It is a beautiful morning here with cool breezes drifting in through the open windows. The sky is a pale blue with some rather wispy clouds scattered here and there. Except for the traffic of Broadway, things are still rather quiet.
I started my first online writing class last evening. I signed up to take Mrs. Morecraft's seven week course. I enjoyed it so far. :) This week has been rather crazy, so I didn't get a lot written, but I do have something to post.
Thanks Abigail and Hank for leaving me comments. I see you are both wondering about that Indian. Well, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what he is doing because he hasn't told me yet.:) I suppose you'll just have to wait until I find out. I am enjoying writing this story even if I don't know all that is going to happen. I know somethings, but others, like the last few parts, just came up.
This story, is one that Lauren gave me the instructions for. I haven't gotten to ask her if she liked it yet. Maybe I can on Sunday. I forgot to take a picture of the picture, but will try to get that up later. So, if you read this and there is a picture, I got it up, if not, well, . . .:)
World Count: 2500
Instructions: Mystery in 3rd person
One Day Mystery
Terrence Filmore Prescot V, known to all his friends as Ren, frowned in thought as he gazed out over the blue grey waters of Green Bay. To his right he could see the dark shoreline of one of the few small islands, and, if he stared hard enough, he could just make out the faint haze that marked either Chambers Island or the state of Michigan. He never had figured out which it was.
“Humph,” he snorted shrugging his shoulders under his heavy jacket. Turning his back to the chilly autumn wind off the bay, he again searched the rocks with his eyes. “It has to be here somewhere. There’s the twin rocks,” he muttered half aloud. “And over there is pancake rock. I know he put it here. He said he would.” He ended with another snort and shoved his hands deeply into his pockets.
The crunching of dry leaves and snapping of twigs along with heavy breathing caused Ren to look up towards the path which led back to the Prescot’s camping site at Peninsula State Park in Wisconsin. His sister, Leann, came panting up, out of breath.
“Did . . . you . . . get . . . it?” she gasped.
Ren shook his head. “I’ve looked everywhere. It just isn’t here.”
Leann sucked in a lung full of the crisp, chilly air. “But Uncle Fremont said it was,” she protested.
“I know but--” Ren shrugged. “I think someone else must have found it.”
“How could they? And who? No one comes up here in the fall, and it was here less than two weeks ago.” Leann’s twelve-year-old logic made perfect sense to her year older brother. Yet, that didn’t explain the fact that the bottle with a special note in it was missing.
“Well, I can’t find it,” Ren stated.
Before more could be said, a voice called them back to breakfast, and they both answered eagerly.
During a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast cooked over the fire along with cups of hot chocolate, Ren told about his fruitless search.
“Dad, do you have any ideas of what might have happened to it?”
Mr. Prescot looked thoughtful. Every year since the children were small, his brother had visited the same park a week of two before the Prescot family took their vacation. During his visit, he would leave a note for the children with a map which would lead to a treasure of some sort. The day before the family would leave, a postcard would be handed to them telling where to look for the note. Each year it was in a different place, and each year the map led to a different treasure.
Looking across the fire, Dad asked, “What does the message say again?”
Ren pulled the postcard, now with heavy creases in it, from his pocket and read:
“Between the twin and pancake rocks
A bottle there you’ll see
And bring along some extra socks
Before you set to sea.”
A chuckle came from Mrs. Prescot who often found these rhymes amusing. “I didn’t know we were going to sea,” she smiled.
“We can’t if we don’t find the note, Mom,” Leann sighed.
“Let’s say we all head down and take another look,” Dad suggested. “You coming too, Honey?” he questioned.
“I’d love to, but--” and Mom looked at the dishes.
“Okay,” Dad laughed. “Come on kids, let’s help before we take off for the morning.”
It was nearly thirty minutes later before the Prescot family was back on the shore looking for the missing bottle. By then the sun was well above the horizon and the warmth of its rays helped dispel some of the chill. It soon became evident that the bottle with its note was just not there.
“Some one must have taken it,” wailed Leann.
“Who?” Ren asked. “I think it washed out to sea.”
“If that is the case, it might have washed up somewhere else along the coast. Mom, you and Ren head along that way while Leann and I take a look at the coast farther up here. We’ll meet back at the camp site at 12:00.”
Eagerly the two parties set out. The parents were just as interested in finding the bottle as their children for this was a special part of their vacation which no one wanted to miss.
For nearly an hour Ren and his mother moved down the shoreline. More than once they had to make their way through the foliage of trees and bushes with their autumnal garb of red and orange, yellow and brown which grew some times right to the water’s edge.
Ren was growing discouraged. They had found several bottles, but not the one they wanted. When he spied yet another bottle washed up between two rocks, he paused and looked long at it. It seemed different than the other ones. Scrambling quickly down the rocks, he reached into the cold water and picked it up. There was something inside it! Hurriedly he pulled the cork and tipped it up. A trickle of water ran out onto his hand.
“Mom! There is something in here, but it got wet inside and it seems stuck.”
“Well, bring it along like that. We don’t have time to keep going if we are to get back by noon. Perhaps it will dry enough to get it out on the way back.”
Ren hoped so, and after handing the bottle to his mom, he climbed up the rocks.
Arriving at the campsite, they found Dad building up a fire while Leann got out the hot dogs. On the table sat a bottle.
“Did you find it?” were Ren’s first words to his sister.
Leann shrugged. “We aren’t sure. There seems to be a map in there, but no note. What did you find?”
Ren set their bottle beside the other one. “Don’t know. It was wet inside and the paper seems stuck together.”
“Two bottles with something in them. We’ll have to examine their contents after we eat. Our brains will work better with some food.” Dad grinned at the children as he handed them each a long stick.
They both laughed. Lunch sounded good to them too. The bottles would just have to wait.
Almost an hour later, four brown heads were bent over three pieces of paper spread on the picnic table. Two of them, obviously maps, were badly smeared and wrinkled by water but still fairly legible. The third paper, a note of some kind, had become so saturated that all the ink had run, making it one blurred mess.
“We have two maps, but which is Uncle Fremont’s?” Leann glanced at her brother.
Ren pointed to the one he had found remarking as he did so, “This one probably because it had a note with it.”
“But why was the other map in the other bottle to begin with?” persisted Leann.
Mrs. Prescot tilted her head and began somewhat slowly, “What if, . . .” She glanced at her husband and raised an eyebrow, “we tried to follow . . . both maps.” The children looked up, excitement gleaming in their brown eyes as their mom continued. “They seem to be heading to nearly the same place, . . . over to an island.”
“Oh, can we do it? Can we really! Oh please say we can, Daddy!” The children had jumped up eagerly and now gazed imploringly at Dad.
For a moment he sat frowning then, with a quick smile he answered, “Why not.”
“When can we leave?”
“How are we going to get there?”
“Should we really take extra socks or was Uncle just joking?”
Dad put his hands over his ears and thundered, “I call an emergency planning meeting right here and now. Everyone sit!”
Leann giggled and sat down.
“Now, since we were instructed to take extra socks along, though I haven’t the faintest idea why, we shall follow orders. Second, I know where we can get a boat to rent, but while I’m doing that, you two,” here he looked at Ren and Leann, “will have to figure out which island it is and where we are to go on it. Mom, think you could pack us all a supper to take along in case it takes us longer than we think, and anything else we might need besides our socks?”
Mom laughed and nodded. The children already had their heads back over the maps.
Come back next week for the conclusion.