PROLOGUE

“Thursday Cromwell. Eighteen in seventeen hours, four minutes and twelve seconds.” Anthea nodded, pretending to be taking notes.

“Red hair. Fair skin. One sixty seven.” She kept nodding, the swirls on the paper getting larger and rounder.

“Never had a detention or late note.”

Anthea stopped and her ears picked up. Never? The other occupants of the table were thinking along the same lines. No-one wanted a goody-two-shoes assignment and everyone leaned back from the table slightly.

“Debater. Public speaker. Pet dog named Jack. UAI of ninety-seven.” There was a murmur of contempt and scorn and Anthea went back to her drawing; the triangles were next.

“Daughter of Christine and George.”

The last triangle was too large for the pattern.

“Clean-cut. Extremely virtuous. Volunteers at the pound.” If possible, the group gathered at the round table shrunk further back from the hologram speaking in the centre. “Who-ever takes her will have their work cut out for them.” The last remark was more of a suggestion that promised glory to the one who could tame the girl. Anthea stared at her painted black nails, all thoughts of drawing forgotten and ignored the speaker.

“Who wants the girl?”

No-one answered.

“Come on.” He urged, desperation clinging to every syllable.

Still, the silence flooded the room.

As he started his spiel on the joys of the job, Anthea zoned out.

I wonder what’s for dinner tonight. Grayson had better have picked up my dry-cleaning and Snap from the vet, she yawned loudly. He’d better have if he intends to keep his- Boy, am I tired…

“Anthea! Thank you.”

Anthea froze, her arms suspended in the air from stretching. A room full of demonic multi-coloured eyes smiled mischievously back at her.

“Oh no, I wasn’t-”

Clamoring and grabbing their personal items in a frenzy, everyone left with a soft fizz into thin air, leaving Anthea alone in the meeting room.

“Volunteering.” Anthea finished pathetically, left in the room with nothing but the cream folder of the assignment and the giant marshmallow next to her, labeled ‘Anthea’s Stupidity’.

How many times had she witnessed the rookies making the same mistake? And how many times had she been the one to disappear with the others, laughing at the poor sucker who had succumbed to their fatigue?

Yawning, followed by a groan, she dropped her head on the table with a loud, echoing thud.

It was ten minutes after Coln had won the assignment that he left the room. Ingenious, he thought to himself. Absolutely brilliant.

Who else but the talented and gifted Coln could have pulled that off?

It had been simply too easy to convince Mel into letting him have the assignment. Batting his baby-blues and flashing his whites was all it took. Aided by serious sweet talking.

Mel, being the archetypal gay secretary, had fallen for the pretty boy act (as expected) and put in a good word for Coln who was now reaping in the benefits. The assignment would be too easy.

Even the name sounds innocent enough.

Thursday Cromwell.

Author's Note:

So there it is! My first chapter in a long, long, long time.

Granted I’ve only ever posted one story on this thing, but never-the-less it’s something.

So, what did you think?

Liked it? Tell me.

Didn’t like it? Don’t tell me; I don’t handle criticism well.

Actually, you’d better tell me anyway.

Ciao for now!

–Losticated