Breaking Violins

no guppy left behind

Tuesday 5:12 pm

The sky threatened rain outside and the wind blew in wildly through the attic window shutters. Army shivered.

“Damn Emmy, it’s cold as hell up here.” Army Mason complained.

“And here I thought heat was supposed to rise the higher up you go.” Emberlynne said absentmindedly, shuffling through several old boxes. Raiding the attic was one of Emberlynne’s favorite pass times. She had already found a fairly new digital camera. There was so much stuff to sift through; old and new. The new things were recently confiscated things or things that had been donated but labeled as potential dangers to the mental children. But if you asked Emberlynne, the only people who were mental here were the staff. And don’t even get her started on that Bryce guy. After quickly shutting the window, Army went back and kneeled next to Emberlynne.

“Ohh, what’s in this one?” Army asked, her short cherry red hair which was cut into the style of a bob framing her face beautifully as she leaned forward to see what was in the box Emberlynne wielded.

“CD’s” Emberlynne said pulling out several different cases.

“Owl City: Ocean Eyes,” Army read aloud.

“Peirce the veil: a flair for the dramatic, Black veil brides, Metallica?”

“Cool!” Army said. “We have a rock fan in our midst.”

Emberlynne sat the CD’s aside and read the side of the box. The box read Elijah Wood 2011.

“Hey Army, where’d you find this box?” Emberlynne asked vaguely remembering the Elijah boy she had met yesterday outside. He hadn’t attended breakfast this morning, she noted.

“Right over there,” Army pointed to the far west corner of the exceptionally large attic. Emberlynne got up and checked the labels on the other boxes. She didn’t know why but Elijah seemed familiar. Maybe if she just snooped a little she could find why she felt like she knew him. The boxes where stacked roughly and had already collected a subliminal amount of dust and cobwebs. They also read Elijah’s name.

“Elijah Wood 2001, Elijah Wood 1996, Elijah Wood 1985, Elijah Wood 1956, Elijah Wood… they go all the way back to 1896.” Emberlynne said in disbelief. Army got up to examine the boxes.

“Maybe it’s other generations like great, great grandfathers or something.” Army shrugged rationally.

“And all of them were crazy enough to end up in here?” Emberlynne asked.

“Oooohh Em, a paradox.” Army waved her arms mockingly to show she did not believe a minute of it. Ignoring her sarcasm skillfully, Emberlynne worked one of the boxes open. Loosing interest, Army wandered off to another side of the attic. In the one dated 1896 she found an old photo album sitting atop old cloths. She opened up and scanned the pages. The first picture was of a boy with short black hair about the age of eight sitting under a woman’s arm who Emberlynne presumed was his mother. He was smiling happily and so was the woman. In old pictures, it was rare to see the subjects smile. It was black and white of course and had a thin film of dust over the page. Under the photo someone had scribbled the words before the fire. The backdrop was composed of an old white house and a plain sky. She flipped the page. The next photo was of a charred piece of slop that was barley identified as a building. Looking closely, Emberlynne found that it was the same house. The field of grass, now littered with discarded pieces of the house was the exact same as the one on the previous page. The next page was the same except a police officer was carrying a badly burned body that was far too large to be the small boy. The dress it wore confirmed that it was the mother from the first photo. On the other side of the photo, another police officer held the boy who seemed to be in the middle of thrashing wildly when the picture was taken.