I was therapist in my youthful years; when I was indeed in my twenties and thirties. And one of my patients--of whom had moved away from Leincomtober five weeks before writing this letter--had killed himself. His name was Wayland Peirce, archeologist of the United States, who went insane after his strange encounter whilst exploring the newly-found Canada.

"Dear
Dr. Larson,

I have lost my new therapist, and now I must relate my elder experience in Canada to you; for you would be the only one to understand my position.

Of course, the demoniacal parts of the unending plain of Alberta is where I had gone. I had been in confusion; for I had not seen aboriginals nor their camps; nor had I seen their long houses. Fur-trade had I not seen either. Here I was isolated from any other being, for my plane had broken down, and the pilot had drowned in the cold lake.

My first day in Alberta was alone terrible. I walked through the maze of wood, but had not seen anything but twigs of trees. Indeed, there was a cold breeze which played upon my cheeks. My second day became worse, for now the lands were colder, and it began to snow. I had lacked shelter, and therefore thought I would freeze to death. But walking through the snowy grounds, I saw the strangeness of a large, stone monument, which indeed had the appearance of such monolith!

The writings on this monolith were amorphous, with no English characters, nor having repeated letters; it seemed impossible to read. And in the westward side of the monolith did I see what strange illustrations lay. These illustrations were what convinced me that this strange, stone monolith was sculpted somewhat in the neanderthal times; for the haste strokes seemed unintelligent, and out of proportion.

This illustration dated me to give touch to monolith; and so I did; and so I was sucked into the stone, as if it was quick-sand! When I tried to release my hand from the marshy stone, the stone bended and morphed as if it was goo.

It soon sucked me in completely; and I thus suffocated. But, strangely, impossibly, I awoke in the Leincomtober hospital of the insane! Now, whence I felt safe, a doctor came in to interview me. Of course, his smooth and clinical voice spoke calmly, and asked me, "Tell me, I implore, what happened to you? What do you remember?".

I tried telling him what happened, but he acted as if he was disinterested. That day, I found out he killed himself after hearing my story.

Thenceforward, they brought you into the play; and might I say, ye did well. But now, I must end my everlasting depression and trauma!--And I hope ye will care for the next act..."

Wayland had just died out of the blue. We do indeed know he killed himself, but it was as if he had not hurt himself in any way. I pray for him; for indeed many others who have travelled to Alberta describe it as wonderful.

Wayland was indeed insane.

Conclusion
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