Posted by lyric from ss09.ny.us.ibm.com on February 02, 2001 at 14:14:37:
In Reply to: Indiana Jones and the Nightmares of Lovecraft...Part I posted by The Spatsman on October 02, 2000 at 04:45:45:
when is the next installment comming??
: The lady at the small and unassuming desk turned around.
: She was obviously engaged in her never-ending quest of conquering the immense stacks of unorganized files and papers that constantly threatened what little space she had in the tiny office. Her eyes glinted with the impatience of having that vendetta interupted.
: "Yes, Dr. Jones?"
: Dr. Jones fidgeted a moment, his crooked smile speaking
: an apology.
: "I know you're busy, but this package...was this in todays mail?"
: Irene squinted at the paper-bound bundle in his hands.
: "It was on my desk this morning when I arrived, just as it is. No stamp or return address. Why, is it ticking?" She grinned.
: Jones chuckled. "Not this time. It does state 'handle with care' on it, though. I just wondered if it was a flat fruitcake or something."
: Irene shook her head with a laugh.
: "It's October, Dr. Jones. No fruitcake until December."
: The professor turned back into his office and left Irene to her
: herculean efforts. He picked his way through myriad statues, weapons and pottery until he found his tiny, cluttered desk and sat to the best of his ability. Staring at the package, he decided he didn't like it. He hadn't liked packages since that spring. He shook off the distaste, however, and he began to tear away at the paper wrapping, reminding himself that his father was lecturing in Baltimore. As the layer of paper fell away, a large sheet of metal appeared, with a finish that desperatly required a polish.
: Jones stood as he finished unwrapping the object, and he found
: himself scratching his head as he stared at what lay before him.
: It appeared to be a book, a book bound in thin sheets of tarnished silver.
: A simple glance at the side of the strange text gave the professor cause to believe that the book might be entirely silver, as no vellum or parchment was visible. The notion that each sheet of the text might be silver was rather unlikely to Jones, however, so he retrieved his padded foreceps so as to give each layer of the book the delicate treatment one always accorded ancient papers. Only after he had the foreceps firmly in hand did he spot the lock on the text, a fastening that secured the book cover to cover. The large keyhole yawned at him.
: As he gave the paper wrapping a second check for a key, his eyes fell upon a manilla folder, which lay partially hidden under the book.
: He slid the folder out onto his desk, clearing away small greco-roman lamps and norse cloak brooches. The folder contained only three papers, two of which were handwritten, the other a modern city roadmap.
: Jones loosened the half-Windsor knot at his throat and sat.
: Once his spectacles were rescued from the interior pocket of his tweed coat and perched on the bridge of his nose, he began to read the handwritten message. The writing was sloppy, but the lettering was round enough for him to to pick his way through it;
: Dr. Jones,
: My most sincere apologies for
: involving you in this situation, but
: your reputation for the safe aquisition
: and recovery of historic antiquities,
: as well as the convenience of your
: present location, has led me
: to the conclusion that you are my best
: hope. The enigmatic text you have recieved
: is the hinge on which this present
: conflict swings. The delusional claims
: of the books' subject matter are my fault
: entirely, it would seem. Having liberally
: sprinkled fantastic images in my writing,
: I have inadvertantly created a fringe
: element amongst my readers, an element
: that believes my work to have some
: anchoring to a core truth, which is
: entirely untrue. To say that such claims
: border on madness is, I believe, rather
: gentle to be completely accurate.
: My readers are, for the most part,
: thoroughly decent people, and some even
: pursue their education to the highest level.
: My constant references to ancient and
: somewhat unfamiliar cultures has proven to
: be a fertile ground for readers to debate,
: and it was one reader, a Mr. Thomas Crayton,
: who sent me the silver book you have now.
: His conclusions were that the book was a
: seventeenth century creation, containing
: a series of codes designed to translate
: the ancient carvings of the Pictish nations
: into a viable language. The choice of silver
: and the success of the unknown authors
: attempts are unknown, and I believe that
: the book should recieve further academic
: attention. I find it difficult to believe
: such a potentially groundbreaking work
: could end up in the hands of a rare book
: dealer, but stranger things have been known.
: I would have presented this piece
: to you personally, were I not so harassed,
: yet the fringe element I mentioned previously
: have convinced themselves that the text is
: actually a grimoire or a religious writing,
: and my safety has been threatened. Should you
: wish to remain uninvolved in this matter,
: I have provided a roadmap with directions,
: which should be useful in locating my home
: in Providence. I am quite aware of the
: inconvenience this must have caused. Therefore,
: I have wired funds in the amount of $500 to
: your department, and I would be more then
: happy to fund any projects your department
: may wish to pursue in the future. Any
: information you can provide or assistance
: you can render would be most gratefully
: Howard Philips Lovecraft
: Providence, Rhode Island
: Jones sighed and leaned back, removing his glasses.
: "There's no key, Howard," he mumbled, "You forgot the key."
: He considered the letter, and city map of Providence, with Mr. Lovecraft's address indicated in pencil.
: He wasn't an antique appraiser, and he certainly wasn't for sale. His office was small, though.
: Granted, the offer of funds for future projects was tempting, but it left Jones with the feeling that he would be catering to rich eccentricities if he accepted. It would be too close to what a particular french archaeologist once refered to as being "...fallen from the purer faith."
: His office was small, though.
: Providence wasn't that far, and he knew a couple of profs that could give the text a thorough looking. All things considered, he should at least help dispell some of the superstition the book had bred...and his office was so small.
: Jones rubbed his temples. Well, he thought, at least the package wasn't from Venice.
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