This kind of journal writing was the key to Professor Primus’s discovery or dilemma, whatever you want. I was excited and disturbed to find out all this, and my colleagues questioned my sanity and his as well. I had read and reread his articles with almost frantic intensity, since I was only there during the last minutes of his life. At which point she had found his hand moving in the last few paragraphs of him, all apparently sculpted with scientific madness as those same colleagues would call it. My uncle blamed his old age for not finding a way out of this dilemma in time, if he had searched for other artifacts, or pottery with hieroglyphics, he claimed that he would have found the tunnel to exit the Chamber of Death Three, as he referred to him. . with his last scribble of him on a piece of paper knowing that he was standing next to his last dying breaths. He looked chilled and even fully dressed in a wool coat and warm hat, in his Minnesota home, in that horrible winter of ’66.

Like I said, my uncle blamed his old age, now I can claim him as a relative, I was skeptical at first if I should. Many of his observations and messages in his writing struck me as extremely out of place, especially those attempting to connect this new found species, or race of earthly beings that had walked the earth at some point, with those cults he mentions from other planets. , cults, the word, use for the phrase “Out of the ordinary people” of maybe Mars, or Mercury, or Venus, even mentions a planet called Moiromma, in a boarding solar system; a people from a cold planet, under a reiterated and silent premise in the history of humanity, a pre-adamic civilization. They seem to have created some kind of pagan mystical religion, since God will have nothing more to do with them. Again, my colleagues call this a cryptic wisdom, perhaps belonging to the Sumerians, that if I go ahead, it will bear no fruit. Writing these letters he lived five days in total in that chair, pencil in hand. Always related to some terrible and dark intelligence, not writeable, except for what I have mentioned above.

The notes and letters go on to say: he became ill on the fourth day and lost consciousness, perhaps a little delirium, and while in this state, he felt like he was dreaming. His writings at this time were scribbles, and what I got from them were frantic words, this was invariably my assumption, a prelude to doing any experimentation while he was still alive had to be done by these subhuman creatures, otherwise, how could i have done it? he fell ill in a state close to a coma, inside another world, perhaps because once in the other world he could not lose his consciousness, astonished he said that he found this, this strange dream, if not meaningless and irreverent for him, because with he would have gladly given them whatever information he had stored in his mind or memories, freely. On the other he had what he said was this, “The eternal dead can lie, while the earthly living cannot”, and they don’t have eons to wait for the truth, whatever truth they are looking for, he calls this cult, the Uhluhtc Cult.

He said there is one hope for him, and only one, and at this point I don’t know the end, that I myself must enter this black abyss within the crust of the earth, and bring his soul back, unless I wait until the end of days, and pray to God to save him among this group of shipwrecked. But I put caution before audacity, if only I could piece this all together for myself, I might try.

That was all she said. I don’t even know if she tried to navigate her way out of this sleeping sickness, because this process had taken some of her will away from him, these last scribbles were just scribbles, sensors writhing.

No: 610 (3Second part: No: 611, 3-18-2010