Corrections

I, I'm glad I found you. Sorry for my disheveled appearance, but I haven't slept well, and when I saw you, I knew I had to talk to you, tell you what happened. Call it ego or hubris, but it is really a burning desire for the truth to be known before it is too late for me, you, and us all... I'm really a fan of your work on the site. Yes, that one, I'm a writer myself. No, not scoping a story-yes, that site too. Really, listen, I know a good Italian place, great pasta, I'll treat you, if you would only hear my tale. It begins with a rather mediocre story, but occasionally in them there rests kernels of truth, like clots in blood. Do not try to look it up on your iPhone. The story was deleted. I'm not sure how it got accepted, considering the strict policy employed by the site, and it was purged by the Wiki during one of their bad story purges. Maybe with that new site for the really bad ones, it'll be brought back. Don't. Please. Not that I blame them-and, no, it wasn't my story, or else it wouldn't be wrong, I've seen too much -not at all. It was as bloated as a three-day-old corpse, riddled with plot holes, plagued by grammar so bad one expected a phone to eventually show up. The story, like most bad horror-and some good, admittedly-was less about its protagonists and more about its monster, and the mythology of it. The name of the piece reflects that 'the Brite Smilling Frend in the Dark wodes' Random words were capitalized, and there were several misspellings, which again brings to question why this drivel was published, but I wander off topic. I won't tell all of the details of the story, the monster matters most, as far as truth and lies go. A depressed drug using-told, not shown-man who lived in a cottage by 'the dark Wodes' was lured one night by a figure of an old friend, long dead, into the woods. It mixes exposition and plot to make a sort of mutagenic, toxic, sludge, and considering that its literary conceit is that the writer is recounting soon afterwards, and dies mid word, it makes no sense, the level of details they toss in like a bag of eyeballs to starving ravens. The true 'hero' of the story is a monster that lives in the woods that, somehow, has lots of people going into it, for no good reason. Daft place to live, daft place to go. Me, I can't imagine either going or living in the woods, or even the country. I love the city: the sight of concrete, the smell of florid humanity, the viscera of human interaction, the taste, even, of hot dogs from the vender-crap, yes, but it has its own familiarity. Speaking of that, we're here; would you like to request the table? I'll pay. Well, this is a nice seat. I like booths. So, the idiot went in, he sees the beast, is menaced, manages to escape-despite the power and nature of the 'smiling friend' making such escape rather unlikely-and rather than do the sensible thing and exit stage left, he goes straight home to the cottage which is right by the damn woods. He then types up the account, without looking any of the facts up, apparently, and yet knowing so much, and dies, with a bunch of dots, interrupted another misspelled sentence. Hate the damn story but, well... I have knowledge that there is some truth to this Smiling Friend story, at least as far as the appearance goes, though considering the story I have to tell, he doesn't live in the woods, that's for sure. One moment. I would like salad for a start, then some Angel Hair pasta with chicken, please. Water, and whatever my friend here will have. In the story he is described as an ancient monster, of likely high intelligence, or at least cunning, though that is described as slap-shod as the rest. It 'knows everything' and is a shape shifting face stealer, capable of imitating the dead and the living, without a known 'true form', but with a form it uses on those it kills, usually, and capable of warping time and space, of luring minds to a happy death, of great speed and strength. Much of that is true, or at least...founded in truth, though most of the weaknesses then enunciated are, from what I've seen, lies.