Because it is necessary.
Richard Corwin Smith,
Born July 8, 1991
Died June 6, 2011
Consider for a minute, the human eye. The human eye is a camera made out of little more than jelly, which can interpret with fidelity all manner of colours and transmit them to the brain.
Richard was a screenwriting student. He wanted to make the camera see things. And so it went.
Richard began a small project of his own, with a few friends, and their classmates. Mostly theatre students, cast and crew numbered an even dozen, if that. Their camera man was a student of another program altogether. The theatre students had little experience with a camera, Richard himself had none. The journalist did. Michael joined the production, a rousing little drama in which a group of young adults are pursued by a man tall, dark and slender, with all the trappings of that particular drama.
What happened next should be well known to those versed in this particular manner of story. Richard began to see the Slender Man, appearing out of the corner of his eye. He found himself harrowed by the persistent agents of this Slender Man, and so the production came to a halt.
What happened next was unexpected. Richard ran, and he ran until the scene put him at the edge of a cliff, faced with slender agents to one side, and a precipice to the other. He jumped.
Richard Corwin Smith died at the bottom of the cliff, his legs mangled by the landing, he died as he lived. A coward.