Message From Viola Mari by Sabrina Devonshire

too tightly in the matrix of rock. What a horrible find, I thought. I imagined the boy’s flesh immersed inside the rock, like he was an insect in amber. The rocks had apparently consumed him. Alarmed, I struggled to breathe slowly to conserve air. I gradually ascended to thirty feet. The sunlit shallows felt much safer than the gloomy depths, where I’d touched the rocky jaws that had ended a ten-year-old boy’s life. I tried to ponder the significance of what I’d found but still couldn’t make sense of it. Now it would be my job to warn the public that these craters had an appetite.
    “Marissa, this sounds too far-fetched,” said my director, Matt. Lines etched his middle-aged face.
    “I’ve shown you the photos and spoken to the divers who searched for the missing boy. His mother said he wore black fins with yellow tips when he disappeared.”
    “Everyone who swims, dives or snorkels wears black fins.” Matt’s voice sounded singsong condescending. “After the impact, when the rocks were still partially melted, a lost fin must have been carried into the cooling rocks by the current.”
    “No, that isn’t what happened,” I said. “The location matches the place where the boy disappeared and the fins match the mother’s description. Do you really want to take a chance this could occur again?”
    “I’d rather take that chance than see our institution made into the laughing stock of the scientific community. I’m sorry, Marissa, but I’ve got serious work to tend to.” He waved his hand to dismiss me.
    I stood, not believing I’d heard him right. I had answers, yet no one wanted to hear them. This was unacceptable, didn’t fit my vision of what I thought needed to happen. I gritted my teeth, more determined than ever to find every answer to this puzzle. Once I had all the information, he and everyone else would have no choice but to listen.
    Two weeks later, Justin stood beside me on the golf course at the La Jolla Beach and Tennis Club, holding my arms straighter and moving them back and forth. “Bend forward just a little more. That’s it, now just ease into it and swing.”
    He re-positioned the angle of my arms, my stance, and then I swung, smacking the ball with my golf club. It arched neatly into the air and landed on the green, just a few feet from the hole. “I can’t believe it!” I danced around in a circle, thrilled that I hadn’t landed the ball smack in the middle of the sand pit.
    “Your technique just needed a touchup,” said Justin.
    “Touch up?” I patted his arm affectionately. “More like a complete overhaul.”
    “Okay, maybe you’re right, but I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He pinched my butt before picking up a club.
    “The hell you are.” I pulled off my cap and swatted his hand.
    “Stop that. I need to focus so I can make my shot.” Still looking over his shoulder at me, his lips curled in mock disapproval, he smacked the ball. It not only went onto the green, but also rolled neatly into the hole.
    “That is so unfair,” I said. “You weren’t even watching the ball. You could have done that blind folded, I bet.”
    “Perhaps. I’d do it to impress you, but it may be against the rules and I’d hate to get the boot from members of the Society.” He turned his nose up in the air and mimicked a British accent.
    I burst out laughing. I walked over to the green and tried to control my shaking hands. I didn’t want him to laugh when my strike danced the ball around the hole instead of dropping it inside. I tried to focus. If I could suffer my boss’s ridicule over the NRG meteorite situation, I could hit a round ball into a round hole, no problem. I tapped the ball. It rolled a half circle around the hole’s perimeter before deviating out onto the grass.
    “Unbelievable!” I threw my club down, surprised by the intensity of my distress.
    “Here, let me help you.” Justin walked behind me as we stepped across the green. “You’re too used to