Drapetomania | Creepypasta

24.

??, ??, 2017

My eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, I was disoriented. The sensation of warmth enveloped me, and the softness beneath my body felt like a luxurious dream. But as consciousness settled in, the harsh reality of my situation came flooding back.

I wasn't in my familiar bedroom or the dreadful basement where I had been imprisoned. Instead, I found myself in a room within Slenderman's ominous mansion. The atmosphere was chilling, filled with an eerie silence that seemed to press upon me like a heavy weight. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was lurking just beyond my senses, watching, waiting.

With a cautious breath, I sat up in the unfamiliar bed, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through heavy curtains. The room was a mix of darkness and shadows, making it difficult to discern the details of my new surroundings. My heart pounded in my chest, and a shiver ran down my spine as I realized I was not alone here.

As I scanned the room, memories of recent events flooded my mind—the unsettling encounter with Slenderman himself, my interactions with enigmatic beings like Dark Link and Clockwork, and the unsettling realization that I had been thrust into a nightmarish existence unlike anything I had ever known.

My gaze fell upon the clothes neatly folded on a nearby chair, and my fingers brushed over them, seeking comfort in their touch. These garments were my lifeline to a sense of normalcy in this twisted world, a reminder that a semblance of humanity remained amidst the chaos.

Clockwork, one of Slenderman's 'followers', had selected the clothes for me—a pair of well-fitted black jeans, a dark gray t-shirt, and a snug black hoodie. Though the clothes were a tad tight on my frame, they provided a comforting contrast to the tattered and grimy outfit I had worn since my capture.

With newfound resolve, I dressed quickly, savoring the feeling of clean fabric against my skin. I made my way to the room's small mirror, hesitant to confront my own reflection. The face that stared back at me bore the marks of fear and exhaustion, but the clean clothes and a night's sleep had restored some semblance of my former self.

Chapter XII: Echoes of the Past

Time seemed to lose its meaning within the confines of Slenderman's mansion. I had spent the day in my room, poring over the peculiar book on Slender lore that had been left for me. The room's atmosphere remained heavy, a constant reminder of the bizarre reality I now occupied.

The book, bound in worn leather, revealed fragmentary glimpses into the enigmatic existence of the creature himself. As I delved deeper into its pages, I discovered accounts of encounters with Slenderman throughout history. Witnesses had described eerie, faceless apparitions lurking in the shadows, haunting forests and forsaken places. They spoke of his ability to manipulate perception, inducing fear and paranoia in those unfortunate enough to cross his path.

With pen in hand and an empty notebook before me, I began to transcribe the details of these encounters. My notes grew in complexity, forming a chronological narrative of Slenderman's appearances and the fear he instilled in humanity. It was as if I was documenting the history of a malevolent force that had existed on the fringes of human awareness for centuries.

Amidst the unsettling accounts, I stumbled upon a symbol—an intricate, circular design with eight equally spaced spokes emanating from its center. It was a mark I had seen etched into the trees during our initial search in the forest. The symbol was recurring, appearing throughout various historical encounters with Slenderman.