“So I took the violin onto the balcony. I still felt the jaws of this nightmare locked around me, the tension twisting in my chest, my head, my calves, my fingers.
That was how much the violin was worth. But the figure was hard to understand. Hard to feel. I let the violin sway, just a little, and closed my eyes. Murder. The word came to my mind and I dismissed it. That was ridiculous. The violin wasn’t a baby or an animal.
It wasn’t living.”
Written by Jessica Martinez
The glimmer off of the artificial coconut tree leaves left strange shadows on the cold metal walls that were painted to look as if it were the sky. Mara, A fourteen year old girl crouched behind an huge, overly vibrant leaf, which obscured her face just enough so that her bright blue eyes couldn’t be seen from a distance. She was listening to what was now an opera of the same half-real animal noises played in rapid succession. She had even memorized the order: Cricket chirp, cricket chirp, monkey call, cricket chirp(10x) toucan screech, etc.
Her pleasantly naive family was still in the “village” they’d been brought into once their ship apparently ran aground. Now, for the first three years of being here, it was all common and sound, sane knowledge that no one need question. But then, around her thirteenth birthday, she noticed something off. Something strange. And that was the sun. If you looked up directly at it, (which I don’t recommend) normally it would make its journey from east to west, which is all well and good. But here, it went from west to east. This alarmed Mara once she noticed, but since her parents were so accustomed to life in this metal box, they just thought that Mara’s compass was off.”