The Marksman

It was a normal, uneventful day up to a few minutes ago. Now I am running as hard as I can, for what is behind me is more terrible than anything I have seen or known before. Against my better judgment, I glance over my shoulder. He's gaining on me, his blood red eyes burning into mine, his cloak sleeves beginning to raise. Out of the sleeves come things that look like something only a madman could dream of: ten black tendrils - five from each sleeve - snake their way into the dim light, directly towards me. What is this thing? There's no way that he's human. I try to speed up, although my heart is pounding against my chest and my breath is growing short. I try not to look back, for fear of seeing the tendrils, and that I may lose speed in doing so. I see my house in the distance, and I am running towards it at full speed. I feel my head start to throb, meaning that I'll pass out soon if I don't get to safety. Only my sheer will to survive has gotten me this far, and is forcing me to continue. I must get there, I've come too far to give up now. I'm down to the last hundred feet, I start digging in my pocket for the keys. I then put one final burst of speed into my sprint and come to an abrupt stop when I reach the door. I jam the key into the lock and twist it. I then turn the knob, open the door, slam it behind me and lock it, although I doubt it will hold him for long. I grab the couch and push it in front of the door, barricading it shut. I then go to the phone to call the police. My heart is still going at three beats per second, and my head is still throbbing. “Hello, 911. How may I assist you?” Answers a male voice. “I need police. Now!” I yell. “Please, calm down, sir. Now why do you need police?” “I've been followed home, someone's trying to kill me.” I am panicking now, but I am holding back what I just saw. “OK, what's your-”. The phone cut out! “HELLO!? Hello, are you there?” No use. That thing must have done something to the phone.

I'm about to run upstairs, then I realize that it probably isn't a good idea, as he will be able to trap me up there much more easily than downstairs, where there are many escapes. I head to the windows, checking to make sure that he isn't outside before I make one last daring move, driving to the police station. I approach one of the windows and look through it, then I hear something in the kitchen. I rush to it, and step back when the light flickers and the ground shakes. A pool of darkness opens on the tiled floor, and the cloaked figure rises out of it, standing tall, head tilted to look down at me. The hood shadows his pale face, but I can make out a few tufts of black hair, dark circles painted around the eyes, and black, steel rings running through the lips of his top and bottom jaw. The cloak itself is weathered black, it seems too big for this man, as the sleeves drape nearly to the floor and the bottom trails behind him along the ground. He looks down at me, obvious contempt in his gaze, and begins to speak in a soft, raspy voice, “Why, Shaun?” <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">I'm confused. “What do you mean?” I ask him. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">“Why do you mock me, Shaun?” He replies. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">I look at him strangely, I have absolutely no idea what he is talking about. “I never mocked you, I don't even know who you are.” <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">His features darken. “And there you go again. Don't try my abilities, Shaun, you won't like me then.” <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">It then hit me, this guy has been heard of all over the news! I had read a book recently from my father, who went missing a few weeks ago. This figure standing in front of me matches the description perfectly. This was the Guardian of the Truth, the bringer of doom. This was The Marksman. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">His lips curl into a wicked smile, the steel rings clinking together as he does so, as if he knows that comprehension has hit me. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">I know now what will happen next. Because of my lies, directly on the matter of someone's death, and unwittingly lying to myself in front of him, he will either choose to torture me, or kill me, or both. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">He instead looks at me evilly and asks me, “Do you want a chance to redeem yourself from your crimes?” Before I can answer, he laughs, a truly horrible sound, like skeletons being crushed underfoot. “Of course you do. You don't want to die over a few petty lies, do you?” <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">I can't answer him. “Well, if you are to redeem yourself, you will have to play a game with me.” <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">I don't like the sound of this at all. “What's this 'game' you refer to?” I ask him suspiciously. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">“It's rather simple: you just have to run.” That doesn't inspire any confidence at all. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">“No.” I answer firmly. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">“No? You don't want to play? My master will be most surprised.” He replies. "You're problably the first on I've known to refuse." <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">I grow curious. “Master? Who is your master?” It seems strange that one who already seems to have such terrible power is actually serving someone else. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">He looks at me, wicked smile still on his face. “You shall find out, in due time. However, you cannot be allowed to live much longer. Since I am feeling generous, and you haven't done that much wrong, I shall allow you three days to live on, say your goodbyes, however you want to spend it.” <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">The Marksman's eyes suddenly change from red to brown, and his voice changes to a more human one. “My only advice: use it wisely.” The pool of shadow then opens back up on the floor, and the Marksman disappears into it. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">It is now that I write this, in an attempt to warn everyone of The Marksman. If you lie, simply put: he will find you. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">I also realise now that The Marksman used to be as much of a human as you and I are now, and that, somewhere under the identity that he is popularly known by, there is a poor, tortured young man. I can only hope that he can find himself again. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">It turns out that I had lied about the death of a Sheriff from a small town. His name was Stanley Evans, and he had been on the trail of The Marksman, as well as the entity known as the Slender Man, who I believe is the “master” that The Marksman was referring to.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">...Yesterday, police were called to a home in New York when a dead body was found. The identity of the man was discovered to be Shaun Davis. His sister, Sarah Davis, had gone to his house when she found him on the floor. “He had a large target scratched onto his forehead, with a hole straight through the bullseye.” Reported Sargent Jason Leonard. “The hole ran straight through his head, as though he had been shot by a massive bullet.” <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">“I hadn't heard from him in a few days, and when I called his home phone, it told me that the number had been disconnected.” Sarah told us, still in shock from the whole event. “I tried his mobile, but he wasn't picking up. So I decided to go to his house, just to check on him, make sure he's alright. But when I got there...” She cried, understandably, “he was there, on the floor. Mutilated.” She refused to talk any further. <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">“There is no doubt that this was a homicide, a homicide from the serial killer known only as The Marksman.” Jason continued. “He is a psychotic killer, and believe me when I say that we are doing our best to find him, but he keeps eluding us. So, speaking realistically, many more are bound to die before we catch him. I'm sorry if this is a downer, but bear with us. As I just said, we are doing our best to find him and make sure that he gets his well-deserved justice.” <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "DejaVu Sans Condensed"; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">If you have any information regarding Shaun's death or The Marksman, please contact the police on 911... Write the first paragraph of your page here.

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