I decided to change a couple things in the story trying to follow the advise of
@Jamal and Nils; although now it is longer, I think it flows a bit better. Let me know what you think. Also, the image from
@Nils Loc I think is just perfect; there is even a column of light coming from what seems to be the sun which makes me think of the obelisk. Really love it. (You guys should check out the image database of Babelia if you haven't - crazy thing)
@Caldwell you should read that collection. The guy is an amazing writer.... At the mountains of madness the best I have read so far (fuck Cthulhu, i think is a bit too overrated)
That's Lovecraft, makes you get into the story with almost all your senses... mine, an amateur attempt to copy his style, but I am glad I made you feel surrounded by the jungle and that horrible, never-ending silence.
Don't know the Loci method, but I am glad it stook in your mind - hopefully it didnt give you any nightmares!
Below the edited version. I hope you guys like this version better; I'll keep working on it, so any feedback will be welcomed.
The obelisk among the trees.
The jungle was getting thicker, warmer, wetter, unbearable, and the donkeys, they were growing even more restless; they’d been acting stubbornly all morning, seemingly wanting to go back. They are donkeys, Professor! exclaimed our guide with a playfully dismissive tone when I brought the matter up; she was a gorgeous Brazilian woman much younger than me but certainly much more of an expert when it came to donkeys, or at least so I thought. I should’ve listened to the donkeys.
The expedition was resting 175 km southwest of Macapuana, deep within absolute wilderness. The Akkadian map wasn’t really very precise, and there was still a lot of jungle to cover, maybe a couple more days, no more than a week, we hoped. We hadn’t heard from any of the other venturing parties, and that meant no one had found anything yet; this was good news, at least to me, although not so much to my companions, Professors Riley and Munroe, who kept insisting something didn’t feel quite right. The donkeys were definitely not helping.
It wasn’t until Peter mentioned his lack of mosquito bites that we truly noticed something was off. We were surrounded by an entire jungle, and we could hear no sound other than the anxious tapping and whining of the donkeys which with the sinking of the sun steadily evolved into a chaotic frenzy, bursting right before dusk; what a terrifying display it was. Shortly after, they managed to run away; who knows if they were lucky enough to scape.
The night was filled with an utterly horrifying dark silence like the one that inhabits deep beneath the Earth’s surface. When I woke up, I was completely alone.
My eyes never saw another creature again.