Midnight Thesis is a Historical Ghost Story and Existential Horror I am developing based on an old short story. I work up a chapter once a week and then our writing group gives me feedback I use to improve on it. I am publishing the chapters as they are at that point here on my blog as a serial novel. Here is Chapter 2: From Shangri-la.
Early 1970s, Griqualand-East/South-Western Natal: Jochem Kok was doing research on a forgotten literary figure, or so everybody thought. Unearthing a tragic past opened up a conduit to an ancient horror that demands a price for being called to the present.
What came before…
From Shangri-la
The dawn was still grey when Professor Truter pulled up in his new Mercedes-Benz to pick up Ariadne Papadopoulos in front of her flat in Conway road. She had been ready and waiting inside the glass door at the top of the steps for almost fifteen minutes. She didn’t want to keep the head of the department waiting.
Ariadne had been secretary for the Department of Afrikaans and Nederlands at the University of Natal, Pietermaritzburg Campus for nearly four years. She had never been asked to do something that took her outside the confines of her normal duties. This was the first time and she was excited, but also apprehensive about this particular day.
On any other day she would have started hours later with regular administrative tasks at her desk. She had documents in various places to manage, her own desk, the filing cabinets, and whatever passed across Professor Truter’s desk. Today all her work was gathered in a manila folder she clutched under her arm.
Leaving the Pietermaritzburg borough to the west pushed them through a fog that hugged the motorcar and slowed the drive down until they broke out into bright morning sunlight.
Once out of the bowl Professor Truter had to adjust his rear-view mirror because the sun was directly behind them, and the reflection was blinding.
Ariadne sat uncomfortably with her handbag and the document folder they would need on her lap, the strap clutched in both hands until they were well out of Pietermaritzburg.
Out on the open road Professor Truter seemed to relax behind the wheel, as he dropped one hand on his lap to steer only with the other. With that, the stiffness that had made Ariadne sit upright also gave way and she placed her handbag next to her feet.
Professor Truter glanced across at the folder on Ariadne’s lap. “You have the letter from Dr Marais?” he asked.
Ariadne feared for a moment that she did not, despite having checked twice already just this morning. She shifted her handbag and pulled out the white envelope from the folder.
She held it up briefly and then tucked it back into the folder. “I brought all the documents pertaining to Jochem’s studies,” she said. “Apologies, Mr Kok’s documents. I was not sure you would need everything but possibly, in case you wanted to review something, Professor.”
Professor Truter only acknowledged her words with a nod. Was there something else she should have brought along for Jochem other than just bad news?
Professor Truter switched hands and rubbed his chin. “Your building, it is called Shangri-la?”
“Yes. I love it that I could move into such a new place. The view across the city is wonderful.”
“Do you know what that means? Shangri-la?”
“No, I think it might be something to do with India or such. Like Gandhi or Mumbai?”
Professor Truter smiled warmly, or was it with amusement. “Not quite India. Tibet. It is from a novel, The Lost Horizon. The characters in the story visit a mystical Tibetan valley where the people live in eternal youth and bliss.”
Ariadne felt herself blush. “I should read more. But it does not seem as if I ever have enough time to do so. I have no idea how you manage with your work schedule and such.”
“Have you typed up the minutes for the departmental meeting?” asked Professor Truter.
“I have, but sometimes I wonder why we have to do all of this paperwork for a meeting that lasted all of ten minutes.”
“We have to maintain our administrative rigour. The political sway from Howard Campus can easily make inroads and change our departmental structure without us even noticing.” With a clear indication of impatience, Professor Truter drummed his hands on the steering wheel. “I have work to do. This is a major distraction.”
“I rather like the adventure,” said Ariadne, her eyes wandering over the green farmlands stretching out to the horizon. “I rarely get out of the city, and I’ve never travelled for work. It must be fun to go to conferences?”
“For some, maybe. I prefer to be in my office where I can do my work.”
“Jochem—Mr Kok was very excited before he came here. He was in such a sad place before but he looked happy. It all changed once he started talking with Dr Marais about his doctoral proposal.”
“Youthful enthusiasm cannot replace academic rigour. Consistency, routine, and due diligence are the hallmarks of the academic process, especially in our field. It is the meticulous evaluation of texts, comparing words and phrases, and assessing the merits of chapters and paragraphs. It is not a high-flying adventure or anything you might get a medal for, but that daily plodding progress makes it worthwhile.”
“You seem less than enthusiastic, Professor. Was there something amiss with Jochem’s proposal?”
“I know it seems harsh, but obscure theories and lost texts are the ambit of second-rate fiction writers. I believe our focus should be on what is of value to society and that is what we can all agree on is important. There are reasons why classic texts remain popular.”
The road turned south-west as they headed towards Kokstad. The sun was now on Ariadne’s left. She fiddled with the sun visor. Professor Truter leaned over and unhooked it so that she could flip it over. It did not help much, the sun still too low and the visor too high to shade her eyes.
She shifted her shoulders so that she looked across towards Professor Truter. She could notice that despite his seemingly relaxed demeanour he had a tightness about his jaw. “What do you expect we will find, Professor?”
Professor Truter fiddled with his glasses. “I have no idea. This is a damned situation no matter how you look at it. And not a duty that fills me with any pleasure at all. I fear that what we have to tell Dr Marais’ protégé will not fill him with joy either.”
“I also wish we did not have to do this,” said Ariadne as she stared out the windscreen at the rolling hills of the southern Natal landscape passing by them. “But I am glad to see Jochem again. I kind of… missed him.”
“We must keep this professional, Miss Papadopoulos. Leave the talking up to me.”
The drive continued in silence until they stopped in Kokstad where Professor Truter pulled into a garage to fill up the Mercedes. “I wanted to do this in Pietermaritzburg but my days have been too long.”
Ariadne could only nod. She knew nothing about cars. She walked to work herself and the Professor insisted that she only worked the hours she was allotted. But he expected more from himself.
“Despite the weight of the information I have to convey, I would like to be as brief as possible. It would probably be best to leave the folder in the car and only take the letter.”
Ariadne removed the letter from the folder and placed it in her handbag. Then she moved the folder to the back seat.
They left Kokstad towards Cedarville and with the sun now high enough not to be a bother anymore, it was as if the drive had become more of an outing. Their destination was halfway between Cedarville and Matatiele going north towards Mafube in the southern foothills of the Drakensberg. Professor Truter slowed down to search for the turn north.
They had left the tar road and were now travelling on a dirt road, winding through the hills.
“Are you sure we are going the right way, Professor?”
“You wouldn’t believe it, but I have been here before,” he said.
“You have? You don’t leave the department much.”
The professor kept his eyes fixed on the road. “Literary studies is not a discipline that requires much fieldwork. Doctor Marais brought me here in 1963, when he himself was still a doctoral candidate. He wanted to research Verneuk himself and asked me to co-author some papers.”
“You didn’t do it?”
Truter shook his head. “I told him Verneuk’s saga was an academic dead end.”
“I managed to set him onto a much more fruitful path. But it seems he could not do the same for young Mr Kok.”
Turning off the tar road had gone well for the first mile or two, but soon the new Mercedes-Benz rattled and wobbled along a two-lane track as if it were an old Model T Ford. The track could hardly be described as a road.
Professor Truter gripped the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles turned pale against the brown leather.
The road narrowed to a track that was almost impassable. Professor Truter slowed down to a crawl as he wove back and forth. The scrape of encroaching branches against the side of the car made him wince every time it happened.
The car jumped to the left, almost leaving the tracks.
Ariadne held tightly onto the door handle. “It scares me to imagine driving a car. You seem so comfortable with it.”
“If you do it enough it can become second nature.”
The road petered out to nothing as Professor Truter stopped the Mercedes under a thorn tree by the side of a dry river bed. “This is as far as the road goes,” he said. “We will have to walk the rest of the way.”
“Who builds a house out here in the middle of nowhere, between lost and forgotten?”
Professor Truter shrugged. “Well, Hendrik Verneuk of course.”
Then he looked across at Ariadne who was dressed in heels. “I should have warned you of this eventuality. I must apologise but I was so distracted by it all… I did not think far enough ahead.”
Ariadne looked down at her heels, then at the vast horizon. She smiled. “Do not worry, Professor. I am certain it will not be a problem at all.”
© 2025 Gerhi Janse van Vuuren
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