Excerpts from
The Child Prodigy
By Tea Bendix
A whisper suddenly swept through the entire concert
hall. An enormous ship appeared in the
half-darkness. It sailed out over the
audience’s heads, close by the balcony where we were sitting.
We could peer down on the sails, which were
patched together with coarse stitches and smelled quite rancid.
Although they had once been red, they were
now almost black. At the ship’s head
three hoisted staysails flapped in the breeze, and behind them stood a smaller
triangular sail, stretched out over the largest sail.
Light fell in large patterns on the deck. Seven sailors, all dressed alike, stood far
below us and worked at hauling in the sails.
This is going to be great! shouted Gustav while the water
crashed in over him.
Just hold on tight, the
conductor yelled back. Be
careful--we’re just about to try it again!
The ship turned and, once again, crossed close to the stage.
Are you coming, he
called to the other musicians.
Yes, we are!
Jump! shouted Gustav.
Portside, everyone!
shoved the bassoons.
Up on the mast,
violins!
They all quickly took their places, and the ship
turned majestically around as bright foam cascaded south along its keel.
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