An Ironic Journal

Author's Note: For this post I just expanded one of my journal entries into a very farfetched story of how something like that could've happened, but I really wanted to expand on it and this is the only idea I got.

June 23, 1993, 10 AM
I'm as nervous as one could ever be. The past weeks have been a roller coaster of which I could never get off. It began with me being a homeless beggar on the lowly streets of Chicago. When I saw posters for a job with high pay and tons of glory, but only after I received the job did I realize it meant being a crew hand on a trek to the north pole. Me and my fourteen crew mates are scared out of our mind and with a slave driver as a captain none of us believe we will see civilization again. The only redeeming quality is a bunch of time with twenty huskies.

June 30, 1993, noon
As we see land we all prepare the dogs and carry as much gear as we need on our backs and all that we can onto the dogs. The tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife at this point. Many of the crew believe we have over packed the dogs and that they will find it too hard to bear very soon.

July 4, 1993, 2 PM
Being from Chicago I always look forward to the 4th of July because the Cubs usually play and there are hot dogs everywhere. I love it, but this one was different. I am in the midst of the longest most boring journey ever. Already we have had to slaughter two crew mates and one dog for food. If it had not been for fear of starvation setting in I would have refused to eat it but I need strength.

July 7, 1993, 6 PM
This is the first time that I've had the opportunity to write. I wonder how the Cubs are doing? I know its a weird thing to think about but its the only thing that keeps me sane. Since I last wrote we have killed two more dogs and three crew members. Every time I think I'm next. That thought makes me work as hard as I do, for I have noticed that the weaker slackers get killed.

July 10, 1993, 7 PM
I'm still here, but two dogs and the captain aren't. We needed food and a change of leadership so we decided to do those at the same time. The captain was driving us too hard which is what led us to needing more food, so we believe that now we could save more animals and people by going at a slower pace.

July 12, 1993, 6 PM
Our tactic didn't work we are down three more dogs but no more crew. Today we finally reached the pole but now the trek back is the hard part. It turns out that we made the journey in twelve days.

July 14, 1993, 1 AM
Now our pace is as hectic as ever to get back, but in the scramble one of our dogs broke the frozen harness and ran into the wintry wilderness. As we hope to get to our ship we are unsure of our direction because we fear that the distance between the geographical and magnetic north poles differ enough to throw our course off.

July 18, 1993, midnight
Our fast pace has taken a toll on the remaining five crew members and eight dogs. WE have lost some due to the cold and some to malnutrition and some to keep the rest of us alive. We still have no idea of our direction or distance to the sea.

July 18, 1993, 3:30 PM
I believe that we are close to the sea, but this knowledge came at a great expense to our expedition. A tragedy even, as we were trekking some ice fell through and took 3 men to hypothermia and 7 dogs were never to be seen again.

July 19, 1993, 1 PM
I had to kill the other men because our hunger was too great to keep and the food supply would barely last anytime with three hungry stomachs so we have to continue with two.

July 20, 1993, 2 PM
My last dog ran with my sled because after I had unloaded the sled he got impatient and i had no chance, being physically and mentally exhausted. Now I have no chance of surviving. I can last a maximum of 1 week if rationing my supplies to a bare minimum.

July 22, 1993, 1 AM
I knew I had no chance of surviving so I decided to have a feast and burn all of my resources at once.

July 22, 1993, 2 PM
Snow, I see it falling endlessly day after day, driving me blind with white. Although so bright and giving I am trapped in darkness and despair waiting for the sad lonesome creature that is starvation to set in. As I lay motionless in the snow I see movement on the horizon, I muster all of the strength I have left in my body and chase it. Then as I finally catch up with it I talk to the musher and we sit for a drink of melted snow. We have a fine time then as he packs up I ask to come with and I get shunned, for he is just a figment of my imagination so gracefully passing me by. So with all the hope that has come with the day it ends as it started in despair and hopelessness, with me laying on the ground, starving, with snow. That is the way it has always been, is now, and will always be.