How Fiction finds Me

What would you do if you found a note in a bottle?

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“This is not a piece of trash,” I said as I held the bottle up to my face. Squinting I asked Nutmeg, “Is that a photograph in there?”   She wagged her tail.On our weekly beach-walks, I always found something to take home. Of course this one like everything else I collect wasn’t up to Nutmeg’s standards. As if she could read my mind,  she sneezed and ran off to find something with odor to cherish. She could rejoice in a world of freedom because this bottle had all of me. Swimming in a new world of possibilities, I ignored Nutmeg until the muscles in my neck forced me to lift my head.   I could tell she had already found something I’d rather leave at the beach, and decided to wear it.  Glistening, her fur reflected the light in a way that reminded me to get car deodorizer.  Tail curled high she hovered over some prize, digging with her front paws. Accepting Nutmeg’s new fashion and probable perfume, I left her to her obsession and sat down with mine.  For some reason, I wanted to keep the bottle, so I grabbed a twig (as if that was going to work). It did.  With the power of a magic wand, the stick pulled the out the paper.  I dropped the piece of kindling as if it were already on fire.

It all starts with the first note…

 

2 thoughts on “How Fiction finds Me

  1. Amy, I need your help. I’ve finished the ‘blue rose’. More specifically I’ve taken it as far as I can by myself. please send me your email to body-broker@hotmail.com so I can send you a copy of the story. I need somebody to give constructive criticism. I only have a month or so before the story is due. Please help. I’m currently out at Neets Bay so I can’t call.

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