Message in a Bottle

Prologue
In my life there has been so many times that I’ve given up hope, so many times that I was broken down and each time I decided to get right back up because that was what I was taught. But what’s the point when you get up only to fall back down again? Exactly, there is none. I’m only seventeen years old but the amount of tragedies I’ve had was enough for a life time.
But it wasn’t until I met him that I learned to forgive my past, it wasn’t until I met him that I found the old me, it wasn’t until him that I let my guard down, it wasn’t until him that I didn’t mind being vulnerable, and it wasn’t until him that I learned to never give up on hope.
He is hope.
Sincerely,
Morgan Clarke of Cape Hatteras

Chapter One
“Like this?” I asked, waving the small piece of paper in the air in front of my grandmother’s face.
“Hold still, Morgan!” Grandmother said in the tone of voice when she got easily annoyed. She put on her reading glasses and read over the piece of paper, a smiling growing upon her lips. “I like your drawing of the Pink Hibiscus flower…. And for such a young lady you sure are desperate for a young man to come into your life. Enjoy your childhood, Morgan. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”
I giggled. “The prince in the castle will find it, read it, and come take me away to make me his princess.”
“For the last time, it’s a lighthouse!”
“Benjamin!” Grandmother exclaimed. “Be nice to your sister, will you?”
“It’s a castle, it’s a castle!” Benjamin mocked.
“I don’t sound like that,” I retorted.
“Yeah, you’re worse,” he mumbled, walking out of the room, blasting his CD player.
“Don’t listen to him, Morgan,” Grandmother murmured, finishing her note. “It’s a castle if you want it to be a castle.”
“Can I read your message?”
“It’s kind of private, Morgan. I’m sorry.”
I nodded my head in understanding. “What do I do now, grandmother?” I asked.
She leaned down and set a brown box on the table, the glass inside of it creating noise.
“Choose a bottle,” she said, gesturing to the box.
I got up and stood on my chair to get a good look at the thirteen pretty glass bottles inside the box. Each of them was different, either the color, design, shape, or where it came from.
“I like this one…,” I murmured, reaching into the box and bringing the little square perfume bottle to the sun’s light.”
“Excellent pick, Morgan. That bottle is as gold as the sun.”
“That’s not why I picked it….”
“Then why’d you pick it?”
“I think it’s magical.”
“Every bottle is magical, Morgan.”
“No. They aren’t.”
Grandmother chuckled. “Do you know how to screw the top off?”
I snapped out my hand, giving the perfume bottom to her. She twisted off the top and handed it back to me.
“Now what you do is roll the paper up tightly and rap a ribbon around it. Like this,” she wrapped hers up slowly so that I wouldn’t get behind. I chose the sparkly silver ribbon. Then she directed me to put the note inside the bottle and screw the top back on tightly.
“And there we are!” she exclaimed. “A perfect message in a bottle.”
“It’s pretty,” I murmured, examining it.
“Shall we go send it off into the ocean now?”
I nodded my head, jumping off the bench and swinging open the screen door that led to the beach in our backyard. I ran down to the beach with the bottle in my wand, the seagulls flying away as I ran into their heard.
“Slow down, Morgan! We don’t want you to end up in the Graveyard of the Atlantic.”
I closed my eyes and held the little golden bottle to my heart, breathing in the scent of the fresh ocean waters of Cape Hatteras, letting the water crash down on my feet. I loved this place, it was the only place I’ve ever known that brought me wholeness, complete serenity. It was my home. Where I was born and grew up. I was literally born here, though. Right on this beach.
“You’re a speedy little girl, aren’t you?” she laughed breathing heavily.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
She pointed to the little wooden boat with peeling white paint. “Jump in. We won’t be able to send the bottles out enough if we toss them into the ocean from here.”
I jumped into the very front of the boat and waited for my grandmother to get in. She was still panting heavily.
“Is everything fine, grandmother?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” she said and laughed as she used an oar to push the boat off the beach which did take a couple minutes since you can go very long ways into the water and it would only be up to your waist. Then she pulled the motor and with a rumble of the boat we began moving.
I looked down at the beautiful blue water, seeing the reflection of the sun and blue skies. I always loved the sea as well and not only because my name meant something about the sea in Welsh but because it was just a magnificent thing to think about. Who knows what used to touch or bathe in this water. Dinosaurs, sharks, whales, and the Titanic!
I turned around to look at the prince’s castle with the white and black swirling around to the top. I wondered if he was looking out at the sea right now. He was probably looking at me so I brushed my fingers through my dark blonde hair, smoothed out my white summer dress, and smiled, waving up at the top of the castle.
Grandmother chuckled. “Did he wave back?”
I nodded my head. “He sure did!”
“Okay, I think this is far out enough.” She stopped the boat and picked up her brown root beer bottle.
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“Just… throw it out as far as you can,” grandmother directed. “You go first.”
I looked down at my golden perfume bottle and kissed it. Then I brought my arm back as far as it could go then snapped it forward. The little bottle soared through the air, spinning around before it plummeted into the water. A couple seconds later the bottle resurfaced and bobbed up and down.
“Good job, Morgan!” Grandmother cheered from behind me.
“Woo hoo!” I cried out, throwing my hands into the air. “It looks so pretty, grandmother. Do you think the prince will find it?” I waited for her to respond. “Grandmother?” I twisted in my seat and the smile faded from my lips. “Grandmother?!” I cried, scrambling over to her.
She was sitting upright against the motor, her face pale white and beads of sweat upon it.
“Grandmother!” I cried, shaking her. “Grandmother!” I screamed out, tears rolling down my face hysterically. “Help! Someone help me!” I screeched. “Grandmother,” I whispered, burying my face into her shoulder. “I love you.”