Broken Strings

Who was playing that day? And why can't Eleanor forget the tune?


1. Motif

The sun was blindingly bright on the day of the accident. Eleanor Bryce was riding to school on her cherry red bicycle, her long strawberry blonde hair flowing behind her in one long plait. “Excuse me!” she called out to the mother and child who were crossing the road a few metres in front of her, the mother smiled and waved, ushering her children to the pavement and watching Eleanor cycle past in her dark blue pinafore. “Thank you!” she called out again as she whizzed past them and carried on her journey over the log bridge and out of the village.

“Hi Ellie” George shouted to her as she cycled straight past him, she slammed on her brakes and skidded round to face him. “Hiya George!” she called back as he ran up to her bike and hopped on the back. George was Eleanor’s best friend and had been for as long as she could remember. He had darkly tanned skin and jet black hair which contrasted brilliantly with her paper pale skin and dark blue eyes. “You feeling strong?” he grinned, ruffling her hair and ringing the bell on her bicycle. Eleanor smirked and nodded, facing forward again and pressing down on the pedals with all of her force.

Two minutes later and George tapped on Eleanor’s shoulder; “Shall I pedal?” he grinned, getting off of the stationary bike and allowing his friend to attend her usual position at the back of the bike as he took control and began to pedal the rest of the way to school.

As the scenery around them changed from village to forest to town, the pair arrived at the gates of their school. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have arrived at our destination; Woodward Academy. Please take care exiting the vehicle and do not leave any baggage behind.” George announced in a voice that made Eleanor snort with laughter before pushing him off and locking her bike up by the school gates.

As the lock clicked shut, the school bell rang. “Hurry up Ellie!” George called as he swung his bag over his shoulder and sprinted into the building; “I’m coming!” she hollered back, picking up her backpack and feeling one of the straps break from the weight of her books. She groaned and hurried after the other students as fast as she could. The last thing she wanted was to be late today of all days.

Luckily for Eleanor however, she made it into her seat just before the teacher opened her laptop to take the morning register. She raised her hand to indicate her presence before gathering at the window with the rest of the class to watch the black car pull up by the gates.

The first of the talent scouts was arriving. 

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