Halloween

September 1, 1998

Dear Diary,

I don’t exactly understand the predicament I have found myself in or the nature of this assignment, but I guess we all have things we need to do. For example, the boogie man, he’s got lots of kids to eat. Or those freaks that came from the corn who have plenty of men to kill. It’s a shame that they had been scheduled to be shipped with that Sheridan guy. The fact that they were on the same boat as him spelled their demise. I heard Popsy came back and sank the whole ship before I was sent. Anyway, those narcs said that writing in here would help with my rehabilitation, but how am I supposed to rehabilitate if I never make it back home alive? I’ve already paced four laps around this shithole rock but the closest thing here to a living creature is driftwood. Its times like these where I question the “due process” of the American justice system. I wasn’t personally involved with Sheridan. I had to do what I had to do. If you ask me, it’s an eye for and eye. A little bit of robbery never hurt anyone THIS much. -B

September 2, 1998

Dear Diary,

Despite having nothing to do but wait for my own demise, I found it in myself to really explore this island. It doesn’t have much in the way of living beings, but the rock formations are complex. I’d say all in all I’ve got one or two thousand square feet of limestone and granite. While scouring the beaches I managed to find some shells that could be useful to hold water or if I find something to eat. Deep inland some of those rock formations lead into a crevice. There’s a certain sound coming from inside the cave. I can’t quite tell what it is. It could be flowing water! -B

September 3, 1998

Dear Diary,

I wonder if this is how one of Sheridan’s children felt. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen a crumb of food, or even had any options. The difference is that bastard probably enjoyed imprisoning those kids for no reason. Here I’ve got to answer for some crimes at least. Besides that, it seems pointless.  if there is a way off this island, I will find it. I only have myself to blame if I don’t. I need to find something soon or there may have to be some roast Brian Leg on the menu. -B

September 4, 1998

Dear Diary,

Its calling to me. I have nowhere else to go, so I may as well enter that crevasse. There’s something about that stream or whatever is in there. It’s not just water in there. I hear something. Maybe even just a hint of a whisper. Its calling to me. It’s funny, something about this island gives me the feeling I would’ve ended up here with or without my punishment. -B

September 5, 1998

Dear Diary,

I found my way inside the cave. I had to move a few rocks to fit through the cracks, but no natural element can stop me. I was right about the stream. Past the surface there was a natural spring running down a corridor. That passage seems to be quite deep. Whatever I heard before must have just been an echo. I was able to find the nest of some sort of animal. I’ll never be able to say definitively. All I can say is those eggs didn’t taste like any bird I’ve ever eaten. A bit crunchy on the inside too. -B

September 6, 1998

Dear Diary,

My belly is full, and the sun is high. I have triumphed over this island, for now. I had a thought about the longevity of my survival. I must find some way back. What is living worth if I’ll never savor a Baconator again? Or if I were to never drive my Ferrari? There is not enough wood here to make a signal fire though. Maybe I SHOULD have studied germination after all. -B

September 9, 1998

Dear Diary,

Forget my triumph. Sometimes I wonder if its worth it. Those eggs really messed with my systems. I feel like dogshit, even more than usual. I don’t deserve this. That Sheridan really got the easy way out. He didn’t have to suffer, even though he should have. He made those kids suffer, and he kept doing it. I only took money. Money can be made back, even if my spoils were somewhat large. I’m here rotting away on this island, sleeping on rocks as opposed to my linens that I worked hard for, while Sheridan gets to enjoy death. I won’t give up though. There’s not a chance in hell of me being a quitter. -B

September 14, 1998

Dear Diary,

I was not expecting to make it this long. I travelled quite a bit down that cave and found that the subterranean eco system is quite alive. Alive enough to keep me alive that is. I would hardly consider those creatures the same as me, but I digress. That corridor in the cave appears to funnel off into a basin of some sort. The passage becomes too small to continue but there is something beyond. Those echoes seem to be emanating from the basin as well. I must know. -B

September 19, 1998

Dear Diary,

I noticed something odd in my skin. I’m not sure what it was. I think a small rock or pebble must have gotten lodged into me. It was a sort of small dark shard protruding out. I removed it and there was little blood. Funny though, I don’t remember ever getting stuck or stabbed.

September 22, 1998

Dear Diary,

I’ve noticed a few more of those shards in my skin. I don’t know where they come from. I don’t feel myself getting lacerated. I guess there really are some things I don’t know. I don’t deserve this. I’m trapped like an animal. I wish Sheridan survived. I’m better than him in every way, so why am I the one suffering down here? To whoever finds this, what would you think is worse, kidnapping so you can pay off your own debts or stealing money? I worked hard to get all the way up to where I was. Do you know how many people I had to confront? Can you imagine the number of times I almost died? Its not fair, all Sheridan did was throw some kids in a van. He wasn’t even good at it.

September 32, 1998

Dear Diary,

These creatures are not normal. These plants are not normal. There is something very wrong in this cave. I travelled down into the basin. I had to scratch the hell out of my skin to get through, but I made it. It seems safer down here than up in that nest. Those creatures move like lizards, and I’ve seen them as big as a great Dane. But its their eyes. They look at me like people. The whispers have gotten quieter as well. I don’t hear them in the basin anymore. They sound like they come from behind me.

1998

I thought I was safe. I thought I had gotten away from them. I moved rocks behind me to create a barrier. I hear the whispers. They are following me. For the first time I can hear what they say. “One of us. YOU are one of us.”

) 9  9 B

My skin is covered in the dark shards. They are minutes away. I hear the rocks shifting around me. The cave is collapsing, the walls are closing in. I can never leave. I am one of them.