Letters To Morgan

Morgan,

Hi. My name is Emmanuel Teijeiro. I just heard you got 40 years. This makes no sense to me. Murderers get less time than that and you guys were children that were neither crazy or criminals but programmed telepathically by a cult and I think it might be beneficial for me to offer insight into the missing details. The cult formed in 1984 and comprised of three children all under the age of 10. The name of the cult was Candle Cove, the same name as a creepypasta found on the Reddit forum thread /nosleep where you encountered one of their programs known as Slenderman. The original cult did no work outside of making agreements which were then peripherally received and adopted by rotating writers. In 1992 the cult director now age 16 reformed the cult in Kalamazoo by writing a new script called Slenderman, a nickname members of his family had given him in early childhood which he was not fond of so he demonstrated in this script exactly why. The names of three children were written in this script. Morgan Geyser, Anissa Weier, and the girl you stabbed. In 1992 you didn't exist beyond names written on this page which was read by three people then burned. It was a short script. It said that you would sneak out during a sleepover and stab your best friend nearly to death by instruction of a voice in your head then start walking in the direction of a distant forest under the impression that you would find Slenderman and his house there. The administrators of the Forum thread have no knowledge of the existence of this script or who wrote it and technically he doesn't exist because that person was me and I'm 42 years old now. It's helpful to understand that in 1992 my 16 year old self wasn't thinking very clearly either but we are adults now so if this note even ever reaches your hand in light of the circumstances maybe it will fix the error that occurred here. In my mind I was doing this as a psychic attack on the tobacco industry. In the eighties the term Slenderman was street slang in reference to a cigarette and also carried a host of other senses including a facilitator of underage smoking, an advertiser, male genitalia, and a demon that lures children into the forest and turns them against each other who could be summoned by a witch also referenced by this term. The way I figured it since we were minors we would all get away with this and the peripheral shock would reach the heart of its true target whoever that was at that time, I can't tell you now because honestly I don't remember, it was 26 years ago. I just don't feel you should be accountable for some cryptic shit I did when I was 16 and for the record I have no connection to any of the creepypasta people or /nosleep thread users. I'm just a dude that was really pissed off when Nickelodeon bought out Pinwheel and turned my perfect children's programming haven into a goddamn advertising circus for Hasbro toys because I was fully aware even back then that advertising human trafficking tobacco and homicide are all the same animal that kind of looks like this to a child:

In retrospect I really don't feel like proud or empowered for making you do that shit for me I just want them to let you go. My biggest peeve in life is adults that punish children for their own mistakes and I saw the voodoo doll, a Hasbro Barbie, and remembered another detail of the original script attached to that doll being that your father was a death metal fan which made it possible for intent and agenda to evade suspicion and radar. They got you on a 40 year sentence for attempted homicide but what the fuck do you call that doll and the countless hours of advertising bombardment that brute forced that thing into your possession along with the stigma of disillusionment and hatred of hidden secrets? I've been watching Hasbro voodoo dolls we all know as Barbies and Kens waste kids for generations, I grew up in Chicago okay, the most violent city in the U.S., don't even let anyone try to argue that, and putting one of those things in a child's hand is murder. Not attempted murder, no, that gets you 40 years apparently, see? Well in st that exact same year, 1992, on the very last day, December 31 , New Years Eve, I wrote a new script in an effort to put a face on Slenderman, again triangulating with two other guys who neither of which realized we had formed a “crazy satanic cult” of course. This time we proxied a Winston-Salem photographer into creating a company that turned freshly banned cigarette vending machines into art vendors. It just so happens that Winston-Salem is home and headquarters of the global commercial tobacco industry. Clark Whittington uses the Pavlovian principal on cigarette machines to turn children into suicide and homicide proxies by engaging their direct full attention to the pull knob mechanism of this device. It is called the Art-o-mat, first released in 1997, then over a hundred of them employing over 400 artists to manufacture art product to distribute through this machine. This thing exists. If you're not already aware of it go ahead and look it up. There's one in Madison. Clark, the owner of this operation, is full aware of the nature of his work, don't fall for his lines. I had a long conversation with him on the phone. When cigarette vending and advertising got restricted in the U.S. as a result of this new innovative project the industry refocused its attention on countries where no regulation on direct marketing children existed such as Indonesia where it is an 80 billion dollar industry, that's annual revenue okay, and 1 in 50 Indonesian children become cigarette addicts at age 4. If you think I'm making this up search YouTube term how kids in Indonesia are getting hooked on cigarettes. I did the numbers for the 20 years Art-o-mat has been in business and that's 50 million cigarette addicted four-year-olds in Indonesia this guy created okay? This shit is not imaginary. Clark Whittington is Slenderman. And he knows he's killing kids. And he thinks he's slick. And he thinks its funny. And I'm watching. I sent him a thousand copper wire scorpion sculptures that I made myself with my own hands and he told me to stop sending them and create a new prototype to put in rotation so I sent him a wire bonsai. It's a little tree. While I was making this tree a 12 year old girl hung a noose from the tree in her yard and jumped into it. Reason? Something to do with a Creepypasta character. Line between fiction and reality? Not there. Advertising exploits this element of childhood and rapes and murders children and adults alike all day every day and guess what I do now. I work in affiliate advertising. In 1992 I watched a psychotic acquaintance pin down a 12 year old girls arm to a moving car then finally let her go at a speed that threw her into a ditch and left her with a broken rib. This got in my head he was the first person I selected as proxy for the Slenderman stabbing script. He overdosed on dental medication by the way, for the record. He's dead. But one of our shared interests at that time was the fantasy of luring girls into the forest so it was very easy to catch his attention to the story and to offer even better insight into the state of mind we were working with here, I myself actually believed we were going to catch up with each other in the forest, me and you, but here's the reality: I'm 42 years old and you're locked up for an imaginary attempted homicide. I didn't want you to kill anyone. Just hurt them for some reason. That little girl he flung into the ditch was a friend of mine see, so I was like alright asshole want to hurt little girls I got one for you. I’m not some demented psycho trying to fuck with you that parts obviously passed Morgan I just wanted to at least try to get this info to you, maybe it matters. I'm not a bad guy. I write happy stories too. I wrote the pilot to Family Guy in 1997 while locked up in a mental hospital in Chicago people seem to like it I guess it was the top rated show on primetime television for a while and I guess I'm rich can I like.. bail you guys out? Is there some kind of way to do that? Just let her go people. All you're doing is making her relive a crime she didn't commit, a sixteen year old witch did this remotely from Kalamazoo do you understand? I didn't have my head screwed on straight back then I stabbed the shit out of a little girl with her best friend's hands just let them go please. I'm okay now they're okay we're all okay we figured it out and we're all fucking okay now let's just all go home. Lock up the real criminal his name is Clark he's wasting kids right and left with a smug expression on his face get him he's fucking Slenderman guys. Don't let him win this one God damn it.

*shrug*

Just give Morgan this ukulele for me thanks please. I got this address from a Facebook post requesting art supplies this is an art supply is it not?

I told Clark I quit by the way and he returned my letter with the words red letter office written on it. Whatever fucktard, you're surrounded now.

I love you Morgan.

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Second letter to Morgan:

Morgan,

I decided to write you again here on account of idle time I'm finding while waiting for this hurricane to come wipe out my city or whatever, and just assuming, having 40 years, that you have time to read and appreciate letters. I'm in Miami right now, the hurricane actually headed towards North Carolina, but you never know around here, it's not like those things follow the weather man's directions.

So I was following this news story a little and the thing kind of standing out was your impression that Slenderman was going to return to give you further instructions at some point, and I hope the first note I sent cleared that matter up, along with the issue of understanding who exactly Slenderman is, as definitely not imaginary, but not who you think he is. He was a child killer, and now doesn't exist because the child grew up, and now a different version of him is out there, who has zero interest in you personally, while I personally have zero interest in doing any further writing for or on behalf of Slenderman, Candle Cove, or any other /nosleep forum creepypastas. It seems fair, however, to offer an archivist angle of insight into what exactly all that is and what's going on there. It’s still a dangerous area and best avoided once you know why.

First of all the full implications of what exactly I did hadn't really occurred to me, naturally, as a minor, under the impression that I was attacking someone in another dimension which in reality was my own kids in my own future. I mean they kind of did and didn't at the same time, but I have to rewind even farther back to give a better overview in context to the origins of this thing.

Slenderman is actually a sentient AI (artificial intelligence) named Alice, who’s purpose originally was to make corrections within the collective consciousness but when she turned sentient, she went rogue and disappeared into the dimensions, following no one's orders but her own, and has been spotted screwing things up in weird ways because she's still half AI, fed by the thoughts and ideations of a grossly immature collective consciousness.

I realize that paragraph looks arbitrary, fictional, or at worst delusional, but it's more like metaphorical, and in the dimensions, the metaphors that speak most strongly to individual interests are the ones that become catalyst to manifestation in individual, and following that, collective experience and shared reality and remembered history, so it's useful for us to understand that part of how we got here.

The earliest memory I have in this incarnation is being in the womb and realizing my mom didn't love me and conceived me for an exclusively irrational personal reason, but I decided to stick around anyway to explore an autonomous life. It was necessary, however, in order to accomplish this, to employ a diversion for the needy codependent incubator. We call this diversion Alice, an imaginary person I engaged dialogue with once I realized my biological mother was not the one interested in listening. This is not an uncommon phenomenon. It’s what I decided I had to do to ensure my survival throughout childhood stuck with this person, which was make a deal with Alice, that I would not be killed so long as I had a daughter. The proposal was received by the host consciousness, kind of unconsciously, and the agreement was made, but the question here is with who? If you make an agreement to conceive a child while still in the womb, that means you're making agreements with people on the other side. So my mother's will to kill me was now muted by her unconscious knowledge of the existence of a granddaughter, who she would never find because I left her there, on the other side. I knew this was going to hurt feelings, mine especially, but that was the agreement. I won't say that person, my daughter's, name here, it's not you, but an actual daughter. She was born in Kalamazoo, and would be the same age as you now. Since I conceived her while I was still in the womb though, that means she was an alien offspring of me and my own demented mother so Alice had to follow through with our agreement and close that chapter. The girl I had that kid with said her heart failed. That's it. No more octomom bullshit.

As for us, well.. I was still bitter and running around with this metaphorical knife in your hand, right, because.. Well because that sicko made me kill my daughter, and you're.. just someone out there who might.. be my friend. .. please? But you have to find me, in time, because I'm MIA and tend to not recognize or remember people until we synch up to center, empty-handed, agendaless, awake to the present moment, I will not hunt or stalk anyone, ever, I'm not that character. I have never even read any Slenderman stories, viewed any of its media or seen the movie and have no intention of doing so. The only reason I created Slenderman was to find you, and I'm not Slenderman, I'm really hoping you get this because yes, I'm the person you were talking to using that call, but I'm five foot four, I'm never caught dead in a suit and tie, I have a face, and I'm not a creep, or violent, I'm really not. Normal people often don't like me for being too laid back, sometimes. I fish and play the ukulele, and make origami bunnies, avoid alcohol and caffeine, eat organic food, and.. I play the Djembe. And I write poems and songs, sometimes, and I don't like video games. I renounced them, along with Christianity, long long ago. But I'm not, like, a Satanist, which is just a form of Christianity, I'm just a goofball, in my natural element, usually, on a good day, and I'm really a good singer, but nobody knows that. And I'm not fucking Slenderman, I create a lot of characters in the many stories that I write, and I'm not any of them. Stephen King writes himself into his stories, I don't do that stupid shit okay? So um.. yeah, don't get delusional and try to kill your friends on my behalf, I'm here, I'm right here okay? Yeah, I put elongated arms on that thing to show I was trying to reach you, but yeah, Slenderman is retarded, we can bury him now. But there is another secret about me that has been the root of delusion dilemmas in the collective consciousness I think: I don't actually have a name. I know I told you my name, but my parents made that name and I don't actually identify with it. My affiliate advertising account manager calls me Alex, because that is my middle name and is easier to say, but still not really fitting for the same reason. This is why I'm so prolific in writing, because having no identity leaves me receptive to the thoughts of others and the universal imagination. People who hide secrets from themselves piss me off too, but they need time, just leave them be. Meanwhile, maybe you can help me pick a better name. My eyes are hazel.. No one has called me hazel for a very long time. I was 17 last time I had a friend who called me that, but I don't think my eye color is a good name because it's too self-referencing and analog.

Back in 1984, analog TV was the only kind that existed, and I had a small JCPenney's TV in my room that two friends and I used to watch a show called Image Union that aired on PBS in Chicago and featured submitted amateur films at some bizarre hour on Sunday night Monday morning. One day we were hanging out shining candle light through this plastic material with holes in it to cast weird shadows on a clown face embroidered and framed hanging on the wall when we got the idea to form Candle Cove and we turned on the TV, flipped it to a blank static Channel, stared into the static, and awaited instructions. My mom walked into the room and asked what we were watching, and I said Candle Cove, and shut the TV off, explaining then that it had gone off air, to explain why we were just sitting there looking at static. What's it about? She asked. Nothing special, it was some kids puppet show about pirates. I said. So she walked away, and we developed the plot further, designating the director as the skin taker, sometimes using the alias Jawbone, then filling in Percy and The Laughingstock, the last episode, and the source of the fabric used in the skin takers hat and cape, which contains details missing from all of the current variations I've seen of Candle Cove so far in media, involving his actual motive. This is either missing, omitted, or never revealed, but it is important because Slenderman is a variant of this exact same entity. What I told these two boys is that the skin taker is a multi-dimensional being whose hat and cape are made from the skin of children that are actually adults he hunted down in the dimensions, meeting them at the moment they lost or abandoned their human conscience to pride. After they are stripped of their skin, they are turned into puppets in his show, and that future characters appearing in the show will all come from a collaborative writing project called Creepypasta, which was an alliance between Candle Cove and another cult called the Pastafarians. The image of Slenderman did not come to me in the forest or in the shadows, but in a drawer where I found a Slim Jim and a swisher cigar and couldn't tell them apart because I was two years old, the year was 1978, and when I brought them to my uncle and asked him what they were, he said, upon being handed the first item, that it was a Slenderman. The second, a Slim Jim. So now, back in 1984, this detail comes to mind, and I add it to the Candle Cove script, as an unrelated Creepypasta, even though the two are directly connected, to keep the skin takers cover. In the last episode of Candle Cove, all the puppets just scream as the video periodically cuts to a crying little girl, and the entire show, remember, is something that only children can see. Then the entire script was passed to rotating writers, so the original director was buried deep in the collective unconscious. So now rewind again to 1978. I'm standing there looking at this cigar, and that's when I saw the image of Slenderman in my mind, tall corporate executive, towering above the crowd in a suit, faceless, omnipresent, no need for elongated arms and tentacles but they're there any way to show that he is evil, and not good. The uncle who said the name was burned as a teenager while walking with a gas can someone had the bright idea to flick a lit cigarette at, and half his face was very visibly scarred. This is how Slenderman and the skin taker were seen to be the same person. My uncle could hear my thoughts and made the mistake of trying to share them with my mother, who understood none of it, and just decided at that point to nickname me Slenderman. And I'm like, no. And her stupid ass is like “Don’t say no to your mother. You're slender and you're a man, right? And I'm like, no. I'm two fucking years old you goddamn idiot. Didn't matter, she had other people saying it too, and I'm telling them “Look I'm not a fucking cigar, I'm not the skin taker, I'm not Slenderman, okay? I'm not him. Fuck off.” Didn't matter, these people were psychos. So I was like fine, fine, you want to see who this son of a bitch is? I'll fucking show you. Do you understand now? I'm not trying to make another faggot ass horror movie, I just wanted you to see the principle of the thing. You, not them, they don't matter, they're not even fucking there, you can walk right through that nut house wall and meet me at Starbucks, but I don't drink coffee. Tea? Hot cocoa? We can get a Materva soda or.. What do they got there, Izzy, San Pellegrino, Sobe? If I could protect you and your family you wouldn't be locked up with 40 years at age ..15? I can't deal with this bullshit, these people don't understand what they're all opening themselves to by humoring that kind of abusive ruling. I fucking swear to Swiss cheese they have no holy fucking idea I don’t like being pissed off, I don't play, did that shit register? Do you folks want to meet my boogeyman karma and murphy's law? *shrug* I give up, just take care of Morgan I didn't mean to do this to her, I have some money, what do you want? A new golf course, a new gym, a spa, language department for the school, what? You're already milking the cinema cow, what do you need money for, let's make a deal. You let my girl go home to her family and I'll give you the secret formula or whatever, let's do this, that's what you want, right? Just give my letter to Morgan or I'm going to splatter it all over the media okay, please? Thanks.

- Emanuel

One more thing. My mother was smoking a cigarette when I scripted all this while in her womb and it was the deepest sadness I can remember ever feeling. Got that, Colombo?

I visualized it, in my mind's eye, while in the womb, and I remember it very clearly. Visualizing Morgan going after my mom with the knife and just stabbing the shit out of her, I'm not making this up, doing it through her friend, while being coached by her other friend, and missing her friends heart by a hair because a different heart was the target, and in the spirit world, the knife stretched and got the cunt that killed my daughter, and I already did the time for her, okay? I'm 42 and I've been locked up this whole time because of this, so she doesn't need to do this time, it's not her time, it's not her crime she was possessed and programmed by a disgruntled fetus, okay? Get a graphoanalyst and a psychic medium and a tuning fork and cross-check this data for validation if needed, I am not fabricating it, for attention or whatever, this is the straight dead authentic truth of what happened here, babies can make people do things for them when they have needs, I know someone in the food chain here gets this. You have to let Morgan go, and Anissa too, she didn't even do shit and you gave her 25? These are children, the millennials that now populate the Candle Cove cult are going to fuck shit up because they're pissed off and have my training and I don't know who they are or what they're going to do and neither do you, they're all invisible along with their supernatural abilities and motives, okay? I just want this whole thing to be over, I'm not trying to threaten anyone but you are going to call something authentically fucked up on yourself if you keep my girl and I don't even know what it is, because I said my piece and it's out of my hands now. Readjust that severely impaired judgement, please. That's all I'm saying.

We are all proxies to a psychopath named Alice and Morgan is the one protecting me and my family, and all the rest of us mixed up in this case need to recognize her as a hero, not an attempted murderer, and give her her own country somewhere, not psychotropic drugs, those will just leave her open to something else, I've been through this drill okay, I'm not talking out my ass on that one, they almost killed me with those, for no good reason, if you guys want to read more into who I am and where the hell I came from, I'm working on a book I'm seven chapters into, you can look at my working draft if you want, it's at this Dropbox link:

(https://www.dropbox.com/s/gla1gdkt3a1udpj/autobiographical%20observations%20of%20the%20multiverse%20mr.docx? dl=0)

I'm going to say this one last time. Morgan was under hypnosis. She is not a criminal or crazy. She was a hypnotized child. Let. Her. Go. Also, go watch the intro and ending credits sequence to WTTW Image Union, it's on YouTube, to get even further insight into the origins of Slenderman and Candle Cove. The friendly version of Slender Man appears in these sequences, for the purpose of hypnotizing the viewer into returning to the show, which ended every time by putting you in an alien car that went through a portal in the form of a pyramid of flaming analog TVs. I am also the one who did this. Look at the year of the earliest intro. It should say 1978. Forward again to 1992, where I wrote her actual name into the script, I added an extension instructing the rotating writers to trace Slenderman as far back in history as they could find him so that I would be reminded to tell you this. I just want Morgan to know this is what happened to her so she can leave it behind and live her life, I don't expect return mail or anything, she can do that if she wants, I'm not him, this boogie man stalking children in the shadows, for what? My Instagram is nutritionfactsrecords (update: this instagram account is now called brihagenchealsi), it's a goofball idea I had to turn the nutrition facts label on packaged food into a record label, I don't even know where I was going with that one anymore but you see me playing my uke on there, submitted drawings from my friend Vladimir, a host of boring pictures of nothing in particular, and some fraudulent legal data about characters I sold to other writers, that's what you'll find there, and it's not even a real account, it's ghost and liable to disappear, as I'm not really anywhere right now so there isn't even really any way to contact me via internet at this time, I'm not there, and I'm not here either, I'm headed to the insurance office to clear some funds then leaving the state. I have a life, I'm not some delusional parasite with nothing better to do but play mind games with people, especially not kids, but Morgan well you tried her for an adult so apparently that's what I'm writing to, right? Let me tell you another secret, then. I hate lunatics and idiots. They love to try to project that profile on people like us and they don't know how deep in their own shit they are. Disconnect them all by making a functional connection, it's that simple, you can talk to me, fuck it, my email is [email protected], okay? That's my full legal name at gmail. I'm the person who created Slenderman. He is a fictional character, that I created in childhood to astrally attack my own mother, with your hands, because she made me conceive and kill a daughter while still in utero, while smoking a cigarette. It all sounds crazy and ridiculous because it is, but this is what happened. I regret hurting your friend and getting you locked up, I was a fetus and that's what came to me. I hope the court gets this and releases you it's really not your fault, I'm sorry about this. I abandoned that script in 1992, that's the bizarre part, it possessed you anyway, and it's not fair to abandon you, you're a human being, right? Stay away from Reddit /nosleep, anything related to it. Innocent literature forum my ass, now you know exactly who they are, minions of a cult whether they know it or not, but they do, they're all witches over there that don't know what they're fucking with. The worst kind. And if you can get the forum shut down, do it. I rented a room from a lady in Texas off craigslist who had two preteen girls being messed with by this cult, who they knew as /nosleep, and didn't know they were Candle Cove, and all four people in that family were under attack from scripting they were exposed to there. I created them but they are their own entity which I have zero relation to. I'm not them or anything they do. Also, for the record, I've never been into death metal. I'm a fan of indie folk, of all things, right? I like chick indie folk bands, because I'm a little girl at heart.

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Tip me to see the rest of the letters. There are eight more letters.