My brother works for the coastguard. A few months ago, I was helping him move, and came across a yellow bottle stuffed with old worn out papers. After sorting through them, I realized they were journal entries. Many of them were unreadable, partially torn, or covered in dark stains and smears, but the ones I could decipher told an extraordinary story.
My brother said he found the bottle about a year ago, while out on patrol. It was in an empty partially-deflated raft. I don’t know what to make of these entries, or what happened to the people mentioned, but feel like their story should be shared. I translated them to the best of my ability.
July 19
We’re probably the only ones left.
The plane had 20 rows that respectively sat two on one side, and three on the other, so 100 in total. It was a full flight. The plane had two pilots and three flight attendants, so that brings the number up to 105.
105 unsuspecting souls.
We were flying over the Atlantic during a fierce storm when it happened. I don’t know what caused it, but the plane started shaking violently, before going into a freefall. The pilots managed to regain control of the craft and made a rough landing. Only less than half of everyone onboard got onto the rafts before a large wave sank the plane. Whoever wasn’t on those rafts didn’t stand a chance.
I don’t know how we got through that night. I was lucky enough to be one of the first that got onto the rafts. There were at least a dozen others in mine before the plane sank, but after hours of getting tossed and turned by that violent storm, only five of us remained.
We must be miles away from land because we can’t see any in sight. I don’t know how my journal managed to survive that whole ordeal without getting lost or damaged. Perhaps I’m meant to record everything that happens while we’re adrift, waiting to be rescued. I guess everyone’s still trying to process these last 12 hours. Nobody’s said a word.
July 20
We found two more floating in the ocean, clinging onto a seat cushion. Our group total is now seven. It seems that rescuing these two kickstarted us to start proactively assessing our situation. We don’t have much in terms of supplies—four water bottles, some toiletries, one first aid kit, two seat cushions, and a plastic briefcase container.
We all have scrapes, bumps, bruises, and sunburns, but one woman named Norma is in especially bad shape. She has a nasty head wound, and fractured her left tibia. The fractured end of her bone was protruding from her skin, and had to be pushed back in by Kim—one of the survivors on this raft who’s an EMT. Norma’s injuries look infected. She’s been going in and out of consciousness all day. Kim is concerned.
The other two are named Jordan and Elliot. Not too sure what either of them do for a living. Incidentally, Elliot actually sat next to me on the plane. The two we just saved are Oliver and Isabel. They’re both grad students, who recently got engaged. Oliver said they got out of the plane right before it sank. Everything else afterwards was a blur. Oliver doesn’t know how they survived the storm, or didn’t get separated. It’s quite remarkable.
We’re being carried by a wind coming from the northwest. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, if it’s pushing us closer or further from land. (The rest is illegible)
July 21
I awoke first this morning. To my dismay, there was no land in sight. An eerie mist hung in the air, limiting how far I could see, but the sun was beginning to rise. There was no breeze. The raft wasn’t moving. I couldn’t hear a sound, and was smothered by an unshakable sense of being watched.
The morning haze eventually burned off, and although I could see much further, there were still no signs of land. As I sighed and glanced longingly at the featureless horizon, I spotted a peculiar shape protruding from the water in my peripherals. It was about 10-15 yards from the raft. At first, all I could make out was a dark grayish-green shape. It looked inanimate, was egg-shaped and about the size of a soccer ball. I thought it was a piece of plane debris.
Then it blinked.
That’s when I spotted two pale yellow eyes. They emitted a piercing stare through a thick veil of what looked like scraggly, matted, dark gray hair. I thought it was the remains of a crash victim….but remains don’t blink, I remember thinking. Those glistening yellow eyes blinked a second time, before the figure quickly disappeared below the surface. It happened in a span of 1-2 seconds.
I don’t know what I saw this morning, but it was definitely real because the water rippled around the spot where it submerged. I waited and waited, but the figure never resurfaced.
We’re hungry. So hungry. Jordan crafted a makeshift fishing line with some thread and a needle from the first aid kit….I later learned he used a piece of flesh from the infected area around Norma’s head wound as bait. Jordan’s been at it for hours, but hasn’t had any luck.
That feeling of being watched hasn’t ceased. I think the others sense it too—I could tell by their body language.
July 23
Norma’s dead.
We don’t know when she took her last breath. She could have been gone longer than we realized. Most disturbingly, Norma died open-eyed. Her skin has a sickly blotchy tint that’s greenish-gray in color. It reminds me of that figure I spotted the other day.
Nonetheless, we’re relieved Norma’s out of pain. There was nothing we could do for her, and she’d been suffering. She took up a lot of Kim’s time—who hasn’t said much since declaring her dead. We have her body curled up in a corner, covered with a blanket. We’re contemplating whether we should throw the corpse overboard, or hold onto it (in case we get rescued).
July 25
We saw a ship today, but it was too far away, and didn’t notice our raft. It was a dark and gloomy day anyway, with sporadic rain, so there was no way we would’ve been spotted. Fortunately, we’re drifting in the same direction as that ship, so hopefully we’re on some sort of travel route.
Jordan still hasn’t caught a fish, but he’s determined. He spends all day and night jigging, sometimes staring at the spot he’s doing it in for hours. He stopped using….bait and crafted a makeshift lure, but it hasn’t gotten him any bites.
July 26
We’ve been adrift for a week.
Jordan still hasn’t caught any fish, and there continue to be no signs of land. Just the featureless dark blue ocean horizon.
It’s been so long since we last ate. We were so hungry….and—I can’t stress this enough—that’s the only reason why we did what I’m about to recount.
We decided to throw Norma’s body overboard….but not entirely.
Kim and Elliot….they cut off pieces of the corpse. Mostly strips of flesh from her calves and arms. They got Norma’s body off the raft before making their cuts. I couldn’t see….but heard them conduct the gruesome procedure. I tried preoccupying myself by tending to Isabel, who became hysterical upon realizing what they were doing. Oliver and I tried explaining to Isabel that we had no other choice, but she was inconsolable.
They soaked the flesh strips in seawater to clean them, and remarkably, barely got any blood in the raft. Jordan refused to partake, saying he’ll “eat what he catches,” and that he “only used her as bait.”
We tenderized the meat, and cut some into bite-sized cubes. We had nothing to make a fire, and ate it raw. I won’t describe how it tasted. I just won’t.
Everyone but Jordan and Isabel ate the meat. Isabel had her face buried while curled up in a corner, screaming and sobbing as we ate. Jordan paid no mind, and spent the whole time trying to catch a fish.
July 27
(The first two paragraphs are illegible. Seems like she kept writing and crossing out the same sentence)
I just don’t understand. Nobody understands.
Norma.
She’s back. Her body-Norma’s body. It reappeared. Back on the raft.
Yesterday, we watched her body float away from the raft, and disappear into the horizon.
That awful sight was the first thing my eyes saw when I woke up this morning. My screams woke everyone else up, and I almost fell off the raft scrambling away from Norma’s corpse.
Norma was clothed when Kim and Elliot threw her overboard. Now, her bloated body was completely naked. Her skin was covered in ghostly pale and bruise-colored blotches. Her stiff limbs were bent backwards or twisted in some disturbingly unnatural position. The missing strips of skin and flesh that Kim and Elliot cut off were glaringly apparent. She looked extremely decomposed, like she’s been dead for weeks and not days.
That wasn’t even the worst part. It was her face. Her. Horrible. Wretched. Face.
Norma’s cloudy bloodshot eyes were wide open, and practically bulged out of their sockets. Her mouth hung agape, appearing to be permanently frozen mid scream. Norma’s face didn’t look like that when she died. Her eyes were closed, and although her jaw was still parted, it nowhere near resembled its current appearance.
There was something else about her head….
I forgot to mention. It was twisted completely around—180 degrees.
We’re all huddled on one side of the raft. Everyone’s afraid to go near the corpse….so we’re just sitting here, getting pierced by her twisted manic stare….
Everyone except Jordan, who’s been trying to catch a fish all this time.
July 29
Isabel’s shrill screams woke me up this morning.
I first realized that a thin coating of blood covered the entire bottom of our raft. We all must have slept in for who knows how long. Kim and Oliver tried restraining Isabel, who was absolutely hysterical. Completely far gone. Elliot and I looked on in sheer horror at the unsettling sight that set off Isabel.
Norma’s body—arms—were tightly weaved into the raft’s elastic cables as if to hold it in place. She was missing her lower right leg, and had a large vertical gash running down her backside. Blood still seeped from the massive opening. I quickly realized her spine was missing.
That’s when I spotted Jordan. He sat on the raft’s edge, grasping Norma’s bloodied spine in his hands. My stomach knotted upon realizing that Jordan fashioned Norma’s spine into a makeshift fishing pole. His hands, face, and clothes were smeared with blood, as he stared intently while slowly jugging his fishing line.
Jordan noticed Elliot and I were watching, and slowly turned with a blank emotionless expression pasted across his crusty sunburnt face.
“It bends.”
That’s all he said before abruptly returning his focus back to the water. He had Norma’s missing lower right leg across his lap.
Isabel wouldn’t stop screaming and thrashing. Kim and Oliver couldn’t take it anymore, and wound up beating her into unconsciousness. I don’t condone what they did, but dammit someone had to shut that bitch up before she made things worse!
Kim sliced his finger open during the altercation. It’s been hours, and he’s just holding it over the raft’s edge. He’s sitting alongside Jordan, just watching his blood slowly drip into the water.
August 1
Norma’s body was finally disposed of, but it left behind a thick stench of rot and decay that you could practically taste.
Isabel went into hysterics again, but was quickly silenced by Oliver and Kim. Oliver even started choking her this time. He had to be restrained by Elliot.
Kim’s wounded finger is infected. It looks really bad, but he doesn’t seem to care.
We finished our last pieces of meat from Norma’s body. We’re out of first aid supplies, and still have some water.
Jordan kept Norma’s lower right leg. He’s cutting off pieces to use as bait.
August 2
Kim cut off his infected finger. In one single motion, and didn’t bat an eye.
Kim did it so nonchalantly, and clearly didn’t care who watched. Of course, it was Isabel’s screams that drew all our attention. Isabel….that bitch. Weird to think that Isabel’s shrieks bothered me more than Kim’s act of self-dismemberment. That quickly changed after what Kim did next with his severed finger.
He ate it.
Peeled the skin and flesh right off its bone with his knife, and dropped the strips in his mouth. His hand bled profusely, but Kim paid it no mind. He twirled a narrow strip of flesh in between his lips. Kim stared at us maniacally as he loudly slurped it, like he was relishing our horrified reactions.
(The rest is illegible).
August 4
The raft is starting to deflate.
Elliot and Oliver are trying to mend the leak, but I don’t think it’s working.
Although he cut his finger off, Kim’s hand still got infected. He’s visibly sick, and hasn’t said a word since yesterday. He’s spent most of the past 24 hours curled in a ball on his side.
Undated Entry
I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so hungry.
August 6
We found something floating in the ocean today. It was a glass bottle. A yellow glass bottle. It was corked and held a single piece of paper.
If we’re even still alive. Still in the same reality. This has to be a dream. A vivid elongated dream. Maybe I’m still on the plane and it never even crashed. Maybe I never even got on that flight.
That paper inside the bottle. All our names were written on it—Elliott, Jordan, Kim, Oliver, Isabel, and Rachel (myself). Next to each of our names was a four-letter word:
Elliott- Heat
Jordan- Hair
Kim- Pill
Oliver- Fire
Isabel- Room
Rachel- Dirt
Everyone grew eerily silent after reading that paper. Elliot crumpled and threw it across the raft. Nobody’s looked each other in the eye. Isabel became hysterical. She kept asking “how they knew” before getting silenced by the others.
I can’t imagine what each of those words meant about the others in this raft. I can’t fathom what it says about who these people really are as human beings. Maybe we’re all stuck here, suffering like this for a reason. Maybe it’s justified.
For me though….I know exactly what that means.
This is the first time I’m tangibly acknowledging that night. I’m probably going to die on this raft anyway, so what’s the point of holding it in any longer? I always told myself it was an accident….but deep down I knew. I still see him every day when I leave for work and come home. Well….not literally, but we’re always close. Let’s just say he watches over my garden.
August 8
I saw it again last night.
It was still dark, but I clearly made out its shape in the moonlight. That same figure I saw about 14 days earlier. Even in the darkness, I could see its gleaming pale yellow eyes, giving off that same discomforting aura. We exchanged stares for two or three seconds before it submerged.
Dwelling on this is a lot better than watching what’s happening in the raft. Kim. He’s smiling. Cutting off and eating pieces of his own flesh.
August 12
The blood finally reached my side of the raft. I’m wallowing in it while writing these words.
We were all so hungry. So hungry and weak, desperate for any means of nourishment. Jordan’s “fishing rod” snapped in half. Incidentally, I think it happened while he was hooked on a fish. A look of unfettered rage spread across his face. I thought he was about to go on a violent rampage. I was certain it was over at that point.
That’s not necessarily what happened, but I was close.
Instead, Jordan retreated into a corner, still clutching the severed spine. Jordan then looked at Kim, who was cutting off and eating pieces of his left forearm. He got down to the bone—even managed to cut around his veins.
“You don’t have to do it yourself,” Jordan said in a low scratchy voice.
Kim’s eyes had a glazed primal look in them as he stared at Jordan. Kim looked terrifying, almost monstrous in appearance. Any patches of skin he hadn’t gotten to yet were covered in sunburns, blisters, and giant sores. We all had scabs, burns, and blisters, but Kim….he didn’t look human.
Jordan and Kim mumbled back and forth to each other, their tones periodically spiking in excitement or anger. They started looking at Elliott. The same frenzied expression overtook both their faces. They kept exchanging incoherent murmurs, which was when I picked up a few words that Kim grumbled.
“I’m so hungry.”
Elliott didn’t stand a chance. He was fast asleep when Kim and Jordan pounced on him, sinking their teeth in Elliot’s neck and shoulder. Elliot woke up instantly, and started making these awful, blood-curdling, high-pitched shrieks of helplessness, sheer agony, and incomprehensible fear. Elliott struggled, but looked sapped of any strength to put up a fight. Jordan and Kim tore off pieces of Elliot’s flesh, spitting some out, while savagely chewing and swallowing other mouthfuls.
All you could hear were Elliott’s horrified agonizing screams, mixed with the sounds of ripping and crunching. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Kim—whose face was buried deep into Elliott’s neck. Jordan furiously stabbed and sliced into Elliott’s skin with the broken end of Norma’s spine. He was literally ripping off pieces of Elliott by hand and stuffing them into his mouth.
It felt like an eternity, but Elliott’s screams eventually ceased. I’m not exactly sure when he actually died. After the screams stopped, Elliott’s body violently twisted and convulsed for a few minutes, while Jordan and Kim continued devouring different parts of his body.
Oliver had his face buried in his hands as this happened and whimpered quietly. Isabel laughed.
August 14
Elliott tastes better than Norma.
August 15
Oliver and Isabel vanished.
I woke up this morning, and they were gone. Nowhere on the raft.
They either fell overboard, or went in on their own. I can’t come up with another explanation. I suppose you can’t blame them. Maybe going back in the water was better than staying on this raft. Blood coats every surface, forming a thin, sticky, congealed layer that we’re all sitting in—and aren’t even phased. I can’t even smell the decay. I’m probably used to it….at least that’s what I keep saying.
Jordan and Kim lash out whenever I try removing any of the blood, almost like they prefer it miring their skin and clothes. They decorated the raft…and themselves with Elliott’s bones, entrails, and skin.
August 19
My pen ran out of ink, so I’ve been dipping the tip of my utensil in Elliott’s blood to write. The raft started deflating again, and I honestly hope that every ounce of air escapes.
Kim and Jordan are huddled together, jealously guarding Elliott’s remains. They keep staring at me with ravenous eyes. I haven’t slept in a few nights. If I let my guard down….well look at what they did to Elliott. I can’t keep this up much longer. I’m so tired. So weak. So hungry. The only strength I can muster is being used to write these words.
I think I see something on the horizon-
(The rest of this page has been torn)