When I was younger I used to walk on the beach near my house looking for sea glass, but one day when I thought I was just reaching for a great big hunk of green gold, what I called the beautiful emerald green glass that was some of the rarest out there on our shores, I pulled out a whole bottle instead.
The mouth of the bottle was chipped, that was the part I grabbed, and it sliced into my skin, a fragile, minuscule little cut, but I watched a drop of blood drip from my finger and onto the piece of paper that was wrapped up inside the bottle.
I found a message in a bottle.
The cork was gone, or maybe it was never there. I thought that the message inside would be lost, but when I finally realized I had to smash the bottle on a rock to get the message out, I found that it seemed to be written in blood on a piece of thin cloth, like maybe a men's dress shirt, but it wasn't paper at all.
I unrolled the fragile fabric, gasped at the words.
My Dearest Love,
I know this will never find you, and I know now I will never be found. My boat washed ashore, I am not dead. I am not yet dead.
Please know that whatever happens to me, I loved you. I still love you on this lonely island, you are all I think about, you are all I dream about.
I've built a raft and I am leaving now. I am coming back to you.
Pray for me. I love you.
There is a man somewhere. Maybe he made it home to his dearest love, and maybe he was finally lost forever at sea. Maybe he made it, maybe he was doomed from the start.
And there is a woman somewhere. And she is loved, she is loved, she is loved.
Scriptic prompt exchange this week, Michael gave me this prompt: I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been..
I gave SAM this prompt: What do you see by the dawn's early light?