A man stares at me from across the room. He’s so tall that he’s hunched over his canvas, but his eyes continue to glance over at me nervously. He’s so thin, his skin stretching over his bones, barely caging them in. His eyes are deep-set and dark, bottomless pits of nothingness. I blink a few times just to make sure I’m not looking at Slenderman, but his face is hauntingly real, painfully there. He has sickly, ghost-pale skin with lips that never part to speak but still twitch as the instructor goes over and talks to the person beside him. He’s mesmerizing. In the worst way.
