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The county's police chief, Matt Darling, provided few other details Saturday evening in a news conference other than to say that his officers are actively pursuing leads but have no firm suspects
"This is a record for us. We've never had such an incident with so many victims," Darling told reporters. "It's not a scene that I would want anybody to see."
He said authorities discovered the victims when responding to a 911 call shortly after 8 a.m. Saturday.
Police said the probe was a homicide investigation. Some of the victims had been tentatively identified, but names and ages haven't been made public.
The mobile home park consists of about 100 spaces and is nestled among centuries-old live oak trees.
Most of the victims were found inside the mobile home with the exception of a single teenage girl found impaled in the upper branches of one of the nearby trees. Police have given no theory as to how she got there and would not disclose the nature of the wounds suffered by the other victims.
Local resident of the trailer park, James Tyler, told reporters that, while he didn't know exactly what happened, the word "disemboweled" had been overheard and he himself had witnessed police removing what appeared to be plastic bags full of internal organs.
More news as the story develops.
I haven't seen signs of him for three days now. That's how long it's been since I last looked outside. I don't know what to make of that. I'm starting to suspect he's not there if I'm not looking for him, like he only exists because I think about him.
Too bad I can't stop.
Even still, I can't stay in here forever. I'm running out of food. If I miss much more work I'll be fired. Tomorrow I'll have to go out and the thought terrifies me in a way that nothing in my life ever has before.
Knowing I have to go out is tormenting me. I feel an overwhelming need to look out the window.
As fast as I can, I roll the blinds open and snap a picture then roll them back closed. Only then do I open my eyes and look at the screen on my phone.
When I saw it, my breath caught in my throat. How is that possible? How is he just suddenly there? Of course, the truth is that I can't really see him, even now, but I can feel him out there. A sort of air of menacing hunger.
The shadow shifts slightly and I know that he sees me. That he's looking right at me. I stifle a scream and yank my curtains closed.
I don't know what to do.
I stand there, heart pounding in my ears for almost ten minutes and when something slams into the front door to my left like a battering ram, the noise is so sudden that I simply pass out.
-- Posted From Somewhere in Time and Space
Us. And our inability to stop thinking about them, no matter how we try. Our horror of this energy, this thing that we have created, reaches out through the dimensions like a grotesque beacon. And we cannot undo it. In fact, every time you nervously slide a finger between the blinds late at night, hoping for a glimpse, just a glimpse, mind you, lest our primal terror overwhelm us, we add to the Slender Mans arsenal of disguise, and provide him with a new tactic for inching closer, night by night, nightmare by nightmare, down through the ages and across the aether, relentless. Relentless.
I can't see. I don't know if that's because it's dark or not, but my cheeks feel sticky and I try not to think about that. I can hear the dripping but I try not to. It's not even that loud, it's just that it's so close. Julie's anguished moans turned to quiet sobbing a little while ago. Now I hear nothing but the dripping. I know it's her blood. I can feel it pooling underneath me, congealing into a sticky mess in my hair. The stump of my left knee stopped hurting almost as soon as the leg had been torn off. Shock, I guess. I don't know how long I was out afterward, but now I'm awake and I've been lying here, bleeding, too afraid to move. I don't know how I'm still alive or why.
I don't know if he's still here. If "he" is even the right word. It. I don't know if it is still here. I'm straining my ears to listen for signs of it when Julie screams again. Just once. Loud and piercing and full of so much pain it hurts me to listen to it. When it trails off she takes a single ragged breath and as it slowly leaks back out of her, I know she's dead.
The very next sound I hear is… oh god, is it eating her? I didn't even see a mouth. Didn't know it could eat. A rhythmic, wet, sucking sound. A blob of something I try not to think about falls on my face, splattering so liquidly I feel my stomach clench and my bile rise.
One of its hands closes over my face just as the vomit hits the back of my teeth. It spews out around the thing's fingers as I'm lifted bodily into the air. Hanging limply, cheeks and chin dripping with ichor, and bile, and God only know what else, I'm slung backwards. I feel it press itself up against the back of my head and have just enough time for my mind to wildly picture my head as a giant Granny Smith apple when I actually hear the crunch, so loud and sharp, and then…
The term Rosicrucian (symbol: the Rose Cross) describes a secret society of mystics, allegedly formed in late medieval Germany, holding a doctrine "built on esoteric truths of the ancient past", which, "concealed from the average man, provide insight into nature, the physical universe and the spiritual realm."
Between 1607 and 1616, two anonymous manifestos were published, first in Germany and later throughout Europe. These were Fama Fraternitatis RC (The Fame of the Brotherhood of RC) and Confessio Fraternitatis (The Confession of the Brotherhood of RC). The influence of these documents, presenting a "most laudable Order" of mystic-philosopher-doctors and promoting a "Universal Reformation of Mankind", gave rise to an enthusiasm called by its historian Dame Frances Yates the "Rosicrucian Enlightenment".
In later centuries many esoteric societies have claimed to derive their doctrines, in whole or in part, from the original Rosicrucians. Several modern societies, which date the beginning of the Order to earlier centuries, have been formed for the study of Rosicrucianism and allied subjects.
But from whom does this esoteric discipline come? Certainly an organization with such lofty aims cannot merely spring into existence directly from the aether which it deigns to control? Enter The mysterious Count de St. Germain, an allegedly immortal being who was known across Europe and worldwide. He was personally associated (all anecdotally, in likelihood,) with Casanova, Madame de Pompadour, Voltaire, King Louis the XV, Catherine the Great, and Anton Mesmer. (Among others.)
Among other things (as if being an immortal occultist who influenced the decisions of the mightiest empires on earth weren't enough) our intrepid Count presumably made his way to the mysterious orient, becoming a member of an Occult lodge with ties to yogic and tantric practices rooted in Tibetan Buddhism and native Bon Shamanism. According to George C. Andrews, conspiracy researcher and author (and a man to whom I am greatly in debt for some of the info in this article) these practices (Roscrucianism, Tibetan Buddhism, and assorted mid-century European occult gobboldy-gook) all amalgamated to form "The Initiated Brothers of Asia," a Buddhist profaning sect whose initiation allegedly culminated in contact with an "extra-dimensional being" who was able, under certain circumstances, to manifest physically.
Now it gets REALLY weird. Enter Adolf Hitler. Hitler, power-mad, syphilitic sociopath that he was, dabbled quite openly in the occult, despite professing to staunch Catholicism. As any child he grew up in the eighties knows, (and who saw the "Indiana Jones" films) Hitler truly DID send Nazi expeditions to North Africa and the middle east in search of the Ark of the Covenant, as well as making vain attempts to locate the Spear of Longinus, The Shroud of Turin, and the True Cross (or pieces of it.) When not engaged in such global-scale activities as mass-murder and the location of ancient relics, Hitler was also a member of...you guessed it: The initiated Brothers of Asia. This should come as no surprise to any serious student of the occult, the SS themselves were deeply rooted in ancient Teutonic ritual practices, and Heinrich Himmler himself had a castle at Wewelsburg, designed and built to capitalize on the ley-line energy of the area. (It was reported that the castle itself, specifically the north tower, was used as a "magickal weapon," and that attempts by allied forces to destroy it after the war all failed, so great was it's power.)
Sources close to Hitler claimed that he was tormented by an invisible entity only he could see, and while this could very well be due to his syphilis, his drug abuse, or his general madness, it remains that by the end of the war, the Nazi regime was desperate to turn the tide against the Allies by any means necessary. This is where Hitler's invisible friend comes in. Let's take a look at German saucer technology, shall we?
Ok, let's not. There is a wealth of information available on this subject, and the reader is invited to do his/her own research on this matter, as the Slender author is tired and badly in need of some sleep. But suffice it to say, when the Allies captured the whole of German occupied territories, saucer shaped craft were, indeed recovered. Whether these were extraterrestrial in origin is open to debate, but what doesn't change is this:
The American government was sufficiently interested in these "prototypes" that they took great pains to smuggle Nazi war-criminals into the United States. With the help of the Vatican.
This was called "Project Paperclip," and was sanctioned by the Office of Strategic Services, the intelligence precursor to the C.I.A.
Thus the daisy chain between occult lodge/nazis/ and American intelligence services is complete. But what next? How would the U.S. Military utilize this technology? If it had been previously developed by an enemy combatant, countermeasures were obviously in place to render it's battlefield usefulness null. But at the end of the Second World War, Germany wasn't the enemy anymore. It was the Soviets.
Thus began the Cold War, and the classic American tale every schoolboy knows...the heroic race to space. But this technology didn't merely ride on the backs of it's Fascist predecessors. It required some good old fashioned American ingenuity. Enter John "Jack" Whiteside Parsons. Born in 1914, Parson was a self-educated rocket scientist. Seriously. While other boys were fishing and joining little league, Parsons was experimenting with solid rocket fuels, to enormous success. As well as co-founding the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (an agency that essentially became N.A.S.A.) Parsons was a vocal occultist, drawing no distinction between his work in rocketry and what he considered his "real" vocation: Ritual Magick. Oh yes, he was also a close friend of the Great Beast himself, Alestair Crowley, who personally appointed him head of the Agape Lodge of the Ordo Templo Orientis, a Thelemic Occult lodge re-envisioned by Crowley and modeled after many of the same Lodges that inspired Johann Sebbotendorf's "Thule" lodge, the Initiated Brothers of Asia, and later, the O.T.O. in it's various incarnations. So great was Parson's belief in the efficacy of ritual magick, it is reported he invoked the Greek God Pan before each rocket launch.
As Parsons toiled away on the American space program and his various and sundry occult interests, he began to draw the attention of some unusual characters, among them a former sailor and sci-fi author by the name of L. Ron Hubbard. Yes, THAT one, the founder of Scientology and object of scorn for generations to come. Hubbard was years away from developing Scientology, and in the meanwhile (in between stealing a sailboat from Jack Parsons and bilking him out of thousands of dollars in an ill concieved business plan involving the aforementioned boat) Hubbard took up residence in Parson's California mansion (the very one where Parsons would later die in a very, very mysterious explosion) and began to act as a "scribe" during the performance of various rituals. One of these, the "Babylon working" (alternately spelled as "The Babalon working) was written about by Alestair Crowley himself in "The Book of the Law," and was meant to open a sealed gateway between realities, granting the "Old ones full and unimpeded entry into our reality." This ritual was performed sometime between 1945-46, and in 1947, pilot Kenneth Arnold reported an object "skipping over the mountains, shaped like a saucer" over the Cascade mountain range in Washington state. We all know the rest.
So, what happens now? Decades pass, accounts of mysterious craft and their occupants increase exponentially year by year, and psychologist Carl Jung famously calls these sightings "Products of our collective unconscious." But why? What are we trying, collectively, to express subconsciously?
Consider the following: Having invited these entities into our reality, it is no where tacitly implied that they must behave according to the "accepted" norms of trans-dimensional beings, i.e., they need not appear as pedestrian spooks such as poltergeists and grey alien/zeta reticulans. If these entities, or "Tulpas" are drawing energy from the psychic fabric of which they are cut, why should they be anything BUT menacing, evil, and bent on our grievous harm? Having sprung from the work of at least one Fascist Dictator, one Megalomaniacal Shyster, The Holy Roman Catholic Church, and countless government agencies, not to mention hundreds, perhaps THOUSANDS of ethically dubious ritual magick cooperatives, how could these beings POSSIBLY be anything other than horrifying?
I know. I hear what you're saying. Tulpa? What's that? Again, Wikipedia tells us:
A number of prima facie unrelated definitions have been suggested:
An image or images held in the mind of a practitioner which aids in the manifestation of intent. An agency of psychic effect which exists and takes form on the pre-physical realms of existence, which acts in accord with the Intent of its creator(s).
A living spiritual being created by humans. It could be a magical person's helper, or a being created by the belief in it from masses of people.
A homunculus of awareness: an instantaneous observer / observed duality. Homunculi appear in various theories of cognitive philosophy and psychology to account for different facets of conscious self. They are created by everyone every moment (in some formulations they are everyone every moment); and they possess wills of their own
If a Tulpa is, as suggested, "Created by humans" and "In possession of it's own will" as well as being "CREATED BY THE BELIEF IN IT FROM MASSES OF PEOPLE," Well, you can see where this is going...
So Jack Parsons, the possessor of some mighty powerful mojo, opens a "cosmic gateway" and something flies through. It (or they) manifest themselves according to local and personal belief, in varieties as great as "little green men," Bigfoot, Mothman, The Flatwoods Monster, ad infinitum. Remember, once these beings are invited into our reality, they have wills of their own. It can be safely assumed that they can also summarily change form (A common Belief among Tibetan Buddhists) to suit the occasion. Which brings us back, again, to the Slender Man.
He wears a conservative suit and tie, which seems appropriate given the time in which he has chosen to manifest himself. Nothing too fancy or outlandish, certainly nothing that will draw attention. No antennae. No bubble shaped helmet. Nothing particularly inhuman about him at all, really. Unless you count his ability to stretch his limbs to grotesque lengths, draw people into another dimension, never to be seen again, and come and go as he pleases without regard to time, distance, or the laws of physics.
These energies, Tulpas, thoughforms, spirits...whatever you choose to call them, have been the "Secret Chiefs" of the human race for as long as we have deigned to possess extraordinary powers. By making a gentleman's agreement we allow these "raw energies" into our dimension, allow them free reign, and all for the asking price of being granted powers which, in a parallel universe, are probably as commonplace as speech or hearing are, here in "our" dimension. Such is the Slender Man.
You invited him here. As my esteemed colleague Rev. Don says: "Sure, you've never thought of that before. Now try NOT seeing him."
The Slender Man is your guest, like it or not. Having opened the door, you best invite him in. Unless you want him standing outside your window all night, knuckles dragging on the ground and all, waiting, as he has for countless ages, in countless forms.
Try not seeing him.
I see the shadow stretch up in front of me, impossibly long, too many limbs, too many angles and I won't look. I can't. Even if I wanted to. Instead I quicken my step. The shadow grows longer and I go faster and I'm running now and sweating, breathing heavy and dear god he's right behind me I can almost feel the fingers snatching at my collar and I run and run and I can see my front door and it's closer and closer and I hear the ragged sounds from behind me and I find a little more strength and I run.
When I hit the front door I turn around and look. The street is empty but at the edge of the light, I see a shadow move and I know.
I have merely bought myself a reprieve.