Children From A Lesser God
Prologue
Fox sighs over loud the commotion going on downstairs, he has a very important history test tomorrow that will contribute 5% of his final grade and he is supposed be studying. But how can he study with all that talk going on downstairs.
He looks at the time.
20:26.
He'll give it ten more minutes, and if things haven't quietened down, he'll go down stairs and have a word with his father.
Putting down his pen, he scrapes the back of the chair from the desk in his room, and walks over to pick up his 10kg dumbbells. Basketball tryouts are this week. Every year he makes Team A, and it's not like he needs a sports scholarship for college, but still, he wouldn't want to mess up his streak.
It's not the first time his father has brought his work home with him. Working for the government, Bill Mulder, quite frequently has diplomats and very influential persons coming in and out of the Mulder household. Fox usually doesn't mind, and quite enjoys the conversation it brings over dinner, plus it's good for his future as far as making connections; his mother is always reminding him that it is not what you know but who you know.
After ten minutes, they're still not quite. He throws the weights back into the corner of the room, it makes a loud banging noise that fright the floorboards, but it doesn't cease the commotion going on downstairs.
Slumping down the stairs, Fox swings by the kitchen to get some milk.
Outside his father's study, the faint commotion he heard upstairs in his room is actually one loud argument, with lots of voices speaking over the other.
He knocks on the door and waits.
He knocks again and waits.
After his third attempt, he gives up on being polite and opens the door, poking his head into the room.
He is greeted by what seem to be a sea of dull coloured suits. Inspecting the faces, most of them he recognises as people he has met before. Whatever they are in a heated discussion about, none of them seem to be in agreement, and none of them seem to be winning.
He smirks, Tony Correolli's fat beefy face is as red as a tomato, as he fights to be heard. He's never really liked that man; he loves the sound of his own voice and eats too much with his mouth open.
"Fox", he hears his father's scolding voice and his eyes widen over being caught.
Out of his peripheral, he can see his father marching towards him, but his focus is to enraptured by the clearing his father has created in the crowd. To the petite red head girl, sitting amongst the anarchy. She must feel his eyes watching his, because she looks up at him, and the first thing Fox notices is how sad she looks. And oddly, the next thing he feels is how much he wants to take that sadness away from her. She's young, very young, younger then he is, and he wonders why she is here.
"Fox", his father says harshly, grabbing him by the shoulder of his Knicks basketball top, "you're not supposed to be in here", he barks, throwing him out of the room, but not before he catches sight of the young girl's very pregnant stomach.
Fox frowns, he must have been mistaken about her age.
I know! I'm not supposed to be starting a new story with so many to finish but I couldn't help this one, it has been on my mind for a while, and it's just a itty bitty prologue taster, let me know your thoughts and if you want more.