I wouldn’t call myself an explorer, but I came to this island to explore. I’ve been sent here with my grandfather to research the gorillas rumoured to live here. It was planned we’d stay for a year and monthly send reviews to other researchers in London. I..wasn’t happy with this though.

Gramps said I had always talked about wishing I could get hands on experience, but I didn’t mean on a secluded island so far from any civilization. And for a year??? It made me wish I had never signed up in the first place.

The first few weeks on the island were uneventful, we set up camp, took samples and explored the foliage. We saw tracks from gorillas, but we found none themselves. Frankly, I found it unbelievably disappointing. At least we could discover new things and that would make up for so much time spent here, but no. It was all a waste in my eyes. That was until I found something curious. A human foot print in the mud, it looked not even a day old. I told Gramps about it, but he rationalized maybe it was another animal, or perhaps just from long before and well preserved. I wanted to believe that too, but something stopped me. Just a gut feeling. And I think it was justified.

I could swear I saw something in the tree tops when I was out in the jungle, or I could wake up in the camp and things had been moved or plain broken. Gramps deduced it was just plain old animals and we fortified the walls, but I still felt off about the whole thing.

Then it all came ahead when I got stuck out in an unexpected storm whilst on my daily trek through the jungle, and I got lost. I hid and curled up at the base of a tree, hoping to hide and become undetected by the rest of the creatures of the forest around me. Then if I hopefully survived until morning, it would be easier to find my way back when it wasn’t so dark. But I was getting cold..and I more scared then I already was.