He followed the guards into the council room. A single solitary light shone where he was going to stand. The rest of the room was washed in shadows.
He stood in the illumination, slightly shivering. A voice booms throughout the room.
“Do you know why you’re here, son?”
He cleared his throat. “No, sir.”
“It says in your file that you want to be a……writer?” Murmurs fill the room until an authoritative shush silences them. The boys brow wrinkles.
“Yes, sir, I do.” He could feel their disapproving stares. Suddenly, a yell fills the whole room, “This cannot be!”
The boy is shaken, but his voice rings true. “What’s wrong with that, sir?”
“We have extensively studied many occupations and it seems your chosen vocation can lead to rather unsatisfactory results.” The boy only continues to look confused.
“It seems that writing leads to…..murder.” The silence deepens. “Take him away for reprograming.”
He is dragged, kicking and screaming, from the council room.