The Poison Pen Letters Return – AGAIN

An interesting thing happened today. At 3AM this morning I found my self being yelled at by one of the local LDS/Mormon church members, who for whatever reason saw fit to wake me up at 3AM to scream their lungs out at me. uhm-huh. Never a moments peace with these people around. 3AM in the morning. I was being yelled at, something to do with “a church full of letters” and “letters flying around the church”. After 45minutes of screaming and yelling I finally figure out what was going on. Apparently people in the Sanford Ward, a church some, I don’t know, 50 miles away, had received a bunch of nasty letters from me. Interesting, considering I have not written a letter in nearly 20 years. Even more interesting, considering I not only do not know the addresses of the people in question, but I don’t even know the names of the people in question to even be able to find their addresses. I did however find it participially odd, that when I asked to see these so called letters which I supposedly wrote, suddenly they had no evidence of the existence of any such letters . . . they uhm . . . seemed to have all disappeared in one way form or another. Very interesting point indeed.

It was around 5AM before I finally had some peace and quiet again. I went about my day and thought nothing of this, rather odd, but, not exactly unexpected incident. Well, unexpected, but, I am never fully expectant of anything these people do to e or say about me, I just know that every week for the past 31 years, they show up with some new accusation. That they will weekly accuse me of something new, that I have come to expect.

And so my day moved on. This being November, I really don’t bother with anything other than my writing contest entry for NaNoWriMo, and since I try to ignore these strangely persistent religion crazed sickos anyways, writing for NaNoWriMo makes it easier for me to forget about them.

Than night time rolls around and it is nearing on 7PM, when ANOTHER person from the LDS/Mormon church shows up with nearly identical accusations. More stuff about “a church full of letters” and “letters flying around the church”. There was one remarkably odd difference here. The accusations of this morning were of letters to members of the Sanford Ward in Sanford, like I said, some 50 miles away. The accusations of tonight however were letters to members of the Saco Ward in Saco, just a 5 minute jog from my house. Interesting. My, it does seem I’ve been busy here. So exactly how many letters is it that I was supposed to have written here?

Judging from what each person said, it seems there are maybe 30 or 40 or more letters involved. I do find it a bit odd that these mysterious letters, however, can not be produced and all seem to have mysteriously vanished, causing me to have serious doubts as to wither they ever actually existed at all.

Of course the fact that I was 21 years old the last time I even attended that church is another point to take into consideration. That means as of today, it has been 13 years since I last had any thing to do with these people. I have not spoken to these people. I have not seen these people (excepting of course when they paint ball me, or throw rocks at me, and let’s not forget that on October 21, 2006 they set fire to my home.) I have initiated zero contact with them in 13 years. Heck, I have agoraphobia, I haven’t even left the yard in 13 years!

THIRTEEN FREAKING YEARS!!!! And they continue to persist in their constant accusations, backstabbing, and acts of vandalism. Why? Why do they do this? What the hell is wrong with these nuts? THIRTEEN FREAKING YEARS!!!! Can any one say VINDICTIVE?

What I want to know is, what the hell is wrong with these people? So I don’t go to church any more . . . so the hell what? Look at the way you people are acting and ask yourselves, is it any wonder why I don’t? It’s been 13 years people – get over it!!!!! I’m not bothering you. Why can’t you leave me alone? I really have to wonder – do you do this to every body who doesn’t go to church any more, or is there some particular reason you creeps are focusing all your energy on me? I mean, it just freaks me out that you people put so much energy into these ludicrous, and ever increasing more ludicrous, acts of hatred.

The thing that really gets me, is that half the people throwing accusations at me, I don’t even know. I’ve never seen them before in my life. I never even heard their names before. I’m looking at these people and thinking – Who the hell is this nut and why should I care? I don’t know who you are. How do you even know who I am? Who are you? What do you want from me? Why are you in my yard? How do you know my name? And how the hell could I have written a letter to you when I don’t even know you? – - –

Come on people! Get a brain! Stop letting yourselves be brainwashed, by, whoever the hell it is that put you up to these ridiculous shinanagings. I mean, do you even know who I am? Do you even know why you are screaming and yelling and accusing me of these idiotic things you keep accusing me of? Why do you do it? What do you get out of it? Is somebody paying you to do these things or something?

I do find it troubling, these accusations of letters, because it is not the first time this happened. It’s not even the second or third time it’s happened either. The last time I was made aware of it happening was in 2003, when like today, I was suddenly and cluelessly bombarded with a dozen or so accusations from a whole slew of people, all saying the same thing – that I had written them nasty letters. Like today, however, those people were unable to provide the so called letters.

It happened on several different occasions while I was a teenager and through out my early teens.

I did however see one of these so called letters in 1993, when the infamous Bishop Morgan received a whole series of them over a period of several months. Most of them “signed by me”, one however, was not. The letter writer accidentally signed his real name onto one of the letters. My Intelligence Officer Major uncle. This was the letter I saw. Bishop Morgan had a stack of letters on his desk, about 50 of them, each of them averaging a whooping 60 to 70 pages long, all of them had been mailed to him over a period of only a few weeks. He had received them at a rate of 3 or 4 letters per day. The one with my uncle’s signature he had opened up and spread out on his desk, and thus this was the letter I saw, and yep, having likewise received his daily 60 page letters for the past several years myself, I recognized the letter as being his handwriting immediately, with his tiny scrawl, that almost needs a magnifying glass to read.

One look at that handwriting would tell any one who knew me personally, that I had not written those letters. Any one who knows my handwriting would see the difference immediately. I’m nearly blind, my words are huge, and not neat, I can’t see well enough to write neatly, and I don’t write in every day English either, I write in secretarial short hand and I neither print nor use cursive, I write in italic, all in all making it very difficult for most people to even translate my words let alone make out my handwriting. The average person wouldn’t even recognize italic if they saw it, and short hand died decades ago. I’m an author. I write books. Big ones. And I hand write my drafts. The only way to write my drafts by hand at the speeds I write, is to write in short hand italic, which is how I also write when I do write letters, which, isn’t very often.

There was one other person who wrote like me and could and did forge my handwriting in the past: my blind grandfather. He used a writing board (sometime incorrectly referred to as a brail writers- a REAL brail writer is a type of type writer) to keep his lines straight and on the paper. Because he was blind, he wrote huge, he wrote short hand, and he wrote italic – three things that quickly identify the writer as blind or nearly so, because no one but blind or nearly blind people use this style of handwriting. Because of his blindness he was able to nearly duplicate my handwriting. (Due to the fact that I myself am nearly blind.) Poison pen letters was something my grandfather was notorious for. He started writing them in the 1930’s. By the 1960’s he was addressing them to LDS/Mormon church leaders in Salt Lake. By the 1990’s I was there and saw him writing the letters to the Prophet – bizarre letters claiming that God had told him (my grandfather) that he was the REAL Prophet and that the Prophet in Salt Lake was a false Prophet. Of course, there were also several occasions when my grandfather show up at the Prophets home and told him such things to his face as well. My grandfather had schizophrenia btw, which did explain his ravings of God talking to him and his odd 70 year long habit of writing poison pen letters.

Poison pen letters. Letters written by one person, made to look like another person had written them, and mailed at alarming rates to every one in town (or in this case, church). Letters written with one goal in mind: to destroy the good name and reputation of others. I do have to question the sanity of any one who would write a poison pen letter, and yet, both my uncle and his father, have a history of writing poison pen letters, for decades before I was born, they had written similar letters to others, that time laying the blame on my grandmother.

The poison pen letters that showed up first in Cape Elizabeth Ward (now renamed and called the Portland Ward), later in the Sanford Ward, and now in the Saco Ward, are a constant steady reoccurred in my life. They are a mystery that has long baffled me. The fact that they habitually get written to people I do not even know, is also a puzzlement. But it is the fact that in every occurrence of a round of these letters, that they are always supposedly signed by me, that is the most troubling fact of all, for it means that some where out there, I have a stalker, and a vicious vindictive stalker who takes great delight in stirring up trouble and finding ways to make people angry with me.

I have yet to identify this person, but it would seem that it is someone who has known me for a very long time, seeing how these sorts of things have been going on now for 31 long and nerve wracking years. The last round of poison pen letters that I was made aware of, occurred in 2003. Since my grandfather’s death there has been no more reports of poison pen letters supposedly signed by me, until today. And so it seems, the poison pen writer strikes again.

I do not understand why the person who does this, persists in doing these things. The poison pen letters, the pictures of guns taped to the front door, the rocks through the windows, the paint balls every time I go outside, my 75 pet hens gutted and hung in my rose bushes, the breaking and the sledge hammer taken to all of my furniture, my house burnt to the ground . . . for 31 years I’ve had to live with this. Who is the creep that is stalking me? Why are they doing this? And when will it end?

All Hail Bela Lugosi!

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