Beech

The papers were found in three bottles that had been sealed with cheap grey wax. This three bottles had been tide together with strong, which flapped loosely at either end.

Oliva nearly hadn’t walked this far down the beech. The clouds were turning an ominous black and that had kept Oliva walking. She had never seen heavy rain hit the sea and hadn’t minded the idea of getting wet. Even after she had decided to walk this far down the beach she easily could have missed the bottles. They were the same dirty grey as the sand around them and half hided by sea weed. But she’d been throwing stones along a head of her as she walked, turning them three or four steps before trying to skim the stone alone the sand. One of her stones had clipped the waxed ridges at the top of the bottle, making a strange sound as it struck. Oliva had followed the sound and sat cross legged before the sea weed. She was oddly comfortable considering she was sat on and un even and sadly beach. The ends of her black jogging bottoms rolled up slightly, the pale skin of her ankle coming into contact with the cold water. It was the work of a moment to remove the sea weed. It was that odd type with little pustules you could pop, which she did as she took in the sight before her. She had to untangle the bottles without breaking, and this took all of her consentration for a while.

Opening them required her to scratch the wax away with her key. The cork crumbled. Oliva stared down the first bottles, and flinched at the smell. If her nose was any guide this bottle had held both bad wine and bad whiskey in the recent past. She held clamped her hand over her nose and mouth for protection and had another look. The bottle was filled with paper. It was white plain paper, grabbed from a printer and stuffed so tight that at first it had been impossible to tell what it was paper. It was then that it started to rain, and Oliva automatically swung all the bottles into her green millers camping bag and stood up. She was, for a moment, truest happy. The rain was so heavy, with large blobs smashing into the sea, momentarily a indent seemed to appear in the water and then a thin miasma of water seemed to rebound back into the air. The water hit Oliva as well. One high drop smashed into the centre of her head, running through her thin blonde hair and down her forehead, breaking on her glasses