Log #5

I'm writing again because I have extremely good news. Helicopters have landed on the beach. I can hear men screaming to see if there are any survivors. I have not seen any of the other people that survived the plane crash since I moved. For all I know, they are dead. I have lived in this cave for two weeks, and have been on this island for uncountable days. I am ecstatic to finally get home, to civilization. I can hear officers running deeper into the forest, closer to my shelter. I will wait for them to come to me, I don't want to go out in the forest and get lost, which could end up in me not getting rescued. There are men coming into the cave. I am finally rescued, I survived. This is my last entry. I am going home, off of this terrible island. I will see you in the city.

Log #4

I'm writing this entry because the survivors are going insane. The thought of not being rescued has infected all of our minds. Groups are beginning to break apart and form separate "tribes" to live within. I have been talking to a few survivors and the idea of cannibalism seems to be a great thought, picking off the week ones while they sleep; easy meat for a week or two. This is why I've decided to separate from all the others and map out the island to try and find a cave to stay in, while the others go mad. I'm bringing this journal, a pack of fruits and the rest of the pig meat that we had mostly eaten. I am about to set off, if i manage to stay alive through my search for a decent shelter, I will write as soon as possible. Wish me luck, hopefully the survivors will realize what they are coming to be, I will decide whether to return to them if I feel like they have become sane again.