Antropology Lessons By Night - Part 1
Posted by Marchio Naberius | Posted in horror story | Posted on 12:00 AM
"The common curse of mankind,—folly and ignorance."
-William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, Act II.
I learned about the story of Philippe Vimont from the crackled and rotten pages of his diary buried six feet underground with his carcass in 1998. He used to be my friend a long time ago but his sudden death and prior utterly strange behavior obsessed me to the point that beyond all sanity and comprehension, I dug up his grave to know what really happened on the night of his death, the September 24th 1996.
Considering my now very feeble credibility, weakened by being held against my will in a mental institution, I would understand you if you didn't believe the terrible yet nearly impossible events that occurred to that man I respect with all my heart. He was an anthropologist of renown (graduated from Harvard in 1986) for he had made proof that the Laetoli footprints were issued of our very genus, but this is an other story.
His diary, that I will partially quote in this informal and mainly sentimental report begins with a trip to Africa he forgot to mention to me, his old friend. The events take place aboard a plane on destination to a village in Divéné in the no longer socialist Republic of Congo during the night of September 17th 1996 and are constituting the first record of his diary.
"I am currently on the plane. I do not know what I will find in this country but I am confident that the translation I accomplished is authentic and reliable. The only thing I fear is the severe effect of time which must have laid its inescapable curse upon the proofs I seek. I have been told that I will not lack of labor force, for the village I am leading to is primitive and desperately crave for investment. However, the nature of my researches is economically potent but highly risky so I must keep the purpose of this travel untold." - Record 1
His explanation is vague but I discovered later that he speaks of a location he found in an old book that were extracted from a passage reproduced by consonance from a very occult dialect proper to the lost Kingdom of Anziku. Apparently, the purpose of this initial excursion was to find proofs of a different humanoid yet unknown to the modern representation of Mankind evolution, along with some ancient archaeological artifacts of great value. Interested by the possible discovery that would result in a critical revolution of modern anthropological conception, he had left quickly and arrived in the small airport in the morning of the next day.
The airport was on the side of the very moist and dense forest of the Republic of Congo. He was amazed at the exotic beauty of the landscape and the kindness of the people he met. The firsts days he spent in this remote place were fully spent to reach the village of which name he does not mention. While he was in the rabid jungle of Congo, he mentioned a passage worthy of attention :
"I am sitting under a strange tree waiting for the guide to come back with some fresh water. His daughter is looking around nervously, there is something bugging her. Despite of her worried face I must admit that she is as beautiful as the Venus of Azombeii. Her eyes reflects intelligence and her ebony skin is perfect, this country is not always easy on the natives but she seemed untouched by time and roughness of life. She has long and strong legs revealed from her army teared up pants and her breasts are generous and firm, veiled by her very thin and old green tank top. Now I am pulled out of my oneirism by the guide coming back, he looks as worried as her, but has the water." - Record 3
I never knew that my friend was so aware of the beauty of a woman. I do not doubt his virility but his capacity to be romantic. Again, I was surely wrong about him... His diary has four or five other short records leading the story to the unknown and enormously remote village he finally managed to venture to. Closing in to the village, his guides claimed their due, the girl kissed him on the cheek and he left them to walk the last yards.
Arrived there, the anthropologist described the village as "an eery slum drowned in a warm fog". There was an uneasiness building up with the locals as they seemed to hate the strangers, and looked at him with a gaze severe enough to chill your bones. Nevertheless, some of them liked the money, so after a few refusals he managed to find an intrepid and strong looking man named Mabwé who promised to know the emplacement of the thing he was looking for. Completely exhausted from the flight and the long walk in the jungle he had just ended, he slept in the back of Mabwé's rusty truck (which was also his house), and they both left on feet, after a troubled sleep, early in the morning.
"I just woke up and take the time to write this for I do not know when I will be able to write again. The ruins are close from this village apparently, I could reach them before the night comes. I am eager to visit the forgotten place I am looking for, if I am right, I might make a revolutionary discovery. I do not understand this man Mabwé, he came to me and woke me up asking for me to take my money back, hopefully I convinced him to complete our journey." - Record 10
They walked in the jungle with all day, surrounded by very tall exotic trees that obscured the narrow trail we were following. He could tell that the so called "trail" was almost never used for the vegetation was all over it. After walking a few hours, they began to ascend a hill. The guide remained silent during the whole excursion. He lead M. Vimont in the twilight until they had reached the end of the trail.
The path became harder than it was when walking on the moist earthen trail for the floor was now covered in some yellowish cobblestone. At the end of this sinister pathway was laying the ultimate structure he was looking so desperately for. He described his vision of the ruins :
"I have stopped a few minutes for we attained the first objective of this excursion. The sun will set soon so I must hurry. I found the ruins of a temple used by the pygmies who once inhabited the region. The ruins are the hint of a once magnificent stone carved temple, ingeniously built upon the back of the mountain. In front of the ruins (showing only the first floor of the antediluvian fortification), was a small lake forming an inner bay, bathed in fog. The nature, like the landscape laying before my very eyes is silent and still, like the time had spared the whole sanctum. I will now set up the camp. I cannot wait for the morning to come, I hope I will find the evidence I am looking for." - Record 11
Those where the last words of his diary, and thus, this marks the beginning of my own journey, on the trails of his mysterious disappearance.
To be continued...
-William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, Act II.
I learned about the story of Philippe Vimont from the crackled and rotten pages of his diary buried six feet underground with his carcass in 1998. He used to be my friend a long time ago but his sudden death and prior utterly strange behavior obsessed me to the point that beyond all sanity and comprehension, I dug up his grave to know what really happened on the night of his death, the September 24th 1996.
Considering my now very feeble credibility, weakened by being held against my will in a mental institution, I would understand you if you didn't believe the terrible yet nearly impossible events that occurred to that man I respect with all my heart. He was an anthropologist of renown (graduated from Harvard in 1986) for he had made proof that the Laetoli footprints were issued of our very genus, but this is an other story.
His diary, that I will partially quote in this informal and mainly sentimental report begins with a trip to Africa he forgot to mention to me, his old friend. The events take place aboard a plane on destination to a village in Divéné in the no longer socialist Republic of Congo during the night of September 17th 1996 and are constituting the first record of his diary.
"I am currently on the plane. I do not know what I will find in this country but I am confident that the translation I accomplished is authentic and reliable. The only thing I fear is the severe effect of time which must have laid its inescapable curse upon the proofs I seek. I have been told that I will not lack of labor force, for the village I am leading to is primitive and desperately crave for investment. However, the nature of my researches is economically potent but highly risky so I must keep the purpose of this travel untold." - Record 1
His explanation is vague but I discovered later that he speaks of a location he found in an old book that were extracted from a passage reproduced by consonance from a very occult dialect proper to the lost Kingdom of Anziku. Apparently, the purpose of this initial excursion was to find proofs of a different humanoid yet unknown to the modern representation of Mankind evolution, along with some ancient archaeological artifacts of great value. Interested by the possible discovery that would result in a critical revolution of modern anthropological conception, he had left quickly and arrived in the small airport in the morning of the next day.
The airport was on the side of the very moist and dense forest of the Republic of Congo. He was amazed at the exotic beauty of the landscape and the kindness of the people he met. The firsts days he spent in this remote place were fully spent to reach the village of which name he does not mention. While he was in the rabid jungle of Congo, he mentioned a passage worthy of attention :
"I am sitting under a strange tree waiting for the guide to come back with some fresh water. His daughter is looking around nervously, there is something bugging her. Despite of her worried face I must admit that she is as beautiful as the Venus of Azombeii. Her eyes reflects intelligence and her ebony skin is perfect, this country is not always easy on the natives but she seemed untouched by time and roughness of life. She has long and strong legs revealed from her army teared up pants and her breasts are generous and firm, veiled by her very thin and old green tank top. Now I am pulled out of my oneirism by the guide coming back, he looks as worried as her, but has the water." - Record 3
I never knew that my friend was so aware of the beauty of a woman. I do not doubt his virility but his capacity to be romantic. Again, I was surely wrong about him... His diary has four or five other short records leading the story to the unknown and enormously remote village he finally managed to venture to. Closing in to the village, his guides claimed their due, the girl kissed him on the cheek and he left them to walk the last yards.
Arrived there, the anthropologist described the village as "an eery slum drowned in a warm fog". There was an uneasiness building up with the locals as they seemed to hate the strangers, and looked at him with a gaze severe enough to chill your bones. Nevertheless, some of them liked the money, so after a few refusals he managed to find an intrepid and strong looking man named Mabwé who promised to know the emplacement of the thing he was looking for. Completely exhausted from the flight and the long walk in the jungle he had just ended, he slept in the back of Mabwé's rusty truck (which was also his house), and they both left on feet, after a troubled sleep, early in the morning.
"I just woke up and take the time to write this for I do not know when I will be able to write again. The ruins are close from this village apparently, I could reach them before the night comes. I am eager to visit the forgotten place I am looking for, if I am right, I might make a revolutionary discovery. I do not understand this man Mabwé, he came to me and woke me up asking for me to take my money back, hopefully I convinced him to complete our journey." - Record 10
They walked in the jungle with all day, surrounded by very tall exotic trees that obscured the narrow trail we were following. He could tell that the so called "trail" was almost never used for the vegetation was all over it. After walking a few hours, they began to ascend a hill. The guide remained silent during the whole excursion. He lead M. Vimont in the twilight until they had reached the end of the trail.
The path became harder than it was when walking on the moist earthen trail for the floor was now covered in some yellowish cobblestone. At the end of this sinister pathway was laying the ultimate structure he was looking so desperately for. He described his vision of the ruins :
"I have stopped a few minutes for we attained the first objective of this excursion. The sun will set soon so I must hurry. I found the ruins of a temple used by the pygmies who once inhabited the region. The ruins are the hint of a once magnificent stone carved temple, ingeniously built upon the back of the mountain. In front of the ruins (showing only the first floor of the antediluvian fortification), was a small lake forming an inner bay, bathed in fog. The nature, like the landscape laying before my very eyes is silent and still, like the time had spared the whole sanctum. I will now set up the camp. I cannot wait for the morning to come, I hope I will find the evidence I am looking for." - Record 11
Those where the last words of his diary, and thus, this marks the beginning of my own journey, on the trails of his mysterious disappearance.
To be continued...
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