The Tale Of A Lost Soul

With the aid of a journal, we find out the tale of Julie, who attempts to cross The Lake Of Blood... and find out what lies on the island within.

It was a chilly Saturday night down in a field on the 19th of March 2021, and Howard McTally and his friends were idly sitting around a campfire, chatting mindlessly and playing Angry Tomatoes on their iPhone 6Gs, with the best moment being when Howard hurled his phone skywards and brained a cow. Howard sat and observed the surroundings and contemplated what he saw. The field wasn't overly populated; just him, his mates and an old tractor in the distance, rusting away in the distance like it was trying to apologise for being there.

He could feel his backside become numb from all this sitting and doing nothing.  Out of boredom, he tapped one of his friends, Aaron Tyrrell, on the shoulder and asked, "How about we go and see what's in that tractor? Could be interesting..." Aaron sniggered and replied, "What, porn mags? Are you that desperate already?" Howard recoiled with disgust, and went away to examine the tractor. The trudge there was slow and pained, as his friends shouted at him to come back and help them on level 16 of Uber Jump. They all suddenly stood and ran to join him, quizzing him over why he was going.

"I told Aaron already, I'm going to check that tractor. Who knows, something interesting could be in there!" He was getting exasperated.
"Howard, it looks like it was destined to be a load of useless rubbish," Aaron said, "So just give up. Nothing's going to be in there."

Howard charged on regardless, leaving his friends still confused as to why he was still in need of a thourough analysis of the tractor. Surely nothing was in there, right?

Howard finally arrived at the tractor's rusting shell, and set about searching it. As an apprentice of engineering, he already had a vague knowledge of the tractor in question, but when he swung open the door, nothing seemed to be inside it. It just seemed like Aaron had described it as; a load of useless rubbish. But he was determined to find something in return for his curiosity.

He ripped the rusty lock off the locked glovebox and the lid dropped down with a satisfying thump. Inside lay, in ascending order of interest: a open bag of American Hard Gums (best by 2009, so not useful at all, and all mouldy), an old Samsung mobile phone with the battery removed (also useless, but good fun for smashing to pieces), and at number one, a small journal in mint condition. He picked it out of the dusty glovebox and wiped the dust off it.

Interested by his find, and enlightened by the fact his "friends" had returned to the campsite to continue chucking tomatoes at evil purple pears, he delicately removed the strap from around it and opened the cover. On the cover lay the identity of the book. A little plaque on the inside cover read, "This journal belongs to Julie McCreath." Aside this lay little doodles and notes, the work of someone with an obvious creative side. And a need to revise school work. "Who is this Julie, I wonder?" Howard thought, "and when were they here?" He scrolled to the first date and saw the date. 19th March 2011. Ten years ago... to this day. This document to past times has been left to rot and die. But not for any longer. He began to read the first passage of this monument to past times. So, what did happen then?

The End

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