The last day

‘This is the day when everything changes’

The city was quiet. It was as if the whole population had forgotten to set their alarm clocks the previous night and overslept en masse. The local police chief leant out of his window and commented that all that was missing was the tumbleweed blowing down the street. But then the phone rang and distracted his thoughts back onto more mundane matters.

The front page headline was typically provocative. In his West End office, Martin Tallog leaned back in his chair and smiled briefly before folding The Times and placing it neatly on his desk. There was a selection of newspapers this morning from all ends of the political spectrum, each of which told the identical story adapted to suit its particular house style. It was an interesting story which was guaranteed to whet the appetite of any editor – and the seed of which Martin had sown, fed and watered over the past two weeks.

Martin looked at his watch. It was eight thirty five on the 28th of August and he was angry.

The End

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