Challenge #00340: Send Me an Angel

(parte deux)

There are two main Slenderman mythos’ on the internet, both spawned from the same sets of images and data, and later the games.

The Second is a monster that hides in the shadows, a silent watcher and protector. He likes the children, they can see him sometimes, and he will keep them safe. His punishment may be swift or slow, sometimes deadly and always utterly terrifying. If an adult can see him, it is already too late no matter how far they run. They have already committed their crime.

A child taken by him is one that will be glad to go, and may play with him forever, or grow into another faceless guardian.


A small child huddled in a dog house. There is a chain around her thin neck, attached to a post in the middle of the yard. The water bowl by the plastic shelter has frozen over. There are bruises over most of her body, and her knuckles are broken and bloody from cracking the ice to get a drink. She is barefoot, dressed only in a T-shirt and thin jeans.

Snow begins to fall.


Her desperate attempts to keep quiet. The shiver in her muted ululations.

Her unvoiced prayer for an angel.


The next best thing.


She hated being called Simon. Daddy had found her notebook with the E sticker on the end of her name and had gone all out. He said she deserved it. He said she was an abomination for wanting to be a girl.

She tried to explain, but the PVC pipe kept coming down on her body. Driving the devil out of her, he said.

All she tried to tell him was that she was really a girl all along.

And now she was in the yard until she stopped crying.

She remembered thinking that, if there was a kind and loving god, He would send an Angel to make everything better.

And then… the angel came.

He looked like a tall man in a dark suit. Except there was no face. Just a featureless white orb. He tried to take the chain off.

She shook her head. “Daddy says I’m a dog until I man up.”

The Angel didn’t speak. It never made a sound. But Simon got the feeling of great sadness and great anger. His clawed hands reached into his suit and bought out a golden envelope. Showed her how to open it into two magic, thin blankets that helped keep the cold out.

The razor-sharp talons never hurt her. They even took the pain away when he sucked all the bruises off her skin.

Then he turned into shadows and poured himself into the house through the crack in the basement window.


Fucking kids. He only had one goddamn son and he was the seven plagues in one skin. Wanting to be a girl. Shit.

Well, if he wanted to be another bitch, he could stay in the goddamn dog house until he learned to be a man.

Serve the little bastard right.

The lights flickered.

The shadows changed.

The TV stuttered and flicked across stations. Very rapidly.

“You/should/ne/ver/hurt/sim/own,” the TV said. “You/will/be/pun/ish/d.”

Something was behind him.

He turned and looked. A big, looming shadow. Almost, but not quite like his own.

And then came the stinging sensation just like being hit with a piece of PVC pipe. Again and again and again. He shouted. Screamed. Tried to escape.

But they kept on coming.

And the shadow turned into the image of a man. A tall, thin man in a black suit.

By then, he had no way to tell if there was a face. Involuntary tears obscured his vision. And it was not long after that, that a biting cold chewed at all of his body.

“You/sh/ood/ne/ver/hur/t/Simone,” the TV repeated again and again. “You/will/be/punish/d.”

It was all over but the cold. He crawled all the way to the heater and turned it up.

And up.

And up.

But the cold still stayed, no matter how hot he made the heater.


“Police and Chid Protection Services are conducting a full investigation following a fire in East Lompoc,” the news reported. “Neighbours were alerted by the screams of the child, who was later found chained in the backyard, with only a plastic dog house for shelter.

"The father was killed in the fire, and neighbors have stated that they attempted to report signs of abuse, but were ignored, owing to the ‘colour’ of the neighborhood.”

A clip of Nanny Arbest, who lived two doors down from where Simone used to be. “I know that poor child was in trouble. I know that man was hitting on her. Following that cursed book. Whenever I could, I’d sneak that poor little girl a hot meal. Sometimes, I’d sneak her away for a night. Let her play with my dolls, poor dear. She was so terrified… And every time I called the CPS they said they’d send an agent. And they never done nothing. Never!”

“That 'cursed book’ is the controversial parenting manual, To Raise–”


“Enough of that nonsense,” said Nanny Arbest. “You don’t need any more ugliness in your life. You hear?”

“Yes, Nanny,” Simone smiled. Smiles had come easier, since the angel came.

“I got some pretty little clips for your hair. It’s not long enough for ribbons, yet. I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay, Nanny,” Simone ran her fingers over the array of sparkly triangles on the cardboard. Lingering on the one with the beautiful yellow flower. “It’ll grow out. Daddy said it always grew too fast.”

Nanny Arbest pressed her ample lips so hard together that they made a line in her dark, kind face. Simone knew why. She didn’t like to speak ill of the dead until they were “cold in the ground” for a week.

A week from today. Then, they could speak freely about how awful Daddy had been.

Nanny got her to stand, and fussed with her dress, stockings, and coat before they stepped out to Uncle Joe’s car to go to the funeral home.

Daddy couldn’t afford to be cold in the ground. All his money was still being recovered from the charred mess of his mattress in the attic.

So he was being cremated.

Simone let herself have a secret smile at that thought. He was going to burn three times, all up.

Once in the home. Once in the funeral place…

And then forever in Hell, if there was a God.

And Simone knew there was one, because he’d sent her an Angel.

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