I firmly believe that fear comes from two sources: the lack of knowledge and knowledge of the inevitable.
It is to combat the former source that I am to take a crew of six to the mysterious drifting island of wells. It has long been a source of horror and folk tales.
My research began whilst studying the coastlines of my own native Kuu. I noticed that the southwestern coastline's contour and rock composition matched up with that of the island. Most of my colleagues disagree with this assessment, but given the similarity between Well Island folklore and Kuuvian's religious beliefs, I hold true to the idea. The island must have at some point in it's drifting, been close to Kuu, if not a part of it.
It will be myself,
my good friend Eric Hiortson,
Anna Forsberg the technologist,
Fannar Clogdottir our biologist and cook,
Hilda Forn a historian and chemist,
and, lastly, Oscar Treigyv a survivalist and former soldier.
This journal shall be kept to document our findings. If you find this journal, please return to the address on the back cover.
55 Gornuary 1893
Today was landfall, and my goodness has the day been exciting.
Oscar got us all to work right away, and set up camp a few hundred yards inland.
The island was not nearly as big as I'd pictured, but it's bizarre landscape and bright and shining enigma made up for that in spades.
Anna wasn't feeling so well, and called an early night whilst the crew started a fire.
Hilda started right away with setting up her chemistry sets to analyze the soil compositions across the island.
Eric and I drank some of the vodka we'd carried along in celebration of first night's camp.
I went with Eric to scout the place a little. We quickly found the island's namesakes, the wells.
The wells are these glassy pools that fill crevices and are said to be alien beyond comprehension.
They are rather quirky. They seem to vibrate and shudder as you near them, but are silent as death.
We threw in a couple pebbles, to watch how they were enveloped by the wells.
However, as hard as we tried to concentrate, we never could quite recall how it happened.
It frustrated us to the point of grabbing a large boulder and rolling it on top of the thing.
That, finally did not deny us observation, but... I'm not sure I know how to describe the action either.
In any case, we'd lots track of time with our plaything and had to return before doing any serious exploration.
58 Gornuary 1893
This island is incredibly diverse and biologically fascinating, according to Fannar.
He'd been staying up all night just analyzing different plant compositions.
It's right, too, that someone be awake at all times. Strange noises rustle and moan from the forest at night.
We've yet to see these fauna, but we should with more daylight and time.
Speaking of Fannar, his meals have been absolutely wonderful. What dishes he concocts with our gatherings are not quite restaurant quality, but he's always got some spice or combination that livens it up and keeps the chest and spirit warm.
15 Moghs 1894
Another night awoken in cold sweat.
I've checked with the rest of the crew- same as the nights before.
Fannar keeps trying to analyze the dreams, but they don't match up in any sensical way according to his books on dream theory.
Oscar wishes to take no part in what he calls our "games of fantasy", but I see the same sweat stains when I wash the sheets down by the river in his as the rest.
The dream has been the same for three nights now, with only slight variations among nights and each other.
A horrible, writhing sensation crawls it's way up our bodies as we lie paralyzed in our beds.
A blank face comes into focus, breathing heavily from a dripping, agape mouth, and then- an eyeball crawls with a thousand barely noticeable feet out of the orifice.
It's at this point that we dream slightly different things. Last night I dreamt of seeing through the beast's eye, to see my own face with dripping red voids where mine own eyes should be.
This left us all uneasy and tense. We worked and did our usual studies and exploration, but always in pairs, and never at great haste.
Oscar pointed out that we'd been missing berries in our diets for quite some days.
I grabbed Anna and headed over to see what was past the waterfall on the far side.
The glassy pools continued their foreboding non-sounds, screaming silently at us.
This path saw many of those wretched things.
Anna tried to lighten the mood by asking about my family, but that, being a rather sore subject, did no such lightening.
I asked her in order to avoid answering, but it seems she may share in that disconnect with those whose disapproval means disproportionately more.
I did, however, choose the right one for the task. Her grappling and climbing apparatuses proved most handy at scaling the rocky cliffs by the waterfall.
We've found some great fruit bearing tree. I'm not sure I've ever seen such fruit before, but it wasn't quite possible to get up close to them.
A ring of wells surrounded the tree. Anna tried to grapple onto one, but it only led to plunking one of the fruits into the unknown.
I was not going to volunteer to jump the wells, and Anna was likewise not suicidal.
We hung our heads in frustration and turned back as the sun set. We grabbed some fresh water from the falls again as we walked back.
I want to leave this place so badly. I've had it.
I'm expressing my grievances tomorrow.