Mirror: I have. A bit of a rehash, but it’s alright.
Dorkpool: Anyway, the point is journal entry stories can be good. Or they can be crap. Most of them unfortunately end up being the latter. Will this story, “The Journal,” end up like that? Well, let’s find a journal and Riff this bitch to find out.
The sight of a plane crash was discovered recently.
Dorkpool: Took you guys long enough.
There seem to be no corpses, and among items recovered from the crash was a worn-out leather journal found in a nearby bush. The journal had a few pages written in it as follows:
Mirror: (Narrator): Day 1. We crashed. Ow.
I have absolutely no clue where I am. And I don’t know how long I’ve been here, either.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): But I do have the time down to the minute.
I just remember boarding the plane. There were about 30 other people. I remember that we were just taking off from the airport in Orlando. That was about the time I fell asleep. I just woke up and I don’t know how long it’s been. I feel like I’ve been asleep for only a day.
Mirror: (Narrator): Well, I must’ve been out for however long I was asleep, since someone drew a dick on my face.
But it must have been much longer, because now I’m alone in a forest, with no other people in sight. I can’t even see the plane anywhere. All I have is a watch, this journal, a carry-on bag, a water bottle, and a few snacks.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): I don’t have any sort of writing utensil, so how I’m writing all of this is unknown.
I can only assume that the plane must have crashed, but I don’t seem to have any injuries and I’m sure the remains of the plane and other passengers wouldn’t be too far away. I can only hope this is a dream, because this just doesn’t make any sense.
Mirror: You think this is a dream, so you decide to write in a journal? Dude, take control of your dream, become a dream overlord, and rule over your dream like a cruel dictator.
I just woke up again. It seems as though this isn’t a dream, and I really am lost in a forest somewhere. I can only see trees for miles and miles around me. I’m going to go look for any signs of civilization.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): 9:30 AM. Still haven’t found civilized people yet. Just a bunch of folks watching “Keeping Up With the Kardashians.” Savages.
I’ve been walking for several hours. It seems like the forest keeps growing in width. I’m almost positive I haven’t been walking in circles.
Mirror: (Narrator): Squares, though, I’m still iffy on.
I still haven’t found civilization yet. But I did find really big ditch where I think I’ll be safe for the night.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): 10:00 PM. It wasn’t safe. Son of a ditch!
Mirror: -smacks Dorkpool-
I’ve been awake for about an hour now. I’m starting to worry because my supplies are beginning to run low. I need to find a steady source of water, and fast. I remember boarding the plane in mid-November but the sun seems to be hotter than I can remember.
Mirror: Please, nothing can be hotter than Florida.
I’ve decided to start walking again.
I found a bottle of wine and some matches just lying on the ground. I can’t explain where they came from, but I know that they’ll come in handy.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): Especially the wine.
I made a fire, but it began to rain, so it didn’t last very long. I think I’ll just try to sleep.
I’m beginning to hear strange voices,
Mirror: (Narrator): …but that’s probably from the wine.
the rain has stopped so maybe I can light a match to use as a torch and try to find out where they’re coming from.
I’m really scared now. I feel like I’m being watched. Not just by one person, but by several.
I’ve been walking for about 2 hours now, and there’s still nothing but forest. I tried going ahead but something pushed me backwards. There’s some kind of force field type gate surrounding this forest, and I can’t get past it.
Dorkpool: Ohhhhh…I get it now. He’s in the Hunger Games.
I found the plane and the corpses. But there’s something else there, a creature of some sort. I can’t see it, but I can hear it gnawing on the flesh of the deceased plane passengers. I’m going to try to get a closer look, and I can only hope that it doesn’t see me, because if it does then I’m screwed.
Mirror: (Narrator): 4:16 AM. It saw me. Fuck.
I have never seen something so terrifying in all of my 19 years. I am currently hiding in a bush with a full view of the backside of the monster. It has an almost human-like shape, except it has a tail and a bone-like horn. It’s skin is red and it isn’t wearing any clothes.
Dorkpool: Paris Hilton?
I can hear it mumbling something to itself in what I think maybe Latin. Even though it’s almost 4:30 in the morning, there seems to be no sign of the sun coming up. I can’t steady my breathing, so it must be a matter of seconds before the creature notices me if it hasn’t already, and I am absolutely terrified.
The mumbling stopped, but the sun still won’t rise. I can’t look up. I refuse. I can hear the creature walking toward me and I can tell that these are the last words I’ll ever wri
Mirror: (Narrator): …te. Ha! Got you! Ha ha…I’m so lonely.
And that is where the journal ends.
Dorkpool: Someone took lessons from “The Sopranos,” it seems.
Dorkpool: This story could’ve been pretty good, but it’s not.
Mirror: The biggest problem is the ending. Alright, so you’ve got this devil like creature eating the corpses of the passengers. Our hero notices this, and is scared. And…he dies. Congratulations, you just undercut any sort of terror or tension this story might have created. Seriously, that ending was the definition of cop-out. Rather than doing anything interesting with this, the author just ends this in a rather lazy manner. What’s worse is that this story had the potential to be good. So much could’ve been done, since quite a bit was set up. We don’t know how or why the plane crashed, where our protagonist is, why he/she survived the crash, what those voices were, why there’s a forcefield, or what the Satan thing is. These questions could’ve had some interesting answers. But nope, we get a cop-out. Even outside of the cop-out, there still are flaws. We know nothing about the main character, making it hard to be scared or sad when he/she dies.
Dorkpool: There are some good things though. The story sets up a lot, and makes you wonder what’s going to happen next. While there isn’t much characterization, at least the author doesn’t stoop the “Hello, my name is…” journal cliché. And the spelling and grammar are pretty good. However, the biggest flaw of this story – the lazy cop-out – really hurts it. A lot. But that’s what we think. What do you guys think? Was the story good? Was the Riff good? Do you wish we’d end abruptly like th