It has been five hours since I survived the crash that killed a dozen others and left me stranded alone in the dense and frosted wilderness. All around me are soaring mountain peaks that remind me my only escape is by crawling between the teeth of some monstrous jaw. The fiery wreckage claimed all survival gear and all the extra clothes and luggage. I am literally left with nothing but the few tattered rags on my back. I dare not seek shelter in the smoldering fuselage, for animals will no doubt descend upon the bones for food.
I do not know how long it will be before rescue comes, should it ever come. As luck would have it, this journal managed to land far enough from the burning debris to survive. I will use it to record what might well be my last thoughts.
The sun is setting. I must find shelter soon if I am to survive.
The night was harsh and brutal. I hunkered down against a mighty boulder and shivered all through the long hours of darkness. I could hear the howls of wolves, and every sound seemed to claw at my nerves. I feared I would not survive, though I did.
Knowing that time was not on my side and that the cold would surely get the better of me, I set out to acquire some additional layers of warmth. Having heard that one could keep safely warm by climbing inside the hallowed out carcass of a mighty animal such as a moose, I am attempting to locate and slay a moose.
More to come...
Hours have passed on my search and I have failed to locate a moose. However, I was able to slay two rabbits that I have hallowed out and am now using as gloves. They are not as comfortable as gloves and they are rather sticky inside. I must find many more rabbits if I am to stay warm.
It seems I have found some solace in the midst of this deathly situation. As I was prying loose the soft, bloody innards from these rabbits, the idea for a perpetual motion machine popped into my head. I have diagrammed it and I hope that should I die, this journal be recovered so that mankind may one day enjoy the benefits of perpetual motion.
I have spent the day getting adjusted to my surroundings, venturing further away from the crash site in search of hope, in search of anything. In my journeys I spotted a cave, but footprints suggested to me it was in use by no less than an elephant or some other large animal. This will not do.
I am growing very hungry. I am fondly recollecting the pets of my youth, and how delicious they would taste cooked over an open fire. A queer thought occurred to me: I will die without ever tasting parakeet. I wipe a tear from my eye and get some rabbit fur in it. I am madly rubbing my eye against any clean surface I can find in-between writing these simple words.
Upon my face a mighty beard grows. Each hair stands as a cenotaph to the clean-shaven face that is now so far away. If I could grow a hundred more beards my troubles here would be over.
It is now evening and I think my right eye is infected and possibly bleeding. It is difficult to see that side of my face from the other side of my face. My depth perception is failing me. Do not know if I can withstand another night now. Am shivering like mad.
The rabbit gloves have done wonders in terms of keeping my hands from being exposed to the elements, yet they tax my wrists and fingers a great deal when it comes to writing. I have been forced to lodge the pen in the mouth of one of the rabbits and flail my arm madly against the paper. I fear this will diminish my verbosity, as the early stages of carpal tunnel syndrome are already setting in. The lack of depth perception is also playing tricks on me, as I cannot properly identify the distance of the pen from the paper.
Unfortunately these rabbit gloves have frozen to my hands and I cannot get them off. If I ever make it back to safety, I worry my hands may not be salvageable. I must learn to master these new hands of mine so that I am not at a disadvantage in the civilized world.
My feet are still cold, even with boots and socks upon them. I have been attempting to procure some more rabbits that I might hollow out and use to further protect my feet, but it is difficult to hunt with rabbits for hands. I managed to kill one more rabbit, but struggled for hours attempting to gut it. The Lord was kind when he decided to bless us with human hands rather than rabbits for hands. I must confess I had no choice but to remove the rabbit's entrails and bones with my teeth. The warm blood was like syrup upon the pancakes of my mouth, and I relished the moment as a climber might relish reaching the peak of Everest.
The night hours grow near and I am working feverishly to assemble a shelter of some sort. I am also running a fever. At least I think, as it was difficult to ascertain how hot my forehead was when I placed my hand against it. The warm rabbit fur stuck to my hand felt good against my forehead though. I held it there for several minutes before discovering it was starting to freeze to my head. I had yank my hand away, pulling a good chunk of my forehead with it. I must remember not to make anymore unnecessary contact with my face.
Having failed to produce a shelter, I spent the night sandwiched between felled trees and piles of brush. I fear the proximity and exposure to such brush may have triggered allergies. I have been sneezing like mad, but thankfully my rabbit gloves prove ample in absorbing my discharges and wiping up my runny nose.
I fear things cannot get any worse. I am starving and cold and in desperate need of real shelter. Hang on; I hear something rustling in the bushes...
It was apparently nothing. My imagination has gotten the best of me. Wait! There it is again...
Things have gotten worse. It seems a bear has eaten me and things are very dark. I pray that these are still words I am etching on this soiled pad in the cramped inner recesses of this mighty grizzly bear. At least it is warm here in this, my final resting place.
I fear this is the end. I can no longer feel anything but fatigue...
Bear passed me unexpectedly in the night. It was a painful experience for both me and the bear, and in the midst of this horrible ordeal, I think we bonded. We are now sharing the cave I spotted earlier, though I fear our relationship may turn sour.
Exploring more today, I am even more lost than I expected. From the highest vantage point I see no signs of civilization. Desperately need food... Sky is full of ellipses... Penmanship... waning... Lacking vernacular to properly dramatize significance of experience... Ugh....
I am awake again in the cave. I apparently passed out, and the bear brought me back. Our tenuous alliance has proven advantageous, as I surely would have died out in the elements. Night falls, and the bear is kind enough to spoon with me. This is awkward, but necessity demands sacrifice and compromise to even the most important of virtues.
The bear shows signs of being clingy, and I believe I might have posttraumatic stress disorder from the crash, as I am now having flashbacks and nightmares. I am keeping the bear up at night, and it seems angry. I do not want to be a bad roommate. Not here, not after everything I've been through.
The sun has risen. It is time to do more exploring. I am investigating a clearing to the east I remember spotting the day before. I vaguely remember a glint echoing its way to my monocular senses. Perhaps there is something of value there.
Thank goodness! I have stumbled upon an abandoned cannon in the midst of these endless woods. My one hope of salivation is now to launch myself out of this cannon, hopefully landing somewhere soft and safe far away from this cursed land of danger and mystery.
The bear is growing overly protective. It is following me – I know it! I cannot let it get between me and this cannon. I will launch myself first thing tomorrow morning, sneaking out while the bear sleeps. It is a horrible thing to do to that poor creature, but the right thing. It wouldn't understand.
I have launched myself from the cannon and I am now rocketing through the air. I fear this may be my last journal entry, for the odds of me landing safely are at least one in two. Either I land safely or I don't.
Bear slept soundly through the night, and I snuck away with ease. I'm going to miss that old bear, but our union was never meant to be. Still, I'll remember the times together. I came to know that bear inside and out, and that's something you simply do not forget.
Writing is difficult while flying, will have to cut this short. Land ahead, more to come... God be willing!
I have landed on a trampoline in someone's backyard. My reunion with civilization is still a ways off, as I have to bounce off the tremendous force with which I was launched. It may be hours yet before I slow down enough that I can safely dismount from the trampoline.
A crowd has gathered to stare at me. Though I feel nauseous, I am pleased to see them with my one eye. They appear more frightened than delighted, and I wonder if it is safe for me to come down off this trampoline. Perhaps I have traded one wilderness for another. Perhaps the bear was right to want me to stay, knowing full well the civilized world was no longer my home.
With each bounce I attempt to wave at the crowd, but the impaled rabbits affixed to my hands merely disgusted them. Do they not know the horrible allowances the necessity of survival permits?
The Lord has seen me through my trials, and I have finally stopped bouncing. After 18 grueling hours bouncing, I finally slowed down enough that I could dismount from the trampoline.
I fear this will be my last update, for it is time for me to return to normal life. The struggle for survival is over. I am going to the hospital now. My plane crashed ten days ago, and I have finally landed on solid ground.
Let this be a lesson to everyone. Never give up! Never stop surviving no matter the odds. Farewell and fare travels!
Here you go, Charlie!
Mothers, Danzig warned you in general terms about his nefarious intentions. Now find out what he specifically intends.
Makes baby look too appetizing. Also I have my thigh stuck in one and I can't get it off. It's so tight around the skin I can't cut it without risking injury. IT'S A LONG STORY AND IT'S NONE OF YOUR BEESWAX.
The darkest, most controversial game since Luigi's Mansion.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.