Dear Diary,
I don't know when I last updated this journal. I have lost all ability to think clearly, with the relentless sun pounding down on our heads. I fear that my brain may have been somewhat boiled.
I have a vague memory of Jeckles announcing that I had made the FINAL THREE, along with Rose and Nat.
I think I was excited when I heard that. I don't recall.
Weak...so weak...
The Penultimate Task is, I believe, to put together some sort of model of the island. Since I was unlucky enough not to find the Legos or toys and candles that washed up on shore, and since I couldn't find a handy-dandy craft store on this godforsaken island, I was forced to scrounge around and use whatever materials came to hand.
No, my daughter did not do this project for me, although it looks as though she could have. Hers would've been better. Do you have any idea how hard it is to make your own play-doh?
Jeckles wanted close to life-sized models...to be contrary, I made mine as small as I possibly could. HAHA!
**click pic to enlarge
An aerial view of the island, which is what I imagine Jeckles sees when he flies over to spy on us:
My fortress on the shallow-water side (and they STILL try to get in. Go figure):
Nat's hippiefied tent:
Rose's camouflaged shelter--truthfully I don't think she wants to be rescued. There were lace curtains on the sides that she made from weaving some dried grasses together, but unfortunately they blew away in the big wind that swept through here last night:
This is the place where we are afraid to wander, especially after dark. We've dubbed it "Cannibal Hill":
Here lie the final remains of our former Survivor co-shipwreckees:
And the wreck that brought us here in the first place:
Now...I must rest. I fear for my survival...but I'm thinking that a date with the sharks would be a welcome change.
Love,
Me
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