and say nothing.

  This morning, her aunt and uncle were taking her out for a drive. Her aunt sits with her in the back, and her father sits in the front passenger seat. The whole time her uncle drove, her father just could not stop barking at her; calling her names and belittling her every being. She cringed every time his voice rose. Even as her aunt held her, she was trembling from the fear and anxiety and the tears.

  Finally Harriet snaps. And she screams.

  She screams with all her might, staring into his heartless eyes in the rear-view mirror. She screams, “I don’t need you anymore! You’re nothing to me! Why can’t you just leave – me – alone??!!” Her aunt struggles to keep her calm and her uncle focuses on the road, not wanting to hear this. Her father, however, smiles. And slowly his figure disappears from existence, like mist. He is gone and the passenger seat is left empty. But his sadistic smile burns into Harriet’s mind.

  Her aunt and uncle are taking her to a hospital. Hopefully she will have some peace there.

  Harriet is a 17-year-old girl with chestnut eyes and frizzy dark brown hair, and exhausted hopes and worn out dreams. Harriet is a disturbed 17-year-old girl. Her father died 2 years ago so she lives with her uncle and aunt. But her father lives with her. Forever inside her. And he’s not going to go away.

Poor Harriet. The whole Dream played out like a movie so I tried narrating it as it was. If you still don’t quite understand what’s going on here, basically it’s about a teenage girl who has been abused by her father for the longest time. Probably ever since she was a child. I’m not sure whether it was sexual abuse or just physical, verbal & emotional abuse, but it was traumatic nonetheless. She suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, in the sense that she began hallucinating about her father, since he died 2 years back. Even though he was gone, his memories still lived within and tormented her.

.: Slenderween :.

In my latest Dream post, I mentioned how I was a fan of Slenderman and how it would've been cool to have his as a dad, or a foster dad, or a demon guardian or something of the sort. My friend, Ash, has always been a fan for all things morbidly awesome so she joined the bandwagon. Last Halloween, I drew this as a tribute to Slender-daddy with us as his demonic hybrid Slenderspawns.

I wanna draw more fanart of him now.

. 08.08.12 Slender child .

  I was a young girl with long black hair and a petite red dress, and a cute red hair-band. I lived in a great, big, wooden cottage in the middle of a grey forest. Very rarely did I see people in the forest, let alone children. But when I did see children, I was very happy. I’d go out and play with them. The children never stayed for long though. They were either frightened of me or stayed away, or they just disappeared eventually. But there were two boys that did not mind the fact I lived in a forbidden forest and that I had slightly morbid tendencies. I liked them a lot. They were my first friends.

  The older boy had chestnut hair and eyes, and wore a plain white shirt with denim overalls, with one strap hanging loose from his shoulder. His younger brother had darker hair, almost black like mine, and wore a red shirt and knee-length, brown pants. They lived in a village near to my forest and stumbled upon me by chance one day. Though they were told time and time again not to go near the forest by their parents, they would visit me every day just to play with me. I was their little secret as they were mine.

  But one day they visited me while I was still inside my home. I was in my bedroom upstairs and they saw me through the window. Though I was afraid we would get caught, I opened my window and hurried them to come inside before ‘daddy’ would see. So they were let into my home and we played for a while. But once I heard ‘daddy’ come back home, I had to rush them out the window and had them carefully climb down. ‘Daddy’ doesn’t like it when strangers are in the house. He doesn’t like strangers at all.

  The moment the boys disappeared from plain sight, running back to their village, there was a knock on my door. ‘Daddy’ entered, looming and tall, so much so he reached the ceiling and he had to hunch. His tentacles were twisting and twirling behind him, restless, as if he was disturbed. He took a look outside my window then turned to me and I smiled as innocently as I could. Once his tendrils calmed down, his faceless mask softened as well and a large tentacle patted me on the head. I loved ‘daddy’ but it can get rather lonely sometimes when everyone’s afraid of Slenderman.

Yes I was Slenderman’s child and I really enjoyed the Dream. The way Slendy was so affectionate with me, and protective of me. It made me wonder if I was really his biological, monstrous child or just some child he kidnapped and liked having around. Or perhaps I was demonically possessed and he adopted me for that interest in me. Or perhaps I was a normal child who was already dead, but resurrected due to Slendy’s supernatural powers; cus he was awfully lonely himself and needed someone to play with. Asides from all this, what is up with the iconic girl with black hair and red dress? Is it really symbolism for something pure evil?