[End of Act I]

[Exeunt All but Chorus]

ourhe roha slearnedmu cht his da y

onedown

is it not tragic that all who run merely make others follow?

whentheirlivesendtheyonlyseethegoodandfoolishlythinktheyhavewon

itiSOnlyaMattErofTIMEbeforetheyFALlandreaLIZEThereisNOpointingetTINGbackUp

QFR ZIQZ OL VITF VT LZKOAT.

[Exeunt Chorus]

Too Late

We've waited around for too long. It's time we left. Sorry we hurt your friends at the station, but things are moving too fast. Pack your things, we're leaving right now, and I won't take no for an answer. We're taking you with us even if we have to drag you the whole way. Get ready.

-Lucas

They're Real

There's not a doubt in my mind that those damn kids are real, now. I awoke this morning to find them standing in my room, staring at me, as if waiting for me awaken. They told me that "he" (they seemed to put a lot of emphasis on the words "he" and "him) would be coming for me soon. I have absolutely no doubt they're real, now. Unless I truly have gone insane... Am I the only one who can see those posts by the Voice? I asked who the kids were and... they told me THEY were the Voice. It doesn't seem possible, since the time all the posts took place they were standing outside, but something told me it was true...

I'm really losing it. Please, if there is someone, ANYONE reading my journal out there, just please say something. I need to know I'm not alone in this world, please, just tell me anything, I don't care what it is...

-Kemble

My Day

Well, my day hasn't gone to shit yet. Still pissed about Lucas getting out, and aparently getting back in by himself. I swear, there I something wrong with him. Those fucking kids, too. Are they real? Are they fake? Are they just hallucinations? Am I insane? I don't even know what to think anymore.

Oh, hey. I haven't cleaned anything in two days. I don't even feel like cleaning. Imagine that.

Alright, I'm also getting fed up with "the Voice." You're just speaking in those crazy fucking riddles, and those coded messages, making absolutely nothing make sense. If anything, you're trying to make things even MORE confusing than they already are, and I'm sick of it. I still have no idea who you are and you still refuse to come out and say who you are. I know you were somehow connected with Vicki's murder, and that's enough to already get me pissed. She may not have been a friend, but at least talking to her helped. At least she could understand my condition, and now you've taken that away from me. So now, I plan to take your freedom away from you. I'm not putting up with you anymore.

Still not allowed to go to work. Pisses me off.

I'm not getting any closer to any of this just sitting around here. Need to work. Have to work. People are depending on me. Must work...

-Harold Kemble

Day off

Because of that's happened recently, I've been forced to take a day off, but it's really fucking hard to relax knowing that the guards back at the station are letting Lucas out again to use the computer! This is what happens when I'm gone for a day? You all of a sudden start letting prisoners out? Are you guys fucking insane?

And let's not forget about "the Voice". Whoever the hell you are, you obviously knew about Vicki's death, and decided to play around with me about it instead. I've had it with all this. Something else happens and I might just fucking lose it! Who knows what I'll do? I sure as hell don't! You better tell me who the fuck you are, "the Voice", or I'll find out myself and make sure you suffer for what you did to Vicki.

-Kemble

Running out of time

We're almost out of time, Harold. Wherever the Voice is, He will soon follow. He has already made his first move on Vicki, and there's no telling who will be next. I'm taking a big risk by even allowing myself to stay in your custody, but if you won't believe what I'm telling you and refuse to see His signs, then I'll just have to drag you out and make you see Him.

-Lucas

Shit...

Alright, I've had enough of this. I walk into Vicki's office and she's fucking dead. And there are those kids right outside. Whoever killed her has a sick mind. Who kills someone then removes all the organs? Fuck... She was the only one who could have helped me at this point. What the hell do I do now? I don't know what to think anymore, everything just feels like a big mess. Damn it...

This is getting out of hand

I can see them, across the street. They won't go the fuck away! I thought I was halucinating, that they weren't real, but I took a picture. They really are standing there! What am I going to do? Why am I freaking out? They're just kids, I can just go out there and talk to them. But how are they real? I saw them at work today, at the park, and even at the coffee shop. How are they doing this? This isn't real. Is it? Am I halucinating with the picture too? How? How?

I went outside to talk them and they were fucking gone! HOW? And of course, as soon as I got back to my apartment, they were back outside, just staring at the window. Why is this happening to me? Kristy, please help me. ANYONE, help me. What should I do?

I think I'm going off the deep end...

I've been having some coughing fits as of recent. It's strange, I don't really feel all that bad, but it just happends sometimes. I'm still seeing those kids across the street, but they're staying for longer and longer each time. I'm even starting to notice some details...

There are five of them all standing together. Two of them look really young, like 5 or 6 years old; one boy one girl. I see a boy that looks to be seven or eight, and a girl who looks like she might be ten, and then another girl who looks to be maybe twelve or thirteen. I actually start to question whether or not they are a hallucination, but then I turn away for just a few second and they're gone. And why am I so tired?

Alright, "thevoice," what the hell are you doing? Why are you coming on my blog and just hitting the keyboard, generating random crap? What's the point? Why me? Is this supposed to be some sort of joke? Whoever you are, just stop. My paranoia is already building, and you are not helping.

I really hope you have some answers for me, Vicki. I don't know how much longer I can take these hallucinations.

-Kemble

Hallucination?

What the hell? I looked out my window and saw five children standing across the street near the streetlamp, looking in my window. They were all grouped together and I guess they were wearing masks, because I didn’t see their faces. Of course, a minute later and they were gone. It must have been the most lucid hallucination I have ever had. I really need to see you soon, Vicki.

-Kemble

Talked to Lucas

Alright, I swallowed my pride and gave Lucas the private audience he requested. I recorded the conversation:

Harold (me): Alright, I did what you want. What do you want from me?

Lucas: I don’t want anything FROM you, I just want to talk.

Harold: You hacked my online journal just to have a private chat?

Lucas: Yup. After all, this is some important [EXPLETIVE] we’re going to be talking about.

Harold: What exactly are we going to be talking about?

Five second pause.

Lucas: That man who’s been following you.

Harold: What? What man?

Lucas: Don’t act like you haven’t seen him. The man in the suit? Always in the corner of your eye? You try to look, but you can’t really make out any feature on him?

I don’t respond.

Lucas: Alright, maybe you haven’t seen him. At least not recently.

Harold: Is there a point to this, or are you just going to sit there and spit out more insane stories?

Lucas: He’s following you. I know he is. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you walk. The way you’re always looking behind your back.

Harold: How do you know about that?

Lucas: Well, it’s pretty damn obvious. You’d be surprised how much I can see from this little “slice of heaven.”

Five second pause.

Lucas: But back to the important stuff. You may not have seen this tall guy in the suit recently, but he never gives up prey. Trust me, you’ve been targeted.

Harold: Enough with that! Why did you kill that man? You were unprovoked! Why don’t you have any records?

Lucas: Well, since you don’t believe me, I can’t tell you.

Harold: Whether I’m being followed has nothing to do why you killed an innocent man!

Lucas: (Bursts out laughing)

Harold: What the hell is supposed to be so funny?!

Lucas: I’m sorry; it’s just so funny that you’re calling that man innocent!

Harold: What makes you think he’s not innocent?

Lucas: (Suddenly serious) I watched that man kill my entire family. He made me watch.

Harold: Oh. I’m very sorry for your loss; but you should have reported him.

Lucas: A simple jail couldn’t hold him. He serves the Slender Man.

Harold: The Slender Man? Who is the Slender Man?

Lucas: (Ignoring what I said) he deserved nothing less than death. He was lucky. He got it quick. But if it were up to me to decide, I would have killed him slowly.

Harold: But who is Slender Man? What does he have to do with any of this?

Lucas: What does Slender Man have to do with this? Everything! He drove that man insane! He has been chasing me for as long as I can remember! HE has taken away everything from me! Do you hear me!? EVERYTHING!

Harold: Calm down, Lucas!

Lucas: But the worst part of it is his silence… He just stands there, staring. Always staring. But then, when he comes for you… Oh god…

Harold: Lucas?

Lucas: Please, help us! Help me! Please, you have to find a way to kill it!

Harold: That’s not my job.

Lucas: You have to! It’s the only way! You HAVE to kill it! Oh god, I can hear it now, in my head… Make it stop… Make it stop… (begins to sob)

Harold: Why did you come to me about this, Lucas? Why not some other officer?

Lucas: (Stops sobbing, looks up) Because he’s already after you.

After this, Lucas refuses to say anything. All we know is that this guy clearly is mentally unstable. I had Jackie look up anyone under the alias of “Slender Man”, and she got this web site about him. Apparently, he’s a paranormal being with tentacles who eats children. Lucas is definitely insane if he thinks some internet story is real and is after him. We’ll see about institutionalizing him, it’s for the best.

-Kemble

Hey, you DO have a blog!

Hey, Harold. How's it goin, buddy? We here at the station are just having a BLAST! Well, I am, at least. Your cop buddies are asleep. Crazy how you leave and they all start slacking, right? I mean, they even let me use your computer! And man, it took a while to hack your account. Though honestly, I really am surprised that a hard ass like you would even keep a blog. But hey, you never know.


Anyways, down to buisness. I know youve been contacted by someone who calls themselves "thevoice." They're probably trying to get you to let me go or some shit, but trust me, and I know you won't but just do it anyway, you don't want to listen to them. They will set you up then knock you down so hard, you won't be able to get back on your feet before your dead. Yeah, it sounds confusing, and it is. Everything regarding Him is confusing.


So here's what I propose. When you come to work tomorrow, shut off the camera to an interogation room and make sure noone will interupts us. We'll have a lot to talk about tomorrow. Of course, it goes without saying, but you mention this to no one at the station.


Well, see you tomorrow, good ol' Harry. Can I call you Harry? I'm gonna call you Harry. Later!


P.S. You may want to start clerifying things. Your "journal" is received by a much larger audience than just Vicki, whoever the hell that is.


-Lucas Karun

Request Denied

Our request to have the bank account shut down got denied, even with all the evidence against it. It was protected by an individual in the FBI named “Fisk.” Of course, I was furious, but since this order came from so high up, there’s nothing I can do about it.

We haven’t gotten anything useful out of our prisoner, nothing about why he did what he did, no name, nothing. I was getting furious with him and I was able to finally get him to react, however. He just looked at me and said, “You bear his mark.” I have no idea what this was supposed to mean, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind anymore that this guy isn’t sane. None the less, he reacted, so I think we’re finally getting through to him.

My paranoia has also been coming back in flashes, today. I looked over my shoulder eleven times already. Something about this guy in the station doesn’t feel right, aside from his apparent lack of a sound mind. I’m still losing sleep and cleaning my house obsessively, but it’s not as bad anymore. I’ll try to update again tomorrow, Vicki. See you on Saturday.

-Kemble

Researching

Since I didn’t have anything else to do today, I figured I’d help out in the investigation from home. I looked through all the transactions on the bank account and noticed that several of the deposits are within a timeframe, location, and are of the same sum of money as bank robberies. I sent this in to the station, and they’re going to try to shut down the account. Though honestly, I have no idea why I’m telling you this, Vicki.

On a note more related to my mental health, my compulsivity is starting to decline. I haven’t washed my hands in the last half-hour, so I should be able to go back to work tomorrow and interrogate our suspect.

-Kemble

Sent Home Early

Boss told me to go home early today, as I was interfering with everyone else’s work. I cleaned the entire station twice yesterday and again today, I was constantly rearranging everything and correcting every grammatical error whenever someone spoke. I don’t have much to do now that I’m home except talk about the case we’re dealing with right now (normally I’m not supposed to talk about anything work related, but not much else to do now.)

We got a call from a small pharmacy where a murder had taken place. A man was at the check out, buying pain meds. During the transaction, another man charged into the store, stabbed the victim, and ran. Luckily, we were able to catch the attacker before he got too far. He kept yelling that we were making a mistake.

We tried questioning him, but he refused to say anything. We tried running a background check on him, but nothing came up. All that he had on him were the clothes on his back and a wallet. The wallet held $200 in cash and a stolen credit card from one “Ronald Nugard,” a millionaire who disappeared in early 2005. He was presumed dead, but the body was never found; but the strangest part is that there is still money going into his account. There have been many deposits and withdrawals from this account all over the world. Is this man also responsible for Ronald Nugard’s disappearance? How did we not see this before? I get the feeling this man is a part of something bigger, but we won’t know until our suspect starts talking.

-Kemble

Compulsivity

I’ve been more compulsive than usual as of recent. I cleaned my house twice today when I got home, and I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I glanced over at my pictures six times in the past three hours and I’ve washed my hands 25 times in the past hour. I need to relax, but it's still too early. Maybe I’ll clean my house again before I go to bed…

-Kemble

Kristen

I meant to update earlier, but I got so busy today, and now I can’t sleep.

I didn’t mention it before, but I’m a detective for the police department, and recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about old assignments. One assignment I’ve been thinking about in particular was one of my first and most harrowing.

We got a call about a domestic disturbance in one of the houses on the side of town most people would preferably avoid. When we got there, it was all over. We found a married woman, covered in bruises and bleeding, and was crying over her dead husband’s body. She had shot and accidentally killed him in self-defense, and it was clear that all her bruises and cuts were from him. She told us that she also had two daughters whom had run away earlier that day.

With pictures in hand, we started searching the streets for the two little girls. After two weeks of searching and no sign of either of the girls, we were expecting to find them dead. Surprisingly, however, I eventually found them. They were both covered in bruises and scars, though the scars seemed old, like they hadn’t been gotten in the past two weeks. The younger sister (Ellie) was only 5, and the older (Kristen) was 7.  Ellie didn’t talk much, but Kristen felt comfortable talking to me. I’ll never forget the way they looked: hopeless, pale, gaunt, almost lifeless; and their voices: beaten, stale, monotone. I remember our conversation clearly:

Me: Kristen? Ellie?

(Kristen and Ellie look at me, but don’t respond verbally.)

Me: I’m detective Kemble. I’m here to bring you back to your mom. Okay?

(Neither of them responds.)

Me: Can either of you walk?

(Again, they don’t respond.)

Me: Hey, you’re safe now.

(Kristen and Ellie just glare at me, as if they don’t believe anything I’m saying.)

Me: *Sigh* Well, I didn’t want to tell you this, but… your father is dead.

(At this point, Kristen’s face lights up, while Ellie almost seems to get even sadder.)

Kristen: Really?

Me: Yes, he is. He was killed by your mom in self-defense.

(At this point, Kristen smiles, and even lets out a sadistic laugh.)

Me: You’re not sad at all that he’s dead?

Kristen: (Expletive) no! That (Expletive) got what he deserved.

This case was so important to me because I experienced first hand how terrible and unrelenting the world can be. It took two innocent little girls’ childhoods away, and has taken the lives of so many others. We questioned them later about their time on the street, and it was all too disturbing to put on here. Nothing has shaken me up as bad as this case, but I was reassured about my career choice. I resolved that I couldn’t let this happen ever again.

I’d go on, but I’m getting tired. I’ll just post this and talk more tomorrow. I just hope that going to bed this late isn’t going to disrupt my sleep patterns. Goodnight, everyone.

-Kemble

Introduction

Hello, internet. My name is Harold Kemble, and this is my personal journal (I hate the word “blog” so very much). I made this journal both on a personal whim and on a suggestion from my psychologist on a way of keeping tabs on me. I was born on October 10^th, 1985 and diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder on May 1^st, 1990. I also have an IQ of 136 and a near-photographic memory, though I do sometimes forget things, and that’s part of the reason for this blog.

I’m just going to post this before I change my mind. I will start talking more about myself and line of work tomorrow. For now, I'm busy filing reports, so I'll update tomorrow.

-Kemble