The Breaking Point

Sunday, 12/08/2250 – By Rebecca Green.

 

Like a flowing river, notes spilled from the hairs of her bow, each one fashioned by the tingle of strings that stretched the length of her fingerboard. Even as she played, the swan maiden would reach up and tighten or loosen the pegs that millimeter she could tell was off. Her song briefly halting for each change, but every few beats she did it again.

Aelita had always loved the violin. She poured her heart and soul into the instrument more often than not. She had been learning since she was three, piano a bit earlier. Of course simple stuff then, but quickly Aelita had grown used to playing proper pieces by the time she was seven, and it only had flourished from there. She’d been in the advanced symphony from the moment she became a third year, and first seat violin since fifth.

The wooden instrument meant everything to her and she was good at it, one of the best. She had to be. Her fingers were steady, her arm careful to contain the piece of art in her grasp. Dropping it would have to be her worst nightmare, Aelita couldn’t imagine losing it, not anymore. Not when her father had been the one to pick it out with her when she turned sixteen and had outgrown her last.

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7th Year Literature

Tues. 11/26/2250 – By Rebecca Green.

Already the class had dissolved into chaos, but Hermes Gryph could expect little more from the seventh year literature class. His lessons weren’t too difficult, they were the same year to year and the students had known about this particular project for awhile. It was his most infamous, as it required students to pick a scene written by an assigned author or director, and recreate it while providing an essay on its importance and literary elements. Authors weren’t necessarily picked for being good, or particularly difficult, but rather on their influence and audience. Some students loved it, some went overboard just for the hell of it, and some hated every second.

Today, he wasn’t quite sure which was which.

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