Day 2: J - Watered Down
Words fell from his mouth like smooth, warm honey, slow and lazy, coating us in tales of great adventures, love stories, epic tragedies, and worlds of magic. He knew the power of a first sentence, piercing us through our cheeks, reeling us in and keeping us hooked.
On a hot summer afternoon, with full bellies and content smiles, he beckoned us over to his spot on the back porch, overlooking the pond.
“Once I found a message in a bottle, but not where you would have expected.”
His eyes glossed over as if he were transported into another world, far off from summer holidays and crickets chirping in the tall yellow grass along the sides of the house.
“You see that pond over there,” he motioned, shifting his eyes over our heads and onto the pond he and grandma said was there before we were born.
“That’s where I found it.”
“No way!” said Ben, “Messages don’t float in ponds,” he added matter-of-factly. I swatted at him. We never interrupted grandpa. There wasn’t any time to talk. Sometimes the stories would move so fast it was enough just to keep up.
“Shut up Ben, you’re being rude,” I whispered, fearing that Ben arguing with grandpa would stop the story before it even started.
“Where was I?”
“The message, Grandpa,” I offered up eagerly.
“Right, the message.” His eyes glazed over once more. “I once found a message in a bottle, in that very pond.” He continued before Ben could interrupt again.
“On this particular day, I wondered what it would be like to just dip a toe in. I had never done it before. I didn’t want to disturb the life underneath the water. It wasn’t fair, after all, but the sun was blistering, roasting me whole. So, I dipped a toe, then another, and then my whole foot. The coolness was like no other. I could feel little nips on my toe-tips as the fish checked out to see if they were food. They quickly found out my toes were not.”
Ben and I looked at each other with our noses scrunched.
A soft chuckle floated off grandpa’s lips.
“But then something out of the ordinary happened. The fish dipped down, too low for me to see, and when I looked up, the turtle and toad disappeared into the grass beyond the pound. The water rippled around my feet, as if someone had stuck a great big spoon in the middle and begun to stir. I was afraid I had done something by touching the water, like mother nature was too protective of her oases, no matter how big or small.”
I looked down at his feet and double checked that there were still ten toes. They all looked perfect in shape and size.
“But I had nothing to fear. The whirlpool swirled, deeper and deeper, until something emerged from the centre. At first, I couldn’t tell what was there. It was shiny and green, like sea glass, almost pulsing against the water pushing it to the surface. The water subsided and that’s when I could make out what it was. A bottle, green and small, bobbing along the calming waters. Fish once again swimming carelessly below.”
This time Ben didn’t dare say a word.
“I rubbed my eyes. It couldn’t be. I opened them, and the bottle was still there, resting horizontally along the surface. The water so calm it looked like glass. I didn’t want to touch it. It had come from seemingly nowhere, what if it was dangerous? What if I was mad and it wasn’t there at all? But the longer I stared, the more I noticed that the bottle was not empty. No, there was something inside, a white cylinder, a note.”
As he continued on, Ben and I inched closer to make sure that we didn’t miss a thing.
“I reached out for the bottle, holding my breath as my fingers found their way around its neck. Nothing happened. I took this as a good sign and pulled it from the water, half expecting it to disappear. It didn’t. I pulled the stopper out and shook the bottle until the message came sliding into the palm of my hand. Parchment, old, weathered, smelling of earth and algae with a simple green ribbon around its middle.
“Unraveling the message was difficult. See, it must have been kept like that for a long time. But once it was opened, it was clear what it was. I couldn’t believe my eyes.” His eyes switched between Ben and mine as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a tattered paper with folds creased permanently. He began to read:
If you are reading this, then it must have worked.
My name is Alistair the third. By the time this reaches you, I will no longer exist. But, no matter, it’s of no importance if I was around or will be, you see, because it’s you who I am concerned about. These waters aren’t just home to the fish and the seaweed, they are home to so much more. But not everyone can know this. Not everyone will understand. But you, you will understand. The water says so. So if you are reading this, the water chose you.
Do not despair. This is the beginning of your story.
Come back here, in a fortnight. Come alone, and with an offering. A prize possession to gift the water for its troubles.
Mum’s the word.
A III
Grandpa cleared his throat, folded the paper back into this pocket and glanced back out to the pond. My fingers were itching to reach out for the letter. A letter, from the water, what did it mean?
“A fortnight came, and I decided that my prized possession was a toy soldier given to me by my grandfather, much like the one I gave to you, Benjamin.” He looked over at Ben fondly.
“But I had no idea what to do. The message gave no other instructions. Was I to try to put my feet in the water? Could I have done it at any time of day? So, I waited. I snuck out after dinner and waited for the sun to dip below the horizon, when the sky turned a vivid shade of pink. I sat by the pond and watched the fish for a while, heart beating against my chest. After some time, I decided to put my feet in. Nothing happened. I pulled out the message and read it again. Nothing had changed. I played with my soldier, walking him across the soft ground, digging trenches in the dirt. It wasn’t until it was almost nightfall that a rustle in the tall grass beyond the pond startled me and I dropped my soldier into the pond. The similar sensation of a whirlpool sucking down my feet started, getting more violent than the time before. Unlike the last time, there was nothing was bubbling up from its depths. Instead, I felt like I was being pulled in, sinking deeper and deeper into the pond without being in the water. And then I was completely under. A darkness taking over and enveloping me whole. When I came to, I was not beside the pond anymore.”
Ben and I had inched so close to grandpa’s chair, that the next step was to sit in his lap.
Where could it have taken him? How did he get back? Who was Alistair the III and what did he think my grandpa was chosen for?
The back door opened, and grandma poked her head out, searching the porched until she found us.
“Ah, there you three are! I thought you had gone into town. Supper is almost done. Time to wash up and set the table.”
Ben and I immediately began to protest. There was absolutely no time for dinner just then. The story was only beginning, and I had so many questions.
“Ben, Nora,” grandpa interrupted, “Listen to your grandma. It’s time for supper. Maybe there will be more story time after that. Run along,” he finished, shooing us inside once more.
On a hot summer afternoon, with full bellies and content smiles, he beckoned us over to his spot on the back porch, overlooking the pond.
“Once I found a message in a bottle, but not where you would have expected.”
His eyes glossed over as if he were transported into another world, far off from summer holidays and crickets chirping in the tall yellow grass along the sides of the house.
“You see that pond over there,” he motioned, shifting his eyes over our heads and onto the pond he and grandma said was there before we were born.
“That’s where I found it.”
“No way!” said Ben, “Messages don’t float in ponds,” he added matter-of-factly. I swatted at him. We never interrupted grandpa. There wasn’t any time to talk. Sometimes the stories would move so fast it was enough just to keep up.
“Shut up Ben, you’re being rude,” I whispered, fearing that Ben arguing with grandpa would stop the story before it even started.
“Now Nora, we don’t use such words,” he scolded, and I looked to the deck. “But you, Benjamin, are most unfortunately wrong.” A small smile played at the corners of his lips.
“Where was I?”
“The message, Grandpa,” I offered up eagerly.
“Right, the message.” His eyes glazed over once more. “I once found a message in a bottle, in that very pond.” He continued before Ben could interrupt again.
“It was many years ago. I was small, about your age, Nora. On a day much like today. The sun was hot, baking everything under it, but the pond was the only thing not dried out. The fish were swimming happily in the coolness. I was watching, you see. I loved to watch the fish. Such a delicate creature. Living in a different world just under the depth of ours. Sometimes toads and turtles will find their way into the pond, seeking relief and refreshment because without water, we’d all dry up, inside and out.”
I looked over at the pond trying to see if there were any animals wading in the water, but it looked empty from far away.
“On this particular day, I wondered what it would be like to just dip a toe in. I had never done it before. I didn’t want to disturb the life underneath the water. It wasn’t fair, after all, but the sun was blistering, roasting me whole. So, I dipped a toe, then another, and then my whole foot. The coolness was like no other. I could feel little nips on my toe-tips as the fish checked out to see if they were food. They quickly found out my toes were not.”
Ben and I looked at each other with our noses scrunched.
A soft chuckle floated off grandpa’s lips.
“But then something out of the ordinary happened. The fish dipped down, too low for me to see, and when I looked up, the turtle and toad disappeared into the grass beyond the pound. The water rippled around my feet, as if someone had stuck a great big spoon in the middle and begun to stir. I was afraid I had done something by touching the water, like mother nature was too protective of her oases, no matter how big or small.”
I looked down at his feet and double checked that there were still ten toes. They all looked perfect in shape and size.
“But I had nothing to fear. The whirlpool swirled, deeper and deeper, until something emerged from the centre. At first, I couldn’t tell what was there. It was shiny and green, like sea glass, almost pulsing against the water pushing it to the surface. The water subsided and that’s when I could make out what it was. A bottle, green and small, bobbing along the calming waters. Fish once again swimming carelessly below.”
This time Ben didn’t dare say a word.
“I rubbed my eyes. It couldn’t be. I opened them, and the bottle was still there, resting horizontally along the surface. The water so calm it looked like glass. I didn’t want to touch it. It had come from seemingly nowhere, what if it was dangerous? What if I was mad and it wasn’t there at all? But the longer I stared, the more I noticed that the bottle was not empty. No, there was something inside, a white cylinder, a note.”
As he continued on, Ben and I inched closer to make sure that we didn’t miss a thing.
“I reached out for the bottle, holding my breath as my fingers found their way around its neck. Nothing happened. I took this as a good sign and pulled it from the water, half expecting it to disappear. It didn’t. I pulled the stopper out and shook the bottle until the message came sliding into the palm of my hand. Parchment, old, weathered, smelling of earth and algae with a simple green ribbon around its middle.
“Unraveling the message was difficult. See, it must have been kept like that for a long time. But once it was opened, it was clear what it was. I couldn’t believe my eyes.” His eyes switched between Ben and mine as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a tattered paper with folds creased permanently. He began to read:
If you are reading this, then it must have worked.
My name is Alistair the third. By the time this reaches you, I will no longer exist. But, no matter, it’s of no importance if I was around or will be, you see, because it’s you who I am concerned about. These waters aren’t just home to the fish and the seaweed, they are home to so much more. But not everyone can know this. Not everyone will understand. But you, you will understand. The water says so. So if you are reading this, the water chose you.
Do not despair. This is the beginning of your story.
Come back here, in a fortnight. Come alone, and with an offering. A prize possession to gift the water for its troubles.
Mum’s the word.
A III
Grandpa cleared his throat, folded the paper back into this pocket and glanced back out to the pond. My fingers were itching to reach out for the letter. A letter, from the water, what did it mean?
“A fortnight came, and I decided that my prized possession was a toy soldier given to me by my grandfather, much like the one I gave to you, Benjamin.” He looked over at Ben fondly.
“But I had no idea what to do. The message gave no other instructions. Was I to try to put my feet in the water? Could I have done it at any time of day? So, I waited. I snuck out after dinner and waited for the sun to dip below the horizon, when the sky turned a vivid shade of pink. I sat by the pond and watched the fish for a while, heart beating against my chest. After some time, I decided to put my feet in. Nothing happened. I pulled out the message and read it again. Nothing had changed. I played with my soldier, walking him across the soft ground, digging trenches in the dirt. It wasn’t until it was almost nightfall that a rustle in the tall grass beyond the pond startled me and I dropped my soldier into the pond. The similar sensation of a whirlpool sucking down my feet started, getting more violent than the time before. Unlike the last time, there was nothing was bubbling up from its depths. Instead, I felt like I was being pulled in, sinking deeper and deeper into the pond without being in the water. And then I was completely under. A darkness taking over and enveloping me whole. When I came to, I was not beside the pond anymore.”
Ben and I had inched so close to grandpa’s chair, that the next step was to sit in his lap.
Where could it have taken him? How did he get back? Who was Alistair the III and what did he think my grandpa was chosen for?
The back door opened, and grandma poked her head out, searching the porched until she found us.
“Ah, there you three are! I thought you had gone into town. Supper is almost done. Time to wash up and set the table.”
Ben and I immediately began to protest. There was absolutely no time for dinner just then. The story was only beginning, and I had so many questions.
“Ben, Nora,” grandpa interrupted, “Listen to your grandma. It’s time for supper. Maybe there will be more story time after that. Run along,” he finished, shooing us inside once more.
Grumbling the whole way in, Ben pushed through the back door, stomping along, and I followed closed behind, stopping for a moment to look back outside. Grandpa sat in his chair a moment longer, staring out into the vivid pink sky, looking to the direction of the pond. There were no turtles or toads for a long time, I remembered, and the water in the pond wasn’t so deep anymore. Not like when Ben and I were babies, but there were still tadpoles and minnows swimming around, and maybe a toy soldier right at the bottom waiting for someone to bring him home.
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Prompt: "Once I found a message in a bottle."
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