The Anonymous Writer by Ghaya Abdulla Altamimi

She spends most of her time there, in the treehouse. The one that she begged her dad for years to build when she was younger. Away from all the noise and people. Away from all the distractions and stresses .Anne always preferred to sit alone, listening to the waves and drawing different sketches in her sketchbook. Amy, her best friend, was the only exception to her rule of sitting alone; they spent almost all of their time together without saying anything; simply being in each other's company was enough. On a late summer night, while she was reading a book, she heard the waves' sounds getting louder, and a thunder sound cracked in the sky.

She hurried down the ladder to the main door of her house, covering her hair with a jacket she found in her treehouse. Days later, when Amy came over, they went to the beach to admire the sunset. Just like they always do. Anne placed a towel, some books, and a cup of coffee on the sand. They laid down and watched the sky. After a few minutes, Anne stood up and walked to the shore, letting the water slide under her feet. She found something in the water, something she had always read about in books but never experienced. A folded piece of paper was placed in a jar; she watched the jar as it was carried to her by the waves. She couldn’t believe it; she went running to tell her friend about what she found. They sat down and open edit, trying to read what was inside. Her eyes went wider and wider as she read the words. "What exactly is it?" Amy asked.

"Um... um," Anne was still shocked. Amy, I think this is written for me, specifically for me. My name is written on it! " "Okay, but what does it say?" Amy asked again. It just says, "first thought, best thought" and my name, nothing else. " "I wonder what that means," Amy answered. Hours later, when Amy left, Anne couldn’t help but think about what the letter meant and who sent it. The quote reminded her of something she once heard in a movie, but that’s it. There is no clue who the sender might be. And that made her think that maybe she had finally found something interesting to do, an adventure that she was meant to go on.

She wanted to find the sender and find out what the quote meant. With the help of her best friend, Amy. They started to go to the beach on a daily basis, hoping for another letter, or any indication of a person leaving the letter there, but nothing. They found nothing. On a normal Sunday, while Anne was eating dinner with her family, her father asked her, "Did you find any interesting books lately, or a new hobby perhaps?" She flipped the words in her mind for a while, and finally decided to tell him about the letter and the anonymous writer. And her failed attempts to figure out who it is.

He smiled, remembering something from his past.

"Maybe you should spend a night in your treehouse and watch who goes by the beach at night leaving those letters "her father suggested.

As simple as the idea was, she never thought of it. So that day, after everyone fell asleep, she went to the treehouse. She sat there for hours looking at the beach through her small window.

That's when she noticed someone walking by, someone who looked exactly like her, except taller, older, and with a face that lacked life. Another jar on the beach. She froze, realizing that knowing the sender’s face just made it more complicated.

When the sun came out, she went running for the jar. Opening and unfolding the paper impatiently, she finally read, "I know you are wondering who I am. I just came here to warn you, little Anne. Warn you about your future choices."

And that was the moment Anne knew who the writer was.