Plans

I need more bullets.

I don't go through many, but I have a feeling I'm gonna need them.

Not that Smiley cares what I "kill" him with, anyway. But I like the Colt. Revolvers are pretty fucking awesome. Also, pretty easy to hide. Well. I mean. It's not that easy to hide...but it's easier to hide than the shotgun, anyway.

I just wish it wasn't called the 'Anaconda.' You can tell what the marketing team was thinking.

"Hey, boys, come get your surrogate penis!"

You might think I'm joking. You should see how some boys get when a girl talks about liking guns or hunting around them. It's....not pretty. Trust me. You'd think they'd be less dumb around a girl who they know has recreationaly taken life before, but for some reason teenage boys seem to believe they're more deserving of life than deer. It's a crazy fucking world we live in, isn't it?

All joking aside, that's one of the advantages of monster hunting. I don't have to deal with teenage boys who think that "I want to have a conversation about a shared interest" means "I want to have sex with you."

Anyway, I'm gonna be in Boston tomorrow. It looks like Smiley is taking them young, there. A little boy and a little girl have been taken. It's breaking its pattern a bit, though. Both kids were taken at once (I think they're brother and sister), and the bouquet was delivered at the same time, if what I'm reading is right. It's hard to get info on him, since one of the vast shadowy anti-monster conspiracies seems to be censoring the news on Smiley.

This is new territory for Smiley. That bothers me. I liked it more when he was a creature of habit. It's also...similar to someone else's MO. I think you know who I mean, too. It could be that instead of Smiley, I'm about to pull a Strahm and try to shoot Tall Dark And Faceless. That is not something I want to try. I'm not that suicidal. Yet.

And if it is Smiley, an experimental phase can't be good. For anyone.

The Past Catching Up To The Present

I never wrote the rest of this stuff down. There wasn't really any time.

I spent two weeks searching for the Smiling Man's hangout. I stopped going to school. I didn't even come home very often.

My parents thought it was just because Tara was a target but, to tell the truth, that wasn't it. Not all of it, anyway. The way I saw it, I'd had so many chances, so many opportunities to kill the bastard, to stop it somehow, that all of this was my fault.

They didn't do much to stop me, though. They weren't happy, but they understood what I was going through. Or they thought they did, anyway. I miss them. I hope they're alright. I can't really go back.

I still didn't understand just what I was in. I didn't believe in the Slender Man, or "Fears", or anything like that, not really. The Smiling Man was here. I'd seen it. I'd looked into its impossible eyes. And even if I had believed, it wouldn't have done me any good. No two monsters are the same, after all.

Two weeks passed and I just kept getting more and more desperate. Oh, and yeah, it turns out my Dad really did notice his revolver was missing. What a shock. He grounded me but it didn't really do much to stop me. Especially when I learned that Tara had disappeared.

No one told me--of course no one told me, because they knew I would do exactly what I did. But I heard Mrs. Tilllinghast talk to Mom. After my Mom hung up the phone, I overpowered her and tied her up. I bet she's regretting paying for those Karate lessons now.

I loaded myself for bear. Shotgun, rifle, and Dad's revolver went into a duffel bag. Yeah, unfortunately Dad's extra security options for the Colt Anaconda were a padlock on metal lockbox. The latch was not hammer-proof.

You know how I said I'd never been able to find Smiley? That its hideout eluded me for two weeks?

On the day Tara went missing, I walked right to it. An old, abandoned warehouse from the 1800s. One I'd checked at least twice.

The front doors were open. None of this caused any warning bells to ring. Have I mentioned how fucking stupid I used to be?

I'll paint the scene as best I can.

I walk through the doors and there it is, its back to me. Long, unkempt red hair. Torn, bloodstained shirt, sleeves covering what probably weren't hands. Mostly featureless black 'pants' that covered what probably weren't feet. A Smile I could see from here.

In front of it was Tara, battered and covered in cuts, tears running down her horrified face.

I pulled the rifle from my bag and started to line up a shot. The Smiling Man turned slightly to me, and I caught sight of one of its eyes.

Imagine the Sun. Something so bright it's almost impossible to look at, even if you physically try to force yourself to. Reflex keeps you from directly looking at it for your own good.

Now, imagine that instead of being too bright, that the eyes are too wrong.

It saw me.

And then I was bleeding.

It happened so fast. I don't know what happened. I don't know how Smiley did it.

My rifle's pieces fell to the floor, and then a whole lot of my blood, scraps of my clothing, and several pieces of my right eye.

He can cut, you see. I don't know how to explain it better.

Things just get cut. And so, I was cut. My face was sliced almost every which way and my arms were covered in gashes.

I should have died. The eye loss should have killed me from shock all its own. I should have bled out on the floor of that old warehouse. I didn't, though, and I didn't think another thing about it at the time.

Again, I was really dumb back then.

Though, to be fair, at the time I was powered by pain, shock, and determination. I pulled the shotgun from my bag and staggered towards the Smiling Man.

It wasn't looking at me anymore. It was looking down at Tara. She was looking at me, though. Pleading. Shocked. She wanted me to leave.

I put the shotgun to Smiley's head.

I pulled the trigger.

And here's the most important part. The reason I am what I am today.

It worked. Oh God it actually worked.

The Smiling Man's head exploded, as did the rest of its body, into a flash of wrong.

I smiled at Tara, Tara who was fine. Tara who I had saved. And then I passed out from blood loss.

I woke up in a hospital three days later.

The doctors told me that I had just barely survived. They couldn't save my eye. I could tell from their tone that they didn't really understand how I had lived after losing so much blood.

One of the local police came in next. I'm not really sure how much time passed, though. I was still on pretty heavy medication. They told me they didn't really know what had been going on, but they knew I'd helped Tara, somehow. I'd saved her. I'd put an end to all of it. It was over.

Yeah, spoiler alert, it wasn't.

My parents came in and I honestly wasn't sure if I was being praised or punished. Well, except for punching my mom. I was definitely getting punished for that.

And then they left and Tara came in. I'll be honest here. There was a lot of crying. From both of us. Also a lot of squeaky saying "you're my best friend". It..it was kind of embarrassing. But it's also what I look back on and smile at. It was so simple when I thought everything was fine.

I'm going to say this now. Because I know you're reading this, Tara. I love you. I'm not exaggerating when I say I think of you as my sister. I wish we could go to college together. I wish we could just chill like we used to. But it can't happen. It won't ever happen.

Because when I got home at the end of the week, adjusting to my Significant Peripheral Vision Downgrade, smiling at the near hero's welcome I received, resting on my bed was a bouquet.

Agrimony. Ambrosia. Angrec. Arborvitae. Bellflower. Primrose. Thistle. Viscaria.

It was tacky and busy. And it filled my heart with cold dread.

The Smiling Man was in my room then. It smiled at me and then disappeared.

The bouquet had a card. It said one word.

"Chicago."

And now here comes the horrible truth.

I was lying to myself when I said it was over. It will never be over.

The Smiling Man has never stopped screwing with me. I am alive because it did not want me dead. Why would it? After all, I am its mother.

It didn't have red hair when it showed up, did it? And that straitjacket? Changed into that long sleeved bloodsplattered thing.

What did it do when I threatened it? Basically nothing except knock me out. You read what happened. It could have cut me literally in half.

But it didn't. Instead, it grew from me. It took a part of me, I think. Or used it to make its camouflage better.

Tara and her internet friends may be its father, but I am its mother. They delivered the concept and, through me, it came to term.

And this is my shame. This is what I feared saying. I am as responsible for this as Tara was.

What does this have to do with anything?

The Smiling Man is playing with me. It's a game, you see.

It starts its little game somewhere. I go find it. I stop it. Smiley starts somewhere else. I go stop it. It starts somewhere else.

If I stop, then Smiley will keep murdering and murdering and torturing and torturing. No breaks. Person after person will die in pain.

At first I thought I was making a difference. That I had the whole Smiley situation under control. That I could worry about other monsters. That maybe, maybe I could be normal again.

But now I see the truth.

I am going to keep going after this monster over and over and over again.

As long as I am alive.

No Luck

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN THURSDAY, MARCH 23, 5:13, 45, 6:12, AND 6:30 AM

PART THE FIRST

I can't get ahold of Tara.

She's in police protection. Heavy protection. It won't work. They won't let me see her. My only friend. My doomed friend.

I need to talk to her.

I can forgive her, for helping make the Smiling Man. She couldn't have known it would work.

But I need to protect her. Maybe...I can have it come after me instead. Distract it. Piss it off somehow.

I'd do anything to save her. She's the sister I never had. She's the only person who's ever given a damn about me.

PART THE SECOND

Maybe I should try to find Him.

Go looking for it. Go looking for trouble.

He has to take his victims somewhere. While they're being tortured. For whatever reason He tortures them.

I don't think even He knows. He just does it. I don't think He even cares that He doesn't know. I don't think He can care.

I don't know what He does with the hearts. I don't think I want to know.

Sometimes I tell myself He eats them. It's a nice, clean, simple answer.

But I know that's not the truth. I'm pretty sure the truth is a Whole Lot Worse.

PART THE THIRD

I found my Dad's Colt Anaconda.

I don't think he'll miss it.

PART THE FOURTH

Assuming He has to be somewhere in town...there aren't too many places Smiley can hide.

Town isn't too big.

I still have time before Tara is taken.

I still have time to stop the Smiling Man.

If He can be stopped.

I Will Stop Him.

And He Will Fear Me.

So long as I Am Alive.

Trespassing, Sleeping, and Other Things I Shouldn't Be Doing

I fucking hate sleep.

Mostly my dreams are just me and Miss Punchable, but sometimes there's a nice change of pace. Like meadows and unicorns and rifles and shit. Every night I go to sleep I hope for another occurrence of the Jeanette Cotton: Unicorn Hunter dream.

Last night was a change of pace, but not the nice kind. Stupid fucking nightmare.

Anyway, I broke into someone's house last night and used it to get some rest. I think they're on vacation, which is why I picked the place--the house had all the signs of dog ownership but not a mutt in sight. Guess I'm lucky it hadn't just died recently.

No idea how long they'll be gone, though. I shouldn't linger here too long but I just wanted to be under a roof for a while. Also, it's good to be somewhere with decent fucking toiletries for fucking once.

Oh hey, clothes my size, too. Oh. My. God.

Is that a fucking Stetson?

Hell yes it's a fucking Stetson, bitch.

It fits.

Fuck. Yes.

Our Protagonist, ladies and gentlemen: Breaking into people's fucking homes, taking a shower, and stealing their fucking accessories.

It's a tortured existence I lead.

Stuff

uncountable scars

red hair buzzed three months ago

only one green eye

I thought that'd be the best way to describe myself. It occurred to me I haven't yet.

Anyway, I'm finally out of the midwest. Trail picks up on the east coast--I'm glad that Smiley was considerate enough to wait until the hurricane was over. Downright fucking decent of it.

Bit of a rant: One of the worst things about this is that it ruins things I would have thought were awesome a year ago.

Examples: One year ago, if I knew I was going to drop out of school right before graduation and wander around the country hunting a monster, I would've been all "Fuck Yes."

A year ago, if you told me I was destined to punch out a cop (it was to save his life, long story), I would have told you that that was fucking awesome and then probably said something like "Fuck the System".

At age seventeen, if I had known that, some day, I would find a ton of people online who had a lot in common with me and all went through stuff kind of like what I was going to, I probably would have tearfully said, "Really?" and then immediately deny crying and say "Cool, whatever."

Okay, maybe that last one not so much.

Fuck, past me is so dumb.

Some Thing from Earlier

This is from back in the crazy days, between my rant on Slendy and birthofamonster.txt

---

Smiles

A smile can mean many things. At its base, though, a smile is a sign of amusement or mirth or happiness. But a smile can to cruel, or sad, or simple, or huge, a grin or a smirk or a baring of fangs.

In the animal kingdom, "smiling" is very often that last one. A threat. A display of teeth. A threat. A warning.

Some believe that smiling evolved as a behavioral mechanism to non-verbally display subservience.

The color Red

Red for humans is a sign of passion, a sign of heat, a sign of embarrassment, a sign of royalty. It is also a sign of injury, of pain, of blood, of infection.

In the animal kingdom red is a Warning of Venom and a Beacon for Lovers and a Sign of Food.

In the plant kingdom red is a Lure for Pollination or Prey.

Eyes

Eyes are windows to the Soul. Eyes have mystic connotations to nearly every culture with mysticism. They are Expressive. Sight is perhaps our most used and relied on sense.

We use Eye Contact on people we trust, and people we wish to size up, and people we wish to intimidate

Animals use Eye Contact to provoke a challenge. Many animals, especially birds, will try to attack the Eyes during a conflict.

Flowers

Flowers are used by humans as a symbol of affection, and to show sympathy, and to ask for forgiveness, and to mourn. The Language of Flowers gives each flower a Symbolic Meaning.

Animals devour flowers, and also help them Mate, and help them Grow when they Die.

----

Fuck it is so embarrassing to see this shit now. But I literally have fucking pages of this. Who the fuck did Past Me think she was, fucking Ishmael?

I swear to fucking God, the only person dumber than Past Me, it is fucking Present Me.

birthofamonster.txt

Okay so this is the thing that Jack of Crazy sent me back when I was still a high school student trying to find a way to kill Smiley. You know, before I became a high school dropout trying to kill Smiley.

There's not a whole lot of context. It just kind of starts.

Anyway, here it is--

JackThorn has entered the Chatroom

PerilousFool: But I'm looking forward to the next one, if it ever comes out.

PerilousFool: Oh, hey Jack.

yournightmare: yo jack wassup?

JackThorn: Its happening.

SephysWife: Is it vague warning thursday already?

yournightmare: lol

JackThorn: Im staring at a bouquet.

WTRainbow: congratulations, you have some flowers

JackThorn: It worked.

SephysWife: What are you talking about?

JackThorn: It was in my daughter's locker. She got to school and there was a bouquet.

yournightmare: lol, stop fukcing with us jack

SephysWife: Yeah, really bad taste.

JackThorn: Whens the last time you saw Cari? Or Jackie? Or Steve? Or Dom?

SephysWife: People leave randomly all the time online. It's a hazard of knowing people on the internet. That doesn't mean we invented a supernatural serial killer.

yournightmare: dude r u serious?

WTRainbow: you believe him, craig?

yournightmare: u cant tell me u werent thinkin this 2

SephysWife: Jack, I think you're getting a little worked up. There's nothing going on.

WTRainbow: i wasn't, because i have half a brain.

yournightmare: fuck you man im not goin 2 just turn my back on jack hes always been there 4 us

JackThorn: We are all doomed. Its going to come after us first. Like it did Cari and Jackie and Dom.

SephysWife: Stop it, Jack. It's not funny.

yournightmare: maybe we can stop it?

PerilousFool: It doesn't have a weakness. We never gave it one.

WTRainbow: ****, seriously?

SephysWife: Don't encourage him, ****. You're better than this.

SephysWife: The Smiling Man is not real. The Slender Man is not real. You can't just make up a monster and have it exist. The world does not work that way.

SephysWife: When the rest of you have grown up, let me know.

SephysWife: Bye.

SephysWife has left the chatroom.

yournightmare: you leavin' 2 will?

WTRainbow: not yet.

WTRainbow: don't get me wrong, i don't believe in any of this.

WTRainbow: but i miss cari. i thought we had something, you know?

WTRainbow: and if someone really did put a bouquet in your kid's locker then maybe one of the missing guys is playing a trick on you.

WTRainbow: dom was always kind of a jerk.

JackThorn: Theres nothing we can do.

JackThorn: The Smiling Man has come to life.

JackThorn: God help us all.

---

Back to modern day Jeanette again. This is where the file cuts to a completely different block. I think it's an email that Jack got. I'm not sure about the timing. I'll comment on the whole thing after.

Oh, by the way? No response from any of these screen names. At least, not the right response. Sometimes I get false positives, but none of them are the right person.

---

Dear Jack

You fucking moron.

Did you think you actually made anything? That you and your social reject friends actually created Him?

He's been here forever. Looking for a way in. And you gave it to Him and now He's loose.

"God help you." What a loser.

Though it makes sense that you'd be looking for a divine figure to help you.

After all, you just gave one a body.

This is the last time we're going to talk. He's going to show you what He showed me.

I don't think you'll do nearly as well as I have, though.

Yours Truly

The Queen of Cups

ps. You'd better show this to Jeanette. Some day me and her are going to have a friendly chat. Royals should be well acquainted with each other, after all.

pps. Hey Jeanette. How's your eye? Oh, that's right. Silly me.

----

Okay, a few things here. This is Jeanette here. One, I'm pretty sure some pretty hefty editing was done to the letter and the chatlog. I'm not sure why.

Two. This was sent to me two weeks before I had my Significant Peripheral Vision Downgrade. If I had been updating this in real time, I'm sure you reading this would have seen this as foreshadowing or something, but, no, I spoiled my lost eye weeks ago. I'd be sympathetic, but I'm still the one with only one fucking eye, so I'm not, really.

Three, I still haven't met this bitch, but I've seen...things. I'm not sure how to describe them. It's all been pretty innocuous, but...

Okay, remember way back when I started this whole blog? You know, in real time, before Smiley showed up? And I talked about having weird dreams?

I never mentioned what was in them because it wasn't important. None of it had anything to do with anything, including Smiley. I've read about people in the Slender Man stories all dreaming about trees and bags and evil shit like that. My dreams were not like that.

Most of them were me somewhere, I don't know. Some sort of public building every time, never the same one. And in them, I'm just talking to someone. I don't remember what she looks like or sounds like, but I do remember she has the Most Punchable Face I've ever seen. Just this self-satisfied smug expression that you just want to smack right in the mouth and make her spit out those pearly white goddamn teeth. I never remember the conversation.

But those are my dreams. You see why I never brought them up. I mean, I never even hit Miss Punchable in them.

But I think she's the Queen of Cups.

I mean, just read what she wrote. Tell me you don't want to just punch her in the goddamn mouth.

I'm not sure what they are. Maybe it's the future. Maybe we're having dream conversations. All I know is they've been happening to me pretty much all my life.

Also, I'm pretty sure she's working for Mr. Smiles. Somehow.

..which means she's my nemesis. Great. Next time I need to make sure to dream punch her.

But, all that exposition aside....there's something else. I censored PerilousFool's name. Because I knew who she was and....I'll just explain it in the journal entry I wrote afterward:

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN TUESDAY, MARCH 21, 5:02 AM

I am such an idiot.

She was so quick to come up with the idea, that maybe smiley is like the slender man, wasn't she? Such a big leap of logic to make. Why didn't I realize this then?

Because I'm a fucking moron.

Why hasn't she told me? Why hasn't she said a goddamn thing!?

People have died! They've fucking died! Fuck, one of them fucking fell on me! I thought she was my best fucking friend but it turns out no, she doesn't fucking care enough to tell me that she was on of the ones who fucking made this fucking bastard in the first fucking place god fucking damn it why am I crying

I still can't stop it. I don't know where to begin.

And if I can't stop it now...if Tara's the reason it's here...

I only have a couple weeks before it takes her.

Heliotrope, Lavender, Celandine, Cypress, Larkspur.

Christ I don't even know what half of those are. But that's what Tara's bouquet was.

It's going to come for her, my best friend, my only friend, and one of its creators.

And I can't stop it.