A Message

[Sera Nita 26]

Standing at the edge of an abandoned coastline on Tahn, a stranger thinks back to the beginning of the tradition of this sea. A tradition held by nameless peasants seeking to find solace in a cold world. One that had passed from one generation onto the next…

 

“Ah!” A young child and a father come to the sea to teach an old story. The child, who has never touched the sea, is startled. “Daddy, it’s freezing! Why do you wanna stand in cold water?”

 

The father chuckles, ruffling his child’s wild hair with a warm smile, “Because, little one, there is a power to these waters that gives me the strength to see another year, from the warmth of love. Listen close.”

 

And so the child remembers, with a smile of their own, the warmth of a parent’s love, that granted that same strength. A warmth long from this world, but still granting the strength to renew another year, continuing a childhood ritual in the midst of an adult’s war.

 

“It has been passed down through our village for decades, the secret of this place. It is said that if you write upon a piece of parchment the words you wish to say, seal it inside tightly with a glass bottle, and release it into the sea, your feelings will one day reach their destination, no matter where that may be.”

 

The child stares up at the father in awe, enraptured. To be able to tell someone what must be said, no matter where they are, sounded like an incredible feat.

 

“Daddy, who do you write to? Is it God? Or a friend who lives far away? What do you write about” The father smiles at the barrage of questions, crouching to his kin’s level to take their small hands in his own.

 

“I write to your mother, and to your sister, and my parents, and yes, God too. I tell them all the things I think and how much I wish they could be with us. I tell them the prayers I hold in my heart and I tell them how much I love them.”

 

The child beams as an idea occurs, “I wanna write too! I wanna write to Mum and Sis and God too, and tell them all the things I can’t say to them in person. I wanna make sure that Mum and Sis know that I love them lots, and that I wanna meet them again one day, and I wanna ask God if maybe He can put us together in the Skies so Sis and me can play and you and Mum can be happy again.”

 

A child no longer, the stranger can’t help but chuckle to the empty shore. Such an earnest heart that children carry, such a purity to them. Back then, it wasn’t hard at all to believe that a body of water could carry a letter to the dead. Even now, as an adult, part of that child remained, believing in the magic of the sea, and that part had let the adult along to this place.

 

Stepping further into the water, the father lifts a sealed bottle with the letters he wishes to send to his departed loved ones. He tosses the bottle out into the water as far as he can, clasps his hands together, and whispers a prayer to see his message sent safely to their side. The child wanders in after him, watching the bottle disappear with a quiet prayer of their own, mimicking the parent’s actions.

 

The child who had grown up, stepping into the seawater carefully, draws out two glass bottles from their cloak. One for the living, and one for the dead. Wandering into the water up to knee height, the stranger lowers one of the bottles carefully into the water. The tide catches the bottle and draws it out to the sea. A prayer is whispered to see its contents to the person left living, the words that could never be delivered face to face. A precious friend whom had never known that they meant anything more. The sea would bring forth the courage that the stranger did not possess.

 

“Daddy, did you ever find out if your message made it through?”

 

“I know that it has, at least once, for that is how I told your mother of my love for her. I was too afraid to speak to her and make a fool of myself, and so I let the sea say it for me. And a few days later, she came to me with the bottle I had given to the sea, and that is how we began our courtship.”

 

“That sounds really sweet. I wonder if someone would do that for me one day.”

 

“Perhaps they will. Or perhaps you will be the one who sends that letter. But I do believe that there is always someone in this world meant for another, and that you will find that person one day. Until that day, promise that you will never settle for anything less.”

 

The second bottle is lowered, this one to the departed. To a mother, a sister, and a father. To a being that the adult wonders to be real, but the child still believes in. Another prayer is whispered, hands clasped, as the second bottle vanishes over the horizon. Raising their head, the stranger murmurs the words that dyed the parchment inside, in hopes of them being heard by the Skies. With a final glance out to the horizon line, the figure leaves for the place that has become a new home for them.

 

Spoiler

And this, ladies and gentleman, is why getting bored on your lunch break is a dangerous thing. No, this has no bearing on the rebellion and no importance beyond me getting bored and writing a short story.

 

[AGP 3169]

"Standing... on the edge... of the crater.. like the prophets once said," mumbles Constantine.

[Daisy 9732]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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