Along the shore half baried in the sand is a small, dark brown, leather bound book. On the cover the words could barly be made out, "Diary", it reads. The book is quit water logged and fragile in the hand.
On the inside page it reads;
"Property of slazz"
The next pages go as follows;
I really don't know how many weeks or even months it has been. I start
this diary with the hopes I might be able to keep track even somewhat and
to also leave something behind; for I do fear my days are near an end.
Date: unknown - day 1
My name is Steven McPherson, 'slazz', as they called me. I was a sales man in one of thoughs big department store for many years. Then came the down sizing, lay offs and buy outs. At my age, I took the buy out, sold my car and the few things I had. Then I flew to Northern Sweden and bought myself a nice sized sail boat to cruse my days away.
I was really looking forward to this part of my journey. My course was ploted to sail from Northern Sweden, down to Norway, then onto North Ronaldsay, before landing in Scottland. About ten days out from the Port of Rennesoy, Norway, the weather turned for the worst. Never in my many days of sailing, have I ever been though anything like that. The wind tossed me and my boat, 'Revolution', like cork in a hot tub. I guess it was because I was so focused on bailing out the boat for dear god, but before I know it, the storm had taken my sail. Snapped it off right at half mass! The power was knocked out immediatly and fried the GPS and radio. While still bailing, I looked over to realised all my dry goods where soaked and totally ruined, as well as all my clothes, filling my heart with dread. This left me only a few cans of who knows what and two bottles of cheap Italian wine.
When the storm finally pasted, I got a chance to to get a beter look at what I was left of my suplies. I found nothing that gave me even a glimer of hope. The fuel tank was now full of salt water, all comunication were out, navigation was gone, even the compus was smashed by the mast falling on it. The batterys where leacking and had lost all charge and knowing I was short on proipane that was I would be using for the little cooking I would be doing was disconcerning.
Sitting dead in the water, the emergeny locating beckon died out days ago, so any hope on coastgaurd is long passed. As far as I can make out I have been travelling East but the tread currents should be puhsing me South. It seems like forever ago I ran out of the proipane and have been forced to eat anything I can catch raw and gather water in the remainds of the sail and some storm torn tarps.
I am rapidly loosing hope and am praying for anything or anyway off this coursed sea or boat. I hope to add to this dialy for this will probabley be the only way my story might be heard.
The rest of the pages seem to be soggy and stuck together. The best thing would to be to let it dry for a few days and see if that helps....