Edited Chapters by Andicook

Life was a strange thing. I often wondered why I was given it when it seemed to not have any meaning.

They said I was different; that I was already maturing faster than the other children, despite my body still staying so small.

'You're a very pretty girl,' Mrs. Hamel had complimented me the first time I was put under her care. The way her face wrinkled more when she smiled made me feel . . . softer than usual. 'You'll find a home in no time.'

That had been two years ago, and nothing has changed except Mrs. Hamel's hair growing longer and grayer.

But I was still small, and potential adopters avoided me.

Miss Camila, one of the three keepers of the house alongside Mrs. Hamel, always found time to brush through my long brown hair. She liked to tell me good things; like how my skin was smooth and ivory and without blemish, and how my hair color matched my bright brown eyes.

They told me I was "eight years old," and taught me as much as they could, since there wasn't a real school around.

Ms. Betty, I learned, was the most honest out of the three. Even though Mrs. Hamel was over the orphanage, it was Ms. Betty who took on most of the responsibility.

She liked to remind me that I was one of the oldest kids. I had chores, and the only thing I owned was my name.

"Cecelia." It was given to me by them, since where I came from they didn't care to name me. It was given to me here, since I arrived without one.

That was fine. I treasured my name, but I also held other treasures - secret treasures.

I didn't tell anyone, because I didn't want what I found taken away from me.

Despite being the third eldest child, I wasn't that noticeable to everyone. With only three keepers and dozens of children to watch over, I was free to escape for a while and do as I pleased.

So I did.

I learned many things about the world outside the makeshift home where I was housed. The neighborhood we were in was dense and deserted; all of the other buildings were worn and verging on falling apart. The streets were crowded with crabgrass, and the sky always seemed to be grey and cloudy here.

Fortunately, the cold days were over with and a warmth set in - the clothes on my back were old and ripped in some places, so I was glad to not be freezing anymore.

From what I know of the world, cruelty from adults is my norm in this world. The children living together in the small apartment house all came from similar situations.

Abandonment.

Sometimes the babies or toddlers would get adopted out by nice couples, adults who seemed kind. But with their visit, hopes were crushed in the eyes of the less fortunate older kids.

It wasn't fair, but I've learned that that's how things are.

There was a new place I found to explore. It was by the water in what was once a shipyard.

A large ship of some kind lay there, leaning on its side with large holes embedded into the surface. It seemed like it could have been a beautiful ship, able to sail the rough and dark waters. But now it was worn with age and rusting in places where moss wasn't already growing.

The adults talked about a war that ravaged the planet years before me. It turned the once thriving and bright planet into a cold one. It destroyed civilizations and turned them into the sad one where I lived.

Thinking about it caused a heavy weight to fall on my chest and tears to sting my eyes. Why did I feel like this?

I busied myself by exploring the old shipyard. I had been trying to find a way in for a few days now; the ship was massive, so there were lots of openings - but some were either completely destroyed or filled up with water.

I easily climbed up the rocks and broken pieces of the ship to get a better view.

It was strange how it was all so silent, with only the wind as my company. There was no life for miles; it was a result of the war I'm sure.

There was a small bridge formed from rubble, and I held my arms out to help balance myself better as I started the trek over it.

My heart pounded more at the risk, and it excited me. In my otherwise dull and grey world, this sense of adventure was something I looked forward to feeling.

I wanted to know this world more. I wanted to know what it was like before this war.

I just wanted to know more. The small collection of books at Hamel's Orphanage was not enough. They were all make-believe stories for children.

There was a crack as the structure I was walking on broke in front of me, and I sprinted across just as the makeshift bridge gave way. I watched as it toppled over loudly, creating a dust cloud.

I noticed dark crinkly vines shrouding an opening, and I walked over to the gaping hole in the ship. It was just the right size for me to fit inside.

I was a little hesitant to go through, since it was so dark inside; there was no telling what lay inside.

Just go ahead, Cecelia. I encouraged myself. You have nothing to lose.

That's right, that was my motto. I would live life to the fullest.

So I stepped in and wandered blindly through the darkness, thankful I was able to find good shoes to wear a few weeks ago. It was colder inside the ship, and I hugged myself to keep warm.

It smelled like the attic space at the orphanage - the green fuzzy stuff I saw on the walls there - and there were puddles everywhere that I had to avoid.

Finally, I made it to a dully lit area where different-sized bags lay in large piles everywhere, haphazardly thrown about in the crash that landed the great ship here.

I noticed there were small holes on the side of the storage room, which was the only light source in the place.

I eagerly looked inside the suitcases, curious of their contents. I found clothes that were in my size, but most were for adults. There were neat little gadgets and toys, but none of them interested me. I had to keep watch of the time I spent here. Even though I attracted little notice, I wouldn't want them to catch me gone.

I used my own bag to store valuables like money, jewelry, and clothes. I would hide it later in the neighborhood where no one could find it. Over the past year, I have been collecting things that will help me once I'm old enough to be out on my own. I don't plan on being adopted. My hidden stash will give me things to sell when I'm out, so I can survive.

From the books I've studied, I've learned that adults like the shiny coins, so I've been saving anything that looks valuable.

I smiled when I found something new that I've never seen before, an odd plastic device with a screen. A lot of the luggage held belongings from a faraway place, and I wondered what their land was like?

I've seen pictures before of cities, islands and grand places filled with differently colored people. There was a boy in the orphanage who had different skin than the rest of us. We were instructed not to gawk or make fun of him for it. He's a really nice boy; just because he looks different than me doesn't mean anyone should treat him as a outcast.

He was really the only one I liked to talk to, we seemed to gravitate toward each other because of how different we were.

During my musings, my train of thought halted as my fingers encountered intricate and smooth grooves. I put the round object in my hand and was startled by how smooth the rest of it felt. Whatever it was, it was slightly heavy and dense.

I managed to pull it out of the deep suitcase and I marveled as I took it in. It was a pale yellow with blue grooves poking out of the smooth layer in a rippled pattern that had a dark pink underbelly. I turned it around and saw a clasp that was already unlocked. Undoing it, I opened it and inside was a tiny dancer - her face was kept secret behind a plain mask, and her white hair was put up in a bun like how Mrs. Hamel wears hers. Her dress fit her form and puffed out in silver and gold around her waist while her feet were left bare. Before I realized it, a low melody started playing.

The haunting and lilting song played, and the tiny woman danced to it gracefully. The strange melody sent me into a daze as my stare stayed fixated on the masked woman.

Music was something foreign to me. I enjoyed Miss Camila's voice when she would sing while cleaning, but these were the instruments she always talked about, and they were making such a beautiful sound . . .

I gasped when I felt my vision grow blurry with tears, and I touched my wet cheek where some escaped. Why was I crying? Did music make you do this?

My heart thumped loudly in my chest, and I felt lighter than usual. What was this feeling? I felt . . . jovial, calmer.

I listened until the song ended, and my heart settled back down. I looked inside the strange box to see that there was something resting in it.

Curious, I reached inside and my fingers curled around the blunt object. It was small and rectangular in shape with different buttons on it. It was black, and the surface was smooth with a strange type of hardness. It was heavier than plastic, but not so heavy that it weighed me down or anything.

Resting the music box on top of the crate, I started inspecting the device all around. On one side there appeared to be what I could only call a lens or scope. It seemed to have the function of expanding out, and there was even a small slot below it. The other side consisted of buttons, and a small peep hole that you could look through with a button that said 'Capture' to the side of it. There was a small knob to 'Zoom In' and 'Zoom Out,' along with other keywords beside the other buttons.

It was oddly fascinating; was this one of those . . . one of those photo thingies? Like the ones that I've seen before in an old newspaper? A . . . "Camera?"

I wonder if it works? Maybe I can test it? I looked around the wreckage to find something . . . artful. I need to try to take a good picture, at least.

I could feel my muscles tense and want to give out as I stumbled around. This always happened when I stayed out too long, my body just wanted to give out and collapse like those ABC blocks the toddlers knock over. I finally found a peculiar spot when I caught sight of the light shining on glass up ahead. There was an old wooden chair there, with a white back. It was sitting beside a table with a mirror propped against the wall behind it.

This could be a good spot for a picture! I quickly started moving, renewed by a heightened feeling bubbling up inside me. I pulled the chair out a little and dusted it off - coughing when I inhaled too much. There was still some left on it and the table and mirror, but I found myself quite liking the look. When it was all in place, I stepped back enough and tilted my head just so. Nodding to myself, I peered one eye into the small peeper and closed my other eye so I could see the image better. I clicked the Capture button and heard a snap.

Suddenly, from the slot in the front, a small white framed photo was ejected. I blinked quickly and took it out, turning it around and watching as the dark image started fading into a clear picture of what I took.

It was . . . good. I started smiling despite myself, feeling so pleased that I got it right!

It made me want to take more pictures.

I studied the camera again; I hadn't expected the thing to actually work! I felt jovial again and decided to place the camera back into the music box to keep it safe. I left it on the table and headed back out. Finding a way out of the place was much easier than finding a way in.

I was still unable to part with my first photo, so I took it with me and hid it for now. I smiled as I ran back to the orphanage.

The skies were grey above me, I wonder if it will rain soon?

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Thank you for reading the first chapter of Still Frames. Cecelia holds a special place in my heart for being one of the first characters I ever created, and I'm so happy to now be writing her story! If you could take the extra minute or two to leave me some kind, and constructive feedback that would mean so much to me!