On October 15th 1902 a young man brought a small, well worn leather book to the Boston Police Department. The book appeared to be sea soaked and cut up with sharp rocks or a small knife. The man claimed he had fished the journal out of the ocean as he saw it floating by.
The contents of the book appeared to be a journal of the mundane ramblings of a lobster fisherman from Nova Scotia, and was almost disregarded by the Boston Police Department. It was only upon the insistence of the young man did the officers read the journal and enter it into the archives as evidence.
Skipping the first 22 entries, the journal reads as follows:
August 5th 1902,
My crew and I seem to have gotten turned around recently. This damn fog won’t seem to clear and our compasses can’t get a bearing. We’ve eaten all the lobsters we were dragging up and have been scraping by on small salty tasting fish.
It’s been 20 days since we’ve been home. I think about you ever day Janice and how soft you were. My heart mourns for our sheets which I can only seem to find in my dreams. These days I am awoken by nightmares, our luck in these waters has been disastrous.
Two days ago Harquin was pulled over board, his leg was caught in a rope and ripped him over the bow. The men watched as he was dragged upside down drowning to death in these salty waters.
I fear we will never see home again…
August 12th 1902,
A storm hit last night, the worst I’ve ever seen. We lost three more men to the seas. I write now under the placid sun that seems to be trapped in the same fog that has captured us… The sea is eerily quiet this morning and my men are sitting near me, unable to sleep, unable to eat, and dying from the inside. I fear this will be my last entry.
Janice, if I don’t see you again I want you to know that I loved you to my last breath.
August 15th 1902,
LAND! My ship was wrecked last night on a reef in another terrible storm. I am the only remaining member of my crew. The black waters tried to drag me down but something inside kept me swimming… something, I… I can’t describe how it felt but something made me come here. The feeling of the sand under my feet in the black of night felt like home. I’ve made a small fishing rod and have been drinking water from the rocks. How did this damn journal make it! I have much to do Janice, I will write again as soon as I can.
August 16th 1902,
A young woman has washed ashore, she said she crashed in the seas last night.
What is this place… a forlorn feeling hangs in the air like a rotting corpse. The smell of decay seems to be ever present, is it the smell of ship wrecked sailors in the water? I don’t know…
August 17th 1902,
The rain water is contaminated with the salt and decay that seems to cover ever inch of this island I am hostage to. There are more Islands, I can see them over the water when the fog blows out in the early morning. Gavve, the young woman who washed a shore yesterday, is convinced these islands are cursed.
She says her mother used to speak of a island chain called “The belly of the womb”. Lost sailors became trapped and were eaten by a ancient hag that wandered the islands seeking blood for her rotten baby.
I don’t know if this is that place, but the air is thick with death. I can’t describe it. It’s heavy and hot, I find my self shouting and screaming sometimes at no one. My skin is crawling with hate. What have I done to deserve this… I have not been perfect I know, but why am I here? Is this a version of hell they never taught us about? Or am I caught in some mad man’s nightmare who can’t wake up?
It certainly feels so.
Another man washed ashore this last night, what the hell is this place? Why do people keep coming here. I hear voices too, I’m not sure if they’re on the island or just in my head. I dare not wander too far, a fear of separation from Brad and Gavve is keeping me hostage to this small section of beach.
The Brine! It gives me a strength I’ve never felt before. Giving in to dehydration this morning I drank deeply from a dank pool on the ground hoping for death or a momentary succession from the burning in my skull. I found so much more. I see so clearly now. The haze is gone from my eyes. I must tell Gavve and Brad.
There are others on the Island Janice, I am certain of it now, I hear them in the mornings. It sounds as if they are conspiring to kill us. Gavve, Brad and I have seen them at distances drinking from the pools as we do. We are planning on taking them tomorrow morning before they get a chance to murder us.
We did it, We slaughtered them all! Brad died in the fight but we managed to kill all three of them before he fell to a gunshot wound. Gavve and I now have the Island to ourselves, and all the food we could ever desire…
Something is happening… Like a reward for victory, I can’t explain how it feels, but it seems like a higher power is proud of our accomplishments, is it the old hag? A new sailor washed ashore this morning, an older trapper. Gavve and I guided him to the pools of water, but we fear more will appear on the island soon.
I doubt I’ll ever leave this island Janice, but I hope that we can meet again some day, once I am dead.