Priceless Treasure

         Jack Roberts, the navigator of the English privateer, The Sea Lord, tried desperately to wrench open the porthole in the crew’s quarters.  The bloody wound in his side screamed in pain every time he moved, but his mission was too important to be stopped by a simple window.  With a groan, he pulled with all his might, and it screeched open.  Jack let go, bending over to pick up a small fluid-filled bottle.

          “They'll not be getting it!” He wheezed.  “Don' matter if I have to figh' to the death; no filthy pirate'll be layin' a single greedy paw on it as long as life still runs through me body!”

         The sounds of battle came through the open window.  With a determined grunt, the navigator heaved the bottle out over the water.  It sailed through the air in a graceful arc, landing softly in the water with a small pop.  The glass sparkled briefly in the sunlight as it floated farther away, passing unnoticed by the enemy ship.  Jack gave a tired but satisfied smile; the bottle and everything it contained would be safe.  He leaned against the wall and sighed.  A few minutes later, when the pirates burst into the room, all they found was a dead body, the treasure nowhere in sight.

~

         A mile away from the war between the pirates and the English, the bright green bottle bobbed peacefully between the waves.  The sun shone gently in the beautiful sapphire sky, and a slight ocean breeze played with the clouds.  Inside the bottle, a brilliant violet substance slid back and forth, perfectly aligned with the water’s rocking motion.  Days passed, then weeks, and eventually countless years, yet the bottle floated serenely on.

~

         Eighty-year-old Lucille Mandon rocked back and forth in her rocking chair, watching her six-year-old granddaughter, Cally, as she played on the beach.  Lucille smiled. Oh how she loved that sweet child!  She only wished that Cally’s parents could see what a wonderful little lady she was turning into.  They had been killed two years ago in a tragic hit and run accident.  Four-year-old Cally had had to move in with Lucille, whose arthritis was so bad, she could barely walk anymore.  Lucille sighed softly.  Why, if it wasn’t for their kind neighbors, they would have surely starved to death by now, as Lucille was no longer strong enough to make the weekly trip to the market.  And those same God-sent neighbors were moving away tomorrow morning, bound for New York City.  Lucille didn’t know how she and her granddaughter would survive without them.  All she could do was wait and pray for a solution.

         Down on the beach, Cally was completely unaware of her grandmother’s thoughts.  She ran towards the house, her expression one of excitement.

         “Grandma! Grandma! Look what I found!” she called in delight, holding up a glistening emerald bottle with a red cap.  There was something purple sliding around inside it.

         “I’m going to try to open it!” Cally said, her blond curls bouncing and her blue eyes gleaming.

         “Try hitting the cap with something,” advised Lucille.  “It might help loosen it up.”
 
         For the next half an hour, Cally tried everything she could think of to open the obstinate bottle, but the container remained firmly shut.  As the sun sank lower over the horizon, Lucille hauled herself out of her chair and made her way inside.

         “Come along, darling,” she called.  “It’s time for bed!”  Her granddaughter reluctantly dragged herself into the kitchen, setting the mysterious bottle on a shelf for tomorrow. 

         “You go get ready; I’ll be up in a second,” she said, and Cally scrambled up the stairs.  Lucille gently set her cup of tea down on the counter, and started up to tuck in Cally.

         As soon as everyone was out of sight, the black whiskered face of the family cat, Midnight, peeked around the corner.  He jumped onto the counter, and then onto the shelves, accidentally tipping over the bottle Cally had found.  The bottle teetered and fell, landing with a crash on its side.  With a startled meow, Midnight fled from the room.

         The impact loosened the bottle cap slightly, just enough for a drop of the lavender liquid to escape.  It fell, glittering like a violet star, and landed with a splat in the middle of Lucille’s cup of hot tea.

         Fifteen minutes later, the old lady carefully shuffled back downstairs.  She lowered herself down into a chair with a sigh, picking up her teacup.

         “Now isn’t this nice,” Lucille murmured sleepily to herself.  She sipped slowly and closed her eyes in bliss.  “Mmm,” she said.  The tea tasted especially delicious tonight.  It had a strange, though not unpleasant, spicy kind of flavor and Lucille had never had anything like it.  “The neighbors must have bought a different brand of tea for me this time,” she thought as she finished up her drink.  “I must remember to ask them what it is called.”  Barely able to stay awake, she set her cup in the sink and headed off to bed.

         The next morning, Lucille woke up smiling.  What a marvelous night’s sleep she had had!  She felt fully refreshed and more energized than she’d been in years.  Lucille sat up slowly and glanced idly in the mirror by her dresser.  A bloodcurdling shriek burst from her throat, and the stranger in the mirror responded, her mouth opening in an identical scream.

         “My face! What happened to my face?!” Lucille cried in shock and fear, staring at the reflection in front of her.  Staring back at her was a thirty-year-old lady with curly auburn hair that surrounded her face like a halo.  She tentatively reached up a hand to her cheek.  The skin was smooth and soft, not a wrinkle to be found.  Lucille flexed her fingers and saw that they stood out straight and strong; once again able to bend and uncurl with ease.  She had been completely changed.  The person in the mirror was the person she had been fifty years ago.

         As Lucille sank back weakly against her pillows, the door burst open with a bang and Cally rushed through.

         “Grandma! What’s wro-” Cally’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the stranger in front of her.

         “Who are you? Where’s Grandma?” she asked suspiciously.

         “I am Grandma, honey,” Lucille said.  Cally walked over and sat down next to the woman on the bed, examining her face. 

         “You have the same eyes,” Cally admitted, “but you’re younger, like the mothers at school.”

         “Yes,” Lucille said, “I know.  I’m not sure what caused it though, or if it will last.  Tomorrow I may wake up and I’ll be old again.” 

         Privately, Lucille was rejoicing.  For some strange reason, God had decided to restore her youth, and she wasn’t going to waste the gift.  Yes, it was wildly unbelievably strange, and yes, it could disappear tomorrow, but it was also a solution to her problem.  She could already tell that her arthritis was gone, and that she was strong enough to make as many trips to the grocery store as she wanted to.  She could take care of Cally now!  Her time of worry was over.

         “Come on, sweetie,” Lucille said, grabbing Cally’s hand, “Let’s go get breakfast.  We can eat at that diner in town, just as a special treat!”

         “Really?” Cally asked, wide-eyed. Lucille nodded, and they walked out the door, smiling and laughing.

         Back inside the house, on a shelf in the kitchen, was the sea green bottle Cally had found.  Inside were the few precious drops of the violet liquid taken from the Fountain of Youth.  The crew of the Sea Lord had traded great riches for that same treasure, but no one had survived to tell the tale.

         As for Lucille and Cally, they never realized that it was the liquid in the bottle that caused the astounding transformation.  Years later, when Lucille was a grandmother again, in more ways than one, and Cally was a mother, they sat by the fire, and told the children of the great gift that was given to them, way before they were even born, when their mother was just a little girl…

Word Count: 1347