Bottled Treasure

The orange red ball made its decent, slowly dipping into the ocean. Leaving behind various hues of color that would make the coldest of hearts melt. The tropical breeze softly caressing the white sand, made the perfect atmosphere for a lazy afternoon of sunbathing.

Lying there drifting in and out of sleep, with the waves lapping at the shoreline like an orchestra, he heard it,

“Clank, sizzle, clank, clank sizzle.”

He thought to himself, Man which ever instrument that is, needs a tune up.

The repeated clank was enough to bring him to. As his golden body stretched longing to straighten, his foot dipped into the waters edge. The beat of the clank was interrupted. He glanced down to see what had brushed against his foot.

What looked like an old wine bottle with a scroll inside was being pulled back out in the ocean with every receding wave. Luke quickly snatched up the bottle and looked around to see if anyone was watching. His first thought was, this was some kind of practical joke. He searched the beach in all directions, and realized he was the solitary inhabitant. An uneasy feeling crept up from the bottom of his gut.

Luke took the bottle back to the spot he occupied before his orchestra was interrupted by
the off beat tune. He carefully pulled the scroll from the bottle. As gentle as manly possible he untied the bow, and unrolled the scroll of paper. What looked like child’s handwriting was etched across the page. The writer had pressed out these words;

Please Help Me…

Since the handwriting resembled that of a child’s, Luke rolled the paper back up, retied the bow, and slid the scroll back into the bottle. He then tossed it aside with the rest of his treasures from the ocean. He stretched back into his lounging position to soak up the remaining sun rays. Something kept nagging at him, something about those three desperate words. They sounded so forlorn, almost hopeless.

On his walk back to his cabana, juggling the treasures in his arms, the bottle falls to the earth. As he picks it up he is hit with a wave of dread that would match the ocean’s fury.
This time he can’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling. Back in the cabana he pulls a chair from the desk and starts to investigate the paper. Looking for any clue, anything that might give a direction to start.