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We all dream of finding treasure, don’t we?
Every day, people walk into dark forests with their metal detectors, explore unknown, wild places, and venture to the farthest corners of the Earth, all in the hopes of finding or experiencing something valuable. Sometimes, you have to search far to find riches.
Other times, these riches land at your feet–literally. This story is about unexpected treasure…and what it means to find something (and someone) precious that was lost.
If you were to look for Samantha Willis in the early morning, you certainly wouldn’t find her nestled at home. The tall, blonde, willowy artist almost always spent her mornings looking for seashells scattered on Pirates Cove Beach in Avila, California.
Though her afternoons were spent painting, sculpting, and running her own store, her mornings were all about seeing what nature-made trinkets she could collect. She found sea urchins, conch shells, and pieces of coral and sea glass. Then, one day, she found something else too.
Something shocking.
There was nothing quite like an early summer morning in Avila.
Samantha loved the way the waves sounded and the salt air smelled, and she always brought a bag with her to collect shells and whatever else she could find and use in her art.
SoCal was the place to be if you loved the beach, and Pirates Cove was one of the few hidden gems that hadn’t been swamped by tourists.
The Pacific Ocean could be fickle at times, as it was prone to storms, even though people often had an idea of SoCal as a place where foul weather never struck. The Pacific you got depended on the day it was.
You could experience calm, turquoise waters that were the temperature of bathwater and looked as though the surface was lined with gemstones.
Or, you could get a storm so fierce, you thought the world was ending.
Of course, Avila had always had its local rumors, people claiming to see things that seemed too unreal to believe, but wasn’t that the case with any small town? The myths ranged from amusing to absurd, with everything in between.
In one instance, a yacht captain claimed to have been blown off course after he paid attention to eerie singing coming from shore. In another, a beachgoer thought they saw a tentacled, scaly creature pop up out of the water before ducking back down, as though scared it had been seen.
Just rumors.
As a little girl, Samantha was always entranced by the stories surrounding the beach and Pirates Cove. She and her siblings would dress up as pirates, mermaids, and other, similar characters every Halloween.
Though Sam wasn’t one for myths or fantasy these days, she still held a great appreciation for growing up near the water.
It taught her more than most about the true power of the ocean and what it held in its depths.
Pirates Cove was part of Avila Beach, and it was known as one of the most beautiful “hidden gems” in the SoCal region. Surrounding the beach were all the trappings of a local beach town—beautiful homes, cute stores, quaint coffee shops, and more.
Pirates Cove was Samantha’s home, and it was truly a calm, quiet place to live. Not much happened there…and she liked it that way.
Until one beautiful, cloudless morning in June.
What a sunny day, Samantha thought to herself as she parked her car and walked to the entrance of the Cove. The beach wasn’t too crowded, and she stopped, eyes closed, to listen to the way the waves rumbled against the still air.
Samantha always felt as though Pirates Cove was more than just a beach. Some early mornings, when the fog was thick, she swore she felt something mystical in the air, something poking through the thin veil of reality.
Perhaps, centuries ago, that pierced veil was what first lured pirates into the Cove.
History depended on who you asked when it came to the Cove. Historians had plenty of explanations as to how the Cove got its name, with the most common having to do with Prohibition.
According to legend, liquor was smuggled into the secluded beach on ships that were heading to Port San Luis Harbor.
In addition to that tale, rumors swirled that there was treasure buried by one Sir Francis Drake, centuries ago, though those historical guesses had yet to be confirmed.
Debating the history was just about as fun as the history itself. Sam laughed at the tales she heard, though she sometimes wondered what distant explorers in the past had seen of Pirates Cove, if they’d seen it at all.
What had waited for them in the water?
Historical records were fickle, though shipwrecks had been found in the area before. Sailing could be dangerous off the coast…for more reasons than one, if eccentric locals were to be believed.
Pieces of creamy white and orange shells lined Pirates Cove that morning, as did quite a few chunks of blue-green sea glass, the latter of which Samantha was quick to scoop up and place in her bag.
She looked out at the sand, loving the way the sun bounced off the shells, glimmering and glittering.
Glittering very intensely in one spot, it seemed. Samantha moved towards the blinding gleam, curious about what was causing it.
These kids leaving their wrappers, Samantha huffed as she walked towards the flash of silvery light. She was sure it was trash of some sort—SoCal’s college kids were out of school, and everyone knew what they got up to.
Though Avila was beautiful, it wasn’t crime-free. It had its share of partying, along with recent shock waves from gang violence down in parts of San Luis Obispo.
In Southern California, you still had to keep a sharp eye out, no matter how peaceful your surroundings.
When Sam neared the object, she gasped. She felt foolish for assuming it was a piece of trash, as it was far from it. The object was a glittering, diamond-encrusted, silver-banded ring worth at least $10,000, if not more.
The diamonds sparkled in the sunlight, and Sam could tell from the ring’s size that it once belonged to a woman.
But whom?
Samantha quickly picked the ring up, looking around at the white-and-tan mansions surrounding Pirates Cove. Anyone could’ve dropped this ring…but who would be so careless with such a priceless item?
It was no wonder Sam was able to see it so easily on the beach—the ring was at least a few carats.
For a second, Sam felt elated at her find…but she quickly realized she couldn’t keep it.
Obviously, someone had misplaced this valuable item. When Samantha looked closely at the band, she saw the initials “R + B.” This ring had an owner, and Sam wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t at least try to return it.
The pawn shop, the jeweler, or the police station—those were her three options.
She chose the second, figuring that if the ring belonged to a local, it was likely made by one, too.
