A Challenge to Tradition -- Destiny Islands [Closed]
The mayor's daughter was missing, carried away inside on of the ships that Elders wished did not exist.
Four years before, when two of the island's sons disappeared, it was easy to excuse. Anyone that knew the boys could see the way that they plotted to leave and that night there had been a severe storm on the island they had claimed as their own. That night it would have been easy to believe they had died. If not, they were two strong young boys; they could take care of themselves.
But the mayor's daughter? The little girl they remembered from the night of the meteor shower? That pretty, innocent, red-haired girl? Why would she leave as well? And who would dare steal her away from the peaceful place that had become her home?
The refugees who had been steadily coming into the islands now met suspicious glares and almost open hostility. The Elders were less and less open to the idea of outsiders stepping foot on their sands. The fear that they could bring the very things that could leave such injuries lining their bodies grew with each new face.
Inside of the home of the islanders fathers and mothers kept a strong eye on their daughters. If the mayor's daughter could leave with only a note left behind, then so could the other girls of the island.
The culture of the place slowly began to close in, almost like a hurt child curled up in the fetal position, and with that motion the lives of those who challenged tradition and those who looked to the stars (instead of the out into the ocean) were slowly suffocated. The passion of the younger generation, spurred by the disappearance of their peers and the arrival of strangers became labeled as a danger to the society in which they live.
The challenge is clear: conform or leave. It's only a matter of time before more of them choose the latter.
Four years before, when two of the island's sons disappeared, it was easy to excuse. Anyone that knew the boys could see the way that they plotted to leave and that night there had been a severe storm on the island they had claimed as their own. That night it would have been easy to believe they had died. If not, they were two strong young boys; they could take care of themselves.
But the mayor's daughter? The little girl they remembered from the night of the meteor shower? That pretty, innocent, red-haired girl? Why would she leave as well? And who would dare steal her away from the peaceful place that had become her home?
The refugees who had been steadily coming into the islands now met suspicious glares and almost open hostility. The Elders were less and less open to the idea of outsiders stepping foot on their sands. The fear that they could bring the very things that could leave such injuries lining their bodies grew with each new face.
Inside of the home of the islanders fathers and mothers kept a strong eye on their daughters. If the mayor's daughter could leave with only a note left behind, then so could the other girls of the island.
The culture of the place slowly began to close in, almost like a hurt child curled up in the fetal position, and with that motion the lives of those who challenged tradition and those who looked to the stars (instead of the out into the ocean) were slowly suffocated. The passion of the younger generation, spurred by the disappearance of their peers and the arrival of strangers became labeled as a danger to the society in which they live.
The challenge is clear: conform or leave. It's only a matter of time before more of them choose the latter.