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American Bulletin of Paleontology, January 3, 1968:
... most remarkable Eocene fossil of the early mammalian order Creodonta, clearly related to the 34" skull found in Mongolia by Andrews in 1925. The
mode of locomotion of this creature remains utterly mysterious; the limbs are atrophied almost as completely as in whales, yet it unquestionably lived on land. The eyes had also atrophied, giving it the aspect of a gigantic mole. The teeth indicated that it was carnivorous ...
Diary of Harold Trilling, February 4, 1971:
... Sylvia has really picked the most marvelous place for her "Abbey of Yidhra" -- two stories, foot-thick native stone walls, small-paned casement windows -- and the location is ideal, in the rocky hills north of town. We're in a little
canyon off the main road, surrounded by ancient oaks. The nearest neighbor is a half mile away so we shouldn't get any complaints about the ceremonies -- "Yidhra" doesn't go in for noisy rites anyway. I keep telling Sylvia that the
term "Abbey" is inappropriate, signifying a nunnery or monastery rather than the sort of cult center and temple she's established, but she says southern California is so full of "temples" that we couldn't get anyone to look twice at another one.
I wish I could really believe in Yidhra the way Sylvia does. The beautiful, awesome, and terrible earth-mother is a magnificent image all right -- but I'm afraid having to operate the hidden projectors and slip the hashish into the
sacramental wine for so long has permanently dulled my capacity for spiritual belief. I do find the ceremonies very moving but it's not Yidhra I believe in, it's Sylvia. When she throws back her hood in the torchlight, her hair is shimmering gold and her voice is a silver trumpet far away -- the robe softens
the angularity of her figure and every movement is pure, eternal femininity. Yet in daylight she often seems quite plain and her voice is almost brassy -- I think the only time she's really alive is when the torches burn and Yidhra
calls. Sometimes when she talks about her mystical experiences in New Mexico and Laos I think she's a bit mad, but it's a beautiful madness. May Yidhra grant that she always have someone like me to handle the practical side of
things!
The cellar will be perfect for ceremonies, though we'll have to heat it for our pampered middle-aged clientele. Sylvia wants me to break through the wall behind the altar to make an "Inner Sanctum" from which to make her dramatic
entrances, which will be an ungodly amount of work if there's solid rock behind it. I thought I saw some cracks in the mortar there, though, maybe some of the stones are loose ...
Mrs. Herbert Wilkerson, August 12, 1971:
... meet the Priestess in the Inner Chapel? How thrilling! You must have great confidence in my spiritual development, Mr. Trilling ...
American Bulletin of Paleontology, May 8, 1968:
... further excavation has only deepened the mystery of the enormous limbless Creodont. The site of the find proves to have been a deep, narrow cave at the time the creature lived, and the original cave floor was littered with the bones of smaller animals. All were marked by the teeth of the Creodont; the majority show some teeth marks of smaller predators, but not to the extent one would expect if the thing were purely a scavenger. And even a scavenger needs
some form of locomotion to get to its food ...
Diary of Harold Trilling, April 4, 1971:
... I don't know about her new policy of staying in the Inner Chapel behind the altar all the time, appearing only at the climax of the ceremony. It's certainly dramatic enough and sets up the impressive special visits with her for especially well-heeled devotees, but it throws the entire burden of salesmanship and stage-managing on me. She could at least come out and help before the worshippers arrive. I'd have been better off if we hadn't found that cave behind the wall. The special visits are really effective though, with the heavy wooden door opening behind the heart-shaped altar and then the stone steps leading downward, and of course the advanced worshipper stoned out of her mind. And her seclusion and "meditation" have put Sylvia in fine form for the ceremonies, pale face and shining eyes, almost ghostly voice, "... and the Mother of Darkness shall reign, bringing endless life to her servitors, the Lurkers in the desert, Xothra the Devourer in the earth, the great-winged
Y'hath in the sky ..."
But I wish she would come out sometimes. I feel I hardly know her these days -- she's becoming a distant, dreamlike figure to me ...
The Secret History of the Mongols, original version, ca. 1240 A.D.:
... Bodoncar-munqaq chided Dorben with laughter because the arrow struck the stag in the flank, and the two followed the blood (trail) of the stag on horseback. After a while they saw that a wolf was also following the deer and Dorben prepared to shoot at the wolf. But Bodoncar-munqaq, seeing that the wolf was behaving strangely, said, "See you that the wolf does not slay the
stag but drives it as the sheepdog drives the sheep. Let us follow and watch." And Bodoncar-munqaq and Dorben followed at a distance and saw the wolf drive the stag into a narrow canyon (which they had) not seen before. Dismounting, they followed quietly into the canyon and saw the wolf drag the deer alive into
a small cave. Shortly the wolf came out of the cave with a still lean (empty) belly ...
Mrs. Herbert Wilkerson, August 12, 1971:
... down there? I hadn't thought the passage went down so far -- it's a natural cave, isn't it? I don't know if I ...
Diary of Harold Trilling, June 15, 1971:
... tired all the time, I sleep practically all of the time that I'm not working on cult affairs or taking care of Sylvia. She hasn't come out for
weeks now. I think she's getting rather morbid, but she's still charming. I took Mrs. Arbogast down to see her last night and Sylvia had her laughing and cooing banalities in no time. Sylvia didn't tell me how much she donated after I left them alone but I was too stoned to care about money anyway.
The Secret History of the Mongols, original version, ca. 1240 A.D.:
... Afterwards Bodoncar-munqaq and Dorben returned many times to watch the wolf carry animals into the cave and come out without having eaten them, but each time they feared to enter and search the cave, Bodoncar-munqaq saying that he
felt a presence as of evil gods.
Finally one day when Dorben had drunk much araqi (fermented mare's milk) he pushed Bodoncar-munqaq aside and entered, saying that a beautiful goddess lived in the cave and sang to him sweetly and promised him many things if he would enter and make obeisance. When after many hours Dorben did not come out, Bodoncar-munqaq returned to the camp and summoned many armed warriors,
insisting that none who had drunk araqi that day should come. It was thus that Bodoncar-munqaq and the others entered the cave and found the ...
American Bulletin of Paleontology, June 3, 1969:
... shows the most extreme adaptation to extended hibernation ever observed ...
Chants from the Texts of Mloeng:
In its lair of stoneDiary of Harold Trilling, August 12, 1971:
... the policeman who came last night about Mrs. Arbogast was really hostile until Sylvia got hold of him and turned on the charm. It seems Mrs. A. disappeared the night of her visit with Sylvia. I really didn't want to take him down there but I was full of hashish and the whole thing threw me into such a panic that I couldn't think of anything to do but let Sylvia handle him. I had a little trouble, getting him to go down the stairs behind the altar, something about the atmosphere of the place really bothered him and he acted completely paranoid, but once Sylvia went to work on him he relaxed and didn't give us any trouble at all. In fact, I remember at one point she had him shrieking with laughter, though I can't remember what about -- I was so spaced out I could only stand there and giggle.
Tonight I'm taking Mrs. Wilkerson down to see her. Mrs. W's a Boston politician's widow and seems a bit touchy and sceptical. I wouldn't pick her for a special visit if she weren't positively dripping with cash. Sylvia will have to be exceptionally impressive because I can't slip the old bag any hash -- I think she suspects that the sacramental wine is doped ...
The Lost Book of Herodotus, ca. 445 B.C.:
... and Wanderers in this region of the desert are warned to beware of that which is called Xothra; for it is said that ragged beggars appear in the desert and offer the traveller alkhafar weed to chew upon, which if taken lulls the mind with pleasant sensations and fancies; whereupon these beggars invite the traveller to visit certain places in the hills where there are beautiful women or jewelled palaces or some other desirable thing. But of those who have taken the weed and gone into the hills, none has ever returned; some few travellers have declined the weed and gone, and of these it is said that one returned; but his tale is not of fair women or of jewelled palaces but of a thing which chilled the blood of those who heard the tale ...
Mrs. Herbert Wilkerson, August 12, 1971:
... What an awful odor! Are you sure there isn't something dead down there? ...
Private correspondence of Dr. Richard Marbridge, August 3, 1971:
... think I may have hit on the only possible explanation. It was a predator; it could not go to its prey; therefore, its prey came to it. How could this
happen? Not by chance; that would have been too inefficient for survival. Attraction by odor? Think of an animal living most of its life immobile in a narrow cave; the accumulated stench would almost surely drive off any
other creature. The only explanation is telepathic control.
Now, what form could this control take? It seems clear that the thing not only lured food directly but induced other predators to bring food to it. It is most unlikely that it evolved such a complex ability merely to devour both the gift and the giver at one "sitting"; it must have actually enslaved other predators, sending them out time and again to fetch prey. But this required letting the slaves roam about freely, possibly at great distances, using their own hunting ability to the fullest extent. I think this required a very subtle form of control, probably some sort of hallucinatory experience acting as an incentive to carry out the thing's wishes. I wonder what sort of hallucination would induce a wolf to bring home the bacon? A nest of warm, cuddly, ravenous little pups? Or perhaps ...
Mrs. Herbert Wilkerson, August 12, 1971:
... Sylvia!? LET GO OF ME, YOU MANIAC! OH my GOD that THING!! ...
Diary of Harold Trilling, September 2, 1971:
... looks like Mrs. Harris isn't going to show up tonight. Sylvia will be absolutely furious -- no "special visits" (or large donations) since Mrs. Wilkerson last month. I'm almost afraid to go down there and tell her ...
Classified Advertisement, September 22, 1971:
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Created: October 21, 1997; Updated: August 9, 2004