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Dear Diary

Its so cold up in these mountains. I can't stay here for much longer. I remember the mountains back at home, in that other world...



Food is small and the rations are running thin. I'm not used to my newly gained fur that I never had in my past life. I can only remember silky smooth skin that ran from my head to my toe. Now I wonder if I have a head at all. I can bearly look at myself in the mirror, those awful whiskers and those rounded cheeks that seem too unreal to be true. It reminds me of a creature, the rabbit, back at my first home. If only I was still there.



I remember the slam and the crash, how I was sure that I fell to my death. But then I reawoke as, well, somebody else, yet with the same mind and memory. Who am I? Am I still Jack Goldhorn, the man who lived on Earth? Am I now just a rabbit in another world. Who am I and why am I here? What is this world that I live in now? It surely isn't home thats for sure.



I had better cut the diary entry short for today. Those turtles are approaching and I don't like what they're carrying...



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