Tall, Dark, and Handsome
H O M E S W E E T H O M E
Yesterday, I informed you of three reasons that the Slenderman, the scariest Internet meme this side of LOL Walruses, has grabbed hold of my heart with his freakishly long fingers. However, since I’m a big ol’ tease, I only gave you two. The third needs a separate entry, because its scale is much broader, both globally and personally. It’s fear.
It’s long been understood by sociologists, anthropologists, cultural critics, and whomever actually gets paid for thinking as hard about this kind of thing as I do (seriously, cultural critics et al, call me) that most horror entertainment tends to reflect what that particular era is afraid of. In the fifties, it was the unknown effects of radiation; in the sixties, the Land of the Free™ stressed out about being infiltrated by communism; in the seventies, the new generation of children were inevitably going to suck away the lives of the Baby Boomers’ fictional avatars; in the eighties, moral decay got slaughtered in the most gruesome ways imaginable; in the nineties, peace and prosperity was assaulted both by nostalgia and by sins of the past. The last decade showed us how decay could overtake the how those touched by it--sometimes even our loved ones--will try to drag us into this shambling, mindless state of being. We also had a separate, equally popular genre of people like you and me being kidnapped tortured for no reason.
And now, in this new, tumultuous period of history, where does the Slenderman fit into our zeitgeist? Why are we terrified of a faceless, almost intangible man in a suit who infiltrates and disrupts your entire existence. To add insult to injury, any attempt to free yourself from him results in you losing your job, your friends, your family, your home, and your overall sanity--all the while making it look like it’s your own damned fault. Anyone who’s watched helplessly as they’re laid off from work or foreclosed upon can tell you what that feels like. And then, if you look closely, you discover that he’s been there all your life, waiting to strike.
That said, remember what I told you in reason number two from yesterday’s installment: “As a creature of pure imagination, he represents all the fears you put into it.” What do you see when the Slenderman gives you goose bumps? I’ll tell you what I see: entropy.
Whatever he is, he has no evident agenda. He may not even have a mind. With that trademark tilt to his head, he seems to be as curious about you as you are about him, explaining why he’s drawn to those who seek him out. However, despite the fact that he is an instinctual creature, he’s still dangerous, emitting what I can only describe as kind of radiation that warps your cameras, your thoughts, your relationships, your sanity, and even time itself (hence the revelations that an apparently random discovery is really the latest chapter in a long history of stalking). In the end, most of the destruction in Slenderman narratives is caused by humans twisted by him, often the narrator him or herself. That’s not to say that he doesn’t exist; he’s more of a presence. A shit-your-pants, inexplicable, destabilizing presence.
I make no secret of my struggles with mental illness. This dark, outside force came out of nowhere and smashed apart everything I hold dear, only to vanish long enough for me to rebuild, so it can strike again. And yet, when I really reflect on it, it’s always been me doing the smashing. Even worse, it’s done the same thing to others around me. Worse than that, it’s been with me a lot longer than I’ve ever realized. It will be with me for the rest of my life, and the only way I can keep it from winning is to stay one step ahead. I don’t let on, but I am constantly looking over my shoulder, bracing myself for the return of the mysterious, featureless... thing... that wants nothing more than to reach out and lay its hands on me.
Most importantly, you can’t deny that the Slenderman is simply an awesome visual.
We love to be scared--hence the enduring popularity of roller coasters, horror flicks, and Fox News. I don’t know why that is. Maybe we’re addicted to that adrenaline rush that comes with fear. Maybe we find comfort in watching the movie monster get vanquished (most of the time). Maybe we just love to return to the safety of our boring everyday lives. Who can say?
A world with the Slenderman means that darkened tree branches, long shadows cast by streetlights, and even that blind corner might hide some devastating, unearthly enigma disguised as a man. And I admit, without shame, that something about that kind of gets me off...
