Ñe’è Trampa

Hello there, dear reader. I am so glad you've found this. I wish to share with you a tale, though you may find it fantastical or strange, I assure you every word I write to you is true. First a brief introduction. I am Percival Jason Alexander, English-born, American-raised, academic scholar, and lover of hi$tory! I was born in London in 1798 and my family moved to America that same year. What? No, I assure you I am very much alive at the time of this writing in 2023. But that would make me over 7wo hundred years old I hear you cry. Fear not, I am a little over the age of thirty. Now, be calm, I'll answer all those questions and more, in fact, I fully intend to give you, yes you, dear reader the key to such longevity.

Now I was telling you I was a scholar, but that is only in part the truth, I was little more than a man of twenty when I was allowed to join a college expedition into the South Americas. The boat to the south would be considered slow and sickening to the modern taste, but at the time it was a rather comfortable ship to be on. Sure, the fo0d was overly salted, and there wasn't much to choose from, but it was only a week's travel.

We (I, my Professors, and fellow students) arrived in Brazil on May 29^th, 1819. We began our trek into the jungle after a day’s rest. I walked along in the middle of our little band of explorers, as we made our way through the ocean of green and brown foliage I could feel the heavy, dank moisture in the air caressing my skin. It was warm and sticky almost like a tongue on your flesh. What's that? Did you feel it? Just for a fleeting moment, and only faintly? Well, coincidence I assure you. To continue, ouR every step was constantly harried by the endless droning of bugs in the environment we trekked. Days of this we endured, our clothes clung to us soaked in sweat and that horrid inescapable humidity. After what felt like weeks of travel, by foot and by the quaint little boats of the indigenous peoples we finally arrived.

Our expedition was to be the first civilized exploration of this bizarr3 ruin. You see, we, as humans tend to build our structures upward. This one, however, was a staircase leading into what the primitives called the 'True gods Temple.' Worry not dear reader, we found no god in that place. No, we found little more than some ancient scrawling on the walls and nonsensical drawings. We spent days led by the professors, carrying torches trying to make sense of @nything we could find. The writing was not in a language any of us knew, and none of the pictures matched anything we could identify. Everything in this cool damp place was wrong. Silly primitives couldn't even draw an animal correctly, it was amazing they had a language at all.

The most remarkable find was a journal. I won’t bore you with the 9etails but it was from a man who had come to the ruins before us! According to his notes, the scrawls and pictures told the history of the people who built this ruin. At an unknown time in the past, they met a god, not the one who made them, the one who would rule them. Now, according to the journal, these primitives believe they were ruled for nine thousand years by their god. Rubb)sh if you ask me. These savages didn’t even know the name of their god, only that it was hungry, and sought to be known.

Now judge me as you will, but I kept the journal for myself. I shared none of its contents with my fellows and instead played it as if I were deciphering the ruins myself. Why? Fortune, fame, foolishness. Take your pick. After a few days of this, things took a turn for the strange. First, our professors begaN dying in bizarre fashion. One drowns in his sleep, another hurled himself down a hole we had found, and the last ran off into the woods naked. Needless to say, we were a bit startled by this and decided to leave the ruin and return to civilization.

The journey took nearly twice as long and was many times more difficult owing to our guide being eaten by a freakishly large jaGuar. Eventually, however, we did reach the port where our expedition had begun. One of the older students booked us passage in short order and we embarked on our return trip. I did warn you our little story would become a bit fanciful and this is where such a thing begins.

You see we were nearly halfway back to our home nation when the ship was beset by a terrible storm. The rains were the size of a man’s pinky and fell near vertical. The salt was thick in the air and the roaring wind carried a deathly chill. Hm? You say you nearly felt a splash? Ha ha don’t be silly, you’re sitting comfortably on dry land, you just have a powerful imagination, dear reader. Let us continue, our vessel was tossed about like a child’s toy in the bath. The roaring gale tore the doors from the cabins of the ship and one by one each of the cabin's occupants was vacuumed out into that dark wet night. I was no exception.

This wasn't like any wind I had known before it, it felt malicious like it was pulling and pushing on me from all sides. Initially, my door was rattled and then ripped from its hinges and down the hallway. In an instant, both my lanterns were dashed and sucked out of my small room as well. Feeling the pull of the wind I threw myself to the ground and clawed my way underneath my bed. A wasted effort for as soon as I reached its safety the bed was lifted and shattered against the door frame, then it was gone. As you surely expect dear reader, I was next out the door. I was dragged tumbling and thrashing about trying to grab onto anything to no avail.

The next clear image I recall was a bright flash lighting the world around me, well below I could see the ship battered by the black waves with their white crests. I was soaked and the air rushed over me. The next flash I was falling and saw the ship just below me to the side turning over on its side. The faintest chill you say? You truly are remarkable, dear reader. Yes, I was quite chilled as I was flung through the pouring sky. The next moment I hit the water. The force alone knocked the air from my lungs. I missed the next lightning flash as my eyes were closed. I was disoriented and struggling to find 'up' when the next flash came.

Coming from beneath me, a yawning chasm of serrated darkness, impossibly huge. I shudder at the ^^@$73R memory. The ocean below was darkness, but where the light touched the being lit the waters a haunting pale green. It was by that briefest light I could see it, a face, wide like a human with fish-like scales and lips. Where its eyes may have been were tendrils ending in what looked like some venomous stingers. I could see little else beyond that impossible jaw coming from the abyss with unbelievable speed. Then the light faded. My heart pounded, my body screamed, and my very soul wailed to escape.

Moments later I could FEEL purple brushing against my skin. I reflexively jerked away from the strange sensation as my eyes shot open. My jaw fell open seeing this small, long thread of whispers brushing past. I looked around in confusion hacking and sputtering the water from my lungs. Small bursts of muddy brown coughs escaped my lips and floundered on the ground before digging down into the muffled ringing tinnitus I lay upon. None of the sounds in this place looked right. High pitches were low and flat, and deafening sounds created chasms. The color of pickle was making my skin itch. As I sat there in my confusion I reach out and ran my hand along the ringing, it tasted of chalk and pepper. I clung to myself and held my eyes closed. Then I felt it again that vibrant chill of purple on my arm. I jerked away falling on my side to see some ethereal whisper brush past me.

My mind was in rebellion at this N)G#7^^@R3 bizarre dimension. I lay there on that ringing for some time, I know not how long. Eventually, I was calm enough to rise to my feet, though even that was wrong, it tasted like my feet barely held to the ringing as I began walking. I could taste my blood rushing from my head to my hands, then to my feet. As I walked in this wonderous place I had to slow down several times as the light tangy flavor of dizziness washed over me. Looking around I was mesmerized by the beauty of all the sounds in this place, the flitting stringy sounds, the slow ponderous plodding of whirring fans. This place captivated me but I tasted ever drawn onward as if something was calling me with fantastic new colors.

I lost track of the smell as I traveled but eventually, I stopped. There I now stood before the familiar ruins once again. Staring down into what should have been the inky darkness of the stair I could see faint green lights. Muddled I looked behind me and saw the brilliance of a lite metallic tinkle dance through the air. If it was air at all. Feeling a push of red I half stumbled down the stairs into the ruins. The walls were the same stone as I knew them. The green lights were water dripping and giving bursts of light as they hit the ground. This place felt 7r@p -between-. I don’t know between what, but it was between. I hummed softly to myself and from that came a warm orange light. So, I hummed to myself as I explored. More than once I had to swallow my hum as it would try to escape me, it tasted of the scent of cottage cheese.

Eventually, I found my way to the pit my professor had thrown himself down. There on the ceiling was his pulped corpse dripping with red-brown grunts. $70P R3@9)NG! Looking down into the pit I found him. Tolth-Gog-Tul. )’^^ The selfsame being that had swallowed me in the ocean. $0 Tolth-Gog-Tul spoke to me, and I could feel the hot fetid moisture in the air lapping at my flesh. $0rRy Tolth-Gog-Tul gave me a command his words were a cool splash across my nerves, ‘spread my name.’ What came next sent a chill through me, if I could not recount my trials to meet him, if I could not recall his name, he would unmake my very soul and leave me as a color lost in his real.

You dear reader, have felt the signs of Tolth-Gog-Tul. He has given YOU this message and now you will serve him. You are my freedom from this curse. I suggest you tell your story to as many as you can, the master must be pleased or he will send his purple whispers for your essence. Ah, you feel him looking at you, don't you? I know this, for he has turned away from me. Do try not to become a sound forced to live in his real. Tell your tale, and pass the burden to another, after all, why should you die? He will simply whisper to another when you do. )  7R)3D 70 vv@RN y0u. 7#3 ^^@$73R c0^^3$, @N9 #3 )$ #uNG3Ry