Allison Bockus

The Locket and the Revolution

As the rain pounded on the metal roofs of the shacks in the ghetto, Princess Hadria sat alone in her room, which was larger than any house in the worst part of the most decrepit little town. She had been there for months on end, unable to even look out the window without risking her life. The window, which was now covered by thick wood planks, overlooked what used to be a beautiful garden that she and her older sister, Alex, would play in together. Hadria stood up and glanced at a picture of her that rested in a frame on her nightstand. As she saw the locket around her sister’s neck, she fingered it and felt the necklace rub against her skin. The locket was made of 24 karat gold, and was engraved with the initials A.S., the initials of the first child of every Szombathy generation. Inside, two blurred monochrome pictures of the founders of Ambrosia could be seen. Hadria looked in awe as she saw how much her great-great-great grandmother resembled Alex, down to the tiniest of details. That one moment brought her back to a time when everything was different, when hardly even a year ago, Ambrosia was a thriving nation.