Thursday, June 23, 2011

What Can I Say?

Holy shit, this was a busy week.  First I had to find a decent place to hold a meeting when you know a sociopathic murderer is going to crash the party.  Then I had to work out something to survive meeting that same murderer.  Even before Shady got off her plane, I was on the verge of pulling out my own hair.  But I managed to scrounge together a couple thousand dollars, and I'm holding onto them right now.

I'm not entirely sure what HAPPENED, with how fast it all went.  That Dodgy was a lot more dangerous than I originally expected; a second or two slower and I'd be dead.  But I've had a couple cups of coffee since then, and I think I can actually get my hands to stop shaking long enough to finish this entry.

We met out in the woods, in traditional southern style.  Middle of Buttfuck Nowhere, only one way in and out...all that.  If Shady was a threat, I'd know.  Shady was pretty damn pissed when we met, but being given directions via cellphone and not having any idea of the address or the location probably didn't help there.  Good luck beating her here when no one knows where "here" is.  Anyways, we managed to talk long enough that I was reasonably certain that she wasn't going to kill me.  Intentionally, at least.

That's about when someone ran in from the side as if he were the Kool-Aid Man, and tried to tackle me.  He looked like he was pretty thin, but not the same way I am; this guy was thin because that was how he liked it.  He could've been a lot bigger, I could tell.  I'm pretty damn sure if I'd gone down, I never would've gotten up.  So I did what any other intellectual would do; I used physics.

A step to the side, a kick to his lead foot, a nice grip on his arm...I tossed him over me like a ragdoll.  He clearly had some martial arts training, because the bastard rolled with it and was back on his feet in a split second.  Then again, I had some too.  Physics are important, but Sambo's even more important.  The guy was still coming right at me, and I could see now that he had on some sort of biker's jacket.  I saw the gleam of something metal, and I'm pretty sure it was a knife.

That was about when the shots started.  Dodgy was fast, but not as fast as a bullet.  He managed to avoid the fatal shots, but he still took at least one in the leg; he landed on one knee, but he was already tossing a knife as he fell.  Jesus, that guy could probably catch a snake in the middle of a strike.  I managed to dodge it, but that thing came so close I felt the wind pass.  Luckily, Shady was already on the move, and she...well, let's just say Dodgy probably won't be as fertile as a guy would like.

Shady's currently sitting on my bed, just...staring.  She'll speak when I talk to her, but otherwise she just kinda looks at me.  She's asked me where I learned Sambo, and a few other little things.  I'm really not sure how to feel about her...besides a little bored.  She's not even DOING much.  I think she's trying to figure me out; even I have a little trouble there, so good luck.  As for basement's pretty damn big, and soundproof.

I'm gonna save THAT part of the job for tonight.

Saturday, May 21, 2011


Hard to enjoy the rest of my day after...that, but I'm still trying.  Even the Marriott can only cheer me up so much.  Food is good, service is fine, and the rooms are just enormous.  Hell, the sights are awesome.  But every time I look out that window, I remember...what HE showed me.  Burning buildings, thirty care pile-ups, and...Him.  Except when I saw Him, he was looking INTO my window.  On the thirtieth floor.  He's tall enough as is, thank you very goddamn much.

So my options are pretty much sleep, eat, or blog.  Luckily they've got no shortage of computers here.  So here I am, to share with you guys what happened.  To start, I met Zab about how his own post described; I don't do well in public.  About the only thing he got wrong was my outfit.  It's not gray, it's really more of a white.  Anyways, on we go.  I had to resist taking our phone-babbling friend's device, shouting some static noise and stepping on it; I'd call that my good deed for the day.

I woke Zab up, and almost had to drag him down the stairs.  I'm not a fit kid, and Zab is damn heavy, but I've spent more than enough time figuring out the proper ways to move things that don't exactly feel like moving.  All you need to do is find the right spots.  Anyways, at THAT point we actually talked a bit.  Zab's a good kid, if a bit naive.  Even when I didn't BELIEVE in all this, I wasn't half as good-natured as him.  I just can't find it in myself to do all that stuff society tries to force on me.  So we talked, and I found out that he's had relationships before.  More than I can say, not that it particularly bothers me.

It was...two o clock?  Three, maybe?  Hell, time's a lot harder to grasp with a fucked up circadian rhythm, and harder still when all the clocks are beeping a damn 'Time to Rapture' clock.  By my count, I'm about 7 hours overdue.

Anyways, we heard a lot of activity, even in the middle of the night in L.A.  Zab wanted to ask for directions a few times, but I know a streetwalker when I see one.  Besides, "Looking for a demon" on the night of the Rapture would probably get us crucified.  Luckily for us, we actually passed a guy babbling about one, so that saved us some time.  I'd brought a cross with me, and a pentragram, for what little they do; my Mom's a Wiccan, and my dad's Catholic.  I guess if I hated someone enough they'd be hexed AND smote.

Neither of them did much besides make the son of a bitch laugh, when we found him.  I had one in each hand, and a book tucked between my shoulder when I heard him.  I'm not sure if you guys have ever heard a rattlesnake shake its tail, but Baaztat's voice was a mix of that, a dog's growl, and I'm pretty sure there was just a hint of Gilbert Gottfried in there.  That was THE most annoying voice I'd ever heard, bar none.

So, he appears behind us, and I had to whirl around just in time for a pair of hands the size of my head rip the things from my hands; they're still bandaged, and I'm disinfecting every hour.  At that point, I really didn't have much else to defend myself with, so I just grabbed my back.  He laughed again, and I almost wanted to shove my key in my ear to stop the sound.  And Jesus Christ, he smelled worse than a farm.

I'm pretty sure he had goat's legs, but they might even have been pig's from what little I could gather.  Either way, they were covered in scales, and they oozed some thick red shit I can't even name.  He was about 8 feet tall, and he looked like some sort of gargoyle from the legs up.  He had wings that were as far across as he was tall, and they looked halfway between those weird-ass insect wings and the leather of a bat's.  His head was lopsided, with one eye a few inches higher up than the other, and the sclera were both a sickly yellow that made me want to vomit.

He came to me first, I guess because I was the believer.  A hand that might have made sense attached to a gorilla hovered just over my head, and I saw...chaos itself.  I saw people panicking, saw Him feeding on it all.  I'm pretty sure I saw what's coming if he ever gets it into his head to stop hiding.  Then he spoke again, in words I could actually understand.  I could hear...other shit, just behind it.  I think he was talking in every language at once.  I only really know French, but I'm decent at German, and...goddamn, each language he was just playing with the meaning of what he said.

"Are you a customer?"  God, that sound, and the smell made me go paler than I normally am; and Zab can vouch, that's pretty fucking pale.  I almost looked like I was made of milk, and I couldn't even talk around some sort of solid mass in my throat; my heart?  Yeah, could've been.  I just kinda gaped like a fish, until Zab finally stepped forward and spoke FOR me.

I was barely paying attention, but I know he told it that we wanted his help to fix what He's been fucking with, and he was NOT happy.  It did the same thing to Zab, and I don't know what the hell HE saw, but I know he fainted dead away.  The fucker didn't even have the guts to stay standing for more than a second after it took a step away.  I never should've invited him; he's wasted my money, he wasted my time, and I've had to baby him all the way.

But he bought me enough time to marshal my thoughts, so there is that.  I laid out the deal, just as I'd told Zabulon.  Just as I'd told the Tablet.  Just as I told all of you.

The soul of Zach Briggs, to prove my sincerity.  A lifetime of pain and torture, for his wisdom.  His power.

And the death of Archangel, for the cure to the Virus.

We're meeting him tomorrow, at the same time and the same place, with the proof.

Now I just need to hope these printers work...I've spent five hours working on a contract, and I've had to go back just to make sure my trembling hands didn't mistype a couple dozen times.

It's ironclad.  Neither side is worming their way out of this.

I've got no choice but to deliver what was promised.  But, hey.  I've spent way too long planning this.  He may be eight feel tall, and he may have powers I can't dream of...he may be old enough to have seen the world created, for all I know.  But he still THINKS like a human, and that means that this is my turf.  He thinks I'm too scared to try and screw him over.

To be honest, I think it too, right now.

Saturday, April 2, 2011


Well, isn't this just fucking great.  I wake up last night with someone rummaging through my dresser, and when I try to call them out on it the guy runs out.  Of course, this place is SUPPOSED to have the best security; those little card slots in the door instead of keys, their own goddamn alarm system for each room.  Cost us a fortune, but it wasn't anything we couldn't afford.  I tried to chase after him, threw on the first coat I could.  Great lot of good that did, when they basically vanished in the stairwell.

I walked back to my room, and surprise surprise.  Locked myself out.  So I had to sit outside and try to get what sleep I could pantsless, shirtless, wearing nothing but a bathrobe.  My parents slept right through it, every second.  The camera's gone, so I can only guess that I actually did something right.  And, of course, the fuck had to go and take our money.  Cash, at least.  We're cutting the trip short and coming back home ASAP.

ANOTHER pointless trip.  Next time I'm going out.  WAY out.  Like Texas. :c

Fuck it, too tired of this bullshit for the titles right now.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Massy's Nice

Would be nicer if I haven't spotted three guys tailing us already.  My dad has been looking out for guys in black suits with guns; one of them fit the description, but we threw him off pretty easy.  Fisk isn't really trying that hard, lately.  What's keeping him so occupied?  I'm getting a little worried; even beurocrats can get things done, as my dad will attest to.  The other two...they were what worried me.  One of them was about my age.  Hell, they could've been a classmate, even.  The other was old enough to be my grandfather.  Could barely even move without a cane.

I don't think they were especially concerned with being seen; after all, it's not like He can't send more, right?  No, he just wanted to get into my head.  I think that's a good sign, since he wouldn't be getting in my head if I wasn't onto something.  We checked out Plymouth Rock, and got some nice photos.  I'm a little worried about what we'll see in them, but they're not digital so I've got at least a week to wait.  Until then, we're going out to eat.

I swear to God, the next person who predicts I'm from the deep south before I actually talk to them is getting stabbed with a butter knife, and that's NOT a joke.

Anyways...any places of interest, guys?  I don't know much about this state's history.

-The Meteorologist

Saturday, March 26, 2011

School seems so insignificant, ever since all of this started.  But I'm sure you'll all be happy to know I made it through my midterms with flying colors.  You'll all be pleased to know that my parents are celebrating with a road trip.  I'm thinking that we're gonna go to Massachusetts.  Who knows?  Maybe I can find out if He came over on the Mayflower, so to speak.  I don't even know what good it'll do anymore, but...goddammit, there's gotta be something I can do to help here.  We're dropping like flies, and I've sat on the sidelines long enough.

I guess if I can find out how he got here, I can...I don't know, send him back?  Shit, I'm not sure.  But with how little we know, finding out more won't hurt us that much.  Ava and Reach said his influence is especially strong in Ireland, but I can't imagine why; Europe seems like the obvious answer to me.  And I don't think Irish immigrants came here until long after the Mayflower.  Fuck if I know, I always hated history before the 1900s.  I'm much more at home with science and math.

We're heading out in a few days.  I should be able to keep you guys up to date, but who even knows what we'll find out here.  I guess I've been taking Tony's advice, because I had my parents look around for some martial arts classes.  Nothing yet, but we're checking it out.  Who knows?  Maybe there's some ancient martial art that was made to kill Him, or drive Him off.

That's not too much to hope for, right?

-The Meteorologist

Saturday, March 19, 2011


Well, New York was fun.  Not a single thing to see or speak of when I was there, but it was fun.  I took that bag with me; my dad knows about it, but he thinks it's some guy that Fisk didn't like.  I don't quite have the heart to tell him what's really going on yet, but I'll have to.  Though I will admit, a person can find just about ANYTHING in New York.  That place was amazing, and I do not regret my trip in the slightest.  I do, however, regret the work I have to make up now.  I spent all this time just getting up to date, but I finally managed it.  God, this weekend is going to be ALL relaxation.

I've been thinking about this bone, and what it must mean.  Obviously we know that he's been around a long time; even if this thing came from the first colonist, that was no time at all ago to him.  But I'm still curious when he first came HERE.  For a while, the stories were all from Germany, maybe a few in Egypt.  He spent a lot of his time in the Eastern Hemisphere, and I don't remember ANY stories before the internet came out.  Maybe that's because Fisk has been doing his job, but who knows.  What I DO know is that this bone couldn't have been younger than a hundred years when I dug it up.  It almost FEELS ancient.  I've almost finished this semester, and my teachers know me well enough; if I bail out immediately after the finals, I don't think any one of them is going to hold a grudge.  For the next few weeks, I'll REALLY be on the sidelines, hopefully doing what I can along the way.  But don't expect me to be running back into the woods any time soon.

Things have been pretty quiet up to now, but I've been keeping up with Ava.  Something tells me Redlight is waiting to see if that pans out, before he gets any more pulled into this.  I...God, there's really nothing I can say to her now.  All I can say is that EVERYONE has their skeletons, and as soon as she's up and about, a little bit of a discussion may be in order.  We've spent a long time elevating each other, forgetting that most of us are barely old enough to lease a house, let alone stop Him.  But it's about time we start remembering that we're not flawless.  Redlight's been trying to get to us by saying our "heroes" aren't so flawless.  If we're gonna want to keep any form of integrity, we're going to need to dump our dirty laundry before he has a chance to do it FOR us.  He'll find a way to turn it into something MUCH worse than it is, I'm sure.

Remember, guys.  There's no such thing as a hero.  Just people who do what needs to be done, whether they want to or not.

-The Meteorologist

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Heading for New York

Would it surprise any of you to hear that I met a Proxy at that internet cafe?  No?  Me neither.  I had been watching the doorway and the consoles for some time, just to make sure.  I was there 3 hours and I drank 5 cups of chai tea.  Normally, I love the stuff, love it to death.  But drinking cold chai tea is pretty nasty.  It goes down hard, and all the herbs feel like they're fighting against you.  It's like liquid PAIN.  But I soldiered through, to make sure that I was up to date, and to make sure nothing was going to catch me by surprise.

The proxy tried to sneak his way towards me, probably so he could ask for my console and then mug me outside or something, but I was having none of that.  Crowded place or not, I'm not going to take that shit.  So I screamed "THIEF!" at the top of my lungs, and tossed the newest cup of chai tea at him.  To those curious?  Chai tea is usually steeped at just below boiling; 210 degrees.  Compared to coffee, a mere 185.  That guy couldn't do anything but scream as I headed outside, and I hope he's spending a night in a cell.  That'll teach Him to underestimate me.

Of course, my dad was busy with his own business, and he was uncharactaristically stoic about it.  I think that he's starting to get serious about this, too.  I hope so, because New York may very well be the worst place to go hunting for Slendy.  There are literally HUNDREDS of places I'm going to have to scrounge through.  It could be weeks before I cover everything, and I STILL need to get back home before too long.

But New York feels like the right place to start.  It feels like he would have liked it there, when he first came over.  I'll just have to go look in Chinatown or something, I guess.

-The Meteorologist

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Hey guys.  Sorry for my egregious lack of posting, but I had to take some time off to think; and one has a lot to think ABOUT when they're holding a bag filled the the remnants of a body that has to be at least a hundred years dead, don't they?  Yeah, thought so.  So I've been trying to get through school, which has been surprisingly uneventful; not even another spy from Fisk?  Now I'm getting worried he's just trying that much harder.

Anyways, I've got spring break this week.  That means that, once I've talked to my father some, and we've discussed the shit we're going to need, we're going on a road trip.  Yes, to those curious, he still has NO idea about the truly heinous shit.  All he knows is that I've been wanting to do some research on the guys chasing us, and whatever they're looking for.  He thinks if we find it first we can bargain for our lives.  I think if we find it we'll lose our lives even FASTER.

I'm trying to think of places where we've got weird shit happening.  Places with REALLY bad reputations.  Slendy can make people lose large chunks of time; could he replace them with other things?  Roswell has been known for having incredibly high rates of 'abductions', and I'll be damned if those Greys don't remind me of Him.  But that one doesn't quite feel right.  It would almost be TOO easy.

Nevertheless, I'll be heading north this time.  We're checking out the original 13 colonies; with any luck, we can try to find which state he actually piggybacked his way here from.  I doubt it will help much, but the more we know, the more easily we can fight.  And knowing how he got over here could certainly help us send him back.

I'll be trying to keep constant tabs on what's going on.  For now, I think I'm just going to go wait until my dad gets home, and see if he isn't adverse to using up some of his saved up vacation time.  Stay strong, people.  We know he's out there, but we don't know what he's gearing up for.  It can't be anything good.

-The Meteorologist

Monday, February 28, 2011

Well, I went back.

Goddammit, I'm as bad as Jay.  I KNEW he'd be there, I KNEW he wouldn't let me go.  I guess I at least managed to stay on top of it, though.  I guess I kept myself mostly composed.

Let's see...I took my dog again.  He doesn't seem to like them, either.  I love the guy, and I'm pretty sure if he hadn't been there, I would've been a smear on the ground.  Another statistic.  Another person that went up against Him and lost.  Goddammit, I'm rambling.  Focus Zach, focus, he's not here...

I went at about noon this time.  I took a shovel; I had every intention to check out one of those graves, and find what it was that He was so proud of.  It also made a handy crutch when walking started to get hard, but I'll get to that later.  I also took the Walkman; you'd be surprised what you can find for those things, if you know where to look.  I won't say I was listening to Ron Brownz when I stepped inside...but I won't say I wasn't.

Walked in, things got dark again, yadda yadda.  The part that was different here was that when I stepped inside, I didn't feel watched.

I felt JUDGED.  It was like the trees themselves were trying to get me to leave.  Or keep me there until I died.  I'm not even sure anymore.  God, I'm not sure about ANYTHING.  I tried to remember the path I walked yesterday.  I spent all day yesterday focusing on it, making sure I knew exactly where I was headed.  I should've known better than to believe that place would be the same this time around.  I don't even know when exactly I got to the graves, I just know that the whole time I was jumping at shadows.  I felt like he was everywhere.  I felt like I was going to piss myself.  I think the only reason I hadn't was because I didn't eat or drink last night.  I'm not sure if that was genius or retarded.

Those graves were the same, at least.  I tried to find the one that seemed oldest; one or two had crosses that were almost falling apart.  I picked one at random, and started digging.  My dog had his leash attached to the loop of my pants; at least we could get lost together if he got upset enough.  The ground was almost TOO soft.  I barely even needed the shovel, but I wasn't gonna touch that shit with my hands.  I barely even liked standing on it.

Anyways, took me...5 minutes to get to the sack?  Maybe 6?  I can't quite recall, because that was when he showed up.  This time it WAS like something thin turning to face me.  He was standing maybe 10 feet away, and he wasn't happy.  I could tell that already.  His tentacles were waving around like divining rods, and I barely kept from going unconscious.  I think the tug that I felt on my midsection helped; my dog was yapping and charging with enough power to make it hard to stand.  He didn't move, but that might have been because me and my dog were looking at him.

I can barely even describe what happened after I hit him with the shovel.  The thing left my hand, his tentacles didn't even TRY to stop it, and then the thing hit him, and fell to the ground.  It didn't even make him flinch.  What DID happen was that he cocked his head; Ava said 90 degrees made her want to barf?  The guy went a full 270 when I was looking.  If I'd eaten I would've lost it.  Then he just...stood there.  He didn't lash out, his tentacles barely even waved anymore.  He pretty much froze.  I'm not sure, but I think he was trying to figure out why it even actually touched him.  I guess he expected it to turn to dust, or shatter, or fly back at me, or something.  All I know is something he wanted to happen didn't happen, and he didn't get why.  Since it's just you guys, and I love you so much, I guess I don't mind sharing.

I painted the Operator Symbol ALL OVER that shovel.  The head, the shaft, every.  Single.  Part.  I don't know if it repels him, or summons him, or blinds him, but I do know that it does SOMETHING.  Today, it saved my life.

I'm pretty sure if I hadn't done that, I never would've had time to unclip my dog from my pants.  Once I did, that little guy flew forward like a rocket, and hit him RIGHT IN THE CHEST.  I couldn't stop myself from smiling at that.  He took a couple steps back from that, and my dog was racing around his heels, nipping and yapping.  I don't even know what happened then, because I reached down to my belt, and pulled one of those 'grenades' Spender got me.  I pulled the pin and lobbed that thing.  I didn't even stop to see what happened as I grabbed that sack, and ran over there.  Yes, people, I ran TOWARDS Slenderman.  I really love my doggie.

The grenade slowed him down, that was for sure.  Covered in that...white crap, I didn't think there was anything scary about him anymore.  I grabbed my dog, and that was around the time I felt something sharp at my hip.  I'm pretty sure he tried to stab me.  I didn't even really notice, as I grabbed my dog by the collar and pretty much single-handedly pulled him along.  Didn't take more than a minute before he was running by my side, and then I pretty much just grabbed his leash and put it between my teeth.

He popped up a couple more times, but he didn't try to attack.  I guess it's the sack, or maybe it was the grenade.  Who knows.  I only know that I've got one more of these things, and I can't waste it until I get a chance to talk to Spender again.

I tried to get out of there, but Jesus Fuck it was like a horror movie.  The branches were all hanging way too low, trying to snag my shirt, or grab my bag.  I swear one of those things TURNED to grab at me once, but I managed to weave through.  Dealing with those trees was probably as bad as dealing with Him.

Okay, that's a lie.  Even just LOOKING at him like that was bad.  I've taken four hot showers already, and my body still feels like it's hypothermic.  That was the closest I ever want to come to Tentacle!Slendy again.  But I'm home, and my dad is here, for what little that matters.  I might not sleep soundly tonight, but I'll sleep, at least.

Oh, almost forgot.  Though that may not be the right word, since I've been thinking about it for the last hour or two.  I looked in the sack.  I've been turning something that was inside in my hand while I type this.

Guys, I'm 100% positive.  It's a finger.

-The Meteorologist

Saturday, February 26, 2011

I...think I'm ready.

Or as ready as I'll get.  It's still pretty unsettling, and I can't close my eyes for long without freaking out.

I forgot to mention, I had my cell phone.  Probably because it pretty much completely froze when I walked in there; even the clock stopped.  I don't have any idea how long I was in there, but I was absolutely starving when I got home; ate two 12 ounce steaks, and then went to my room to crash.  But, I'll get to that a little later.  Back to my story.

Bear Grylls has got shit on me.  I'm pretty sure even he would've tucked tail and ran in this place.  It was know that feeling like you're being watched?  It was that, every second, all over.  Some part of my brain was just screaming at my rational side to get the fuck out of here.  Luckily, my dog likes to pull.  I might have just hung around forever if not for that.

Wandering, wandering, just trying not to vomit...and then He shows up.  Ava said it was like something really flat turning to face you?  For me it was more like a puzzle being formed.  First there were just random stabs of light, and tree branches, and leaves, and then there was a patch of black.  Then I saw an arm coming, and the suit we all know and loathe...and then of course, the face.  I watched him start to almost...fade in, piece by piece.  And I had to loop my hand around my dog's leash 4 or 5 times to keep him from charging, and probably getting himself killed.

I should've brought some other weapon.  I should've expected him.  I should've known that I was in over my head.  I guess that I'm not as smart as I think I am.  Still, he didn't attack.  He didn't even seem to care.  At first, he just kinda stared at me, and my dog.  Then he started walking forward, though walking wasn't really a word for it.  Ever seen a puppet show?  One with all those marionettes? Yeah, cut about half those strings and you're getting there.  He was...jerking his body forward bit by bit, and I think if I'd turned to run he wouldn't have been half that slow.  Or half as generous.

He was close enough for me to reach out and touch, when he pretty much...waved.  I think he was showing me where to go.  And I'm not sure if I said it, or he made me say it, or if I thought I said it, but I swear to God, I just knew what he wanted to say.

"Come and see."

That motherfucker was PROUD of...of whatever it was I found.  I could feel it.  I've always been good with intrapersonal skills; I'm usually the first to know when my friends are upset.  But I just looked into that smooth face, and I couldn't even begin to say what he was feeling.  Oh, I FELT it, sure enough, but...I don't think that the human tongue could speak any of the words he'd use to describe his feelings, and even just processing them would probably take years.  I was sacred out of my mind, sure.  Could barely move.  But even more than that, I was PISSED.  I hated this guy for being so fucking enigmatic.  I hated this feeling of being a fish out of water.  Of being alone.  I hated the way I just couldn't UNDERSTAND.

Of course, I walked the path he pointed out, all the while my dog alternating between whimpering and snarling.  I'm pretty sure he was behind us, making sure we didn't get lost.  Jesus Fuck, I hate feeling corralled in every day life.  This was just too much.  But eventually I got there, and I don't even know what I saw.

At first it looked like a bunch of little stick men, but when I got close I could see they were crosses.  Clumsy, lopsided crosses made worse by time and nature, but crosses nonetheless.  I also saw a few rocks on top of what I just KNEW was graves.  I didn't stop to count, because I was too busy sneaking glances to make sure He wasn't going to just rip my head off.  I'm pretty sure I saw at least a hundred, though.

Then he pretty much came towards me again, and he reached out with one of those fucking arms.

And I woke up in my car, with a note pinned to my shirt.  Actually, pinned to my chest; I felt a small prick every time I moved, and when I finally yanked it off, there was just a little note.  I don't know if I wrote it, or if he had some Proxy waiting outside, or...shit.

It didn't say much.  Just told me I can still back out if I want.  He wants me to pass on what I saw, of course.  But it said if I just end my blog now, and go back to my life, he won't come after me.

I don't believe it for a second, of course.  What about you guys?

Well, I've made up my mind.

Sorry to take so long.  It's just...this was a pretty serious thing I'm stepping into.  I want to make sure I'm not going to be letting anyone down before I run out there, and right into His arms.  Or tentacles.  Whatever.  I talked to my dad about it, and I guess he had one of the best ways of putting it.  He still doesn't get just how serious this is, but he gets that things are bad.  And he said that if I sit here and let things get worse, without doing anything to help, then that puts me on the same level as Him.  I guess, in a way, that's the part that does terrify me so much.  It's not just the way he can be anywhere, or even how old he is.  For me, it's how easily He can make us like him.

It might be because the ones going after him are already unstable.  I don't quite know, but it's possible.  All I know is that seeing this thing...being around Him too makes us all bad people, too.  It makes us do things we never would've thought of.  We may be fighting him, but when it's all over...what's going to happen to the ones who went too far?  Will we have to kill them, too?  I'm not...God, this is hard.

But I guess the most convincing thing came from my teacher, yesterday.  She was talking about how to live a creative life; I've always thought of myself as a creative guy.  That was why this list hit me pretty hard.
Be surprised at least once a day
Surprise someone at least once a day
Wake up with clear goals
Take control of your schedule

I don't think I'm going to find any better opportunity for surprise than chasing Him.  And clear goals?  I think 'Killing Slenderman' is a pretty clear goal to me.  Then of course, there's taking control.  That's why I went to those woods yesterday.

No, I didn't go unarmed.  No, I didn't take a camera.  I had my dog with me, and that hunting knife I mentioned hasn't left my pants since Fisk came knocking on my door.  Other than that, I'd managed to obtain a tazer from my aunt, who is also pretty shaken up by this.  I don't think Fisk is desperate enough to start trying to make cops disappear, though.  Even the FBI can't get rid of someone that completely.  I'd hope, at least.

I'll get to the forest later.  Right now I need to wake up and make sense of what the fuck happened before I tell anyone else.
-The Meteorologist

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Oh, hey. Post from my dad.

Not like that didn't freak me the fuck out or something.  Still, I can't stay mad at the old man after this weekend.  I think any normal person would've freaked out, too.

Trust them, dad.  This is the closest you can get to the truth without getting in more danger.  Even just by being my father, you're already a threat.  Right now, though, it's just men with guns.  Men you can deal with for now.  Please, please, please, PLEASE.  Don't ask me where I went yesterday.  Don't ask me where I went TODAY.  Don't pry into these things.  For both of us.

For those of you wondering where I went, I did some investigating of woods in the area.  I've been looking for strange circles of stone.  Worn rock shrines.  Graves.  Anything that might hint at his presence in this area.  I found...a few interesting things.  Some forests that, according to stories, had been devoid of animal life longer than the oldest man in town could remember.  Older than their GRANDPARENTS remembered.  I didn't go looking yet, if only because I don't know if I'm ready for this yet.

Fisk is still snooping.  Fisk still wants me pretty bad after Sunday.  I'm working to the bone just to keep a bullet out of my head.  If He gets involved...if He notices that I'm looking...I can't even imagine how it'll end. I don't want to get caught up like this.  I want to help, guys.  I want to stop this, before it'll end us all.  But...I don't know.  It just feels like getting AIDS so I can figure out a cure sooner.  It's like if you could get AIDS just from LOOKING for a cure.

I'm still a kid.  I have too many things still going on with my life.  I can't go on the run; I don't need that kind of stress in my life right now.  I...I'm sorry.  Spender.  Daisee.  All of you guys.  I know you all have your own things to do.  Ireland.  Redlight.  But...if you can spare just a minute for me?

I don't know what to do.  I don't know if I...if I'm ready to put my life on the line like this.  I have an entire life ahead of me.  So many things to do, so many places to go...I've never even left North Carolina.

If I get involved, I might have to start going on the move anyways.  But I'll barely have any time to enjoy the sights.

Please...just...someone.  Help me decide what to do.  Help me decide if this is worth it.  I'm just a kid.  I'm not ready for this.

God, I need a girlfriend.  But then He could probably take her from me.

-The Meteorologist

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Zach Isn't Here Right Now.

Looks like he was gonna write something before he ran out.  I hope to God it's not something he doesn't want me to know about.

My son knows me well, so he'll recognize this one: I don't talk much.  I feel like when you have something to say, it's best to say it quick.  I'm really not one to deal with blogs or texting or any of that stuff.  I have a cellphone and that's about it.

But sometimes a guy HAS to talk.  And I think I'm gonna talk about Sunday.  My son told me that we'd be expecting a guy with a bad temper, and maybe a gun or two.  He said nothing about men with body armor and machine guns.  Men with government IDs.  Men that apparantly haven't shown up on the news, or in the obituaries.

This isn't just some asshole husband and a battered wife.  Any of you feel like filling me in on what the hell IS going on?

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Alright, bravo Fisk.  I'll give you this one.  That...that was simply terrifying.  I hope never to cut it that close again.

There had to be at least a dozen men out there, all in bulletproof armor.  Luckily, they didn't have anything particularly useful to protect their heads.  Another mistake on his part, but hell.  At first we were just trying to figure out where they were heading, until they broke into three groups; I think they were going to have two of them come around either side, and one try for the front door.  If they'd stuck together I probably wouldn't even be writing right now.

Those four guys?  They ran across Spender's ONE goon and took him down in about half a second.  I think he got one shot off.  If that.  The other four probably weren't expecting to see cops, though.  Fuck yeah, score one for us.  I was watching through the window, and there about a 5 second period where they didn't even know what to think.  In that time, two of them got shot.  Still, that armor's damn good; they were standing back up a couple seconds later.

By then, of course, they were starting to fire, and there wasn't much we could do; some police issue handguns against what looked a hell of a lot like machine guns?  Only my aunt and one other guy managed to make it behind the shed, and she only managed to stay alive because none of them could really tell where to shoot.

My dad and my uncle's hunting buddies were up front with rifles, and they had a little more luck.  Namely, they got a couple of them in the legs, and that managed to slow them down no small amount.  Ava's mother was SUPPOSED to be hiding in the bathroom, but good luck there.  She ran into the hallway about as soon as people started firing, and she looked pretty pissed.  I think, if we'd had any more guns, she would've walked out there and started firing herself.

Luckily enough, there was enough light to make it impossible to REALLY pin down the muzzle flashes.  Not that they really needed to.  There are only two rooms that they could actually fire from, and both rooms were under the heaviest fire I think any of them have seen.  Our insurance agent will have a heart attack when he hears about this.

The only reason we weren't overrun in the first 30 seconds was because Spender had sent that extra artillery.  I opened one of the kitchen windows and tossed a grenade out the window; nearly lost my ear because of it, but dear God it was sweet to hear those screams when it went off.  I think, by then, we'd wounded four, maybe five of them.  There were still over half ready to break into this place and turn us all into smears on the carpet.

That is, until the P.T.C. showed up.  Six guys, armed with I don't even know what.  The four of Fisk's up front went down before they could even turn to see who was shooting on them.  That left us with two trying to gun down my aunt, two trying to work their way inside, and three guys that didn't quite move out of the grenade in time.  There were still 5 guys that could do us some pretty bad damage if they got inside.  I'd put a bookcase in front of the back door, and I'd been holding the shotgun at the front door, so either way they wouldn't have an easy time of it.

They took...three minutes to get through the back door?  That was a sturdy bookcase, and they weren't expecting to have to break a door down, I guess.  By then I was right beside the door, and the first guy through took a load of buckshot.  Even his vest couldn't save him from that.  The other two tried to climb over the bookcase, and one of them got his nose broken by the butt of this thing.  He was already falling over as I looked up to see the barrel of a gun.

And then Spender, that son of a bitch, finally stepped in.  I didn't even see him at first.  I just noticed the guy went a little stiff, and I heard someone say something; I wasn't really listening, but I'd bet a thousand bucks what he said before he blew that guy's brains out.  The rest of them ran the hell out of there when they saw the P.T.C. and Spender coming their way.

All in all, the whole thing took maybe five minutes.  Total casualties on their side: 7.  Total casualties on our side: 6.

I guess I could call that a victory, but damn.  It sure doesn't FEEL like one.

Your mom's fine, Ava.  I guess we're all going out for dinner tonight.

-The Meteorologist

Saturday, February 19, 2011

All Quiet on the Home Front

Well, Stumblr just arrived.  I don't see much about him, but then again most people don't see much in me, either.  At least our other mercenary brought plenty of guns.  We now have about a dozen guys guarding this place, inside and out.  I fucking dare you to get in here, Fisk.  Just let me see you try.  I could use some entertainment in this place.

In other news, Ava's mother is doing just fine.  She just went to sleep, and while she had been tossing and turning, she seems mostly fine.  That woman is holding up like a champion, Ava; I told you a simple house fire wouldn't keep her down.  My father and my uncle are inside, keeping watch.  My aunt and her own colleagues are outside, in case these guys sneak up.  We've got motion activated lights outside.  Good fucking luck.

Now, then, let's see what Stumblr's good for.  Apparantly he can speak French just fine, so we've got a...20 year old Interpol agent at my house.  Neat.  Any good at cooking, or can we just expect more scrambled eggs and slightly black chicken tomorrow?

Oh, one final note.  Apparantly Ava and her people are planning something big for tomorrow?  You've got my best.  If you do happen to need anything, let me know; I'll try to pass on what little wisdom I can find looking in from my comfy home.  Probably not much.
-The Meteorologist

Round One- Zach

Today, I woke up to see my dad cleaning up what I can only assume is a urine stain off the carpet in front of the door.  He didn't say anything at first, but once he finished up and got breakfast started, he actually told me he was having fun with Ava's mother around.  She may be a bit introverted just right now, but she's at least been eating, and she has some very interesting stories about London.  Then again, my father has very little interest in anything outside the United States, in typical American fashion.  Still...

I managed to pry a bit of the story from him, but it doesn't seem to be a big concern yet.  Just so you understand, my father gave Ava's mother his bed; of course, there are 2 or 3 windows into the room, but good luck getting to them, Fisk.  My father was sleeping in the living room, and he said he was awoken to the sound of clicking, and he noticed the doorknob turning.  It took him about a fraction of a second to go from lying down to standing straight up, and he'd already grabbed the knife he'd placed on the table next to him.

That man, if my dad was right, was NOT expecting to see a roughly 6 foot man with no shirt and a hunting knife as big around as his wrist coming for him.  I was told he tried to shoot, but good luck doing that when your hand is trembling so much.  He managed one shot, and then my dad pretty much just grabbed him and tossed him out the door.  Hard enough to break something, I hope.

Well, there was the sneaky approach.  Hope that's not all you have planned, Fisk.

God, this is going to be a fun weekend.

Oh, Ava.  Almost forgot.  Does your mother have any allergies, or other things we should know of?  It would be a shame for her to make it through the weekend and die from a stray peanut.
-The Meteorologist

Friday, February 18, 2011

On The Road

Well, I managed to convince my dad to postpone our hunting trip.  I have to admit, I was a little naughty; I told a lie.  It's for his own sake, though.  I didn't mention Him, or anything related to Him.  I said...well, no.  I'm not going to mention it here, if only because Ava would tear me to shreds for it, more likely than not.  Even I'm pretty ashamed of this, and I don't really feel shame that often.  But I do think I made the right choice.  I'm looking over at my dad right now, and I've never seen him so...intense.

He hasn't said anything yet, but we're almost home.  He said when we get back, we're going to find directions to the bus stop, and a place to eat along the way.  Hopefully we'll have Ava's mother picked up before we get home.  I've also made calls to my aunt and my uncle; neither of them are especially pleased with the story I told them, either.  They said they'd gather up what they can, and hang around for a few days.  With any luck, we shouldn't need to keep her past Monday.

We just pulled into our neighborhood, and, surprise surprise, Fisk's guys are hanging out!  Some of them don't look especially pleased...yeah, there we go.  Just got a death glare through the window for shaking them off.  I guess that means I've had a pretty good day.

Daisee, I hope you've been riding the fastest bus you can find.  My aunt and uncle said they'll be here in 2 hours.  Spender, maybe less.  We're going to get you home as fast as we can, and then we're going to see about some Southern hospitality.
-The Meteorologist

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Nothing Yet

Not a damn thing.  Nada.  Zilch.  Zip.  And tomorrow's going to promise more of the same; I had to make sure my dad was properly armed for a confrontation if Fisk decided to pounce.  That means I had to express an interest in hunting; I think my grandfather bought me a hunting license when I was born, or some shit.  Great.  Now me and my old man are going to head out into the woods tomorrow at the crack of dawn, so I can watch him shoot a couple deer, and cut them open.  I'm not squeamish, by any means, but come ON.  Why would I want to do that?

Well, there was ONE eventful thing today; my dad is a little more observant than I gave him credit for.  We got on the interstate at about 9:00.  Fisk's guys got on at 9:01.  I do have to give credit where credit was due.  I had to try pretty damn hard to keep a look on them, especially with my dad prattling on about hunting.  I told him I wanted to do some walking around South Carolina today, and make the best of it.  I think I'd turned to look over my shoulder for the 17th time when he spoke.

"What is it son?  That blue Mercedes?"

I couldn't even make a response to that one.  I just kinda nodded, and asked how he knew.  Turns out my dad had noticed them in the neighborhood, and following us to the highway.  We stopped to get some snuff, and they stopped too; I think they were trying to fuel up, though a few of them ran inside pretty fast, so I guess some of them hadn't thought about how long a drive it was going to be.  I have to admit, the next part was the funniest.

Guys, my dad bought EVERY CONTAINER OF SNUFF IN THAT PLACE.  EVERY.  ONE.  And then he said they'd pay for it.  I saw the owner walk outside, point at one of them, and pull them inside.  My dad left them all by the dumpster, so I don't think this guy will press charges.  What I do know is that those guys were freaking out to the max, when they found out they owed over $500 to this guy.  Me and my dad laughed all the way to the hotel.  He hasn't said anything about it yet, but I do have to admit I have some newfound respect for the guy, now.

-The Meteorologist

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

I Seeeeeee You

Fisk, I'm sure you already know this, but your guys SUCK; they're not sneaky, they're not smart, and most important of all, they're not scary.  Then again, none of them have come anywhere near my house.  I think they might be on the hunt for those bodies.  If that does happen to be the case, you can have your boys search from now to 2020, and you STILL won't find them.  This state is full of so many unexplored patches of nature...

Anyways, that aside.  I've actually found myself a little bored, with Spender gone.  I hate to say it, but I missed the guy's sense of humor.  Missed the way I could always find some way to flip him on his head.  I have to admit, even just one day was fun as fuck, with that man.  But he's probably already touched down in Ireland by now, and I hope he hasn't forgotten that the Irish have one of the highest percentages of alcoholics IN THE WORLD.  You don't have enough bullets to take on a country, Spender...

But that wasn't why I made this message, either.  I've decided to do a little snooping of my own.  I've lived here in NC all my life, and I still haven't seen any trace of Him in the newspapers, town records...ANYTHING.  I'm not sure if it was that I didn't know what to look for until recently, or if this state just had piss poor knowledge of Him; it's not like we weren't piss poor in so many other ways.  I've decided to take a few sick days, and strongarm my dad into taking me on a road trip.  I'll probably work my way down to South Carolina, then Georgia.  We'll have to save the ones above us for some other time.  I figure if we're going to find anything about how he got his claws in here, the place where the USA really came to exist is the best place to start.

My entries may turn sporadic, and I may even vanish for a day or two at a time.  But I'm still alive, folks.  I don't doubt Fisk will probably get a tail on us, once we're on the road.  I wouldn't even be surprised to run into some Proxies.  But I've still got my trusty Walkman, and I don't think we're going to run afoul of anything big yet.  If we do, I'm pretty damn sure we can get our asses back to NC before things go wrong.  Wish me luck, people.  Something tells me I'm chasing a hurricane, here.

-The Meteorologist

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Waffle House = Love

If there's a better restaurant in the world, I'd burn it down.  Because no place in the world deserves to hold the title of "Better Than Waffle House."

But, that aside.  Me and Spender had quite the night, last night.  As we speak, he's rattling away at his own keyboard, most likely trying to talk about today.  He's gratefully agreed to let me chronicle the events of last night.  And hoo boy, were they pretty big.  I'm gonna have trouble starting off, even...

Well, it was about 2 when that fucktard rolled up to my house, like RIGHT UP TO IT, and did some sort of duck and roll out of the passenger's seat as it was still braking to a halt.  I was looking out the window, and I pretty much had to run out the front door to stop Spender from shooting someone when they looked outside.  Then he tells me that he's still being chased?  What the fuck, Spender?  What did you expect ME to do about it?

Well, at least I had enough time to remember that we had an attic; a fact that escaped my memory for about ten years.  I swear, my father never even LOOKED at that thing, and it was just a stroke of luck I looked up while I was peeking around.  So, after about 5 minutes of tugging, we pulled it down, and I nearly got brained by a falling ladder.  After getting Spender to stop laughing for 6 seconds, I managed to stow him away, and had just enough time to slip a knife into my sleeve, sit on the couch, and figure out how the hell I was gonna deal with these guys.  I think I managed a ten count before another car came up.

This was one of those big black vans we all hear about, and I swear, I was almost ready for SWAT to rappel in from the sides of my house.  But I managed to open my door, looking as sympathetic as I could.  Called the guys in, and then pointed out some places a refugee might be hiding out; luckily for us, there were 6 places to hide, and only 5 guys.  I also conveniently forgot to mention the attic.  Two or three of them were limping, so I let them keep inside, while the others decided to check the backyard, and the bathrooms.

Of course, none of them thought twice about letting a college student follow the obvious leader outside.  A college student with a bookbag.  A bookbag that weighed maybe thirty pounds.  He turned to check around a corner of the house, and I hit him so hard, he didn't even have time to turn around.  I think he was still twitching, but I didn't really stop to check.  I just threw the door open, screamed as loud as I could, and watched those guys run outside as fast as they could.  Luckily, Spender was smart enough to take his moment.  He dropped from the ceiling onto one of the guys, and I'm pretty sure he just clubbed the guy with whatever he had in his hand at the moment.  Not quick enough to stop a shot, though.

The three guys left all turned to the bullets, and that's about when my dog decided he wanted nothing to do with these guys.  My dog, for those wondering, is a pitbull and rotweiller mix.  He has jaws that can go through a tire; I've seen it.  Those things snapped shut around a guy's leg, and he was down on one knee before he even knew it.  THAT gun went off, and just about singed off my dog's hairs.  He might have taken another shot if I hadn't gotten that knife in his side around then.

The last two were about ready to shoot me in the face when Spender's OTHER friend pretty much tackled one of them from the side.  How the fuck did they not think to check the car?  I guess because I had been so accomodating, or maybe just because they had all taken large doses of PCP before they got out of the vehicle.  Considering their vacant expressions, that's quite possible.  Anyways, that guy went down, and the last one made a shot for me.  I can still feel the scab on my hip where it hit.  Of course, that was when Spender managed to wrench the gun from the last guy, and plant a few in his back.

Fun times.  Barely managed to clean the blood from the carpet, and stow the bodies in our shed, before we left.  I think Spender called one of his guys to find a dump spot, because they were gone when I got back from school.

I guess that's all, really.  Just gotta decide what to do with the guy I knocked out.  I THINK he's still alive, and tied up next to the water heater.  Should I get him something to eat?  I mean...starvation is pretty uncool.

Then again, so is trying to shoot a dog.  Oh well, I'll figure something out.

-The Meteorologist
My father's left for work.  I still don't have long, but I'll say what I can.  I had to spend most of yesterday helping to hide four bodies without leaving so much blood and hair that we'd be suspect number one.  I even had to find a place to hide an unconscious Fiskling.  I've even got a test today, and I didn't get a chance to study.  Hope to God your contacts can fix THAT, Spender.

I'll tell you this much, people.  I never thought I'd have to use that hunting knife my dad keeps in his dresser.  I'm surprised I even kept my hands steady enough.  But, for now, I think it's time for me and my guest to go.  We'll be heading to Waffle House before I head off to class.

Spender's treat, of course. c:
-The Meteorologist

Monday, February 14, 2011

God Fucking Dammit

Spender, who the everloving fuck do you think you are?

If the answer is anything but the luckiest man alive, I'll take one of your eyes while you're asleep.  Don't think after today that I wouldn't.  If it had been any other hour later...we'd all be dead.

TWELVE MINUTES.  I had twelve minutes to figure out how to hoodwink a bunch of government lackies.  Fucking douchebag.  You just had to drag me into this.  You couldn't just let me enjoy my hot chocolate.  I would've been happy to name any number of hotels in the area.  Hell, I could've directed you to my mother's house, and where we keep the key; no one would've been there.  But you just HAD to come here, to me.  You just HAD to get me involved.

Oh well.  At least it was just Fisk.  My life is still pleasently devoid of faceless beasts of tentacles and terror.  As long as it's just guys with guns, I think I can keep my cool.

I'd write more, but my Dad just got home.  And don't you say a WORD, Spender.  I hope the attic is comfy enough for you.  And no.  You don't get a blanket.  I'd say I was sorry, but I'm really not.  Enjoy the night; I hope there are bats up there.

-The Meteorologist

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Saw Him Today

Don't think he saw me.  Still, it was...I can't even describe it.  Every part of my body was screaming for me to get as far away from this thing as possible.  I know why he was there, too; I just wish I could do something about it.  Those poor kids...oh, God...

Let me explain.  I help to clean up at a church after their services end; I don't really GO to the church, but I get a little bit of cash for it, and I don't have anything better to do with my time.  I was sweeping up the place, trying to figure out how the fuck you get gum out of a carpet, when the kids all rushed outside, and decided to play tag.  It took me about 3 seconds to think of all these stories.  Of course, being as this is one of the few churches positioned with forest on all sides, and only one road in and out, pretty much everyone that comes here is Slenderbait.

So I step outside, and he's right there.  He's not even hiding in the trees.  He's just standing by a car, watching the children run around screaming.  I think I must've looked like I had a heart attack or something, because they told me to get the fuck out of there, and I did.  Every time I close my eyes I see...I see him, but I see the kids too.  And I see the kids run for him.  Run to ask if he wants to play.  I've had to rush to the bathroom three times as I wrote this, but nothing's come up yet.

Hold up, make that four.  I don't know how long I can stand this.  He wasn't even looking at me, and I'm already a mess.  Ava...Reach...Zeke...all of you.  You've got my best.  I'll do all I can to help.  But I can't get too involved.  Not yet.  Not until I can be sure that I'll make a difference.

-The Meteorologist

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Nothing To See Here

Hello, fellow worshipers of the interwebz.  Just another kid with a little too much free time on his hands, and nowhere else to dump his brain...

Not quite, actually.  Before anyone has to spend weeks boggling it out, yes.  This is another Slenderblog.  I won't be teasing you all with my rather senseless taste in music, or with stories of my heroic exploits in D&D.  I'm here for one thing, and one thing only.  Him.  The Operator, Slender Man, Slenderp, Noodle-Kaboodle, Excilis him what you like.

Personally, I'd like to call him gone.  I hope the day will come that we can call him a bad memory.  But I know that time may not come for a while.  I'm going to come out now, and say I'm not like you guys.  I'm not the Slenderstalked.  I never knew one.  I have no connection, direct nor indirect, to Him, save for a rather pervasive fear of the dark; who knows?  Maybe I was one of his favorites when I was a kid.  No, you don't get to know when exactly that was.  Maybe later, but for now it won't matter much.  No, all I have is something that probably seems pretty unexciting in the circumstances.

Empathy.  I've got empathy out the ass.  Don't get me wrong, I've done my homework; I've read Ava's Theories, I know Zeke's on the prowl.  I've heard all about Reach's dilemma, and I've read them all.  But when I read these things, I can almost feel the fear, and the hatred.  I've spent the last few months finding out as much as I could.  I don't doubt that this thing exists; I know that this world has shit we'll never see, and shit we never SHOULD see.  But I've never met it, and I pray I never will.  Just knowing he's dicking around in someone else's life is enough to get me.  I know how bad it is just to think he MIGHT be waiting outside.  To know he IS?  Couldn't imagine it.

I don't doubt that eventually, he'll come knocking on my door.  I'm simply too engrossed, too involved in all these stories.  I'm not going to be able to walk away, knowing that these people are still fighting.  I'm sure that, one day, when they're all gone, I'll be on his list.  It probably won't be high, but for some reason that's worse, to me; I could take being killed by some otherworldly demon with tentacles for arms.  It sure as fuck beats a heart attack, or "natural causes".  Go out with a bang, I've always thought.  No, I think the worst way to die to this thing would be as an afterthought.  A fly to be swatted.  If I'm going to die, it's not going to be because I know too much.  If I die, it'll be because this guy, this...thing is utterly terrified of me.  It'll be because this thing knows that, so long as I live, he'll be fighting a losing battle.  I'm not going down as some innocent bystander.  If He's going to come for me in my sleep, let it be because he's too scared to do it awake.

Don't misunderstand; I'm not some sort of hero.  I couldn't shoot a gun if I wanted, and no one who ever looks at me sees anything to be afraid of in a fight.  I'm just like every other blogger; some asshole with too much time, and some thoughts he thinks are worth sharing.  But I'll do my best to lend a hand where I'm needed.  I may not have any Theories, and I may not be able to kick some guy's nuts into his pelvis, but I'm not alone.  None of us are.  And I think that's what we've eventually got on Him.

He didn't do HIS homework.  He didn't realize that out of every other species, he's chosen the angriest, most violent, and most unpredictable ones out there.  He's going up against a group that doesn't shake when things get bad.  A group that doesn't know what it means to give up.  Stand strong, everyone.  No matter how bad things may look, every storm will eventually pass.  This might seem like His hour...but soon it'll be ours.  And I know, when it comes, we'll make the most of it.

I just realized, I never even said my name.  I guess I can at least spare that much.  Zachary; The God Recalled.  But I think, if you'll allow me at least this much, I'd prefer...

-The Meteorologist