“…. In spite of my own injuries, were it not for the grisly object staring back at me, I am not sure I would believe any of what happened. The events I am forced to accept challenge my sanity and what I know to be true. What happened is not possible. Yet, what I have before me is the irrefutable evidence it did.

It was August 26, I was excited to be coming out of the woods. I had not seen or spoken with another human being for months. A morning like any other, the mist on the water gave way to a perfect blue sky. The sun was just beginning to push back the shadows of the darker forest. Casting my line toward the shore, all was serene and quiet. My canoe floated freely in the glassy water.

What I remember next is a blur – the feel of water rushing over me, the sound of splintering wood and ripping canvas. The side of the canoe was stove-in. I tried to sit up but the searing pain in my arm and shoulder pushed me back. Rocks rained down, smashing my canoe. I tried to grab the paddle with my good arm but it had floated out of reach. Lunging for my gun, I fired blindly toward the woods, again and again. There was a scream, then silence.

Waves of nausea overcame me. My arm was broken and my shoulder separated. What else I wasn’t sure. My attacker was gone. There was blood, a blood trail leading into the woods.

I would not be confident in my story had I not the evidence before me. I don’t know what it is evidence of, only that it is evidence of something- right now, the only proof I have that my faculties have not deserted me. I am not sure if it is what I don’t know or what I do that eats at me most….”