Journal 1

May 27, 2017

My name's is Jack Grant if you are reading this that means that I most likely lost my journal. The entire ordeal began strange. I sat at my desk waiting for school to be over. I am 18 and it's the last day of school. The last test I had was right in front of me. The only problem was that the last question was a tough one. "What did real estate agents use to get people to sell their houses?" I knew it had something to do with a kangaroo. I thought this was weird because the place where the real estate agents were was New Jersey. I wrote down my answer (I was most likely wrong but I don't give a crap. The answer could have been 'flying pigs' for all I cared) and handed the test to the teacher. He was an old man and wore a pair of glasses that were also old. I think he was insane. "You got the last question wrong." He said then hand me a report card.
"I tried." I said. It was probably the worst thing to say but I said it anyways and walked out of the room. 'Finally.' I thought, 'I won't have to get up early or do any tests.' But I was wrong. Dead wrong. The reason I was wrong came to me that night when I got a phone call. It was my uncle. I didn't know him very well but my parents trusted him and would be out of town this summer. They said they were going to the Gobi desert. They were palaeontologists. My uncle was a Cryptozoologist and lived in the woods in Idaho. He was always going after a lake monster or some other Cryptid. I was told to do research on them but I never got around to it. The phone rang. I let ring. If it was something important then the person would call back. I decided to call my uncle.
"Hello?" He said.
"Hey. I've decided to come out to your place while my parents are away." I said.
"You didn't have a choice really did you?" He asked.
"No."
"I'll pick you up tomorrow. Do you have a camera?" 
"Yeah I think I do."
"Good. You'll need it." He said and hung up. Crap. I had to spend the ENTIRE SUMMER with my uncle. Living in a shack in the middle of nowhere!! I had no idea why my parents torture me this way. It's not that there anything wrong with my uncle other than he's one of those people who spend their entire day on the computer typing reports. But it's getting late so I'll try to write more tomorrow.