Post 3

It is early morning, and I am on the porch outside writing this. The sea is as high as ever and quite unsettled if not stormy. I have seen no one else awake in my time out here, which is partially why I wanted to get away. Whoever dies next, I want to have no part in it. Maybe here they won't suspect me. Vera has acted very tense around me, and Mr. Blore seems on edge when he is talking to me. I worry they both suspect me, even though I'm sure I have the clearest conscience of the Indian Island guests. However, lately my thoughts have seemed to drift to Beatrice Taylor whenever they have had a chance. I feel that the fantastic nature of this vacation is getting to me, though it is my goal to not let it show. I think I might be going mad, but I want to do everything in my power to keep my sanity. One thing I can do to preserve it is to journal. I think I will now write down everything that happens, but as far away from prying eyes as possible. No one must know of this madness I feel. Last night I dreamt of Beatrice Taylor. I dreamt that she was outside my bedroom window, caught up in the storm and begging to be let in. She was crying, moaning, howling! But I couldn't let her in, for if I did, something unthinkable would occur. No one has died in the past day, and as cold-hearted and terrible as it sounds, I believe someone else will die today. It will not be me, as long as I keep my nerve. On another note, two balls of gray knitting yarn of mine have disappeared. But what use could two skeins of yarn be to Mr. Owen?

A Centered Sidebar: All About Emily Brent

Name: Emily Brent

Age: 65

Marital Status: Widow

Hobbies:

I enjoy many things in life, but the most important and crucial thing to me is my faith. I am a devout member of the Christian Catholic Church. To live like me and believe, click this helpful link to Christianity Today: http://www.christianitytoday.com/ 

I also like to knit. It is a very practical way to spend your time. If you would like to learn, click this link: http://www.knittinghelp.com/

Something else I enjoy doing is journaling. It is a very fulfilling task. If interested, read this article on the self-benefiting properties of journaling: http://www.stevepavlina.com/blog/2007/07/journaling/

Post 2:

This holiday has proved to be far more stressful than relaxing; both Mrs. Rogers and General Macarthur have died since my last journal entry. I am now, as is everyone else, convinced that these incidents along with Mr. Marston's death aren't coincidence. There is a murderer on the island! One of us is possessed by a devil! We found out about the General's death today just as we were about to start luncheon. It quite spoiled the meal. Afterwards, we had a meeting that was instigated by Mr. Wargrave. He revealed that Lombard, Mr. Blore, and the Doctor had searched the island this morning for the murderer, whom they believe is U. N. Owen. But in their search they were unsuccessful; there are only the seven of us left on the island. Wargrave explained what the evidence concluded in saying, "Mr. Owen is one of us..." It was a haunting but logical discovery. He summed up by saying that none of us could or should escape the others' suspicion. Then he went ahead and practically accused me of being U. N. Owen! As if I, a faithful follower of Jesus Christ, would condemn myself like that! It's absurd! But I do believe he is right and that we should be on our guard and not rule anyone out without proof. I fear they suspect me because of the fact that I was alone with Mrs. Rogers when she had fainted while they looked for the voice that we now know was recorded on the Swan Song record. I am most suspicious of Mr. Lombard, for he is neither a law-abiding or God-abiding creature. Over all I'm feeling quite rattled from the day's events. But I need to keep faith. I will survive as long as I continue to live out God's will.

Post 1: Chapter 2

Today is August 8th, the day I arrived for the first time on Indian Island. Though I know that things often are too good to be true and don't go as planned, I have to say I was excited to go and reconnect with that nice woman, I believe Mrs. Olilver, who invited me. Honestly, who wouldn't want to go on a free, good old-fashioned holiday? I can't speak for other modern citizens, but I never take things for granted. For one, I never wasted my youth like those naive socializers who never had to work a day in their lives. Never the less, it did seem to be a good vacation party, the only additional vacationer whom I had a hard time being civil toward was that Anthony Marston. Never had I seen such a unreligious boy! But the General and the judge seemed respectable along with Doctor Armstrong, though I didn't like the look of that Lombard fellow.  Now that serving couple, there was a hard-working pair! Very polite and respectable too, but the woman looked to be as frail as a wandering soul. Miss Claythorne seemed to be a somewhat smart girl if not very interesting, along with Mr. Davis. You would think that a person would be full to the brim of stories after spending time in South Africa, but he was very vague on the subject. The island looks just as an island should, small and beachy and naturally wild. Our arrival to the island was very strange as there was no host to greet us, but we all relaxed once we had a lovely hot meal in our systems. It was after dinner when we all recieved a shock; suddenly a booming, unknown voice had announced the identities of the ten people in the room and their connection to a murder! It was discovered that the voice had come from a record player in another room, but I didn't go and see. The Rogers woman had fainted and I wanted to be there to assist her if it was needed, not to mention sort out my thoughts about the now suspicious characters that surrounded me. I immediately became convinced of Mr. Lombard and Marston's guilt, and neither of them denied it. I couldn't believe that this voice had accused me of murder! Of course I would never disgard of someone else's life, for it is a sin and one of the Ten Commandments! How disgraced I was! But I tried best to hide my feelings, like I was raised to.