I wrote this short story over a year ago and decided to share it. I studied creative writing for a year and it’s one of my biggest passions. This piece is about letting go of the past and healing hearts.
I’m not sure what made me realise that today was the day. I knew it was time to let go. It was time to breathe again. All I knew was that I needed to get out and breathe. I needed to breathe in the crisp Spring air. Just breathe.
Today was the day, the special day. The day I washed the past away. I couldn’t wait to be standing on the cool sand at Flagstown Beach. Being cooked up in my navy blue Plymouth Valiant on a dull, dreary motorway was not what I needed. A wave of serenity washed over me as the wheels of my car turned off the harsh concrete of the motorway and onto the soft, dirt track towards Flagstown.
I parked in the car park of an old, abandoned chapel. As I walked through the church grounds I noticed small flowers growing along the walls; bursts of red, yellow and lilac popped out against the old, crumbling walls. I stepped on delicate daisies as I walked through the overgrown grass in my tattered burgundy boots. I smiled as I made my way to the gate. How sweet it is to know that those flowers still blossom and bloom even though their home stands alone and abandoned.
I left the chapel grounds and strolled down passed the red brick bungalows to the beach. It was the middle of the afternoon but there wasn’t a single soul in sight. There was an eerie yet calming feeling in the air. They say it’s the town where people come when they retire, a place where they come to live the rest of their days. They say it’s one of the most tranquil towns in the South and that’s why the elderly flock down here like birds that migrate to Africa before the winter chill takes over.
I felt my lungs fill up with fresh, soothing air as I stepped onto the pale sand. I untied the laces of my boots and placed them on a pile of rocks. I took the small glass bottle that I had been carrying around in my old navy rucksack for the past six months with me. A piece of faded white paper was rolled up inside the bottle; it’s edges were bent and battered. That piece of paper was the final piece of my past that I was ready to let go of. I poured my heart onto that piece of paper one late night in April of 2015; the year my heart was broken beyond repair. It holds so many memories, emotions, feelings and is stained with a tear or two. As I walked towards the waves I watched them ebb and flow. I watched the water dance slowly against the shore. I held the glass bottle in my hand, my message in a bottle. I was ready. It was time to let go. I stepped into the cool water and let it soak the ends of my jeans. I dropped the bottle out of my hand and into the sea. I watched the bottle float away taking my past and my heartache with it; slowly becoming smaller and smaller until I could see nothing but the grand, blue sea. I smiled out at the ocean; how big, how blue, how beautiful it was.