Wraith from Pibloktoq by Luminous Veil

2. Wraith


Stricken by visions, Professor Evans grew pregnant with a subconscious doubt about their mission. His head ached, awash with scenes of Inughuit persecution among the whalers and Danish colonizers. Overcome by a hidden intuition of their oppression – the removal of children, shattering of families…the exploitation of land and man. Was it mere dream or some hallucinatory terrestrial powers that befell him? He became withdrawn yet stirred by thoughts.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞


Personal journal entry by Professor Graham Evans, dated the 5th of November, 1874

Morning -
A mere day has passed since our party last visited the site of the reliquary. Yet, that box and the mandrake only momentarily left my thoughts. Sleep has mostly evaded me due to an incurable anxiety complimented by an excitement. We leave for the tour this morning. I shall return with my thoughts this evening.

Evening -
Our minds remain spellbound. Our party is enchanted. Upon return to the mandragora we discovered a development. The mandrake itself has gone through some mutation or perhaps a metamorphosis. Trust that we scolded our own eyes for making a mistake, if we have, but perhaps it was never root at all. The body of the mandrake has cracked and splintered into many fine lines. A center bulk remains but these slender strands protrude in all directions. And yet, the most striking feature is the face. It almost appears deeper…more sad…more human. In the trappings of wonderment, my intelligence is strained. Surely even Darwin’s theory must contend with this monstrosity and the implications are staggering – stretched beyond my capacities at this moment. Now, the party’s occupation rests upon the growth in the reliquary.
The night comes heavy and cold. I cannot write further.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Personal journal entry by Professor Graham Evans, dated the 6th of November, 1874

The reliquary is open and the Mandrake-thing it housed had disappeared. Our party spent much of the short daylight at the site but this investigation was abruptly halted when it returned. It appeared seemingly out of the air, its corporal elements present but, for want of something better, somewhat faded - almost mist-like, afloat. The light of a rapidly setting sun illuminated its features much unlike the dim crevice. Here, I bore witness to what I believe the mandrake is truly – a ghostly, disembodied nervous system, a specter of something greater than I can venture to elucidate. The exhilaration of our party’s investigation swiftly warped into a ubiquitous cacophony of emotions. Awe and fear abound as the wraith root gentle soared about us, its fibers furling, twisting, and shifting in length.

Paralyzed by the reverence, not one of us moved until, the one American among us, Miller, reached out to blindly touch the entity. His hand drifted straight through the dendrites without much disturbance. Our collective shock and fear were allayed when he reported no effect. I, for one, could not discern any changes to his person.

Our party stayed to observe for at least an hour as it circled in a radius of probably 10 meters. When the last gleam of light fell beyond the hills, the mandragora ghost dissipated without a trace and we journeyed to camp in the dark, rising cold.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Letter from Prof. Graham Evans to his fiancé Ruth Wingrove. Dated the 7th of November, 1874

Ruth,
Airy thoughts of you are the sweetest peace of my day – a peace that escapes me at night when the heaviest feelings burden my weathered soul. And these nights have grown long as the days continuously forgive more light. The entire excursion has become a nightmarish tribulation. The discovery here is all at once majestic and horrific – in a word, phantasmagoric. All I wish is to be with you. I do not wish to remain here, nor do I wish to know…I cannot muster the courage to detail what has transpired here. Quickly I can note that Miller suffered a rapid illness and was taking from us last night and that concerning rumors of Alcott have also reached camp. I am afraid.
Longing,
Graham

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Personal journal entry by Professor Graham Evans. Undated, presumably written the morning of November 7, 1874.

Miller is dead. Shortly before returning to camp, he suffered nausea and fever. Hours into the dark, he fell to psychosis and began gnawing his fingers. Despite our interventions, he prolonged and became increasingly rabid. He bit through bone; four digits severed from the hand. He threw himself about in naked fury. He succumbed to the illness, the cold, or the bloodletting. The experience was horrific and traumatizing. The images are branded upon the brain but even now, all I reflect upon is that he touched it. Miller touched the entity.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞


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[Abridged – Lyric Version]


Stricken by visions, Professor Evans grew pregnant with a subconscious doubt about their mission. His head ached, awash with scenes of Inughuit persecution among the … colonizers. Overcome by a hidden intuition of their oppression …the exploitation of land and man.
What was it? - Was it mere dream or some hallucinatory terrestrial powers that befell him? He became withdrawn yet stirred by thoughts.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

That box and the mandrake only momentarily left my thoughts. Sleep has mostly evaded me due to an incurable anxiety complimented by an excitement.

Our minds remain spellbound. Our party is enchanted. The mandrake itself has gone through some mutation… a metamorphosis. Trust that we scolded our own eyes … perhaps it was never root at all.
It has cracked and splintered into many fine lines. A center bulk…slender strands protrude in all directions.

yet, most striking … the face: deeper…more sad…more human.
In the trappings of wonderment, my intelligence is strained…the implications are staggering – stretched beyond my capacities. Now, the party’s occupation rests upon the growth in the reliquary and night comes heavy and cold.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

- come the dawn-

The reliquary is open and the Mandrake-thing it housed…appeared seemingly out of the air, its corporal elements present but somewhat faded - almost mist-like, afloat.

The light of a rapidly setting sun illuminated its features much unlike the dim crevice

– a ghostly, disembodied nervous system, a specter of something greater.

Exhilaration swiftly warped into a ubiquitous cacophony of emotions. Awe and fear abound as the wraith root gentle soared about us, its fibers furling, twisting, and shifting in length.

Paralyzed by the reverence…Miller reached out to blindly touch the entity. His hand drifted straight through the dendrites without much disturbance. Our collective shock and fear were allayed …

the last gleam of light fell … the mandragora ghost dissipated and we journeyed to camp in the dark

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Airy thoughts: a peace that escapes me at night when the heaviest feelings burden my weathered soul. And these nights have grown long as the days continuously forgive more light. The entire excursion has become a nightmarish tribulation.

The discovery here is all at once majestic and horrific – in a word, phantasmagoric.

I do not wish to remain here, nor do I wish to know…I am afraid.
Miller suffered nausea and fever. Hours into the dark, he fell to psychosis and began gnawing his fingers - increasingly rabid. He bit through bone… threw himself about in naked fury.

succumbed to the illness, the cold, the bloodletting.

The images are branded upon the brain but even now, all I reflect upon is that he touched it.

He touched the entity.

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