Speaker 1: Warning, do not listen alone. The chronicle you are about
to experience is not fiction. It is a transmission, a
warning from an ancient living artifact. The events described with
the thinth have been suppressed for millennia and are known
to cause significant psychological distress. The chronicle you are about
to experience is not fiction. It is a transmission, a
warning from an ancient living artifact. The events described within
have been suppressed from millennia and are known to cause
significant psychological distress. This is not a story. You can
simply turn off the sounds and concepts within. May linger.
We cannot be held responsible for what you choose to believe,
or for what may begin to notice you once you
have listened.
Speaker 2: What if I told you that everything you heard about
the Grand Canyon, the giants, the city, it's all true.
And what if I told you that Benjamin Franklin he
was given this knowledge and the United States government has
been trying to hide it for centuries. They were told
never to expand west because if they expanded west, it
would wake up sleeping beings, sleeping life forces. Now I
know I left fairly abruptly on our last season of
Paranormal Salad addressing, and I apologize for that. But I
didn't leave because I was scared of the demons. I
left because of something they said. He's allready here. I've
heard that before. I heard it just months before the exorcism,
in a conversation with a man who claimed to know
way more about the tablets than anyone else. Now, this
conversation spurred me to think, I have to follow. I
have to follow the editor in the American Southwest looking
for signs of what we're calling the Wanderer. And while
I'm out here searching for unrefutable evidence, you will be
listening to the conversation doctor Thorne and I had with
what I believe maybe America's first vampire. Don't forget to like,
follow and subscribe. This is Paranormal Salary The Dressing.
Speaker 3: Welcome back, fellow travelers to Paranormal Salad the Dressing. I'm
your host, Jack's Ember, and our co host is on
the road this evening, so he is in the car
calling into the zoom call. Doctor Thorne will be with
us throughout the evening. We are not just exploring the
fringes of reality tonight. We are diving head first into
the void. So over the last few weeks, there has
been stirring. Some whispers have been circulating, hushed tones from
the most secure archaeological groups. Something was found from the deepest,
most for biden zones of the Grand Canyon. And today
those whispers have erupted into a seismic shockwave across the news.
Our sources unimpeachable Charlie Korr's sister Ruth. They're terrified to
confirm that what we believed to be a false story
is actually real. This isn't just a relic, this isn't
just a piece of history. This is something impossible. Initial
reports describe it as impossibly ancient and old. It's material,
defying all known geological compositions. It's not stone, it's not metal,
it's not anything we can categorize. And the symbols etched
upon its surface they're unlike any human language, any known photography,
any ancient script. They are completely foreign to us as humans,
for lack of a better word, alien. They are not
of this world. They're wrong, Jax.
Speaker 4: If I may interject, of.
Speaker 3: Course, doctor them.
Speaker 4: The preliminary analysis from the geological survey team, the one
I'm privy to, suggests a crystalline structure that simply shouldn't
exist naturally on Earth. And the energy signature you mentioned,
it's not residual.
Speaker 5: It's act a low persistent thrum that has caused to
equipment malfunctions and frankly, a significant amount of psychological distress
among the excavation crew.
Speaker 4: They're calling it a resonant anomaly.
Speaker 2: A resonant anomaly, indeed, and that's just the beginning. This
tablet unlike anything we've ever seen. It's tangible proof of
a hidden history, a forgotten past, buried beneath millennia of
rock and myth.
Speaker 3: It's as if the Earth itself has coughed up a
secret it could no longer hold or contain. It's like
every single Native American and Mezzo American myth we've ever
heard may be true. And as we're speed, the world's
leading archaeologist, linguistists, even theoretical physicist, they're baffled. They have
no frame of reference to what this could be and
no context. It's like it's like a Rosetta stone without
any known language attached to it.
Speaker 2: And speaking of context, it seems we have a caller
on the line.
Speaker 3: Perhaps someone out there has a piece of this missing puzzle.
Welcome to the show.
Speaker 2: I'm Jack z Ember, and doctor Thorn is with us
as well. This is paranormalst aid addressing.
Speaker 6: Jack's and doctor Thorne. My apologies for the unscheduled interruption,
but I believe I can provide the context you seek
the tablet.
Speaker 3: You're calling about the Grand Canyon tapic. How do you even?
How do you know about the specifics the energy signature?
This information isn't common knowledge. It's in a report that
I have on my desk here. What's your name?
Speaker 6: You may call me Vincent? And my knowledge, let us
say it is extensive. I have a unique perspective on
ancient histories and the deep grammar of existence. Your scientists
are indeed baffled, as they should be. They search for
human origins, human language, But this artifact, it is not
of human hands, not in the way they understand.
Speaker 2: Not human.
Speaker 7: Then what are we talking about, mister Vincent? Some kind
of extraterrestrial technology, a forgotten civilization. We've seen theories, of course,
but nothing with this level of impossibility.
Speaker 6: Alien perhaps in the sense that its creators pre date
your species by eons. It was forged by the Anuta,
and it is not merely a record, Jacks. It is
a statement, a warning, and a prophecy. If you are
willing to listen, I can tell you of its true origins.
Speaker 2: Vincent, I uh, I'm fascinating. I speak for myself and
the callers. Don't forget to like, follow, comment, and subscribe
any questions you may have for me, Doctor Thorne or Vintint,
you have our undivided attention, Doctor.
Speaker 7: Thorne, fascinating per see mister.
Speaker 6: Vincent could then let us begin to understand the tablet.
You must first understand the Earth as it was before
even the first human heart beat, its frantic rhythm.
Speaker 8: Before the very concept of time as you measure. It
existed before light and shadow, before the oldest myths. The
earth streampt a slumber measured in eons, a slow inhalation
of cosmic dust swirling in the void, the gathering of
gravity's invisible threads in the profound star strewn silence that
preceded awareness as mortals know it. The planet stirred and
exhaled from that breath, unimaginably slow and deep awareness coalesced,
and the anukta took form. They were not born, They
became imagine consciousness blooming not within fragile flesh, but within
the very substance of the nascent world. They were the
Earth's first waking thought, harmonies borne from the crushing pressure
deep beneath the crust and the subtle kiss of starlight
on primordial stone. Their forms defied scale, vast as the
mountain ranges they resembled, their longevity, mocking the very concept
of decay, measured only by the slow unmaking of atoms.
Awareness for them was not contained. It flowed, woven into
the deep telluric currents, the planet's hidden blood stream, singing
in frequencies beyond any ear. They were sentient landscapes, mines,
moving with the ponderous certainty of tectonic plates, their thoughts
shaping the very geology that housed them. Time did not
flow for them as a river flows to the sea.
It existed as a vast, simultaneous ocean upon which they floated,
perceiving the erosion of continents and the birth of stars
with the same immediacy. Their senses were attuned to the
universe's hidden dialogs, the whisper of gravitational waves, the shifting
patterns of electromagnetic flux, the slow vibrational language of rock
and crystal formed over epochs. Through these senses, their gaze
encompassed both the planet's molten heart and the cold, wheeling
indifference of distant galaxies. This era, stretching into the fathomless
dart before human history could even cast a shadow, was
the age of accordance. In this time, the boundary between
energy and matter, spirit and substance was a shimmering veil
easily passed through. Magic was not an artifice, but the
inherent texture of reality, the deep grammar of existence itself.
The Anukta, being its first children, spoke this language fluently, instinctively.
Their world was vibrant with potent, untamed power. Their civilization
was a living network, a planetary consciousness grid. Its heart
pulsed within the immense geological scripture of the Grand Canyon
at a place of unimaginable power they knew as Yavapayna,
the Speaking Stone Heart. This was no mere city, but
a geological cathedral shaped by will and resonance, its chambers
amplifying the Earth's deep core vibrations, its natural spires channeling
celestial energies into the world's energetic pathways, luminous invisible lay lines,
the acachcic veins of the planet flowed outward from Yavapayna,
connecting it to sister nodes across the globe. Points of
power later dimly recognized by humankind, marked by megalithic stones
or revered as sacred mountains. Governance was the eldest accordance,
not a system of rule, but a state of being,
a symphony of harmonious coexistence, guided by those whose resonance
encompassed the whole. Yol Tire, the keeper of the Stone Heart,
embodied the planet's stability, his consciousness delving into the lithosphere's
deep time memory written in seismic pulse and crystal lattice.
Complimenting him was il Mara, the weaver of celestial tides,
her awareness a shimmering tapestry, embracing the subtle pressure of
solar winds, the Moon's gravitational caress, the ancient light from
distant nebulae, Understanding the cosmic rhythms that shaped magic and fate.
They and the inucta collective where the planet's sentience manifest,
guardians of balance, not seeking to control, but to understand,
not striving to build, but to be with the serene
detachment of mountains. Observing the fleeting dance of seasons, they
watched life unfold, the tentative emergence of complex organisms, the
slow greening of continents, the intricate webs of existence taking shape.
Even the eventual arrival of humanity, quick and clever, was
perceived as merely another transient, intricate pattern within the Earth's
boundless dream. Theirs was the deep piece of the first resonance,
a harmony held for untold ages. Yet within this seemingly
immutable piece, within the very lineage of the accordance, a
different note began to sound. Joltoire and il Mara, anchors
of geological patients and cause. Macgrace had a son, Makul.
He carried the Anukta heritage, the immense potential, but his
essence resonated with a different frequency. Within him, stirred an
echo of the world's more violent beginnings, the passion of
creation's fire, the fury of primordial floods. The patient stillness
of his kin felt like constraint. His brilliance yearned not
just to harmonize with the world's energies, but to command them.
He looked upon the younger races, particularly humanity, and saw
not patterns to observe, but clay awaiting a shaping hand.
Energy yearning for direction, his ambition, a quality alien to
the deep serenity of the accordance, pulsed beneath the surface
of the ancient peace, a hidden seed of dissonance, holding
the potential to unwrap the harmony that had defined existence
since the world first drew breath. The deep, resonant peace
of Yevapaina, the patient rhythm of the eldest accordance, could
not hold Macool. While his father Yotwar communed with the
slow pulse of the lithosphere and his mother Ilmarra traced
the shimmering threads of cosmic tides, a different energy thrummed
within Macoul, the restless fire of becoming, the urge not
merely to be, but to do. The vast contemplative stillness
of his kin felt less like wisdom and more like inertia.
To his spirit, which echoed the planet's more tumultuous creative passions.
He yearned for engagement, for the touch of influence, for
the vibrant dance of change, rather than the slow certainty
of geological time. Driven by this internal fire, perhaps twisting
a mandate from the accordance, or or simply following the
pool of his own ambition. Akul turned his gaze from
the deep harmonies of Yavapaina toward the fleeting, incandescent sparks
of nascent consciousness flickering across the globe. He journeyed away
from the speaking stone heart, his immense presence veiled or
revealed by whim, traveling across the northern continent, where the
ancestors of those later called Ojiwa lived in deep reverence
for the land. He walked among these first peoples, drawn
to their potent connection to the spirit world, so different
from the Anupta's vast elemental awareness. He shared knowledge, not
always with the patient measure of his father, but with
the passion that defined him, Teaching nuances of earth energy,
secrets of celestial alignments forgotten by others, perhaps even fragments
of yutath melodies, alaya songs that could soothe the wind
or call the rain. He saw their potential, their vibrant
link to the unseen, perhaps seeking allies, perhaps acolytes, fostering
traditions that would remember him centuries later as a powerful,
unpredictable spirit straddling the line between creation and chaos. But
the North, with its subtle reverence, could not fully contain
the firestorm of his ambition. He felt a stronger pull
southward toward lands, pulsing with a different, more fervent magic,
where consciousness burned Hotterer closer to the surface, Gathering a
chosen sect of his Ojewa followers, perhaps mesmerized by his
power or swayed by promises of deeper knowledge, Macoul led
them into the verdant, humid cradle of Mesoamerica.
Speaker 2: Fascinating, isn't it? And it reminded me giants, gods, multiple
beings being created. Couldn't help but think of the Book
of Enoch and the stories that Christians have about giants
and creation. And then I look at the scorched rocks
here in the Southwest and the talk of turmoil, and
it just all makes sense. Keep on listening, I guarantee
you you can't be intrigued.
Speaker 8: Here. Amidst cultures already deeply attuned to cosmic cycles, where
the shedding of blood zuloma was believed to fuel the
sun and appease demanding God's mccool's arrival ignited awe and terror.
He 'z anucta stature, even if veiled, radiated power. His
command over elements, the sudden storm, the earth tremor, the
whispered harmony that swayed mines seemed divine. His seemingly timeless
nature aligned perfectly with their burgeoning mythologies. He walked among
them a being of immense presence, and they saw a god.
He became Hukulkan, the feathered serpent Descending from the heavens.
He became Getzalkot, the bringer of knowledge and the shaper
of fates. He strode through cities, taking form from jade
and obsidian centers built under his guidance to align with
celestial patterns he understood intuitively. He taught astronomy, agriculture, the
arts of civilization, and the strategies of warfare, his influence
shaping the destiny of olmic Maya and the precursors to
the Inca. A living god walked among mortals and, perhaps
lost in the intoxicating fervor of their worship, in the
thrill of shaping empires from jungle and stone, he began
to forget the deep, quiet truths of the eldest accordance
the patient harmony he had left behind millennia measured in
the slow turning of stars from an anucta perspective accounted
in dynasties and the rise and fall of city states
by human reckoning. Passed under his influence, he moved between
the nascent empires, a figure of immense power and profound mystery.
It was within the heart of the Mayan civilization, during
a time when its pyramids pierced the green canopy like
vows to the heavens, and the scent of copal incense
hung heavy in the humid air, that Macoul's trajectory took
its sharpest, most unexpected turn. He encountered Istchel Candelaria. She
was not merely a woman. She was a force, a
high priestess whose connection to the potent magic of the jungle,
the reverence dw animal spirits, and the dark visceral power
of blood ritual rivaled his own deep understanding of elemental currents.
Where Makoul commanded the earth's deep resonance, Istchell channeled the vibrant, ephemeral,
yet fiercely potent life force pulsing through the living world.
She met his ancient world spanning awareness with a human
spirit that burned like a captured star, a fierce light
of intelligence, passion, and unwavering conviction that cut through his
Anukta detachment. Perhaps their first meeting was a confrontation, a
clash of powers within a sacred precinct, the ancient Anuta descendant,
accustomed to reverence bordering on fear, encountering a mortal who
met his gaze without flinching, whose knowledge of her own
domain commanded respect. Or perhaps it was a quieter encounter,
a recognition across a crowded plaza during a high ceremony,
his senses catching the unique resonance of her power, so
different yet resonant with the life magic the Anukta observed
but rarely engaged. He who understood the slow language of
stone found himself utterly captivated by the fleeting, intense brilliance
of her human spirit. She who navigated the intricate paths
of blood and spirit within the breathing Jeung, found herself
drawn to the immense depth, the terrifying antiquity, the barely
contained elemental power that radiated from the God who walked
among her people. Their conversations might have begun as cautious
exchanges of knowledge, dialogues held under the immense watchful eyes
of Mayan constellations. He might have shared fragments of you
at echoes of the Nalaiah that could soothe the very stones.
Fascinated by how she wove her understanding of jungle spirits
and potent herbs into practical magic, she in turn might
have revealed the intricate calendars, the sacred mathematics of her people,
challenging his Anukta perspective with the focused intensity of human
ritual and the undeniable power drawn from the cycle of
life and death. He who saw patterns across eons, was
drawn to her mastery of the immediate, vital than now she,
grounded in the tangible world, was mesmerized by his connection
to the eternal respect, bloomed into fascination, fascination into something deeper,
more dangerous. It was a convergence of epochs, the ancient
elemental Anukta lineage, drawn irresistibly to the vibrant, ephemeral pulse
of humanity embodied in one extraordinary woman. For Macool, accustomed
to the detached harmony of the accordance or the awe
of worshipers, a connection with Ischev was profoundly unsettling, intensely alluring.
It stirred within him echoes of the anukta capacity for
deep resonance, but focused now with terrifying intensity on a
single mortal life. His carefully cultivated god persona began to
fray around the edges when he was near her, revealing
glimpses of the ancient being beneath powerful, yes, but all
so capable of being utterly captivated. Their love began a
dangerous potent joining, unaware that its very existence sent subtle,
discordant tremors through the deep energies of the world, ripples
that would inevitably reach back to the heart of the
accordance in distant Yavapaina.
Speaker 2: That was a story of creation of love and profound
cosmic defiance. You're saying that macool, this feathered serpent God
is the source of the dissonance, that the tablet is speaking,
that he is the central character.
Speaker 7: And these anukeda, you describe them as sentient landscapes, beings
of pure harmony. Yet you imply their disapproval, Their reaction
to this union was significant. What kind of reaction are
we talking about, mister Vincent?
Speaker 6: The kind of reaction, Doctor Thorne, that reshapes continents, the
kind of reaction that erases civilizations, the kind of reaction
that birth's new forms of existence. The Tablet Jacks is
a living chronicle. It reveals itself as the prophecy unfolds,
and mccool's ambition, his love, and the child born of
that love. They set in motion a chain of events
that echoes even into your present day, a chain that
the tablet peace by.
Speaker 2: Peace unbelievable, a living chronicle, a prophecy, and it all.
Speaker 3: Began with love that defied the very fabric of existence.
Speaker 2: We're just getting started. This is paranormal solid The dressing
don't go anywhere. It's a creation story so similar to
the one that we've all been told. We were told
in a whole different way. Maybe maybe God and the
Bible we're telling us the same story if you think
about it, If they say multiple gods, a battle for everything.
I finally reached where I'm gonna stay our camp for
the night. There is an ancient rock formation that some
belief could lead to some answers. I'm going to camp
over there overnight. But this has been paranormal salad. The
dressing season two, episode one. Don't forget to like Fallo
and subscribe and remember, stay safe, stay sane, and always
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