Indiana Jones and the Black Book

Posted by Michaelson from leospace047.utsi.edu on June 30, 2000 at 14:36:36:

First an explaination why I'm even writing this...I do not have time to write. I used to, but with life time gets away from you. I am offering this for several reasons, some of which I will not disclose for personal reasons, but I want stress the following three items. First, I have my own personal thoughts and understanding of Indy from all my years of association with the hobby, therefore what you read here is my spin using the character based on my felt understand OF that character. Secondly, the item I'm writing about actually exists. It is not an object ripped out of "Army of Darkness", or "Bednobs and Broomsticks", but an actual item that surfaced in the personal experience of a family member. Last, but not least, this chapter is based on a actual occurance. It really happened. I am putting this out there substituting Indy in place of the real individual. I have no clue where the story can go, or if in fact it can go anywhere. I'm just going to leave it out there for the forum to decide if they want to pursue it, or even if our old friend Sean Dodge of Nick Kismet fame wants to take a stab at it, I'm more than happy to oblige. What I'm saying is that I have no idea where to go after I place the information in front of the reader. The invidiual never filled out any further details, and has since passed away, and their research paperwork has disappeared. With this said, please excuse my rusty return to the craft of the story teller, and see if anyone wants to give some serious thought as to where this story could go, or if it should continue at all.

Indiana Jones and the Black Book

Chapter one

The commons clock struck the half hour, it's Westminister chimes rumbling through the walls of the old college library. The small assistant librarian slowly walked up the narrow metal stairs of the "stacks", the loosely piled book shelves casting long omnious shadows from the bare flouriscent lighting spaced on every other aisle across the floor. She made her way up to the 13th floor (an unlucky number in her opinion for a library, but the builders didn't care about that sort of thing), and she made her way down the cluttered book aisle to the small cramped end study carol. She could see the silloette of a man hunched over a large volume, staring intently at it's dusty pages.

"Dr. Jones, it's time for me to leave. Just lock up behind you when you're done."

She saw the man wave his hand absent mindly in the air, but received no response. She let out an exasperated sigh, and turned to retrace her steps.

Dr. Henry Jones, Jr, or Indiana to his friends, was staring intently at the Latin text that was spread out before him. The year was 1949. The war had been over for a few years now, and things were definitely booming at the college with the veterans returning with the GI bill paying for their educations. Indy was only able to perform the one thing he really didn't care about doing, research, in the wee hours of the morning, when all the students finally cleared out of the building.

Indy leaned back, removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, then looked back at the book he had been translating from. His father had pointed him in this direction. Dr. Jones, Sr. had long since retired from the Medeival and Reniassance Studies department, but holding the status of tenured and retired professor, he still worked adjunct professorship. He also still badgered Indy on his responsibility to his job requirements, that of having to publish papers for the college based on new research. Indy was a field man! This was pure drudgery, but he knew his dad was right.

Dr. Jones pointed Indy in the direction of an area of the library least used by the librarians....that of the donated manuscripts from "unknown" benefactors. Most were hand scribed in Medieval Latin or French, and though the resident ancient text scholars were well versed in the craft, this type of "grunt" work requiring the labor intensive work of translation of new acquired text was always saved for the poor graduate assistant or doctorial student. You rarely saw a full professor getting their hands dirty on the original text translations, though they did make themselves fully available when a discovery was made, and of course took full credit for the discovery! Only old Dr. Jones Sr. ever did his own "dirty" work, and though no student ever wanted to take his courses, they did respect him for doing his own research. He expected Indy to do no less.

Indy pulled his gold Hampden pocket watch out of his pocket and opened the case. The time was quarter of two in the morning! He'd been involved with his translation for over 6 hours! He fingered the watch chain on the watch, and gazed at it's face again. He rarely wore it, as it was one of the only things he still owned that he had received from his mother, and he only wore it when on campus. He paused in thought, then returned to the job at hand.

Indy began his research on a topic that was not only one of unpopular content, but so little was available to research WITH. Indy thought, with a grin, that it was such a intense, first effort study that he should apply for a second doctorial degree, but then he shuttered at the thought.

The topic was historical witchcraft, or specifically what happened to the open practice of witchcraft between the time of the Spainish Inquistion, and it's reappearance at Salem, Mass. at the time of the infamous Salem witch trials. There was no written record, no sources,no journals as all the survivors had gone underground during those hundreds of years between the two happenings. A 300+ year old vaccum existed in the historical records regarding this particular group.

Indy pulled himself closer to the small study table, and once again leaned over the large volume in front of him. The then moved his journel aside that he had been writing the translations into. The book itself was not that eye catching, though for it's apparent age, it did not seem to have the usual musty odor, or dry rotted appearance that most old manuscripts had. It was quite large, approximately 4 inches thick, and the overall size was 24 inches by 14 inches closed. All his father would say was "give it a look, but don't linger." Criptic, as usual. And yet, why?

The first translations seem to be praise prayers to the "dark one", but no specifics as to whom the "dark one" was, thought Indy could surmise. There were several sections that seemed to hold the usual spells that he had read in other texts relating to the Greeks and Romans and their priest hoods. This text, none the less, seemed to have a darker and more sinister feel to it. Indy just couldn't pin it down.

Indy looked over to his thermos, and reached toward it to pour himself a cup of coffee, when he saw a reflection in the chrome top of the cup. He turned, but saw no one there. He looked as far back into the darkness as his eyes and the glare of the overhead bulbs would allow, but no one could be seen, and in the silence of the old building, nothing could be heard. He turned back to the thermos, paused, then poured his coffee. As he began to lean back toward the work at hand, he felt a slight breeze on his neck, and quickly turned around. Just out of the edge of the light, he could just make out the outline of a shape, not exactly human, but exactly what?

"Who's there?" Indy demanded, in a tone that reflected his startled concern at being approached so easily without detection.

The figure was still for what seemed an eternity, then slowly moved forward. It was a young girl. A very beautiful young girl in a hooded cape. He could not detect any details, as she stayed just far enough back in the shadows to hide her identity.

"Good evening, Dr. Jones"

"Good morning, Miss...?"

"It isn't of importance, Dr. Jones. We have been watching you and your progress with great interest. Have you been able to successfully translate any of the great book?"

Indy could detect a sense of urgency in the tone of her voice. It surprised him, almost as much as her unannounced arrival.

"Yes. You spoke of a "we". Who are you, and why would this translation be of any interest to you, or to anyone else, for that matter?" Indy asked.

"We are but a few in this area. But there are many more who have been without guidance. We kept this book, one of several hand written copies, with considerable care, waiting for the right person to translate the words. We had this copy donated to this library and have waited for so many years for it to be found. I am pleased to have found you at your work on my watch tonight."

Indy looked at her in amazement.

"You've been watching this book? Why didn't you just take it to the linguistics department and have it translated?"

"It had to be done by someone who was intent on the KNOWLEDGE of the research. The research would allow for the correct translation of the text. We needed an expert with the knowledge and the will to bring forth the knowledge, not a technician who just looked at the words."

Indy sat back in this chair. The young woman still stood at the edge of the light, just in sight, just out of detailed sight. Indy started to say something, when the young woman said..

"We would like to invite you to a meeting. After you have accomplished more of your work, and can give further details of your translations, one of us will return and guide you to the meeting. Our coven will be pleased to receive you."

Indy started forward in his chair. "Coven!" He exclaimed.

She smiled and stepped back into the darkness. Indy jumped up out of his chair, knocking it backwards, and leaped forward to grab her before she was able to escape, only to find no one there. Indy stopped and listened. No sounds, no footsteps, no breathing...only the quick beating of his heart......

He turned around and looked back at the small study table that he had left. His chair was upright in front of the desk again, and his journal had been reopened, ready for his next entry. The hair on the back of Indy's neck stood on end........

End chapter one.

There you have it. I can only stress once again that this is based on a actual occurance. It's not a fan creation. With that in mind, is this something that should be continued. I leave it up to the group at hand, and please excuse any mispelling, as I did this on the fly as I have time. Good luck. Regards. Michaelson

Follow Ups:

Wow!!! Kent Allard 15:40:13 6/30/2000 (2)
- Thank you very much Michaelson 17:09:51 6/30/2000 (1)
  - Re: Thank you very much Kent Allard 17:26:20 6/30/2000 (0)
great story michaelson. its eerie that it actually happened [nm] . 15:27:10 6/30/2000 (0)

Post a Followup:

Name:    
E-Mail:  
Subject: 
Comments:

: First an explaination why I'm even writing this...I do not have time to write. I used to, but with life time gets away from you. I am offering this for several reasons, some of which I will not disclose for personal reasons, but I want stress the following three items. First, I have my own personal thoughts and understanding of Indy from all my years of association with the hobby, therefore what you read here is my spin using the character based on my felt understand OF that character. Secondly, the item I'm writing about actually exists. It is not an object ripped out of "Army of Darkness", or "Bednobs and Broomsticks", but an actual item that surfaced in the personal experience of a family member. Last, but not least, this chapter is based on a actual occurance. It really happened. I am putting this out there substituting Indy in place of the real individual. I have no clue where the story can go, or if in fact it can go anywhere. I'm just going to leave it out there for the forum to decide if they want to pursue it, or even if our old friend Sean Dodge of Nick Kismet fame wants to take a stab at it, I'm more than happy to oblige. What I'm saying is that I have no idea where to go after I place the information in front of the reader. The invidiual never filled out any further details, and has since passed away, and their research paperwork has disappeared. With this said, please excuse my rusty return to the craft of the story teller, and see if anyone wants to give some serious thought as to where this story could go, or if it should continue at all.

: 
: Indiana Jones and the Black Book

: 
: Chapter one

: The commons clock struck the half hour, it's Westminister chimes rumbling through the walls of the old college library. The small assistant librarian slowly walked up the narrow metal stairs of the "stacks", the loosely piled book shelves casting long omnious shadows from the bare flouriscent lighting spaced on every other aisle across the floor. She made her way up to the 13th floor (an unlucky number in her opinion for a library, but the builders didn't care about that sort of thing), and she made her way down the cluttered book aisle to the small cramped end study carol. She could see the silloette of a man hunched over a large volume, staring intently at it's dusty pages.

: "Dr. Jones, it's time for me to leave. Just lock up behind you when you're done."

: She saw the man wave his hand absent mindly in the air, but received no response. She let out an exasperated sigh, and turned to retrace her steps.

: Dr. Henry Jones, Jr, or Indiana to his friends, was staring intently at the Latin text that was spread out before him. The year was 1949. The war had been over for a few years now, and things were definitely booming at the college with the veterans returning with the GI bill paying for their educations. Indy was only able to perform the one thing he really didn't care about doing, research, in the wee hours of the morning, when all the students finally cleared out of the building.

: Indy leaned back, removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, then looked back at the book he had been translating from. His father had pointed him in this direction. Dr. Jones, Sr. had long since retired from the Medeival and Reniassance Studies department, but holding the status of tenured and retired professor, he still worked adjunct professorship. He also still badgered Indy on his responsibility to his job requirements, that of having to publish papers for the college based on new research. Indy was a field man! This was pure drudgery, but he knew his dad was right.

: Dr. Jones pointed Indy in the direction of an area of the library least used by the librarians....that of the donated manuscripts from "unknown" benefactors. Most were hand scribed in Medieval Latin or French, and though the resident ancient text scholars were well versed in the craft, this type of "grunt" work requiring the labor intensive work of translation of new acquired text was always saved for the poor graduate assistant or doctorial student. You rarely saw a full professor getting their hands dirty on the original text translations, though they did make themselves fully available when a discovery was made, and of course took full credit for the discovery! Only old Dr. Jones Sr. ever did his own "dirty" work, and though no student ever wanted to take his courses, they did respect him for doing his own research. He expected Indy to do no less.

: Indy pulled his gold Hampden pocket watch out of his pocket and opened the case. The time was quarter of two in the morning! He'd been involved with his translation for over 6 hours! He fingered the watch chain on the watch, and gazed at it's face again. He rarely wore it, as it was one of the only things he still owned that he had received from his mother, and he only wore it when on campus. He paused in thought, then returned to the job at hand.

: Indy began his research on a topic that was not only one of unpopular content, but so little was available to research WITH.  Indy thought, with a grin, that it was such a intense, first effort study that he should apply for a second doctorial degree, but then he shuttered at the thought.

: The topic was historical witchcraft, or specifically what happened to the open practice of witchcraft between the time of the Spainish Inquistion, and it's reappearance at Salem, Mass. at the time of the infamous Salem witch trials. There was no written record, no sources,no journals as all the survivors had gone underground during those hundreds of years between the two happenings. A 300+ year old vaccum existed in the historical records regarding this particular group.

: Indy pulled himself closer to the small study table, and once again leaned over the large volume in front of him. The then moved his journel aside that he had been writing the translations into. The book itself was not that eye catching, though for it's apparent age, it did not seem to have the usual musty odor, or dry rotted appearance that most old manuscripts had. It was quite large, approximately 4 inches thick, and the overall size was 24 inches by 14 inches closed. All his father would say was "give it a look, but don't linger." Criptic, as usual. And yet, why?

: The first translations seem to be praise prayers to the "dark one", but no specifics as to whom the "dark one" was, thought Indy could surmise. There were several sections that seemed to hold the usual spells that he had read in other texts relating to the Greeks and Romans and their priest hoods. This text, none the less, seemed to have a darker and more sinister feel to it. Indy just couldn't pin it down.

: Indy looked over to his thermos, and reached toward it to pour himself a cup of coffee, when he saw a reflection in the chrome top of the cup. He turned, but saw no one there. He looked as far back into the darkness as his eyes and the glare of the overhead bulbs would allow, but no one could be seen, and in the silence of the old building, nothing could be heard. He turned back to the thermos, paused, then poured his coffee. As he began to lean back toward the work at hand, he felt a slight breeze on his neck, and quickly turned around. Just out of the edge of the light, he could just make out the outline of a shape, not exactly human, but exactly what?

: "Who's there?" Indy demanded, in a tone that reflected his startled concern at being approached so easily without detection.

: The figure was still for what seemed an eternity, then slowly moved forward. It was a young girl. A very beautiful young girl in a hooded cape. He could not detect any details, as she stayed just far enough back in the shadows to hide her identity.

: "Good evening, Dr. Jones"

: "Good morning, Miss...?"

: "It isn't of importance, Dr. Jones. We have been watching you and your progress with great interest. Have you been able to successfully translate any of the great book?"

: Indy could detect a sense of urgency in the tone of her voice. It surprised him, almost as much as her unannounced arrival.

: "Yes. You spoke of a "we". Who are you, and why would this translation be of any interest to you, or to anyone else, for that matter?" Indy asked.

: "We are but a few in this area. But there are many more who have been without guidance. We kept this book, one of several hand written copies, with considerable care, waiting for the right person to translate the words. We had this copy donated to this library and have waited for so many years for it to be found. I am pleased to have found you at your work on my watch tonight."

: Indy looked at her in amazement.

: "You've been watching this book? Why didn't you just take it to the linguistics department and have it translated?"

: "It had to be done by someone who was intent on the KNOWLEDGE of the research. The research would allow for the correct translation of the text. We needed an expert with the knowledge and the will to bring forth the knowledge, not a technician who just looked at the words."

: Indy sat back in this chair. The young woman still stood at the edge of the light, just in sight, just out of detailed sight. Indy started to say something, when the young woman said..

: "We would like to invite you to a meeting. After you have accomplished more of your work, and can give further details of your translations, one of us will return and guide you to the meeting. Our coven will be pleased to receive you."

: Indy started forward in his chair. "Coven!" He exclaimed.

: She smiled and stepped back into the darkness. Indy jumped up out of his chair, knocking it backwards, and leaped forward to grab her before she was able to escape, only to find no one there. Indy stopped and listened. No sounds, no footsteps, no breathing...only the quick beating of his heart......

: He turned around and looked back at the small study table that he had left. His chair was upright in front of the desk again, and his journal had been reopened, ready for his next entry. The hair on the back of Indy's neck stood on end........

: End chapter one.

: 
: There you have it. I can only stress once again that this is based on a actual occurance. It's not a fan creation. With that in mind, is this something that should be continued.  I leave it up to the group at hand, and please excuse any mispelling, as I did this on the fly as I have time. Good luck. Regards. Michaelson

Optional:

Link URL:   
Link Title: 
Image URL:

[ Follow Ups ] [ Post Followup ] [ The Indyfan Forum ] [ FAQ ]