I started this journal with ‘Day 5’ because it feels like almost a week since I washed up here.
A month ago, I boarded the yacht for the adventure of a life time. Breaking the yacht on the rocks was unexpected. Waking up with my face buried in the sand at the break of dawn was a miracle.
I don’t know where I am, but it’s an island. On my first day, I climbed the tallest tree that lines the beach. There are about eight miles of jungle between me and the coast on the other side. No hills, no high rocks; just trees and wildlife that keep me up at night with their hooting and their cooing. And monkeys. There are a lot of monkeys!
I need to manage fire, somehow. I need it as a signal. I need it to keep the monkeys away at night. I need it to cook and to keep warm. But all my attempts at fire have failed miserably so far.
Debris has been washing up on shore every day. No survivors though. I salvaged some useful supplies. I created shelter from the torn dinghy and I’m using the tarp we had on the boat to gather rain water. I also found this scrap book. It took three days for it to dry enough to write on.
I haven’t been hunting yet, but the shellfish is easy to get and good enough to eat.
I have quite a system going. While exploring the outer edges of the jungle I found rabbit trails and I set up traps using sticks and string. I caught two stringy ones, but without fire I can’t eat them yet. Still, it’s good practice.
I managed fire! And not a day too soon. The monkeys took my knife last night. Sneaky little things. I fashioned a spear from a piece of metal that came with the debris, but it’s not half as good as the knife I had.
I keep a fire going at all times now. I discovered that if you cover it with leaves, the smoke becomes ticker and gives off a higher plume; hopefully high enough to be seen by passing boats. I haven’t seen any yet.
I’m eating like a king! Fish is plentiful. Water is limitless.
Monkeys stayed away last night; at least nothing was missing this morning. Heard their footsteps close to the camp, but none came on the beach.
Will try to go further inland later today.
Went inland and got lost. Had a rough couple of nights. Had no shelter and no light. Kept hearing footsteps. There must be larger animals than the monkeys, but I couldn’t see any; just heard their footsteps.
I’ll try to hunt inland again, but I’ll leave a trail this time.
I can’t sleep. I don’t know if it’s the monkeys, but I keep hearing footsteps. They come close, just to the edge of the jungle then stop; like they are waiting.
I have fire surrounding my camp in a circle, and yet, I don’t dare go out to see what is watching me.
There they go again! Footsteps. Pacing up and down the tree line. Do monkeys pace?
Reading last night’s entry, I feel like an idiot. Darkness plays tricks on the senses; giving the perception of danger where there is none.
My hunting trail worked. I can now come and go through the jungle as I please without getting lost.
No boats and no planes yet. I keep hoping.
I swear something is watching me. I sit on the beach facing the trees. I don’t dare give my back to the jungle. I have a trail that leads directly to my camp, but, even in day light, the thought of crossing into the jungle to put down the rags is making my blood run cold. I haven’t seen anything, but I keep hearing these damn footsteps coming from just inside the tree line. They come close and stop. Then start pacing. Always pacing; moving branches and breaking sticks as they go.
The fire went out a day ago. All the fire wood is inside the jungle.
The monkeys don’t come any more. Only the pacing.
The footsteps won’t go away. I’m going inside. Must face whatever it is that watches me.
END OF DOCUMENT
This week Esther Newton challenged us to write a story in diary form. I’m not used to this style so I thought I’d give it a go.
Check out the other entries here.