gordon

A person is haunted by the image of someone hanging, and they miss the person. They need love and feel something is wrong with them. They plan to go to Madrid to see someone named Ibanez who has a Neanderthal skull. They discuss a figure named Gronkh who was worshipped by pre-modern humans. A mystery religion dedicated to Gronkh existed before Christianity spread. The relics of Gronkh were lost, but there are tales of battles with a demon named Gronkha. They have set up an interview with Vipanes and plan to use an alias for the secretary. They discuss speaking Spanish and the secretary's proficiency in English. They mention giving lectures at various colleges and their interest in older human incarnations. They talk about trepanation and its purpose in different cultures. The person decides to retire and write an article before bed. They instruct someone to lock themselves in the bathroom while they do unpleasant work. They express that they have waited a long time to do this Seven. I've never stopped thinking about her. Can't get it out of my mind, seeing her like that. Can't get the sight of the noose out of my mind. I miss her, Amy. Don't you? Nine. Thanks for loving me. I need it. There's something not right with me of late. Eleven. For us, read the message that came with them. Fourteen. So we need to go to Madrid sometime this week and see this chap Ibanez. Must be an anthropologist or something. He has a Neanderthal skull and slag once it's shipped to him through a contact I've already met. Sixteen. Haven't got the foggiest, but I can find out. Eighteen. I have to cancel one of my undergrad classes and some speaking engagements later in the week. Can you take off work? Twenty-six. A bit more subtlety please, darling. Our fellow passengers will think you're positively predatory. Twenty-eight. Want to hear about Gronkh? He's mentioned and named in Formulae De Profundis as the Desolate One. It describes him as something as a demigod, a powerful being who ruled before modern man peopled the earth. Thirty. Please. Caveman is such an inelegant descriptor. But to answer your question, yes, I believe this Gronkh fellow was worshipped by troglodytic pre-modern species of men, like Cro-Magnon or Neanderthal, who might have lived in very small populations subsisting in obscure corners of Europe and interacted with ancient Greeks and Romans. Now we know that... Thirty-two. Yes. Now we know from Roman historical documents and a number of vaguer fireside tales that a mystery religion arose shortly before the reign of Constantine. This sect was dedicated to the adoration of a three-eyed deity which they called Gronokh, or, as translated by the mad abbot who wrote the formulae, Gronik. Thirty-four. The sect split up and went underground as Christianity spread throughout Europe. The relics of Gronik, supposed to possess profound spiritual powers, were lost. There's even an account of the Knights Templar battling a demon named Gronkha during the Crusades. And then there is this chap, Vipanes. Thirty-six. I don't know. Slag certainly believes it to be so, and as long as he pays for the skull, I'll believe it too. Thirty-eight. Very soon you shall. Forty-one. Slag or someone in his employ has contacted this chap Vipanes and set up an interview with the representatives of the Mid-Atlantic Journal of Paleobiology. He was told to expect Dr. Eugene Mandrake, that's me, and his secretary. Forty-three. Slag is a bit of a dinosaur, isn't he? He didn't provide a name for the secretary. I suppose you can choose any alias that suits you. Forty-five. Do you fancy her too? Forty-nine. I'm so sorry, I had no idea that... Fifty-one. Speaking of which, my secretary and I both speak serviceable Spanish, but I dare say your English is much better. You speak it without a trace of accent. I hope you don't mind if we converse in our native tongue? Fifty-four. I'm afraid it hasn't appeared in the pages of any scholarly journal for quite some time. Still, I managed to lecture at Westlayen, countless liberal arts colleges in the rural U.S., a few colleges in the U.K., and the Universidad de Mesilla. Fifty-eight. Indeed, or rather, I was in attendance. Piltdown Man and Peking Man are specialties of mine. Or rather, they interest me a great deal. I like to stew over the older incarnations of man. Sixty-nine. Our friend appears to have endured what may be the oldest surgical procedure on the planet, trepanation. It's the process by which a piece of skull is removed from the person suffering. Well, from whatever nonsense the surgeon thought ailed him. Seventy-three. Why not? Many primitive peoples did it as part of an exorcism. Open a trapdoor to help the evil spirits escape. Other sects, including various New Age philosophies, believe trepanation aided those on a path to enlightenment by enabling them to open their third eye, the eye of deeper knowledge. Seventy-seven. Now you're being catty. Seventy-nine. I believe I'll retire. I'd like to jot down some notes for the article before bed. Eighty-one. Suit yourself. See you both in the morning. Ninety-nine. Put this on. Lock yourself in the bathroom. I've got some unpleasant work to do. One hundred three. I've waited to do this for a long time. Too long.