Unexpected

This is a story I will try and add a little to as often as I can. Unlike my first Movella, this is for older readers - please leave me feedback on how to improve!

Thirteen-year-old Molly Griffin lives in a town which you would expect to be like any other in England. In actual fact, the town's public is divided in three very different groups, which Molly ends up being mixed between...

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3. The Speaker

I reluctantly followed the Speaker. He led me through the familiar corridors. Familiar, yet more sustained than I had remembered. He zig-zagged through many groups of pupils like me. But not quite like me, the thought would not evade me. Eager voices stating amusing tales and gossip not theirs to share overflowed as everyone savoured the last few minutes of lunch break before afternoon classes. Most continued with their conversations. Either they hadn't noticed the Speaker approach me in the first place, or they had but voted against bringing this to anyone's attention. I convinced myself it was the latter. Some stared, including my best friend, Isabella Hopkins. I didn't blame her. Isabella often worries about people and occurances - who knows how long her list is? I merely supposed this event landed within its contents.

After walking for what anxiety made seem like hours, the Speaker halted abruptly outside a staff meeting room. As if to underline his importance, he pushed the door open without knocking for acknowledgment. I tried to steady my breath, fearing the Speaker had heard its uncontollable shaking.

My eyes scanned across the accessible room. Rows of empty chairs separated by a domineering aisle faced the far wall where a wooden stage had been built to add dignity - as well as height - to whoever had been selected to speak. The formality of the layout sent an overwhelming wave of uncertainty down my spine.

The Speaker strolled down the aisle to the front of the chairs. I took the hint and followed with unwilling, faltering steps.

"Sit." The word sliced through the air with as much malice as impetuousness.

I shot down onto the nearest chair. The chair to the left hand side of the aisle in the front row. I watched as the Speaker, a tall, overweight man wearing a black suit which worked diligently against his large body mass, stepped onto the stage, and listened as the wood groaned under his weight.

The last thought that entered my mind before the Speaker talked again, was that this room had only ever been used to observe people's pasts, and to reveal their futures... 

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