Entry #1:

I’m gonna die. I don’t know what to do.

This feels like a terribly realistic fever dream. I’ve been taken hostage aboard a hyper-intense spacecraft, soaring deafeningly among the blackened clouds. I know it sounds completely ridiculous but the circumstances of my capturing can only be explained by one thing - extra-terrestrials. Bloody aliens. I haven’t seen my captors yet but honestly I’m reluctant to. I don’t have my phone, only a notebook & pen which accompanied me in this room for some unforeseeable reason. Just in case I need it, I’ve torn a page out & concealed it within my jacket pocket.

Someone’s coming.

Entry #2:

I’m alone again.

The approaching footsteps weren’t at all cautious - in fact they were imprudent. Clearly the consuming fear looming over me isn’t reciprocal with whom I’ve been forced to shamefully cower away from.

I pretended to be asleep - there was nowhere to hide in the open-oval room where I was left. Although I remained motionless, eyes closed - I managed to sneak a peek. Human-esc physique for sure. Definitely on the slender side, at a guess not much taller than 5 feet. He, well ‘it’ entered the room & barely acknowledged my existence. If something happens I’ll take notes.

Entry #3:

I haven’t had any contact since my last entry. I can’t be sure exactly how long has passed due to having literally nothing to track the time, but it feels like a few hour at least have passed. To my own surprise I seem to have calmed my nerves more than seems feasible, considering my inevitable demise whenever they decide to eradicate me. Perhaps I’m just accepting my fate now, free of the instinctive fight for survival that we all possess. I just hope that when it does happen it’s quick.

Entry #4:

They’re getting really noisy now. Is there a possibility that I’ve been monitored by them this whole time? Who am I asking, myself? Hell, I don’t know. That being said it would explain the notebook and pen - why else would they get these, anyway? Can they even understand English writing? Why am I even pondering these questions, should they even matter to me now? Existential thoughts are provoking feelings of regret which I never knew I had. I wish I’d done something with my life - something memorable.

Entry #5:

The cocky, courageous man who

Entry #6:

I’m free.

The End.

[awaiting conpletion - again]