The Bottle

It’s been two years since I wrote Serena And The Shore and one year since I wrote Beach Boy’s Letter. I don’t think they’re my best work, but they’re certainly my most important. At the start of quarantine, when I felt like I had nothing to do, nothing to care about, and nothing to live for, Serena lit a fire under me that has given me a sense of place and purpose that I’d never had before. It drove me to work hard, to be proud of myself, and ultimately to realize my own value. Posting that first short story made me want more, and so I did more. I have Serena to thank for everything; Metallic Oblivion, The Knight Logs, Chekhov's Katana, The Wintress, The Midnight Ride Of ‘66, and all the other dozens of ideas I’ve had since.

I wrote the original story based on a half-remembered dream I’d had a few weeks before. In it, somewhere between one scene and another, I washed up on a beach. I was greeted by a woman, who then walked along the shore with me. She told me she was the “Goddess Of Sea Blessings” and she held my hand as we walked the length of the beach. I don’t know if I was just lonely, or what, but at that moment I felt a kind of warm comfort I knew I’d never be able to have again. I felt cared about, I felt loved; of course, I knew it was only a dream, but there was still a part of me that wanted to go back. Months later, through a story, I decided to chase that comfort, and in it, I found a new kind of peace. The following year I tried to capture how I felt after the fact, how I felt having to face reality, but knowing that I was better because I had dreamed. I guess now I’m writing The Bottle for closure; I’m finally moving on from Serena, and in turn, the belief I had before that I would never make it in life. But in order to do either, I have to give her a proper sendoff. Beach Boy’s Letter wasn’t enough, although it should be. Against my better judgement, I had to go back to her beach one last time. So, here it is. We all get to go back, one last time, and after this, we’ll never see Serena again. This has become less of a short story and more of a passion project, so I hope everyone gets as much out of this as I am. Let's all take this Day Of Sea Blessings to remember that our lives and passions have value, and to wish Serena and her Beach Boy well as they depart from our minds, but never our hearts.

-Street

The waves crashed on the shore, splashing the sand in joyful bursts. Serena sat on the beach, watching the sun set over a clear, endless ocean. Its light covered the sky in a golden hue of orange, and its reflection cast a line that reached all the way across the water. The smell of salt hung in the air, comforting her with its presence. As she took in the last moments of the fading sun, her attention was caught by something floating nearby. It reflected the sunset, the light wrapping around it like an embrace. Serena stood up and walked over to the item, curious as to what it could possibly be. As it arrived on the shore, she could see that it was a glass bottle, holding a letter and a seashell necklace. 

A small gasp left her mouth. Usually when something washed up on her beach it was a shell or a clump of seaweed, but never messages or gifts. Nothing but people ever came to her, and all they had for her was their time. But a gift… she didn’t know who could’ve sent it. Serena bent down and picked up the bottle. She examined it, trying to find a name or address; to her dismay, there were no labels.

Serena sat back down with the bottle, fascinated with the bottle. She hesitated, trying to process the gravity of the matter. Then. she pulled the cork from it and placed it on the sand with care. Serena tilted the bottle and grabbed the letter as it slid out. It was a small piece of paper, rolled up and held with a blue ribbon.

Serena pulled the ribbon, then placed it neatly next to the cork. She unrolled the letter and took a breath as she began to read it. Another gasp escaped as she read the first few lines. Serena read each word slowly, trying still to comprehend what was in her hands.

As she neared the middle, she looked away and faced the sun again. Its beautiful light shone down on her face, casting her in its soft brilliance. Her eyes shimmered in the light; with no one around, Serena was quick to cry.

He was in pain. In pain, all over her. Meeting her had been nothing but a blight, a blow to his existence. Now all she could do was live with regret. 

“Maybe that’s why no one comes back,” Serena thought, “So they won’t be scarred again.” She swallowed a wail, then began reading again.

As she read, it only got worse. In her mind, she always delivered her visitors back to peace. She thought she was giving them up to something better, something that would take care of them. And maybe she was, maybe most of them were happy, but that conviction was now ruined. With every word, Serena realized the truth of her existence; that the sadness they felt on the shore didn’t disappear in the water, it stayed with them wherever they returned to. Every word was another attack on her soul, and as she finished the second paragraph, her spirit was crushed completely.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” The tears streamed quietly down her face. In her agony, she mouthed an apology, over and over, to everyone she had left in despair.

“You’re supposed to be happy. I wanted you to be happy,” Serena wept. In her misery she felt broken, the strings of her reality come undone. She tried to make it all okay. To be ease for everyone she met. But it was all nothing. She was nothing.

The sound of sobs and splashes filled the air. No part of her wanted to keep reading the letter, but she thought it necessary to finish processing her misery. Against her better judgment, she started the final paragraph, expecting more devastation. In place of a final blow, Serena started to feel… reassured. In its last lines, he was letting go. And in the end, he would be better for it. His time with her, it sent him around the world. It transformed them and, somehow, connected them further.

The letter, she realized, wasn’t a cry of sorrow, it was an act of closure. It was his way of accepting her, of moving forward. He wasn’t in pain, not anymore. He had attained peace, his way. Serena thought this over as she held the letter. She wiped her eyes, feeling calm as she broke into a smile. Wherever he was now, he could be happy. And if he could be happy, they all could be.

Serena went through the letter again, feeling relieved. His words, his thoughts, his need to reach out again, it all pleased her in a way she’d never felt before and gave her a sense of accomplishment she couldn’t even understand herself. As if all her waiting and being left finally meant something.

“Oh Beach Boy. I miss you,”  she said to the tear-stained piece of paper. Serena rolled the letter back up and tied it with the ribbon. She picked up the bottle and tilted it over again. The seashell necklace fell onto the sand, still holding the delicate beauty it had when it left her. She picked it up and brushed the sand off of it. 

“Thank you,” Serena said to the waves coming in. As the sun made its slow exit from her view, she put the necklace around her neck. The shell sat on her chest, looking radiant in the fading light. She looked back at the sun as it shined down on her and smiled, knowing that in her lonely existence, she had blessed every soul that graced her beach. Their time, no matter how short, meant more than she could ever know. And with that fact in mind, her heart could truly be at peace.