You saw a picture of him once.

He was lanky -- broad shoulders slightly hunched forward as his incredibly thin body seemed to buckle because of them. His attire was purely black except for the one white dress shirt that he wore underneath the rest of his plain suit. His height easily made 8 or 9 feet (2.4 meters at least), it was hard to tell with his disproportionately long arms adding to the overall top-heaviness and slouch of the creature. He had no eyes -- or any facial features for that matter -- other than the chasms of his supposed eye sockets and the harsh inward depth of his cheeks that made his cheek bones seem so sharp. His ‘gaze’ seemed to bore into yours from whichever way you viewed the strangely vintage static-filled photograph. He looked utterly sickly and grotesque, yet you found him incredibly interesting. You needed to know more.

That's how your obsession started.

You looked into every description, every single piece of lore. Every article, post and tweet -- in about a week you've read them all. You haven't slept since the day you saw his face -- or lack thereof -- you remember that photograph better than you remember anything about yourself. Your name, your age, your address -- they no longer mattered. You remember the name they gave him.

You dared not speak it, afraid that he would find you. You wanted to see this creature in all his glory. You remember vaguely seeing other “creepypastas” or whatever they were called. Other beings of similar freakish stature and tendencies. No... None would do but the mysterious slender man in black.

You remembered seeing what you considered a sort of autistic sibling of this creature; fanart mostly. One mus'n't look him in the eye or even view his face if they didn't wish to die a very bloody death. They nicknamed him “the shy guy”, seeing that he destroyed any being that saw his face directly or indirectly -- the key part of one's identity. It was more disgusting than him, this uncivilized creature didn't wear clothes. It was an animal compared to him.

You saw controversy.

People debated whether he had tendrils that could as easily crush a human as they could lift a glass of crystal. They debated on his origins, his place of rest, even the godforsaken colour of his tie. There was nothing you could do. You needed to see for yourself.

You find yourself in a forest when you think about him again. You go deeper and deeper in, trying to find him. Your curiosity devoured your brain.

He stood alone in a clearing deep inside of the forest. Static filled your every sense as you approached. He was passive towards you even as you stopped yourself far enough away to still see a clear image of his face.

He spoke directly into your head in a tone that made your brain feel like a low frequency radio, answering one of your unspoken questions. It is I, child. Do not fear. I will not harm you.

You felt weak and strong at the same time. Utterly intoxicated by that glitched-out radio static run baritone. “I-It's you,” you managed to say joyously, your voice weak and eyes heavy.

He reached forward as you felt yourself about to collapse and soon all that filled you was static.

The next time you awoke, you found yourself in his freakish arms. Relax. You could hardly see anything, the static was swallowing your senses. He repeated himself until you saw somewhat clearly, the static present in every atom of your body calming slightly.

Good. That's good.

He sounded proud of you.

Your mind is absolutely beautiful. Your thoughts, your ideas are fascinating.

He waited with you until you were able to stand again in his presence. You felt a connection, one that was like a familial bond.

Family...

Yes....

You were now his proxy.

Completely and totally aware.