I just deliver the news

Can't see me!
Ooh, look at this!
How strange.

You're walking down the street.

It's cold and foggy outside.


you happen upon an old,


crumbling library.

It's barely a library anymore.

It's just a shadowed, empty stone box.

You duck in for a moment,

to get out of the cold

and catch your breath.

You hear someone

call out,

Who's there?

You turn and look.

It's a young boy,

coming in behind you.

He's wearing rags

and pushing a cart,

half-full of newspapers.

Why are you here?

you ask.

He tells you.

He lives in that broken-down library.

You're shocked.

You take him home with you.

You take care of him.

He grows stronger.

One day,

a couple shows up at your door.

They look very well-to-do,

but are sad,


They ask if you've seen their son.

The boy comes forward.

They see him,

and they nearly tackle him

out of joy.

They take him home,

and you live happily,

-Don't Shoot the Cat-
Kisses like cocaine, hits me like a freight train
I can't tell her no


The past is filled with pain and suffering, but all is well if you have fun living.

One, two, three, four,
you won't hurt me anymore!

You're at an amusement park.

Your friend's father died recently.


and her,

and so many other friends

are there,

with you,

trying to cheer her up.

She isn't being very cooperative.

She's sniffling

and crying,

and moaning

and lying -

I feel great.

I'm okay.

I don't need anything.

But then,

then you see that one ride,

the huge,



incredibly fast ride.

You know how to cheer up your friend.

You cover their eyes,

and lead them to the entrance of the ride.

You slowly guide them into a seat.

The ride starts.

You chug away,



You reach the top

of the highest peak

on the ride.

You take your hands

off her eyes.

She looks.

She sees.

She gasps.

The sheer height,

the warmth of the sun,

the rushing wind

makes her smile

like nothing before.

When the ride is over,

she looks into your eyes.

You know that she knows -

pain doesn't go away;

pain can't be eliminated;

pain can get worse;

but you can overcome it.

You know that she knows -

pain is just weakness leaving the body.

If you can overcome that

without losing your heart

yes? no? i'm not sure anymore



His name was Lewis Jacobs Lyman.

He loved nothing more than Alice in Wonderland,

The Wizard of Oz,

The Chronicles of Narnia,

and The Lion King.

One year ago,

we met at an audition for a play.

He was funny,


and he really made me feel balanced.

It didn't take long for that to go away.

Three months after we had met,

he left.

He told me it was over,

and disappeared.

My strongest memory of him

from those days

is the smile he always wore.

The smile he would flash at passerby on the street,

the smile that immediately brightens your day.

The smile that

that haunts me in my dreams, now.

In my nightmares.

It was hard for a while,

living without him.

But I managed.

I had friends to help me through it.

He showed up at my flat the day after I saw him again.

He was prepared. He was alone,

but prepared.

I was unconscious before I realized it was the same man I had seen in the theater.

In his cruelty,

he was almost kind,



Then he gave me the notebook


I still have it.

I don't want it,

but I'm going to keep it.

In case I may need it again.

Then he gave me the notebook.

He told me to write in it.

I didn't want to.

So he took my finger.

And I wrote for all I was worth.

And then

The days after are a blur until today, I

I woke up in the small place Sir Thighpiece had rented.

He was sitting there, by the small cot,

looking as if he hadn't slept in days.

(From what he says, he hasn't slept in a long time.)

His dog, too,


she's ever so sweet.

And she gets along wonderfully with Sierra and Mab.

Speaking of whom,

they are both fine.

A neighbor watched over them while I was

while I was



I'm okay.

I'm getting better.

I'll be on my feet tomorrow, and then

then I'll be ready to smile again.

I hope.

He told me one last thing, before Sir Thighpiece showed up

He reminded me

He reminded me of the cat

Curiosity killed the cat

Satisfaction brought it back

He warned me

"Eight left,"

he said

but I'll make it through.

I have Sierra.

I have Mab.

I have my friends.

I have you,

whoever you are, reading.
This is me:
Kathleen Schrödinger.
That is me.
That's me.
no it's not
is it?
I shouldn't be typing.

And it's a bit hard with one less finger.

But I just wanted to let you know I'm alright.

Thanks to Sir Thighpiece.

Later I'll...I'll explain what I can.

Well. I'll go...
I'll go rest now.


slender man
slender man

all the children try to run


to him its

oh god



help me

oh god




i'll do any

if you just stop


ill do anything

i wont run


i saidd

i said i"ll do anything


i think he is

going to


help me

they are going to

to kill me

not now


dont killme

his name


please i

i cant run


don;t kill me

his name is


thats not him anymore

thats not his name anymore

his name is



Qui tacet consentit

One two three four -
we will walk right through that door!
Five six seven eight -
who do we appreciate?

Sierra is growing so fast.

He's much better now

than he was when I found him.

And he and Mab are so cute when they play.

I'm so glad I could help them.


at rehearsal today,

I saw a man in the audience.

I couldn't make out his face,

since he was sitting way in the back,

in the dark.

I don't think anyone else noticed him.

He didn't say anything,

he didn't wave when I did,

and by the time we were done and leaving,

he had gone.

The way he walked

seemed almost familiar.

Almost doglike.

But I only saw it for a moment,

as the tails of his coat

swished out the door.

I was so intrigued,

I checked the security footage.

He only showed up for a few seconds,

and seemed out of place.

In fact,

he seemed like he belonged in the play.

The way he moved,

it was almost as if

he wanted me to memorize what he looked like.

Well, I did.

A long tailcoat,

and pants so dark

you couldn't see the creases.

A dark bow-tie,

and a top hat,

with something tucked into the ribbon.

He even had a monocle

 and cane,

and a thickgold pocket-watch and chain.

The strangest thing about him

was that he had a cigar in his mouth,

but not lit -

he was just chewing on it.

He was a bit heavy-looking,

but mostly very athletic-looking.

Then he tipped his hat to the camera,

and disappeared.

I asked some of the other cast members

if they knew anyone like that.

Something was bugging me.

I knew him.

The way he walked,

the way he moved,

even the way he stood.

The next time I see him,

I won't wait.

I'll rush after him.

I'll remember who he is.


I'll even get an outfit like his.

It was simply fabulous.

I loved it.

This is who I am. This is what I've done. Now who wants to take on the champ?

Can't see me if I'm here!
But I'm still here!
Can't see me!
Never mind.

You're auditioning for a Broadway play.

You're last in line,

after a long assortment

of famous singers

and gorgeous actors.

The readings are first.

There's the part of Amanda,

the overworked step-mom.

There's the part of Bruce,

the imprisoned stylist.

There's even the part of Corey,

bird that makes friends with the cat trying to eat him.

Then, the singing.

They sing about how they love the theater,

they sing about how their lover deserted them.

They sing about how much worse their life is than anyone else's,

they sing about how much better it is.

A thousand songs,

all beautiful,

all wonderfully sung,

all meaningless.


it's your turn.

You trudge up the stairs,

knowing you won't get a part,

hoping beyond hope that you will.

You whisper at first.

You begin to stutter,

you stop.

You think that if you say one more thing,

you'll ruin your chances


But then you close your eyes,

and you sing.

You sing,

you sing the most amazing song any of the people in that room

had ever heard.

You belt it out as if you couldn't hold it in anymore,

and even as you take a peek at your captive audience,

you grin,

because it's your song,

something you wrote,

something you composed.

When you finish,

some of the other actors


They boo.

They ask you who you think you are

to come and upstage them like that.

You ignore them almost the whole way out the door,

when you turn,

you shout back,

I'm the champ.

The next day,

you get a call

from the casting director.



Seven for a secret, not to be told.

It used to be that left was left
but now blue is orange.

The Fourth of July.

Fireworks sizzle and explode,

and the festivities are so full of energy

it's as if the world itself is smiling.

You are with your parents.

They seem very nervous.

You can't tell what's wrong.

It's as if they're hiding something,

but you couldn't think what or why.

You sleep on it,

you wake on it,

you can't get it out of your mind.

Then, they hit you with it:

a present.

Not a material thing -

a kitten.

A little cat, for you to love

and take care of

and to be your friend.

You shriek,

you scream,

you cry,

and you hug them to no end.

But even as you're brushing the kitten,

late at night,

in your bed,

you're worried.

You don't know -

should you tell them your secret



We're all trapped in a maze of relationships. Life goes on with or without you.

Nothing can EVER stop me,
not if I'm over here!

You beg,

you plead,

you try,

but they still say no.

You whine,

you cry,

you scream,

but they still say no.

You don't understand.

You loved them.

You loved them to the ends of the Earth,

and yet they didn't love you.

It doesn't take long

before they're gone.

You're left all alone.

You spiral downwards.

You try everything to get them back,

and when nothing works,

you try everything to forget them.

You binge,

you splurge,

you go on vacation,

you get three other jobs,

but nothing gets them out of your head.


One day, you get a call.

You can't tell who it's from,

you can't tell why anyone would be calling you,

but it asks you to be somewhere,

to meet someone,

so you go

because you have nothing better to do.

You get there,

and there is your friend,

your long-time friend,

waiting for you

with flowers and ice cream and all your favorite things.

You squeal, you grin,

you tackle them in a hug.

They know just how to make you feel better.

And when all is said and done,

you realize you couldn't have loved them.

You couldn't have loved them,

because they never loved you.

You couldn't have loved them,

because when you give love,

you get love.

If they didn't give


I find myself about to peer into an abyss... Will it stare back when I examine it?

Can they see me over here?
They can if I go
back over here!

You're in a hospital.

Your grandmother is dying.

She has cancer or heart disease or some other horrible thing -

but you're young. All you know is she's dying.

You stay by her side,

day and night,

rain and shine,

hunger and sleep.

You never leave,

always hoping,

always praying,

that she'll get better.

The doctors tell you that you have to leave.

Your parents tell you that you have to move on.

Your teachers tell you that you have to come back to school.

With a great deal of crying,

you go,

knowing she has no chance,

hating yourself for not being there.

After watching her suffer for so long,

you suffer.

It's almost as if you had traded places.

Now you feel as bad as she does,

you're in as much pain,

you feel as helpless as she must.

Weeks pass.

Weeks turn into months.

Maybe months even turn into years.

Then, one day,

when you're least expecting it,

you get the news:

Signing off. (Comfort)


I'm outside your window looking in at the pretty light in your eyes.

Can't see me.
Can't catch me.
Can't get me.
Can't hurt me.

It's a cold,

snowy winter night.

You're sitting inside your house,

sipping hot chocolate,

eating marshmallows,

smiling and having fun by the fire.

You giggle and grin

you shuffle and snicker.

You're having a great time.

Then, you hear a scratching noise at the window.

Something's there.

For a moment, you're afraid

but then you get up and walk towards the window.

There, staring in at you,

is a half-frozen kitten.

You can't help but clutch your heart

and stifle your tears.

You hurriedly open the window and pull in the kitten.

You feed it and wash it and heal it and warm it.

Most of all, you love it.

After some time, you realize

that this is the neighbor's cat,

the neighbor who treated it so badly.

You decide not to send it back home,

but you know you can't keep it.

You take the kitten to a friend,

a good friend,

someone you know will love it as much as you did.

And when it's all grown up,

the cat recognizes you.

It knows you saved it,

and it thanks you,


and you smile and cuddle it.

You're still sad you couldn't keep it,

but you're glad that it grew up

Forever will come someday.


"Forget the reasons why it won't work, and believe the one reason why it will"


It's the science fair,

and you've done an experiment

to see if leaves

can be used as a source of power.

Your teacher cheers you on

with the quietest of cheers.

Your friends laugh and make fun,

your parents wonder if you're crazy.

You persist.

You get all the leaves you can get,

all kinds,

all sizes and shapes,

all colors and weights.

Nobody thinks it's going to work

nobody but you.

The day of the fair approaches.

You set up your display

and await the judges.

As soon as they come,

you flip the switch

and the bulb turns on.

A gasp -

a faint -

a scream -

a shock -

first prize!

You're so glad

that you did it

that you don't even realize

someone hid a battery

Stay safe, everyone.