Dear reader,

I wish I could tell you that you're going to survive this. But, if I did, I would need to believe that I can survive this too. If you're reading this, I'm probably dead and you're probably lost. You may have been here for a few days, months, or even years; but, you probably know by now that you're in a trap.

But take comfort; you and I aren't the only ones marooned here. There's a whole tradition of letters to find in the forest if you go looking. I can't give you a map because, as you must have noticed, the terrain is constantly changing; but if you found my flask, then you should be able to find the plane - look for it in the trees. There are 26 letters in the glove compartment.

But now I will tell you my story in brief -

I was carried here in a storm after my boat capsized. I didn't find anyone or anything on my first day.

On the second day, I went to look for fresh water further inland and I found a small plane wreck. The pilot had lost his head, but he had been dead a long time so I thought it must have rolled off naturally; I never found it. I scavenged the wreck and found a flask, a tarp, a hatchet, a notebook, a functional compass, and a few other things which proved to be useless.

Later that day, I finally noticed that I hadn't heard or seen any birds or even insects. In fact you'll find there is no animal life of any kind here - with one possible exception, but I'll get to that later dear reader.

On the third day, I plotted a course for the mountain to find the highest ground I could and build a bonfire there. After about two days of trekking toward the the mountain, I noticed that it wasn’t getting any bigger on the horizon. I kept making my way under the canopy but every time I glimpsed the mountain ahead, it remained just as far away. I wondered if I wasn’t simply taking too many detours. But, using the pilot's compass, I had made sure to travel in a roughly straight line since I left the beach. The slight incline that I thought was leading me to the base of the mountain was continuous even though I didn't seem to be any further above sea-level when I glanced back at the ocean. At some point I gave up and began walking back to the beach. I might have known better. To date, I haven’t reached it.

So, that's the mess I'm in dear reader, and I assume you're in it too. Whatever hypothesis you've come up with is as good as mine.

But if that wasn't enough already, here's the real rub; if you haven’t noticed already, you aren’t alone on this island. The first time I found a barely legible letter which mentioned "The Beast" that "is always watching," I thought I had found my first nut-case; I wish. Oh, how I wish I was alone with the dead. But, indeed, there is some creature hiding just beyond my line of sight. I don't know how long it's been stalking me, but I first noticed its presence when I started wandering the forest at night in hopes of spotting a fire. The Beast doesn't seem to make any noise at all, but sometimes I can see its giant silhouette eclipse the stars as it passes through the gaps in the canopy. I can never catch it moving except out of the corner of my eye - you must pretend that you don't notice it.

Needless to say, I've never gotten a good look at the thing and if it weren't for the regularity of the marks it leaves on the trees, I would continue to believe it was simply the shadow of my fear - if you look about half-way up the trunk of any decently large tree, chances are you'll see the marks. Besides, where do you think the pyramids of skulls come from? If you've seen them, you might think they were carefully stacked by some indigenous people; the varying orientation of the skulls is obviously intentional. But if there are indigenous people here, they're much better at hiding their presence than the Beast; there are no human artifacts to discover except for the varied items found on or near the bodies of the men and women who found themselves stranded here. And, of course, every single body I've found was missing its head.

Well, I'm running out of charcoal. I'm putting this letter in my flask because I want it to be preserved in the event of my death. If you find it on my body, don't hesitate to avail yourself of everything on it. I wish you the best of luck dear reader and I sincerely hope you find a way out of this.

Goodbye

P.S. Making fire is safe, but keep moving! I've never camped in one spot longer than six or seven hours. I’m not sure why the Beast doesn’t just add me to one of its piles, but I can only guess that it's interested to see what I do next.

When I pulled up to the Halloween party at Eddie's house, I saw something jump onto the roof. I told Eddie it looked like a big dog with weird legs, but it was Halloween.

"Ha-ha! Nice try," he said.

By 3:OO AM, everyone else had crashed. I felt sick, so I went to the bathroom and locked the door. But, before my vomit could come, I fell asleep hunched over the toilet. When I woke up, I went to check on Eddie. I did not mean to add fresh bile to the stew of gnarled bone and gristle. Sorry Eddie.