The story you are about to read is based on a topic requested by reader A.N. I cannot reveal the topic until the end of the story, so I decided to paste the whole story here so you can read it and then read the topic. Let me know if I managed to fulfill my reader’s demands.
This story is rated R for violence, death, evil seaweed and other surprises.
Message in a Bottle
I don’t know why I like the beach so much. I was never taught to swim, seagulls startle me with their accusing caws and seaweed looks like tentacles rising from the deep, attempting to draw me down, down, down. But, when I want to be alone with my thoughts, the beach is where I go.
Maybe it’s because my little brother adored the beach and used to drag me and my phobias there constantly. That was before he died.
Right now I’m sitting in the sand, writing this message on a piece of paper that the packaging said was made out of seaweed. When I’m done, I’ll put it in a bottle and cast it out to sea. I cannot think of a better memorial for my little brother, Mike.
It all started when Mike pleaded with me to take him to the beach. He was eleven and I was sixteen. I had a permit so I could drive – though technically not with him. Technically, I was supposed to drive with an adult in the car. But, Mikey had always been better than me at everything, driving included. Dad thought that since Mikey was a boy, it’d be okay to teach him things like driving a car or speedboat, how to swim, shooting guns, all that guy-bonding stuff. Stuff dad promised he’d do with me, but never go around to.
So, since Mikey was quick to point out that he was way better than me at driving, I said I’d take him to the beach without an adult present.
You have to understand, my family lives in Portland, Oregon, so going to the beach is no small task. It takes an hour or so to drive each way on these crazy, winding highways. Not only that, but the weather out there is way different than the weather in Portland. So, by the time we got there, I was exhausted from worry that a cop would pull me over and find out that I was driving with only a permit, AND it was freezing outside. Mikey didn’t care.
He unpacked his wet suit and peeled it onto his body. Those things are tight as hell and I had to help him zip it up. He grinned at me and grabbed a knee board.
“You comin’, sis?” he asked.
“You know I’m not,” I told him.
He gave me his irritating, know-it-all smile and patting my shoulder. Mikey was younger than me, but he was almost as tall as me already. With his thick, blonde hair and athletic build, I knew the girls at school would soon be dying to date him. My hair is thin and mouse brown and I’m kind of pudgy because I hate exercise. I’m better at driving to the beach and tossing bottles into the ocean.
Anyway, Mikey turned and ran to the freezing cold water. He didn’t hesitate for a second when he got to the shoreline, just jumped right into the frigid abyss. I trailed behind with the towels and cooler and blanket and all that crap. I set up and watched Mikey for a while. The ever present fog began to lift. A bunch of people on horseback were also enjoying the beach and were interrupting Mikey’s boarding. He was trying to coast on the tumultuous water at the shoreline. He gave the people and their horses a glare and struck out to the real waves. I watched him closer.
Presently, the people on horseback left. The beach was empty and clouds once again concealed the sun, creating an early twilight. I was wearing a swim suit and, when the sky seemed appropriately dark, I unwrapped myself from my blanket and headed to the water.
The frigid salt water sloshed around my ankles and goosebumps ran their way up and down my flesh, but I was undeterred. When the water came up to my waist, I dived under a wave and struck out, heading toward my brother.
Seagulls dived and cawed at me, scolding me, telling me to turn away. Seaweed clutched at my legs, trying to drag me down into the murky world below the water’s surface. I kicked and thrashed through the freezing waves, never taking my eyes off my brother.
When I reached him, I grabbed one of his legs and yanked him as hard as I could. His balance was superb, but he was caught off guard. Besides, all the rage that I’d carefully concealed over the years fueled me. Dad was supposed to teach me to swim, me to drive. He was supposed to take me out on the speedboat, me camping in the summer. But no, it was always him. Always little Mikey, that fucking brat. They left me behind to wallow in my own fat. To consume chocolate for endorphins and caffeine.
Adrenaline powered my arms as I yanked at my little brother, pulling him into the deep, deep ocean.
Before I was able to get his head underwater, he saw it was I who would drown him. The pure astonishment on his face was priceless. He didn’t know I could swim.
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The End
www.Juliascottdouglas.com
This story has been released under a creative commons, attribution, non-commercial, no derivative license. You cannot change this story, nor can you sell it. You can, however, copy the WHOLE WORK (including the author name – meaning you attribute it to Julia Scott-Douglas) and send it along to others to enjoy.
Reader A.N. wrote me on Facebook for this one. His request was: “Do a story from the view point of the villain where you only really realize he is the villain by the end.”
I hope this story fulfilled his request.
