The Journals of the Founding Fathers.

Essay by amazing_nessJunior High, 8th gradeA+, February 2006

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March 13, 2176

From the mind of Connor,

I don't know what I really expected when I decided to come to this new planet, but it certainly wasn't this. Nothing went right at all today. James, the doctor, has fixed Eric's broken arm with an improvised cast, a thick, strong branch from a tree with a rubber-like bark, which for now we have dubbed the Rubber Tree, and we held the branch in place on the arm with a twine-like animal which grows from a particularly nasty looking tree that seemed to flinch when we shone our manual powered flashlight on to it. Thankfully, the area in which this strange tree lives in is a very concentrated area, and you can tell if you've stumbled into it. He is dealing with Peter at the moment, who has an ugly yellow-green gash across his chest from the venomous anaconda type animal.

He might not survive, but we hope he will, James is an amazing doctor.

None of this was foreseen. Absolutely nothing. We landed in an entirely different spot than our intended destination. James is working with a disjointed elbow, a difficult feat, Doug the hunter is still unconscious from his blow to the head from James elbow (he may have a concussion), Kent, Julian and Robbie (engineer, coincidentally Doug's twin brother) still haven't returned and I am writing this journal entry in my own blood. This day is a stain upon Bubasot's history as much as the blood stains on my shirt, but it is my ugly duty to report it, step by step.

I awoke with the noon day sun in my face, a few feet away from the wreckage of what once was our ship. Naturally, I looked around the ship to find myself surrounded by...