Message in a Bottle
I
To whoever it may concern.
Dear reader.
Hello.
HELP!
None of these beginnings worked for her. After sitting at her desk for what seemed like an eternity, Alex Deacon could not find the right words. It was hard enough to bring herself to do this, let alone feel desperate enough to go through with it. The letter was to be a display of her feelings, the physical incarnation of things that had plagued her for the longest time. She was going to let them go, allow them to drift as far as they wished, and reach someone who actually cared. If the message failed to travel, her secret thoughts would simply vanish with the rolling tide.
Taking a deep breath and picking up her pen once more, she began to write.
November 24th, 2002.
I am 16 years old, and much like this bottle - i am lost at sea. In a metaphorical sense, at least. The sea of which i talk of is reality, and i can't seem to find my way.
Nobody understands me.
It’s one of the biggest teenage clichés, but it’s deadly true. Any friend that I’ve ever had has abandoned or betrayed me. My parents don’t have time for me, and I’m just an inconvenience to them. The only person who ever cared about me, my brother, is dead.
There’s nobody left, except me. I’m too weak to walk this world alone, I need someone; anyone.
Sometimes it all gets too much, and I want to end it. This is my final hope - that somebody finds this and saves me.
S.O.S!
She signed the letter off, adding her name and address to the bottom of the page. After rolling the paper up and slotting it into a bottle, she stood and exited the room, heading back to her self-confessed worthless and mundane existence.
Alex lived with her parents in St Ives, a small town in Cornwall. The harbour made it a lively fishing port, and the good weather brought tourists from all around during the summer months. But, it being November, the town was partially void of life. Only the locals were left, the same old faces that she’d seen everyday for her past sixteen years of being.
She exited the house, not needing to tell her parents where she was going on account of their usual absence. The typical British weather cascaded down as she made her way towards the beach. She saw nobody on her travels, not a single person brave enough to challenge the rain, which in turn left the streets deserted.
Moments later she was trudging across the sand, looking out upon the sea. The tinge of seaweed and saltwater caught her nose, its potent smell diluted by the rain. Her hands were numb and her body was cold, yet she continued on.
She finally stopped mid-way down the beach and took the tightly corked bottle from her pocket. Staring at the rolled-up message inside, she smiled sadly to herself and wondered where it would end up. Then, with all her strength, she tossed the bottle into the sea and watched as the surf seized it, carrying it away from the land. Alex never took her eyes off it, and only turned her back on the ocean after the bottle that held her emotions had drifted far from her sight.
Dear reader.
Hello.
HELP!
None of these beginnings worked for her. After sitting at her desk for what seemed like an eternity, Alex Deacon could not find the right words. It was hard enough to bring herself to do this, let alone feel desperate enough to go through with it. The letter was to be a display of her feelings, the physical incarnation of things that had plagued her for the longest time. She was going to let them go, allow them to drift as far as they wished, and reach someone who actually cared. If the message failed to travel, her secret thoughts would simply vanish with the rolling tide.
Taking a deep breath and picking up her pen once more, she began to write.
November 24th, 2002.
I am 16 years old, and much like this bottle - i am lost at sea. In a metaphorical sense, at least. The sea of which i talk of is reality, and i can't seem to find my way.
Nobody understands me.
It’s one of the biggest teenage clichés, but it’s deadly true. Any friend that I’ve ever had has abandoned or betrayed me. My parents don’t have time for me, and I’m just an inconvenience to them. The only person who ever cared about me, my brother, is dead.
There’s nobody left, except me. I’m too weak to walk this world alone, I need someone; anyone.
Sometimes it all gets too much, and I want to end it. This is my final hope - that somebody finds this and saves me.
S.O.S!
She signed the letter off, adding her name and address to the bottom of the page. After rolling the paper up and slotting it into a bottle, she stood and exited the room, heading back to her self-confessed worthless and mundane existence.
Alex lived with her parents in St Ives, a small town in Cornwall. The harbour made it a lively fishing port, and the good weather brought tourists from all around during the summer months. But, it being November, the town was partially void of life. Only the locals were left, the same old faces that she’d seen everyday for her past sixteen years of being.
She exited the house, not needing to tell her parents where she was going on account of their usual absence. The typical British weather cascaded down as she made her way towards the beach. She saw nobody on her travels, not a single person brave enough to challenge the rain, which in turn left the streets deserted.
Moments later she was trudging across the sand, looking out upon the sea. The tinge of seaweed and saltwater caught her nose, its potent smell diluted by the rain. Her hands were numb and her body was cold, yet she continued on.
She finally stopped mid-way down the beach and took the tightly corked bottle from her pocket. Staring at the rolled-up message inside, she smiled sadly to herself and wondered where it would end up. Then, with all her strength, she tossed the bottle into the sea and watched as the surf seized it, carrying it away from the land. Alex never took her eyes off it, and only turned her back on the ocean after the bottle that held her emotions had drifted far from her sight.
♠ ♠ ♠
Okay, new story!Comments, questions and queries all welcome! :]