Reports in local press revealed a local fisherman's accounts of a man carrying what was described as a bundle about the size of a sack of rice towards a small fishing boat . The man was described as tall lean, wearing a baseball cap he was observed as being calm and relaxed.
Local police later questioned a man matching that description due to reports of a missing person . The man questioned , an Amercan gave an account of being with a friend . An Englishman until around 2am . The location or whereabouts of the Englishman were never confirmed .
What you’re about to read is compiled from hand written notes and pdf documents from John Doe..
`The beach diary of a dead man`
August 31st 2025
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The night air is warm and humid . The sand feels damp as I absentmindedly allow it to fall between my fingers. I hear the familiar sound of the waves against the shore. The sound I’ve grown so used to , a constant backdrop to my happiness and ultimate despair. The floating dock sits on a calm still sea , patiently awaiting my arrival. It’s eerie beauty welcomes me .It’s the place I’ve chosen , my special place. As the cool sea breeze caresses my body and ruffles my hair like an old friend I feel the knife in my pocket, I run its serrated blade across my thumb . I see the top of the wine bottle the packet of pills and my TG Tough camera in my bag .The platform is indeed my special place. It's the place I’ve chosen to die.
I’ll put away my notepad in it the record of the strange events leading up to this moment , this night .So strange I can hardly believe what happened , It was like a dream ,a very bad dream.
It's 11.35pm August 31st 2025. I’ve finished my book . In 25 minutes. It will be time to go .
It was 10 hours earlier when I closed my door to my shabby room , a room that had been my home these last few months .1.37pm on the 31st of August 2025 In the Island of Cebu , I’m about to leave for the beach for the final time . One last look over my shoulder and I close the door .
May 5th 2025
118 days before the beach
I pay the sweet old lady for a basic unremarkable little room , it has a nice little balcony overlooking the street where people go about their business . It has a mall near , perhaps a 20 minute walk or a 5 minute ride on one of the many motorbike and sidecars that hurry around the busy streets. I set a routine to write as much as I can each day . I feel a little energised, even happy in a way . I knew this wouldn’t end well for me . I sensed it when I left England for the last time , I still went anyway . I think I was just tired of life . Bored, isolated, frustrated , not just with life but with myself .I think I was just tired of being me tired of my name tired of who I was. I was searching for something , a reason before it was to late . Single lonely alone didn’t I want to grow old . I had to build memories, to say to the world and to myself I did this , I did have a great life look at me .
So what’s this book about . Its a book about wasted opportunities bad luck and redemption an attempt to make up for lost time and most importantly my attempt to live the life I want whatever the cost . Am I prepared to risk my life for my dreams are any of us . In a few months I’ll be dead .. Maybe then I can let you know.
I open my laptop and stare at a blank google document . I’m about to write . How this will turn out I have no idea . What I do know is that whoever reads this knows all is true .
It’s May 5th 6.37 pm 2025 and it’s time to start .
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