The Lily Lysander: The Star Crossed Survivor

Some Music to Set the Mood

Having recovered from the ghastly incident with Mr. Covelli, and finding myself with a little time on my hands to write, the interviews are all set to continue. Todays subject is the dear Miss/Mister Lily Lysander, who I am told I am allowed to refer to as she throughout the duration of this article.

For those of you who don't know Lily, her story is a strange and sad tale of Hope, Endurance, and above all Love. And don't turn up your noses at the corniness of my prose, because everyone can use a little corn in the diet.

Lily was born and raised in Virginia by her father, who has constantly been appraised as her most adored role model over the years. Her father, a local police officer, raised her single handedly, a feat that is simple for no single parent, a police officer aside. We all know long hours are common there. "He always stood by me and taught me how to be a good person," she says in the interview. Even upon learning of his daughters identity as gender-fluid, this father continued to support and love her, something not all parents are known for. Unfortunately, a phrase you'll be hearing a lot in this article, Lily's father was killed while on duty, the event that became the catalyst for her situation now. After her father's untimely death, Lily was thrust into a financially difficult situation. She was forced out of her home, and onto the streets, which is where she met Sam.

Over the course of two years, the two of them shared a friendship that evolved overtime into a romance. However, unbeknownst to Lily, Sam was being stalked by a certain tall and slender gentleman we all know, and like most love stories involving killer monsters, the two were hopelessly star-crossed. Just as Lily was beginning to suspect Sam was hiding something, the poor lad met an untimely end, opening the gate for The Slender Man to now come after her.

It was at this point Lily began her blog In Memorium, which can be found here, not yet aware of her place inside of this horrendous mystery, but instead recording her relationship with Sam, and dedicating her blog to his memory.

Lily is a tender hearted person, sentimental and loving in many respects. That's not to say she isn't fiercely independent and strong willed, for as many can see she has been relentless in her endeavors stopping at nothing to help those nearest to her. Some would say this strong-will could be a mark of ill-judgement at times, seeing as she has made some dangerous mistakes, such as pursuing a false lead that Sam may have still been alive, but it is rare to find one who follows the heart as opposed to the mind, and such people are often times more insightful to the true priorities of the world. Lily may very well be one of the few runners this reporter has encountered, who values her humanity more than her own life, which is a very valiant and admirable trait indeed.

Currently Lily is still homeless and traveling with her adopted daughter Nina, whom she discovered not long ago. She claims her troubles with the Slender Man are over and done with, though how she is certain I do not know. Her main focus now lies in providing for her new daughter, who has recently been suffering from an illness. When questioning whether or not Lily found herself truly capable of caring for a child in her financial state, while also being unable to take Nina to a hospital, as well of the threat of Slenderman, Lily assured me that she was able to care for her. She has suspicions Lily is a victim of abuse, and would like to protect her from society. Another example of her loving and protective nature.

To read all of Lily's blog entries please click the link above.

In a side note I would like to add that in regards to the claim that Angelo Covelli made, that me an my companions are trapped in the empty city. Nothing is for certain yet, so please do not encourage us to sip the Koolaid yet, (Phil.) We will see this thing through before we make any decision and hope for the best. Perhaps even if this is the Empty City, there is still a way to escape. You don't know until you've tried, and that is what we intend to do.

This is Johnny Marconi saying sleep tight Runners of the world.

Stay hopeful and strong!

Nasty Ol' Angelo Covelli

Sorry I've been out of the limelight. All of us here in the labyrinth had a rough run in with another runner. A real piece of work this one! Worse than Tommy! Maybe even worse than Kelly (an internet proxy I've become acquainted with who I'm sure enjoys smirking smugly.)

This ol' fellow was just plain nasty.

The gang and I were holed up in one of the many nooks. Our environments tend to have a good amount of variance, and this particular day we were wandering around these empty ballrooms the size of The Versailles!

Oliver was the one who spotted him first.

OM: Shh...Tony do you see that?

TS: It's so dark! We need light in here!

JM: Shut up imbecile! Can't you see the lady is trying to talk!

TF: Both of you shut up!

Mr. Fetzer like the gentleman he is rapped us both across the back of the heads like school boys.

OM: Quiet! What do you think that is over there in that room?

TF: ...Looks like a person.

Theo began crying.

OM: Shh...No, Theo don't cry, I'm sure he isn't anybody. Shh...Here it's alright.

JM: My with all this ruckus I doubt he isn't aware we're here! You all wouldn't of lasted a second hunting in the great wilderness.

TF: Shut up you little shit!

OM: Here, Tony take Theo...I'm going to go in and see what's up.

JM: What! We can't just let you go in there without protection!

TS: Not without some light! Dark things in there.

JM: Yes! Listen to the blabbering idiot! He's talking sense for once! You all only listen when he's spewing schlock!

TF: Pipe down wouldja!

OM: Tony, if something goes wrong, take the west path and head South. That should lead you back to fountains.

I'll elaborate here that the fountains McMasters is mentioning is a large underground cavern with fountains where'd we'd been hiding for the last week.

TF: Be careful.

She nodded to us before sliding out and approaching the figure. In hindsight we probably could've been a bit sneakier as Theo was crying still and Tommy was fidgeting with some doohickey or other. We waited with our breaths bated for minutes, hours it seemed, before she called for us.

OM: It's okay you guys, come on out. Tommy I need you to help me.

We all emerged, coming into the room to find a man, battered and bloody, chained to a wall. He was looking at us with these icy blue eyes, the likes of which I have never seen in my life. He had a disquieting grin on his face. Oliver was trying to loosen his chains.

OM: Tommy, can you help me get him loose?

TS: Oliver it's dark, too dark for light.

AC: Those chains aren't coming loose sweetheart, I already told you.

He had a thick Jersey accent, and he was looking us all over.

AC: Ain't often I get visitors.

OM: How long have you been down here?

AC: Who can say? I know it wasn't this cold when they screwed me in place.

OM: What do you mean cold?

AC: Can't feel it? No I suppose not. You're sitting in the mouth of hell sweetheart. That's the irony see, everybody says shit like hell is never gonna freeze over, but they don't realize it's an eternity of being chained to a fucking iceberg and freezing your fucking buns off.

OM: Y-you're cold?

AC: Freezing sweetheart. You're all about to be freezing.

As he said it we could all feel it. The shiver running up our spines and the room dropping a few degrees. I assume this was his way of telling us he'd been here for a long time.

TF: Tommy wait, don't saw him out just yet. Oliver this guy seems like a kook.

AC: You have no idea buddy.

OM: We can't just leave him here!

AC: Yeah, why don't we cuff you up too sweetheart. I wouldn't mind being chained up with you.

TF: You shut up!

AC: Touchy I see? Well that'll pass in time. You stop caring eventually.

OM: How did you get down here?

AC: Same way you did I suspect. Found out a little bit too much too soon, and needed to be put away.

OM: Are you a proxy?

AC: I'm not on the side of the people who put me down here if that's what you're asking.

JM: Yes, but you certainly don't seem to be saying you're on our side either.

AC: ...Hey don't I know you?

JM: Me? Sorry pal I think you must have me confused with somebody else. My name is Johnn-

AC: Little Johnny from the projects. I remember you. You were the little shit that spent all his time running his mouth about what a big shot you were. I thought someone would've thrown you off the Brooklyn Bridge by now, looks like I was right.

OM: You know each other?

JM: I've never met him in my life.

AC: Sure you have. I'm Angelo Covelli, remember? You used to hang around my back porch day and night.

JM: I don't know who you think I am, but you and I have never-

AC: Fine, whatever Johnny. Not like your damn reputation even matters down here. But let a sleeping dog lie I s'pose.

OM: Look, do you know any way out of here?

AC: There isn't a way out sweetheart. We're all smack dab in the thick of it, now.

TR: What do you mean?

AC: You kids ever hear of the Empty City?

OM: No...No that can't be where we are!

TF: That isn't possible. We've never even seen a city!

AC: That's cute flathead, real astute observation.

TF: You don't know if that's where we are! For all we know you're just some sick mind-game someone hung up.

AC: Don't call me a fuckin pawn. You think I like hanging here all alone in this hell hole?

TS: Oliver...Light...We need light...

OM: Tom hush up for a second.

AC: There is no way out. You'll all die down here, this is the hell you've been allotted and I suggest you get used to it.

TR: No. I can't, Mom she needs me!

AC: Hey sweetie look on the bright side. Without you she probably won't get axed in the night. She's probably safer without you anyway.

Theo again started crying loudly.

TF: You shut the hell up, creep. I don't care how long you've been hanging there! You don't know shit about any of this. The exit could be just a few halls down.

AC: Well do send me a postcard when you find it.

OM: Well at least we're trying to be optimistic.

AC: Optimistic!? Ha! Oh honey you don't know what you've sunken into. You're all doomed, and with all that fucking optimism I can tell you you're gonna get a lot worse than chained to a wall. You think you're the first shits to pass by here. You think they all just found the exit a few halls down? You think-

TS: Light!

At this point, Tommy in a strange show of genius, managed to ignite a match.

TS: Light! Light!

TF: What the- What the hell are you doing Tom?

AC: Hey keep that thing the hell away from me!

Shocking all of us, Tommy did just the opposite and lit Angelo on fire.

I suppose it makes a little sense looking back on it. He did say he was freezing after all.

It was horrible though. We all ran out of there as quickly as we could so Theo wouldn't have to listen to the screaming, but I caught a glimpse of him and the man was melting! Melting of all things! Like one of the bad effects from an Indiana Jones movie.

AC: YOU FUCKERS! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER OFF! JUST YOU FUCKING WAIT.

We were all considerably shaken after that encounter. Tony especially since he kept kicking walls, and then cleaning up the scuff marks. It's queer seeing him so stirred up. It seems we have all made a silent vow not to discuss it ever again.

Angelo Covelli was certainly tragic and deranged. I still don't know how he seemed to know me since as I mentioned, I had never met him before now. I suppose he was simply crazy.

It is concerning though what he said about the Empty City. If such is the case, it may be the case indeed that there is no mistake, and this nightmarish labyrinth is only the beginning. I do hope he is wrong.

I'll be continuing the interviews in no time at all. Just needed some time to breathe after that.

This is Johnny Marconi signing off.

Stay alive, and stay strong!

Madame Med: The Scientist, The Experimenter, The Girl.

(Music! What a lovely idea. In honor of our subject today: Link)

Who better to start these strange biographies, than the lovely quick wit, Miss Med.

Making her internet debut in early February of this year, Miss Med has gained quite a following, and who can honestly be surprised? This young and feisty newcomer to the Slenderverse appeared with fresh new ideas and a faint trail of hope in her wake. She won us over with her sunny and "can-do" demeanor, as well as some top notch ideas for getting under a certain someone's slendery skin. Some called her a genius for her plans to study the Slenderman, others called her a suicidal daredevil for attempting them. But who truly is the woman behind the blog? I took some time out of my schedule to find out.

Miss Med, who refrained from sharing her real name in this interview, was an average chid growing up in New Zealand in the tiny town of Manapouri. She was rather smart from the beginning, always conducting her own experiments, and creating mischief with her cousin whom she has mentioned in her own blog. She remembers having encountered the Slender Man around the age of 8, but says he did not impact her life until later when she came across him again almost 8 years later, a month before he debut on the blogosphere. However, did Med drop into a dark and depressing pit of self-pity upon encountering this monstrous entity. Don't be ridiculous! Not this young lady. Med, like a true scientist, was ready to have a look see at just what this Slenderman was all about. Experimenting with operator signs, azoth, proxies, and even managing to build a contraption to detain the Slenderman have all been some of her various achievements, as well as being awarded a "sage" title, albeit mockingly, by a Proxy named Fracture. Truly this young lady has been working her way up in the ranks, though that's not to say though that the road has all been sunshine and lollipops.

Med is notorious for being a bit of a daredevil, taking risks that some would argue are "unnecessary." Some of these risks have lead to some rather harsh turns, one in particular that gave a whole knew meaning to the old idiom "an eye for an eye."

The biggest question on everyone's mind, however, seems to be a question of what this young lady has been hiding. Several times now Med has succumbed to an angry state a few proxies have deemed "feral." In the midst of physical battles she has been known to go rather wild, fighting back in an almost animalistic sort of way. It's been a concern for many of her followers, who have worries this state may lead to darker turns. Med however, chooses not to fret, claiming her angry fits have been a part of her personality since childhood. "I'm kind of of the opinion that anyone who puts me in enough pain to get into that state deserves what they get," says Med when asked about it. "I can assure you that I'm not [a proxy]. Am I likely to go on a murdering spree?...No, no I'm not."

Whatever you may make of her, a plucky scientist, or a time bomb, Med has truly stirred up the slender-world, reviving the age of fighters while adding her own positive spin on it, sometimes giving us the strange sensation that fighting the Slenderman could be, of all things, fun?

She's been a hopeful light in this dark hole, and this reporter can only say he cannot wait to hear more of her adventures.

To read about Miss Med's current endeavors just press this handy link.

This is Johnny Marconi signing off.

Stay strong! And stay safe!

Newsflash: Odd Occurrences Last Night

Late last night we had a strange occurrence. I should probably explain to you a little more the scenario me and my compadres have been in over the last month or so.

The loop we are caught in, is a strange labyrinth. Going on for miles, with no end in sight. It passes through many environments, an old manner, a dungeon, and a garden maze are just a few of the ones I've seen. Late last night however we were wandering through a dark part with stone walls, when we came upon a group of hooded figures proceeding down the hall in a straight formation.

After they had passed, Miss Oliver had the ingenious decision to follow behind them, in the even they happened to be approaching an exit. We trailed them for hours, but they never did turn around. We lost them after a while. Their appearance has made Fetzer even more edgy than usual. He seems afraid that we shall all be attacked. I do not worry about such things though. We haven't been attacked yet, although I should probably go find some wood to knock on after having typed them.

This is Johnny Marconi, signing off. Good night inhabitants of the Slenderverse, and stay strong!

Mr. Tony Fetzer: The Man Behind The Man

So as most of you correctly assumed, acquiring an interview with Mr. Tony Fetzer prover to be increasingly difficult.

However you didn't think I'd leave you hanging did you? Of course I wouldn't!

Using my reporter wits, I managed to persuade this real grump of a man, to relent and step off his stone wall of cold stubbornness.

JM: I'll let you use my computer time for three days.

TF: Deal. You have sixty goddamn seconds.

JM: How did you get down here Tony?

TF: I bumped my head on a tree and fell down a rabbit hole.

JM: Really?

TF: No not really you dumbass!

JM: Goodness, no need for language sir. Now let me see...

TF: Thirty seconds.

JM: Oh come now, be reasonable Tony!

TF: Fifteen seconds.

JM: Care to talk about your experiences at all down here.

TF:  No. I don't. Time's up.

JM: That was a low move Fetzer! Why should I give you my computer time for a cruddy interview like that?

TF: That is not my problem.

JM: Don't you want anyone to know what happened to you?

TF: No, you know why? Because I'm not dying down here in this hell hole you damn tragedian. Besides, even if I did want a story recorded I wouldn't want it to be your screwy version.

JM: Please Tony. Just one more question.

TF: No.

JM: Please!

TF: Fine. One question.

JM: And you have to answer upfront.

TF: Fine.

JM: Care to explain the tidying?

TF: I'm not answering that question.

JM: But you said

TF: No. Ask something else, or no question at all.

JM: Alright...How do you feel about Ms. McMasters?

TF: ...This interview is over.

JM: Hey! Hey! Tony give me back the recorder!

As you can see he certainly is an obstinate individual. I couldn't get one straight question out of the guy. He certainly is an odd fellow. Spends most of his time moping about, dusting the old floorboards of this maze. Quite an odd ol' boy indeed. Completely oblivious to reality if you ask me.

Anywho, that concludes the interview of my companions down here, hopefully they'll open up a bit more as time goes on. After all we have just met.

Now however, the time has come to expand my horizons! To record not just the story of my friends, but also all of you.

Wish me luck, and keep strong!

Theo Russle: The Smashed Window of Innocence

Since Fetzer continues his campaign as a world class stubborn mule, today I will be talking about the young Ms. Theo Russle. A poor soul indeed. Barely a night goes by she doesn't rouse us with hysterics. Ms. Russle is only about seventeen years of age, and the poor girl has a resolve of toothpicks. Sad teary blue eyes and hiding behind a sheet of blonde hair, closed in on herself in various corners at times, one can only wonder what she things about.

JM: So Theo, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?

TR: ...

JM: Come on now, don't be shy.

TR: ...

JM: We'll start simple. Why don't you tell me where you're from.

TR: [muffled mumbling.]

JM: What was that?

TR: ...Michigan...

JM: Really now? From the great lake state? It gets pretty cold up there doesn't it?

TR: ...

JM: Tell me, how did you come to be trapped down here?

TR: ...I...I was just...I don't know what happened...

JM: What do you mean, dearie?

TR: She was sick.

JM: Who was sick?

TR: ...

JM: Oh come now, don't cry. Everything is fine, just keep going.

TR: My mom...my mom was sick...and I was at the hospital with her...and I hate hospitals. I've always hated hospitals.

JM: Go on.

TR: Look...I don't, I can't talk about this. Not to you, not to anyone.

JM: That's alright, that's alright. I completely understand. I'm not here to push you. Would you prefer to talk about something else?

TR: ...Yeah...sure...

JM: How long have you been here?

TR: ...three months...three months since...yeah.

JM: Since the incident at the hospital.

TR: ...

JM: Hey now, every thing's fine. There's no need to cry.

TR: I'm sorry, I'm not trying to cry...I just...

JM: Shh...hey quiet down now.

TR: Oh God...Oh God...

JM: Hey...hey you're alright.

OM: Leave her alone Johnny!

It was at this point poor Theo dissolved into hysterics. I know it may seem as though I provoked her but you must understand this is a usual occurrence for the poor girl. Oliver once offered her a blanket in case she was cold, and the girl just began screaming, something that can be difficult when everyone is kept together in a confined space most of the time. She's touchy, but hopefully she'll come around soon.

Next time I will broadcast the great story of Tony Fetzer! Because dammit he's the last and he won't get away.

Wish me luck and keep strong!

Tommy Swan: A Self-Made Mad Man

As I told you all yesterday, today's post was supposed to be about Mr. Tony Fetzer. Unfortunately there's been a little delay in that department. Attempts to interview him turned out a little less than satisfactory but never fear! I'm sure the ol' grouch will come around sooner or later.

In the mean time let's take a look at my dearest and most tragic friend, Mr. Tommy Swan.

A disheveled and odd gentleman at the least. A desperate psychotic at the worst. Mr. Swan appears to be about twenty to thirty years of age. His hair is a proverbial rat's nest and his once prim suit appears to have been torn to bits. The man spends most of his time wandering about in circles muttering gibberish only his twisted and tangled mind can understand. I sat down with Tommy in order to have a small conversation.

JM: Alright Tommy! We'll take it nice and slow. What can you tell us about yourself?

TS: I was born of light, and made the shadows.

JM: That was beautiful Tommy, but vague as well. Please be specific.

TS: There can't be shadows without light, I don't know much about much but the light makes the shadows. This place is full of shadows, and I must be the light.

A tragic case indeed. His eyes glance from wall to wall, trapped in the eternal maze of his own insanity as well as the physical maze as well.

JM: Did you have a family.

TS: My mother was nothingness, birthed from chaos, and I am light.

JM: You poor sad fellow.

TS: From nothing came chaos, from chaos came the light, from the light came the shadows, from the shadows came fear, from the fear came courage, and from the courage came knowledge, and from knowledge came evil.

JM: What you would say if you simply understood.

His eyes glance towards my tape recorder and he makes a grab for it.

JM: No I'm afraid this is mine.

TS: The mechanism! The clockwork! The hearth in the storm!

JM: This is about perserving a story my dear fellow, it isn't for your hearth.

TS: Those who dance with their tongues deserve to have them cut off.

JM: Oh if only you made any sense.

TF: I thought I told you to cut it out you little piece of shit!

Unfortunately at that point my interview was cut short by Mr. Fetzer, a world class opposer of the literary arts. I suppose you can see the gist of it though, the madness of a poor Mr. Swan.

No one can say how he came to be this way, but through any unfortunate number of events, it's a wonder is he'll ever return to coherency.

Stay tuned for the next interview.

Until then, keep strong!