Slenderman Novels & Stories

Infamous Aleksander Konstantinov is a prominent executive with an unblemished reputation, a flawless image, and a life anyone would envy. Pragmatic by day, he projects the persona of a proper, upstanding gentleman—the quintessential prince charming women dream of in fairy tales. In reality, he is insidious. When the moon rises, a twisted, frivolous, and dangerous man emerges. Under the cover of night, his dark side and most vicious desires seize his relentless, obsidian soul, unleashing every demon within him.

*RIP* Using nothing but his senses, Mane identified the presence of the Slender Cat behind him. He locked on to the creature whose agility was already troubling him and kept it in his radar. Then curled his right elbow, with his spike pointing outwards and dove into the Slender Cat. In doing all this, Mane hadn’t turned to face the Slender Cat even once!

I was determined to ignore every ounce of attraction that wanted to exist between us—wanted, because I wasn’t ready to accept that it truly existed yet. I signed the contract where necessary, feeling some sort of doom come over me. I felt like I had just made a deal with the devil, which I probably had. I handed the pen over to Mr. Coleman and he signed as well, then he looked up at me with a devilish glint in his eyes. I didn’t know what to make of that look, but I found myself strangely bound by it. “It’s done?” I asked, before the infuriating man could say anything.

One of the soldiers outside let out a cry that was cut short by a wet, tearing noise. "They are here," Zayn whispered, his face turning pale. "The first wave. But these aren't vampires." I walked to the window, my hands beginning to glow with that bright red light. Through the mist, I saw shapes moving. They were tall, thin, and had too many limbs. They looked like skeletons wrapped in rotting skin. "Shadow Stalkers," Zayn growled, stepping beside me and shifting his arm into a massive, scaled limb. "These must be demons that serve Dracula to stay in this world. i have read about them in the myths."

A chill raced down his spine. The soft sunlight slipped through a half-closed window, catching the cold gleam of the man they called Italy’s nightmare—Alastor Merikh Drystan. The Sovereign. The number one killer. Only thirty, yet feared like a god. At twelve, he was already drawn to business—and blood. Passion lived in both. Drenched in shadows, Drystan reclined on a chair, legs crossed, a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curled upward, but his eyes stayed fixed elsewhere—burning with calm, deadly intent.

I took the laptop up to my room and closed the door behind me. I accessed my email and opened the John Gold file again. He was five foot ten inches, with light brown hair. He was short for a man and his personality showed his affliction. He had short man syndrome. He wasn’t in terrible shape but he could be in better shape. He was filthy rich, exclamation on the filthy part and the surprising factor, I was friends with his son, Robert Gold.

Cold, like it had more energy to show, to consume, to throw at us. I stood, slowly, eyes locked on the pale fog slithering toward Lysandra’s bed. Delilah didn’t move, frozen. Just watched in silence. I glared at it. Both our hearts raced, but neither one of us said a word. I knew that if we called for anyone to help, it could end up getting them hurt. A shape emerged. A woman. Not solid. Not entirely spirit. She stood, her arms crossed over her chest for a moment as she stared about.

I questioned Foster, sweeping my gaze over to him. He looks over at me and with a sigh, answered. "The blonde one, with red streaks in his hair is Lester. Kinda a goth, kinda weirdly always quiet. The one with brown long hair is Damon. That one is literally a man whore and usually causes trouble around here. The guy they were beating up, his name is Casper. They usually always have an issue with him. And the one who literally screams danger with inky black shaggy hair is Raiden. That one, he's literally the God of the school. Everyone literally worship the ground he walks on. Can you blame them though? Guy is a walking super model." My nose twitched. "But seems like a huge bully. All three o

Jael smirked as she said mischievously. Lucia glared at her, abashed. She also wanted to know why Leon was there but didn’t come into their room. As they continued eating, the private room door was pushed open from outside again. Thinking that it was the waiter was there again to deliver something else, they all looked at the door casually. But soon they were all stunned, as it wasn’t the waiter that came, but a young man with a built of about 1.8 meters in height. He had a firm jaw, a high nose bridge. Although he looked handsome and flirtatious at a glance, he exuded a natural aura that made people distance themselves from him. Especially his eyes that looked dark and bright like an eagles

I say succinctly and dawning lights his eyes. “I knew I liked you. You’re a psychopath whisperer, aren’t you?” “I wouldn’t say that,” I grumble. “Handle me please,” he rasps breathlessly. Oh, fuck, fuckity, of all fucking fucks! I groan inwardly. This guy is going to get me and him killed by Ransom. Boundaries need to be made quickly. “You did not just ask someone else to ‘handle’ you, Camden Harlan McCoy,” Slater Zen asks Camden in Spanish. He slams his palms down on the table hard enough to make it rattle.