Captain's Log. & Sequel Arrival. [finished]

[Skittle]

Captain’s Log. 18/02/2013

It’s a quiet day. Almost too quiet, some of the crew are whispering. We’re due to pass over the Bermuda Triangle in just one day now.

It makes you wonder, trips like these, why people believe in the ‘Devil’s Triangle’. The crew and I have passed over the Triangle many times now, all of which without incident. Sure, lots of ships and planes have gone missing here, but that must be coincidence. After all, this is our thirteenth trip, and we’ve never seen anything on any other trips. Still, I shouldn’t complain. This tourism business, and the possibility that the Bermuda Triangle could exist keeps our company afloat, if you’ll excuse the pun.

We set off to scale the Bermuda Triangle from Pennsylvania a day ago. It’s a cruise ship, so we’re taking our sweet time. Not taking too long, though; this is a five night, six-day cruise – no more and no less. The customers get what they pay for. We’d be fools if we gave them more.

I’m staring out to sea right now, and it’s a beautiful, clear day. I think I can say with some certainty that this is going to be an easy journey, even if we are passing over the fabled Bermuda Triangle. It amuses me just how much this is scaring and exciting the passengers. What do they think they’re going to see? Heaven? Hell? Another dimension?

All I can say is good luck to them.

Captain’s Log. 19/02/2013

Last night, shortly after I stopped writing, a grey fog started building up behind us. It’s moving very slowly, however, so this shouldn’t be a problem until we turn the ship around and head back. Even then it might have dispersed, and it’s very thin anyway.

Today we had a few minor problems with the ship’s compass, but they were resolved by a member of the crew. I think his name was Albert, or something like that. Never mind, it is not important, really. All that is really important is that the problems were fixed and we’re heading at around half-speed to the Devil’s Triangle. We’re very nearly there now; we’ll be there by nightfall, by my calculations. The passengers are getting very over excited and already one little boy came very close to hurling himself overboard. He was rescued, just in the nick of time, by that same member of crew that fixed the compass. Albert? Is that his name? No. It began with a H, I’m sure it did. I’ll find it out later, when I’m directing the crew to their duties.

It’s late afternoon now and the passengers have just settled down to their dinner. They’re having it early today so that they can watch the sun set over the Bermuda Triangle. Although I have seen it myself, many times, it still holds beauty and wonder, even to my eyes. It should be relaxing to everyone involved, and it should calm the kids down quite a bit. Nothing like the cool evening air to freshen you up.

Later.

The ship is in a state of panic. Three children are missing and the fog has thickened and moved a lot faster than I anticipated. It is now surrounding the ship and we cannot see land anywhere. It should be dark, but the fog is glowing with an eerie light and illuminating the ship. It has billowed around on the upper decks and, to my horror and dismay, we have not heard anything from the above decks. A command for everyone except the crew members I set to looking for the children to come down to the lower decks was issued earlier, but not one person from the upper decks has arrived. I am swallowing my fear; it is only fog, perhaps it muffled our instruments and that is why no one has arrived? I have to go – the compass has gone haywire and Albert is nowhere to be found. I will report back later.

Later.

I regret to inform whoever may read this in future that I am the only one left on the ship, except Albert. We have barricaded ourselves in the lowest chamber of the ship, but the fog will seep in sooner or later. We both know that. Albert is asking what I am writing. I have told him. Funny, I don’t actually remember him boarding the ship. I shall ask him. And, while I’m doing that, I will ask him his real name.

It’s all over. Albert’s real name is Haven. He has told me that I cannot write down what I know, other than his name, and I feel compelled to obey. He has told me where the passengers and crew are, and where I am to go. I beg him to bring us all back, but he is heartless. He has told me the fate of those three children, and for those children I am glad. They are dead, but I would rather wish death upon them then what will happen to my crew and passengers. Haven, or Albert, has told me that when we arrive at our destination, I will be sacrificed. He says that he cannot have me warning the others about what will happen, for that will destroy his plans. I only asked that it be painless. He just smiled eerily and said I wasn’t to die. I feel helpless.

Captain’s Log. 20/02/2013

I am worse than dead. Forgive me, oh my crew. Forgive me, oh my passengers. Forgive me, oh my God!

[Skittle]

Arrival.
Sequel to Captain's Log.

There was a mighty jolt and crunch as our ship hit something. Almost the moment we hit, the fog dissolved into the ether. I didn’t and still don’t know what to think of that fog. I found this book aboard the ship when we went salvaging. It had the Captain’s Log in it, but the captain seems nowhere to be found. I believe that the fog must have driven him mad and to throw himself off the side of the ship. There never was an ‘Albert’ or a ‘Haven’ among our staff. I was on the upper deck the entire time, and found it impossible to get to the lower ones. Gradually I was joined by people, who just seemed to appear out of the fog, rubbing their eyes and temples as though they had just woken from a deep sleep. I couldn’t find the compass – it appeared to have been ripped right out of the ship’s control panel. This puzzles and worries me somewhat, but I believe that the Captain may have taken it into the sea with him when he took his dive. As for those three children he mentioned, no children went missing. He must have imagined them.

We turned out to have hit an island; rather beautiful it was, too. We clambered out and explored. We’re currently sitting on the beach, with the food that was not ruined or lost when we crashed, laughing and joking as we wait to be rescued. We have enough food to last four days, if we ration it out properly, and that’s when we expect the rescue crews to turn up. This must be an uncharted island, as there is no one living here. This makes me uneasy, as I know for a fact that there are no uncharted islands near Bermuda. We must have strayed quite a bit from our path. Still, I will make no mention of this to the others; it would only dampen spirits and panic people.

The people have taken to calling this island The Haven, as that is what it is to us. A safe Haven. The sun is setting now (how long was the fog there? It was evening when we last saw land), and spirits are high. Some have chosen to sleep in a beautiful forest we found. We have named it Belle Forest, as it is indeed beautiful.

Later.

Such terrible screams! Why will they not stop?! They shall surely drive us insane! The Belle Forest is no thing of beauty; I have seen it, with my own eyes, consume people and poison them. I have seen it! Do not think me mad, if you are reading these few pages. We have all seen it. We will never visit that forest again. The tortured screams of the lovestruck couples that slept there will haunt me for the rest of my life. I have never heard anything like it. This island is evil! EVIL!

It is morning now, and the camp has calmed down. We have taken a register, of sorts, so that we may keep track of people. No one has mentioned last night. Children weep and sniffle from time to time, but it cannot be helped. We have no way off this island. We are stranded in The Haven for the time being. Hah. The Haven. What an empty name that is now. This is no Haven. This is nothing short of a Hell.

We are beginning to construct small huts made from branches. The branches we get, however, are not from Belle Forest. No one dares to go near that forest. No. We have found another forest, which we have named Nouveau Grounds. Apparently our passengers are big on French. We have taken a few branches from here, but not many, as they are young and difficult to cut down. Instead we have been taking our wood from the final forest on the Island. We have named it Dead Wood, as everything that has grown there appears to have died. No one dares visit at night, not after Belle, but we go during the day and bring wood back.

My fears that we will be here for a long time are growing. I tasted the sea water today. It is fresh. What kind of a place is this?

Another day has passed. Tragedy, however, has struck us once again. Earlier on today a madman climbed to the top of the 200ft or so cliff and leapt off it, into the sea, screaming incomprehensibly in what my mind tells me was another language, but what my heart tells me was his demented sorrows. We are running out of food, and the group is gradually splitting itself up into three groups. Myself, I remain with the firm idea that we should stick together, lest we all die here. Today a desert was discovered – a huge desert – but there are no plans to explore it.

They have done the inevitable. Today the food ran out and there was a huge argument. I regret to say that these people are regressing. One group… One group said we should start eating ourselves. I have taken the children and hidden them away in a cave I found when the tide was out. I do not trust the cannibals at all. Another group has found a herd of wild horses, and today they left the beach to live among them, and dine like kings. I cannot say I approve of the consumption of horses any more than I approve of cannibalism. The third group seems to have the right idea; they have found a plant patch with many bizarre plants growing there. But I cannot be sure the plants are not poisonous and so I wait. To feed the children, I gather up the fish I find on the beach at night. There is rarely enough to go around, and some nights there is nothing. I am scared for my life, and for the lives of these innocents.

I have not written in some time. This is because I have been too horrified by what I have seen. All but two of the children I take care of have died of starvation, and one is close to death. The only one that I believe will live is Liam, a blonde, blue-eyed boy of ten. He is inquisitive and bright, as well as good-natured. I do not want him to suffer like I have, so I do not allow him out of the cave.

It started three days ago. One of the men from the wild horse group came running down the hill, screaming fit to burst. For a moment, when I saw his silhouette, I thought he had grown a comically large arse. The truth was that he was growing legs out of his backside. Horses legs. As I and the people that had chosen to grow and eat vegetables watched, his backside elongated and we saw that his legs had transformed into horses legs. As we watched him, horrified, he was completely transformed. He gasped out that the same was happening to all of the people who had followed the horses into Nouveau forest, and then he gave a howl of pain and ran back. I never saw him again.

The next day, something happened to the cannibals on the cliff, but I have no idea what. All we heard was their screams as the sun came up. No one has been brave enough to find out what has happened to them.

Finally, today, I watched something terrible happen with my own eyes. Those that had eaten the vegetables. Their faces. They…they..

Their skin grew over their mouths, then over their noses. I watched them tear at their own faces with their nails as their eyes grew huge and black in their heads. Some of them had eyes that turned blue, or yellow, or white, but mostly it was black. Their hair grew to amazing proportions, and amazing colours. I watched as the skin that covered their faces crushed their facial structure and as they tried to howl in pain but found they had no tongues. I fled, then, back to my cave, for I could not stand to see them any longer. Liam kept asking what was wrong as I wept, but I could not answer him.

As I write this, Liam is fast asleep. The fire is coming close to burning out, so I will be brief. I know my end is near; already I can see scales crawling up my legs, already I can feel my legs fusing together. I can only pray that the same fate does not await Liam. I must go, now. I hope that you have read this, Liam, and understood the dangers of the outside world. And I hope that nobody will ever visit this island again, for this island is death.

[xxblitzxx]

O.O Wow. Just, wow. Amazing story!!!

[Skittle]

-bow- Thank you.

NOWREADMYOTHERS.

:3

[xxblitzxx]

o.o Yes Ma'am!