[ WP ] A 101-year old bottle washed up on a beach with a letter inside . It 's for you .

[ NSFW ] 
 
 The water rises a little higher up the cliff each day. The sand on the other side of the island has already grown muddy and wet. I can still go spearfishing, but wood that could suffice for fire is growing thin. The glass bottle of wine beside me holds fresh water, but the lip of it have grown thin from repeated use. I'm sure it'll crack against my dry lips on day. 
 
 I fan the flames on what little fire is left from last night, and hold my palms up to the flame. 
 
 I remember the softness of her skin as I took her, the warmth of her body rising through her cold and prickled skin. I waved my hands in the air, trying to recreate the sensations of that night... the way her thighs rose to the touch of my fingertips, the glimmer of the stars reflected in the black of her eyes. Her breath rose in silver spindles against the cold, dark sky, and I followed it to meet her lips. 
 
 `` It's a bit chilly,'' she giggled nervously. `` Would n't you rather go inside?'' 
 
 `` Are you nervous someone might see us?'' I asked, reaching my hand behind her neck, and pulling her to my lips before she could answer. I could feel the wetness that matted her hair, the moistness on her back from the sea spray that had lined the deck we were lying on. I grabbed the bottle of wine beside us and took a swig before offering it to her as well. 
 
 It was a *vintage*. *100-years old, * it claimed in thin, swooping letters etched on the side of the bottle. It tasted like a two-buck chuck, nonetheless. Her father produced millions of these every year, under several labels, and with a few dollars here and there, the finest connoisseurs and critics forfeited the truth of their tongue and gave it the highest praise. 
 
 Footsteps echoed around the bend and she dashed to her feet, pushing me off of her. `` It's one of the guards. They realized we're not in our rooms! I told you we should go back inside!'' 
 
 `` Your father would n't have let me visit you in your room!'' 
 
 She dashed to hide behind a dark corner of the ship and I chased after her, panting from the excitement. `` Idiot! We almost got caught!'' she pushed on my chest. `` My father would have killed us if he found out!'' 
 
 `` Your father intends to kill me anyways,'' I said. 
 
 `` Yeah, but not me!'' She smiled, devilishly, as she said it. 
 
 I pressed myself against her. The footsteps were just around the corner, growing closer, and somehow the fear that should have been at play instead only made me more bold, more excited. I reached around her and held her against my body. `` We're getting married as soon as the boat lands, anyways. What's the difference?'' 
 
 She was about to yelp, but caught the sound in her throat. Glaring at me, she whispered, as angrily as she could muster `` Do n't you dare! You can wait, you dog!'' She smiled then and gave me a gentle kiss on my neck. 
 
 Then the fear washed over her as she pushed me away and pointed to the spot we were just lying at. `` Our wine, you nitwit! You left it out there'' 
 
 `` Crap!'' I yelled, peaking around the corner to see if I could dive for it. 
 
 The footsteps turned the corner and I could see the sailor's flashlight. He stopped at the back of the ship and placed the flashlight on the ground, stepping on it with his foot to keep it from rolling off with the bucking of the waves. Turning to face the starboard side of the ship, he unzipped his pants and began to relieve himself from the side of the railing. 
 
 I eased my way towards the bottle, as quiet but quick as I could manage. Just as I took my last step to reach down for it, the boat shook with a thunderous crash. I could hear steel bending, creaking from the front of the ship. 
 
 The horn of the ship blew three times. A rogue wave. Shit. 
 
 I turned and made eye contact with the guard, who, was still mid-whiz but was now gripping onto the railing for his life. The ship bucked like a bull, throwing itself into the sky, and I was thrown from the back, right between the railings and into the water. 
 
 I struggled to stay afloat, and between the battering of the waves, I could hear my fiance' screaming, and the horn of the boat growing further and further away. 
 
 I had woken up on this pitifully small island, the bottle of wine I `` rescued'' just inches from myself, half-filled with sand-muddled seawater. 
 
 I had waited two months on that ship, counting down for the moment it would land and we could claim each other as husband and wife. I still remember the date of our proposed wedding. It's been a year now since that date passed. The animalistic scratchings on the rocks around me remind me so every day. 
 
 I shake off my thoughts and walk to the other end of the island, spear in my hand. I sing the same song to myself every time I go to hunt, either to keep my sanity or to provoke it's loss, I'm not sure. But between the words, I hear a faint clinking from the rocks nearby. 
 
 A little sparkle of emerald shines against the grey stones and I walk over to investigate the noise. 
 
 A bottle. The engraving on the side reads *100-years old*, but I can tell from the familiarity of the letters, that *101* would be more accurate, by now, at least. 
 
 Inside is a thin letter, dried with age, and even before prying it open I can tell what's written inside. 
 
 `` You're late for our wedding. Hurry back home to me, or my father will kill you.''
