Static

The sound subsided with Carrie's screams.  She dragged in a ragged breath and looked around.  She couldn't see anything or hear anything.  BOOM. She flinched.  BOOM.  A whimper escaped her lips.  BOOM.  A steady rhythmic thud was echoing through the trees, emanating from the soil and vibrating in her rib cage.  She had to move.  The desire to lose control of herself and run for her life was almost uncontrollable, but she had to stay calm.  It would be worse if she didn't.  

She moved quickly through the trees, trying to stay as straight as possible.  Passing too close to a tree, she scratched her shoulder, but she didn't stop to look at the cut.  The booming noise continued.  It was following her.  He was following her.  

Up ahead was another clearing, in the space above it she could see the stars, but they were no comfort to her.  They provided no light and they were no stars that she had ever seen.  The stars watched over a building.  The Corridors.  Carrie had no idea where the name came from.  It was as if it had been placed in her head by someone else; but she knew for certain that was what it was called.  Her fear kicked up a gear. 

It was a one storey building with low ceilings.  There were numerous entrances and countless corridors.  Countless corners for him to hide around.  It was tiled in white grimy tiles, broken and scratched all over the place and reminded her of the changing rooms at a swimming pool.  But there was nothing else in there.  It was like a maze of corridors.  And there was a note in there.  She knew there was.  

Carrie gritted her teeth and entered The Corridors.  

The white tiles reflected back the light of her torch in an unpleasant manner.  Her every nerve was alert, electrified, stretched to breaking point.  She traversed corridor after corridor, flitting from one side to the next to see around the upcoming corners.  Her t-shirt was sticking to her back with a cold sweat.

She rounded one corner and was in an empty square room; but for a chair.  The change made her do a double-take.  She stopped.  Her breath caught.  A single, white, wooden chair was in the far corner of the room, facing the wall.  This was new.  

She took tentative steps towards it, feeling drawn to it somehow.  She stopped right behind it, shining the torch all around the room to make sure she was alone.  She stepped around it.  The light of the torch reflected off something wet and she squinted in an effort to make it out.  She leaned down closer, a metallic smell hitting her nose.  She reached out to touch it and realised what it was just as the seat began to pour fourth blood.  It ran down the legs of the chair, seemed to spring forth from every crack and crevice in it's surface until the floor was an inch deep with it.  It lapped over Carrie's feet and she had to hold herself back from retching.

Then she heard it.  The static.  It crackled inside her eardrums making her head pound.  She covered her ears with her hands and ran, slipping and sliding through the crimson covering, knocking into walls in her attempt to escape.  The static was still filling her ears, clogging her mind.  All she could think was run, get out, get away!  

She burst out into the darkness and fell to the ground in tears.  She was shaking so much it was blurring her vision.  Her instinct told her not to leave herself exposed and she rolled onto her back.  The torch light shone on the outside of the building; and there it was.  

"Follows."  was written down the page and beside it was a crude child's drawing of Him.  Slenderman.  She got up quickly and ripped it off the wall.  There were dried and bloody finger marks on it that were not her own.  

A sudden burst of static and a feeling of dread made her turn to her left and her flashlight finally caught what it was searching for.  What it was made to find.  What was searching for her. 

He was standing at the edge of the building.  Stooped over, the roof still only reached his waist.  His arms outstretched towards her, so long, so thin.  Tentacles reached out from his chest and back like elongated tree roots.  A black suit, faded and worn camouflaged him against the night.  No face.  No eyes.  No nose.  Just a blank canvas.  An orb.  But he was looking at her, boring into her.  Drawing her into his arms.  He wanted her.  He wanted to take her.  She couldn't fight him.  He was perfectly still.  

The static rose to a roar and Carrie broke free with a shriek.  She turned away from him with much difficulty.  But she couldn't run.  No matter how hard she tried, his pull was too strong.  She was magnetised to him.  And he watched as she struggled t0 escape his grasp.  

"No eyes, no eyes, no eyes, no eyes,"  she repeated to herself as she pulled further and further away from him.    

Her path led her into a field of oil  tanks, rows and rows of them.   She could feel him behind her following in his unnatural way.  The static was slowly eating away at her sanity, helped by the endless pounding.  She whimpered and cried but she kept moving.   The flashlight shaking violently in her hands.  A flash of white at the end of a row spurred her on.  Her back was itching, crawling with him.  She needed to look, she had to.  

This note seemed to be a piece of torn fabric.  Smeared across it in blood, it read; 

DON'T LOOK OR IT TAKES YOU

Carrie moaned and hung her head.  She couldn't look behind her.  She couldn't run.  She couldn't last in here.  And the static was gone.  She gasped and held her breath.  The booming continued but the static was gone.  He was gone.  He was hiding.  Further on, he was waiting for her, arms outstretched with the rest of them.  She wondered where the others where?  She wasn't the first and she would not be the last.  Where did he keep them?  

She breathed deeply and walked forward.  She had no idea whether this was on the path that she had chosen, but she was sure she would find what she was looking for.  He was drawing her forward.  

Waiting.

The End

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