This is the last record of the thoughts of Wilson H Percival, son of John and Mary Percival and brother of Keith and Jennifer Percival. I am no longer in a place I can call home, and I fear for my life.

I am a scientist. A polymath if you will, working in the fields of chemistry, biology, geology and physics. My work has taken me to the theoretical edges of our universe, and many weeks ago, I broke through those boundaries. Through my equations, I had was able to prove a way to create wormholes without them collapsing. Many sleepless hours later, I showed these ideas to my most trusted friend, and he warned me against sharing this with the rest of the world, at least until I could create the wormholes I had described. After some thought, I concluded that this would be wise, for who knew how many might use this discovery for nefarious purposes. I set to work immediately, consulting every engineering textbook I had to hand. It took all my time, money and concentration over those months. I nearly lost my beloved fiancé, but I was so close to a breakthrough. In the end, I created it; The great monolith of wood and metal I nicknamed "the gate". I sent for my friend immediately, wanting his opinion on my creation, and he arrived the very next day for the first testing. After some preamble, I raced upstairs and set to work. I flipped the levers, turned on the generator and flung open the doors of the gate, ready to step into my new life of fame and wealth.

But my first step was into darkness.

It filled out the room and pulled me inwards, into my own creation. I had no time to scream, to warn my friend or my fiancé. The blend of panic and unconsciousness may well be one of the most...interesting experiences I have ever lived through. I woke up later in the woods, my eyesight unfocused and my legs wobbly, but these were not the woods of my home. The evergreens where unsurprising, not uncommon even at home. I did not know what had happened to me, or where my house was. At first, I wondered if this was a trick my friend was playing upon me, maybe putting me out in the forest while I had been unconscious. I was about to call out for my friend when a butterfly, easily the size of a dinner plate, fluttered past, spinning about in the warm morning breeze.

I dared not move in its presence, keenly aware that something was amiss. I observed it for many minutes, my brain trying to make sense of this creature. Its wings swam through the air, unlike a bird in that instead of its wings tilting, it's whole body would dip forwards and back, swooping up and down like someone tracing out a mountain range. No insect of such size should be able to breathe, let alone fly. It's flight patterns should have been too erratic for it to know where it was going, and yet it never hit any of the trees, nor the ground. It defied what I knew about biology with its mere existence. How exciting!

The excitement of this discovery dwindled as I tried to find something, anything like my home. I searched until my feet were blistered, but I could not find any sign of civilisation. Eventually, I hit a river too wide to cross and decided to return back to where I woke up, hoping to find some clue as to what happened. I found nothing but my journal, my pens, and the shattered mahogany of my work table. That table had been a gift from my grandfather. It was the place he had written his novels, and had been custom made just for him. I write this on the journal, with my favorite pen as my grandfather might once have.

I am not dead.

This is enormously surprising. I had laid my head down after the last entry and I must have fallen asleep, but I now find myself under the cover of night, sitting near to a roaring fire. I was not scared of course, but I was on guard, peering out into the darkness trying to find the mysterious being who built the fire. I have still found no-one. The darkness is so impenetrable that not even the stars and moon shine through as if the air is absorbing their light. The imposter could have been five feet away and I'd never know until morning.

However, I'm discovering a new set of problems. My stomach is getting impatient, after having missed breakfast, lunch and now dinner, but I have nothing to sate it. I can also feel this strange itch behind my ears that I just can't scratch. I'm sure it will work itself out in time, but come daylight I will need to find something edible.

For now, I must wait for this stranger.

Day two

Damn it Wilson!

I fell asleep again, and woke up to the mid morning sun beating down on my face. The mysterious fire starter has not shown himself, but the daylight has revealed his previous attempts. Piles of ash and mangled twigs litter the area, giving the place a 'middle of a hurricane' look, if that hurricane had also been on fire. I have heard that can happen in some countries, and I hope I am not in one of those places.

It has occurred to me that if I have discovered the key to wormholes, then it would be possible for others to do the same. It is quite possible this firestarter is another lost scientist, thrown into this world against his will. If that is the case, how long has he been here? It is clear he is not skilled when it comes to constructing campfires, as my ashy surroundings suggest, but he may have no need for fires, and set one up simply for my benefit. But that makes no sense, why go to all the effort of keeping me safe when he doesn't even know me? Does he intend to keep to assess me from afar? To see if I am worthy of his trust? Or maybe it was a passing act of kindness, and he has no interest in me?

As is obvious, search for the firestarter has been fruitless. So I have replaced it with the far more fruit-based and consequentially more fruitful search for food. During this mornings wanderings, I discovered a bush adorned with red berrys, which I have stuffed into my pockets. As much as my stomach crows, I will not eat them just yet. Any good survivalist cooks his food to free it of toxins before consumption, and I have little interest in death by sickness.

It has dawned on me that without the help of the individual, I could be out of luck when the night returns. So, in preparation, I have equipped myself with some sharp rocks I have discovered. I have used these to collect several sticks from nearby trees, as well as a branch or two. My hands sting and the rocks are now bloody, but I have what I need. I have also collected a few others rocks that have shown promising sparks when bumped together, and I am prepared for the night ahead. In other news, my stomach has reached new levels of agony and my body is losing what little energy it had as I write this, but I cannot sate it. I will not waste my precious firewood until the night is here.

As I write this, I am sitting on the branch of a mighty evergreen, overlooking the horizon. I have decided to use this great tree as my base, as it provides protection from the elements and an excellent view. In the east, I can see a desert, a cracked tundra as far the eyes can see. In the north and west lies mountains, and in the south is yet more forest. The sun is saying its final goodbyes now as it crests over the snow capped slopes.

It is now the night of day two, and I am alive! Who knew all those camping trips with my dad would pay off like this? The berries where quite nice, if unfulfilling, and I have not yet shat myself to death. I need to get home. Who knows what this new world might hold, and how long my mediocre survival skills will keep me alive in the face of new challenges? I have only seen those strange butterfly's, but only because I have not strayed too far. what of winter? And of rain? I have only the rags I came here with, how will I even sleep? What if I get sick, or break something?

Oh Charlie, my Charlie, do you even know what has befallen me? Do you think me dead? And maxwell, what of you my friend? Are you consoling her in her time of grief? Did they fall victims to the gate as well, stuck in this strange plane as I am?

Wishful thinking. If they had, they would have been here, or at least nearby. No, I am alone here, and I must get back if I wish to see them once more. I will not let this world defeat me, for their sake if not my own.