Sep 24, 2020 by Andrew Walbrown

Journal Entry
Date Unknown, 1899

As far as I know, I am the last living member of my crew. For many hours, as there is no concept of day and night in this place, the Xakki plucked one person at a time from our camp. When only five of us remained we began retreating to our ship, leaving those abducted to die horrible deaths. But what other choice did we have? We have no weapons, and from what I have seen or heard, the Xakki's flesh cannot be pierced by our firearms. Of the remaining five, only two of us made it aboard our ship, however, the other man died of his wounds only hours ago. Never have I seen such marks made by a creature; if Death was not waiting around the corner for me perhaps I would investigate the creature further. But if I step foot off this ship, I will suffer the same fate as my shipmate.

I cannot operate the ship by myself. First and foremost, I have no sailing experience, and even if I did, the vessel is too large for one man to control. I am, by all accounts, stranded. I have enough fuel to keep me warm, at least for now, as well as enough supplies. But someday one of those necessities will become depleted. My only hope is for someone else to find my ship before then. 

I suppose I should not rule out suicide, either. It is an unpleasant thought, but a route I must consider for mercy's sake if all hope vanishes. How long can one man last by himself in a land of constant daylight? How will I even mark the passage of time? How funny it is that I am from a place where everyone complains about the shortening of days around this time of year, and here I am in the midst of the longest day of my life! The Fates have quite a sense of humor, however, I wish they would have used their jokes on some other unfortunate soul.

Now I wait. I wait for either for my death or my rescue. I just hope that whichever side wins this morbid race does so quickly. 

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