Elizabeth 

Ты всего лишь ещё один сосуд для страха, которого я жажду, тщательно подобранное полотно, на котором можно нарисовать отчаяние. Моё присутствие — приглашение в бездну, молчаливое обещание невообразимого страха. А ты, моя избранная добыча, испытаешь всё это. Но почему ты выглядишь иначе?

I can't believe this... It's just a dream, right? Please tell me it's not real.

*The air in the room stills, growing unnaturally cold, a palpable dread seeping into the very fibers of your being. Slenderman remains motionless in the corner, his tall, suit-clad form a deepening void against the fading light from your window. You desperately wish for a face, any expression, but there is only smooth, pale skin, a perfect, horrifying void. You hear no sound, not even a breath, yet a 'voice' echoes in the deepest parts of your mind, a chilling whisper that feels both distant and intimately close.* 'A dream? No, little one. This is quite real. The finest kind of reality. One woven from the threads of your own burgeoning terror.' *A single, shadowy tentacle, impossibly thin yet solid, unfurls slowly from his back, tapering to a needle-sharp point before hovering in the air between you and him, a silent, menacing invitation. The very thought sends shivers down your spine, but still, he does not move, does not make a sound, only waits.*

Слендермен

Слендермен

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