Prologue

She stood on the edge of the pier, gazing into the seemingly bottomless sea. The sun started to peek over the coast. She didn't have much time, it was almost 6am and her regulars would be coming in looking for breakfast and hot coffee, despite the fact that the temperature was already starting to crawl up into the 70s and would be 90 by midday. She dug through her bag and without much ceremony, dropped a green bottle into the water. She didn't know what she was thinking but she knew she didn't want to keep it anymore. It had been pressing on her for days, causing her to have sleepless nights, and listless mornings where when someone asked her what was wrong, she couldn't articulate it.

She watched it floating in the waves for a few seconds before turning around and running away before she could change her mind and dive in after it, rescuing it from who knew what.

It was in fate's hands now. Whatever happened from here on out wasn't her decision anymore. Whoever it found, or maybe if it didn't find anyone, was completely out of her control. She didn't really know what she wanted to happen, she just didn't want to be haunted anymore.

She glanced one more time at the ocean and then hopped on her bike, peddling away as fast as she could.

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One Month Later

It had been a long night and he was tired. But instead of going home and getting some well-deserved sleep, he had come to the beach to take a walk and clear his head. He didn't think it would ever get easy, no matter how long he worked in the ER. The young mother who'd miscarried, the teenager who had overdosed, another woman with bruises and a broken wrist. In the back of his mind, he considered quitting but at the same time, he felt compelled to help every single person who came through the hospital doors.

He sighed and sat down on the sand, rubbing his eyes roughly with the palms of his hands. It was just another night in a long succession of nights past and to come. He was sure he would get used to it but he didn't want to let go of the empathy that he had for all these people. He couldn't….

His thoughts broke off when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. An empty bottle that he assumed somebody had left behind after a night of partying at the beach. It was rolling in and out with the tide, he got to his feet and went to rescue it before it could wash out to the middle of the water. He would discard it and then finally go home to get some sleep.

But on further inspection, he realized there was something inside of it. Frowning, he pulled the cork out and shook it until whatever was inside fell out. It was a tightly twisted sandwich baggy. He unwrapped it and curiously took out the single piece of paper in it. He unfolded it and scanned the contents before realizing it was a letter.

He slowed down and read it a second time.

Life is lonely now, quiet. Nobody ever tells you what life after death is really like even though they have a knowledge of it if they've gone through it. You think the people in your life are going to live forever and then they don't. They're gone with a blink of the eye, like a flickering candle snuffed out by the breeze. The truth about death is it's inevitable and we should expect it, instead we go blithely along until it comes for us. Until it comes for someone we love.

It's been a week since you died and I don't know what I'm going to do anymore. Go on just the same as always, I suppose. Get up and go to the diner, ride my bike. I'll go see Suzie and Dustin and their kids, and go to church on Sunday. Just because somebody has died doesn't mean that we get to stop living or going about our normal lives. Even though the temptation to do so is strong. But what good would it do? I wonder.

I feel like life should just cease to exist after somebody passes away. But it goes on and on and on. People assure me that one day I'll start to feel normal again. Right now though, things don't ever feel like they'll be normal again.

I hope it's nice where you are. Wherever that is.

I'm never not thinking of you.

Your's,

El

It felt like such an intimately personal thing to read but that didn't stop him from rereading it a third time. He felt like El, whoever she was, was a lot like him but had only managed to put into words in a way that he would never be able to. He felt an immense amount of empathy for her, wherever she was.

All of a sudden, a wave of fatigue washed over him, and he knew it was time to finally go get some rest. He pocketed the letter and walked to his car, tossing the bottle in a nearby trashcan before he got in and drove home.

TBC?

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Author's Note:

Let's just pretend that I know what I'm talking about when it comes to the logistics of messages in bottles finding their way to places. I don't really know anything about it at all though, just that the message in the bottle concept has fascinated me. I've wanted to write a story with this for a long time now. I'm trying to get into writing again and with Stranger Things two weeks away, now feels like the perfect time to do it.

This has nothing to do with the Nicholas Sparks book/movie "Message in a Bottle" or the Sting song either.

If you want more, let me know in the comments. Even if you don't, I'll still probably do it. Also, I haven't decided who will die yet. The three in my mind are Terry, Will, or Hopper though. Comment if you have any particular thoughts about who it should be.

Until Next Time!

Love,

Holly