Good Ole’ bloggin

I did my story because I like the jungle and what it has to do with theearth and its mysteriousness. I wanted to capture jack london in my story with naturalism because in the end the man dies from the unknown tribe in the african congo. I think you will like this story. So here it is—

It was very hot and humid on this day. The African Congo was always hot and humid. It rained almost every day and the heat never ceased to exist. “It was too hot to travel for help today, but if only I had taken the survival pack off the plane I would be able to have a knife and that’s all I need in the jungle. I could have stayed at the plane and waited for help” he thought. The knife or machete is the most important thing a man can have in the jungle. Without it, a man is nothing.   But I was not in a state of mind to think when the plane went down, but today the heat was almost too much to handle so I found one of many small creeks to sit in to cool off.  It would be dark soon and I really should be starting to make a make shift camp for the night. The camp consisted of maybe a fire if any dry wood could be found. A bed that was off the ground so the ants and snakes and all the things that will crawl up your leg in the night couldn’t get you. A few times I had made a bed in a tree off the ground. Didn’t get much sleep but it worked out. I was on my way again. It was early morning and it was already very hot. I came up on what I thought were foot prints. This meant that there would be people and help and I can go home, but as I looked closer they may as well have been monkeys or other animals that go in this trail. I have been alone for four days in the
Congo. Everyday I get weaker and weaker. I am not really sure if im going in circles. Or if I am getting myself more lost or farther away from civilization. It was almost dark and dead tired from walking all day. I sat on the ground to start a fire and thought to myself to just lay back and relax for a few moments. I woke up with my leg burning with a sensation of fire and needles stabbing me. I didn’t know why. It was unbearable to stand so I pulled up my pant leg and seen that I had a cut. The pain was getting even worse. Soon I was very dizzy and fell down. I woke up tied to a log about the size of my leg. Tied so tightly I couldn’t move my hands or feet. I looked around and seen no one. But there was something that caught my eyes. There were stakes in the ground about seven feet high…. With a little round balls on them. I wasn’t sure what it was. Soon I heard footsteps and two dark Indian looking men came in and picked up the log. I was hanging in the middle like pig about to be roasted. My leg still hurt very badly. But I got closer to the stakes and seen what was on them. They were little heads. About the size of a softball. The hair. And eye sockets. And teeth. Just very small. Then it hit me. They were headshrinkers. I only heard stories and legends that these people still lived. I mean it was 2009, people didn’t believe this still happened. There were hundreds of them. All on stakes and with there own features. The heat didn’t seen so hot when I seen a stump with red stains all over it. A cold chill came over me as I was put on the log. I was blind folded with a leaf or rag or something. My head was pushed down, and this is when I knew…. I had met my fate.