Day 1

The sky was tainted gold with the setting sun. Oranges bleeding red where the horizon kissed the ocean. The white sand sparkled like tiny diamonds from the slightest touch. The light breeze gently changing direction, forming new patterns. The oncoming waves pushing the sea floor towards land, a wall forming where earth met water.

My feet sank into the soft sand, creating craters for footsteps, my own little breadcrumbs leading me back home.

I made this journey over a hundred times. Day or night I would come out here to clear my mind, help me form figure out my ideas. Living in the city and making a living as a writer was the worst thing I could do. Being out here on the coast was perfect.

The only thing that made today different was the turquoise glass bottle the waves had uncovered. Kneeling down in the sand I scooped the fist sized bottle from wet sand. A wooden cork sealed the bottle, candle wax protecting its contents from the salty water.

The bottle was in fact indigo, the blue having been obscured by the earth encasing it. The contents of the bottle were concealed by the ripples that flowed through the glass.

The body of the bottle was round like a rum cask, a circular ridge binding the glass around its waist like metal hoops holding together rum barrels. The upper body of the bottle rounded to the center where it sprouted a tall thin neck which also bulged out forming another ring around the bottle.

Taking the bottle back to the beach for further inspection seemed like the best course of action. Whatever was inside could help spark some inspiration.

I stared at the bottle for hours. Committing every detail to memory. I used a knife to dislodge the wax covered cork. When it was loose enough to pull the cork from the bottle, I then ripped the piece of wood satisfied when heard that all too familiar pop.

I placed the offending item down as I took the bottle in both hands, peering inside for a better look at its insides.

Parchment. A rolled piece of parchment had been slipped into the bottle, then sealed before being cast out into open waters. The air deprived page flayed at the edges still looked to be tied at its center, most likely by ribbon but I couldn’t be sure unless I removed it from the bottle.

Tipping the bottle upside down, I shook it a few times to dislocate the parchment from the bottle.
Minutes passed, shaking the bottle was finally seeming to be a lost cause when the page gave way and slipped from the bottle. Hitting the surface below with a silent thud.

Carefully I placed the bottle down, my heart pounding at what I might find on this page. Gently I picked up the parchment, careful to loosen the ribbon holding it closed. The ribbon gave way, dropping to the table below.

Unrolling the parchment proved to be nerve racking, I swear my heart almost stopped at the anticipation of finding something, anything, something worth finding. Reading over the few words inscribed on the paper I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe someday I could find something worth writing about, but that day isn’t today.