. 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?

. 05.08.12 special daughter .

  I'm a little girl, maybe 10 or 11 years of age. Two adults are bringing me to the bank for a day out. I know they're not my parents but I cling tightly to the man. He's young and handsome, with light brown, short, wavy hair and brown eyes. I am more attached to him and I call him 'daddy'. As the adults go ahead to the counters, I wander around observing the other people in the bank. The tellers, the clerks, the other customers, and then the security guards. I notice one in particular. A young African-American man sitting near to where the main counters are. He's just sitting there with his gun and when he smiles at me, I get the most uncomfortable feeling. Then I start to cry. I find the nearest corner and cry hysterically. The woman comes back to check on me and asks me what's wrong. I can't form words but I'm holding the sides of my head as if I have a headache.

  I tell her that something bad is going to happen. And when I look at the security guard again, his eyes have changed. They're no longer smiling. He stands up with his gun and starts shooting the ceiling and soon everyone is down on the floor like me. I think there were other people in disguise like him in the bank but I couldn't see them. All I could see was the man walking up to the counters where daddy was. He was threatening him. Daddy was in trouble. The moment the phoney guard hit daddy's head with his gun, something took over me. I slowly walked up to the man with anger in my eyes. He was about to smack me with his gun but somehow mid-way, his arm couldn't move. In a blink of my eyes, his gun was sliced into two, and all I could say to him was, "Don't hurt my daddy.." Then I grab him by the collar and lift him up, him weighing as light as a feather in my hands. And I threw him at the counters, his body crashing through the glass barriers.

  And after all that, I feel my anger leaving me and my body weak. I fall to the floor unconscious. I feel strong arms cuddle and lift me up. I remember the warmth as he brought my body closer to his. I remember daddy holding me. And then I remember nothing.

  Possibly it was the next day. The adults are dressed in white coats and seated down in a large canteen of some sort with their supervisor. The adults talk while I just sit idly by, eating. "It's remarkable. First she has Level 5 telekenesis, and now she can see the future?" says the woman. Daddy takes a plate full of small buns and gives me a few. I like the buns and happily eat them one by one, dipping them into the saucer of chicken curry nearby. Daddy talks, "She can't see that far into the future, but perhaps just the immediate possibilities according to the situation and time she's in. Call it a sensitive case of farsightedness."

  The adults talk some more and I've long lost my interest. Soon after we're back at 'home' and I spend quality time with daddy. He is sweet, kind, gentle and considerate. Even as we're doing tests, I'm not afraid as long as daddy is around. In the playroom, I draw some pictures and daddy picks one up, "What's happening here, sweetie?"

  "It's me flying, daddy."

  "Hmm can you actually fly, I wonder?" he smiles at me. I take the picture and show him that he and the woman were below on the ground. "You and mommy give me wings so that I can fly, see?" "That's very poetic of you, sweetie. It's very nice." He sits on the floor and cuddles me from behind so I continue showing him pictures.

If it were up to me to continue this story, I'd say that by the time the little girl (whom I shall call Annie) grows into a young woman, or teenager, she'll have developed more mature feelings towards the man. Annie has always felt safe and secure with her fosterfather, and in times of danger she's always capable of protecting him. Despite the 10 years age difference, Annie falls for the man who's always taken care of her, but unfortunately it's one-sided because he only sees her as his fosterdaughter. She'll probably find another 'special' kid they have in the organization, except that he might be someone who doesn't like being cooped up in a super-secret basement. In the end he turns on the organization and the people who have been experimenting on him and escapes. And then Annie will be forced to choose between the boy whom she shares so much in common with, or the man that will never be able to love her back. Dun Dun DUUN!!