Mysteries of the Mayan Jungle Part 2

Mysteries of the Mayan Jungle Part 2

 

Journal of Isabella Mora, Environmental Scientist and Anthropologist

Expedition Date: June 5, 2043

 

Entry 1: June 15th, 2043

 

We entered the southern expanse of what is colloquially known as the “Lost Jungle” in the publishing of Dr. Harold Gillespie’s notes seven months ago.

Tradition and superstition run deep here,

yet armed with cutting-edge technology and a multi-disciplined team,

our intent is to chronicle the ecological shifts and,

potentially,

validate some of Harold’s more mystical claims.

 

Dr. Gillespie’s journal was a map and a mystery in one,

sparking curiosity across scientific communities.

We’re here to uncover truths clouded by time and folklore.

 

Entry 2: June 18th, 2043

 

The solar drones have mapped vast networks of previously undocumented vegetative patterns and unearthed hints of what appear to be structures beneath the dense canopy coverage.

Our base camp is set a few kilometers from where Harold claimed to encounter ‘the old gods.’

 

The very air here buzzes

—not with insects,

as one might expect,

but with an electrical charge that seems almost… sentient.

 

Entry 3: June 23rd, 2043

 

Our equipment was malfunctioning yesterday.

The drones sent back images,

not of the treetops,

though the distorted night sky,

stars swirling in a dance of eerie hues.

 

The technical team is baffled,

unable to explain the sudden malaise that has overtaken our electronic devices.

The local guides keep their distance,

their eyes filled with a mix of dread and resignation.

They murmur about ‘Ixchel’s children’, just as Santiago did decades ago.

 

Entry 4: June 26th, 2043

 

We found the lake that Harold described in his final entry.

It’s enclosed by an almost unnatural fog and the same ominous stone stelae circle it,

untouched by time.

 

As we approached,

the static in the air grew stronger,

and our bio-electric monitors went haywire,

indicating elevated stress and fear responses in everyone,

despite no apparent threat.

 

Entry 5: June 30th, 2043

 

Something in the lake moved last night.

It wasn’t the ripple of fish or the lap of water against the shore.

It was deliberate,

sentient.

 

Today,

our lead geologist,

Dr. Tara Singh,

insisted she heard whispers during her soil samples near the stelae.

 

 

The words weren’t discernible,

but they left her visibly unsettled.

She decided to leave the expedition early.

I’ve advised against travel alone;

this jungle doesn’t release its visitors easily.

 

Entry 6: July 4th, 2043

 

It’s Independence Day back home.

Here,

there’s little to celebrate.

Half of our equipment got lost or are non-functional.

 

Personal logs from team members reveal a growing paranoia

— shadows that linger,

whispers that persist,

an inexplicable chill despite the stifling heat.

I reviewed Harold’s journal again tonight.

 

His words,

once dismissed as the delirium of isolation,

now echo our own experiences with chilling fidelity.

 

Entry 7: July 8th, 2043

 

We attempted to send out drones for one last mapping effort before deciding our next steps.

They vanished into the fog and were lost,

signals and all,

like stones thrown into a deep,

dark well.

Discussion of packing up is met with a silent consensus;

this place doesn’t want to be disturbed.

 

Final Entry: July 10th, 2043

 

Our exodus was nothing short of a mad rush,

a barely controlled escape.

 

As we left,

the stelae felt like sentinels,

watchful and warning.

 

Back at our forward base,

dimensions in the footage seemed to alter subtly

— shapes in the mist,

forms at the edge of vision,

persisting just beyond the reach of scientific explanation.

 

 

Certainly we left behind more questions than answers;

Harold’s findings remain largely corroborated by our own unnerving experiences.

This journal will be sealed within academic circles,

a curiosity and a caution.

 

As for the Lost Jungle,

let it stand as a natural enigma,

a place where otherworldly whispers wind their way through ancient trees,

and the past clings too fiercely to be unraveled by human hands.

 


As Isabella Mora’s testament closed a chapter,

it also reopened a debate about the thresholds of human knowledge

— some realms,

perhaps,

are meant to remain undisturbed,

held in the grip of an earth far older and more mysterious than we can ever fully understand. 




https://snl.no/trolldom

 

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