The Smiling Boy

Thousands of years ago, a small boy suffered daily at the hands of his adult tormentors. The boy, only small and, at the time, only eight, didn’t recognise the adults’ behaviour as mistreatment. Even so, he accepted the torment and bordering on cruel treatment form adults. Merely thinking this was how everyone was treated.

From an early age, the youngster had it drummed into him; breaking the rules, even only a minor rule, would meet harsh consequences. He did, despite this, find a strange solace in the woods around town. Despite the evident paranoia and distrust surrounding the ordinary appearing forest.

However one particular rule, in all his families rules, stood out to him. All throughout his adolescences and upbringing, the strict instruction to never go out at night, to always be asleep when bedtime came. Otherwise you’ll be a bad child, and terrible atrocities will befall you.

Naturally, as expected of a young child, he didn’t want to be bad and have things even worse than what he already received as punishments. Even as there was no offered explanation, no solidified answer nor evidence, the bit knew this was not a rule to disobey.

A few years passed. Birthdays and holidays, mishaps and good fortunes falling deeper into peoples memories rather than the present. Of course, life went on. And the boy aged with his rules. Somehow managing to maintain his childlike innocence and curious wonder about the vast world. The rules strict as ever. And the belief that any misbehaviour should be met with a firm hand.

One fateful day, the boy, still small for his age, was adventuring alone in the forest. The boys safe place, away from the constant yelling and dysfunctional home setting. Under the trees’ thick canopy, it was quite dark. Causing him not to notice the falling of the sun or the bright colours of the sky bleeding out as the monochrome greys and blacks of the starry sky took ahold. Only able to recognise the change from dusk to night via the way the owls started to call and his surroundings dropped multiples degrees.

Unfortunately for the child, all the trees appeared completely identical. Making it practically impossible to go back the direction from which he came. His panic mounting at the realisation that yes, he was lost. And no, he would not be home in time for supper and bed.

These realisations, as we all know, would not be a cause for the sheer amount of terror it induced in the boy. As our parents were much less likely to deprive us of food for weeks on end for an occurrence we had little to no control over.

He felt as though he was drowning in his own despair. So much so the youngster, failed to notice the way the trees stilled. How the wind stopped whistling through the trees and the birds and bats seemed to just, disappear without a sound. The entirety of the dark woods tensed. Thought it would’ve been imprecisely remarkable if someone could figure out if it was in fear or respect of the eldritch horror arriving near the child. Either way, the forest responded to its presence.

Without warning nor indication, an unsettling wave of calmness settled on the boys tense shoulder. At almost the same time a persons hand perched upon the child’s left shoulder. Confused and anxious, he looked up at the person.

Well, if you could call it a person. It was abnormally tall. Taller than any adult he’d seen before. Its hand was slender, pale and bony. Seemingly it had chosen to don a crisp black suit that looked much more expensive and clean than the clothes the boy donned. And it’s face, oh it’s face. Well, there wasn’t one. Not one the child could see. Instead it appeared as though someone had wrapped too many layers of cling wrap around its head.

Any idea in the boys mind had held about the man, entity, thing merely being a huntsman or a tree feller vanished. He could hear the horrors voice, but no lips moved on its featureless face. Despite this, he could hear its voice offering him things. A place to stay. Food, warmth. A cozy bed to rest upon. And best of all, in the young child’s mind, no cruel punishments for simple, tiny mistakes or bursts of forgetfulness. To him, it all seemed so good. Sounding like heaven.

So naturally, the boy agreed. Eager and innocent. Memories and thoughts and worries surrounding coming home late were shoved to the back of his mind. After all, who was he to deny, to doubt, someone that appeared as an adult? Especially given the fact it was punished into him that adults were always right. Even when they weren’t genuinely.

The boy followed the abnormally tall being. All the way through the forest. Failing to notice the eye the woods remained silence ex as if someone had hit the mute button on a remote for the entire forest. Exhaustion from the day started to bear down on the hot. Causing him to pass out and the entity to carry him the remainder of the way towards his promised sanctuary.

Even now, hundreds upon hundreds of years layer. He roams. Doing the slender man’s bidding. Residing in his home in the heart of the overgrown forest. Having met others alike himself there. The small boy had grown and earned himself a legend. A place.

So be good children. Do as you’re told. Or he will come for you. Even if your parents don’t find out. He will know. The Smiling Boy knows when you’re bad. And he won’t hesitate to lure you, with his little black bag of toys and sweets. He will look friendly. With his soft pink jacket and a mop of messy brown hair resting atop his head. You won’t think to check for the reasons behind his pitch black voids he has for eyes. Nor will you question how his smile stretches so far past his eyes.

He will drag you into the woods. Whether lured or by dragging you kicking and screaming. He won’t care. Nor will there be any Marcy awaiting you. The Slenderman will not save you as it did the Smiling Boy. Because you are not its prey nor proxy. You’re the Smiling Boys child now. And you will join his collection of mangled, decaying children.

After all, he got punished for misbehaviour.

Why shouldn’t you?