The first time I met Smiley was in a dream. I know, I know, that's not the most interesting thing in the world. But it was where we first met. So far, I can remember the dream, so I figured I should note it down.
I was tied to a table, slowly being dismembered. First my fingers were clipped off, then my toes. Smiley was enjoying it - at least, I assume he was. If you've seen Slenderman, then you'll have an idea of what Smiley looks like. No extra-long limbs, but a similar black suit. He had no eyes, nor any sockets where they would go. Same for his nose. All he had was a mouth, stretched ear-to-ear in a sadistic grin. The corners of his mouth were held up by hooks. Blood dripped down into his teeth.
He wasn't a surgeon. He hacked away at me, piece by piece, and no matter how much I begged or threatened or cried, he kept going. My screams echoed in the room, and they seemed to fuel him. A gravelly voice echoed in the room, whispering over and over to me, "Feed the masses! Feed the masses!" I don't know what I was to do. Was my flesh food for others? I never found out.
I didn't die. Despite me losing organ after organ, no matter how much I bled, I didn't die. Even when I was just a head, I was screaming. And when that cleaver slammed down between my eyes... I woke up. Sweating, shaking, freaked out of my skin, and wishing I never fell asleep again in my life. I tottled over to my sink to wash my face.
Smiley was there in the mirror. Only for a split second, but he was there.
