Rummage Sale Stories

Forever Your Fool

Message in a Bottle Romance Smackdown Challenge
753 words, including the afterword

My dearest Justine,

It is so cold. I knew it would be, but I was not prepared for this. I fear I have frostbite. My toes, how they ache. Wet socks will be the death of me.

I can see you laughing at these words, your bright blue eyes sparkle with bitter amusement. I am forever your fool.

“You should have listened,” I can hear you mutter under your breath. You know me so well.

I worked through the summer in the cracking, thawing permafrost. Such a glorious summer it was. Endless were the clues I found, evidence that pointed me ever onward. Clues yes, evidence yes, but it was proof that I needed.

So when the summer came to a close, I stayed. What are days on a calendar but marks on paper? The weather was fine, warm and promising. I could not return a failure, empty handed with only more tall tales.

I was so close. They sent me one last shipment of supplies, enough to get by for another month or so. Then the storm came. Unexpected and savage, driving all lingering warmth away.

Before the weather had betrayed me, before the winter had claimed back its northern land, I found it. My proof, precious proof. I found coins. Not just one piddly Norwegian silver penny, but five, beautiful, glistening, perfect coins. There is no doubt of their origin.

This will put those naysayers to rest in regards to the Maine Penny. There is no explaining this away, no way to discount men of science for applying oral traditions to history. This is only the beginning. There is more, I know it. I will wait out this storm. I will return home and show you, show them all.

I know you did not believe in me. I know you thought I was crazy. They all did. But now, now I have proof. I have evidence, such a shame that it may be buried with me in this wretched storm.

Do you miss me, dear Justine?

I can tell you that I miss you, I miss you greatly. From your fair and freckled cheeks to your funny roman toes. I can see your flush when you read these words, knowing your secret is out. You would flinch if I were to touch those burning cheeks with my stiff, dirty fingers. How I crave that soft, warm flesh. It would thaw me in a minute.

It is so damned cold. There is nothing to burn but scruffy tufts of grass. My oil is running dangerously low. If the storm does not let up soon, the boatmen will not come. I will either starve or freeze. Only time will tell.

Until then, I will wait with my treasures. They are not good company. They do not fill the space between the howling cries of the wind. It is the memory of you that keeps me sane.

I know you likely think I deserve such a wretched fate. What do discoveries matter, what does digging up relics provide to the living? Knowledge does not feed a family, nor will it keep you warm. You smirk at this, I know.

“Finally,” your sweet lips say. “Finally you understand. Shame you learned too late.”

I can see you now, needle in hand, curled up in your chair. Though the tips of those fine, long fingers are well calloused, I can see the prick of blood. You slip it in your mouth before a single drop can stain your precious work. I cannot help but stare as your soft, full lips wrap 'round that wounded finger tip.

Do you feel my eyes upon you now as you work there by the hearth? I dream of your hands upon me, and I wonder if you send such sweet fantasies. In this bitter cold, your hands they burn with life and hope. But I digress.

If my body fails to reach the shores of home, I pray this letter will. You can speak of me with pride, for I have found what they said I could not. I have finally cleared my name.

Forever your fool,

Alexander Halmar Burke

  

In the Arctic, between Canada's mainland and Greenland is Baffin Island where it is believed the Norse landed before heading southward to Newfoundland and beyond. Within its coves and protected inlets are other, smaller islands. It is on one such island that evidence of a long forgotten excavation site was found. Amongst the surviving items was this letter.