George Howe

Dear Diary,

Hunger washed over me. There aren’t many choices of food; especially if you have a limited supply. I decided to try my fishing skills today. A couple of colonists asked if I wanted them to go with, but I think I’ll concentrate better if I go alone.
I went bare-footed; I didn’t want to get my shoes wet. The water was already ankle-high. The shore was rocky; luckily the rocks had a smooth surface, or the soles of my feet would’ve been blistered with bloody wounds. A fair-sized fish glided by. I threw my spear, and it tragically missed. That’s when I heard calls in the distance. I looked up, and there was a tribe. One shot an arrow, and it splashed in the water in front of me, amazingly stabbing the fish, too. I assumed that they were shooting at me, so I started sloshing as fast as I could through the water. An arrow hit the back of my calve and I felt blood trickle down my leg; I ignored it. Then, a sharp pain in my back indicated that it was the end. Everything suddenly went blurry.