The Agency

The Beginning

This is the agency. "What agency?" you might ask. The agency. The only agency. The one you enter but never leave. The one that chooses you yet you may never choose. My friend, (if I may call you that), I suggest you run. It's about to get ugly. Well, not quite yet. If I dive right in you might get lost. Let's go back. Far back. Before I was chosen for the agency.

Let's try and paint a picture of me as a child. I had very long curly brown hair. I was unusually short for a 10-year-old. The average 10-year-old is about 4 feet tall, right? Well, I was 3 and a half feet. Yep, I was short. And my hair, therefore, reached the ground. And went past it. Like a wedding gown. So, needless to say, my hair was usually dirty, full of random sticks and rocks, and it got stepped on. A lot. I had a chubby round face, with bright blue eyes, and the biggest smile you had ever seen. Now, personality wise, I was a mess. I loved the outdoors, and I pretty much could shoot a bow and throw a knife by this time, usually hitting my target. Not dead on, mind you, but at least I hit it. I was strong and brave and courageous. But I was also nice. Most of the time. I had (and still have) a kind heart, and I always will. You might have to use a shovel to find it though. It's buried in sass. Lots of it. Whoever I meet, I'll be nice to. But once you get to know me, expect sass, bad ideas, a lot of feistiness, and so much silliness you won't be able to stand me. If there's a crazy scale, I start a four. At least. Sometimes I feel sorry for my friends and family. Chalk was one of the best things I ever experienced as a child, along with hay lofts and animals. If you didn't already guess, I lived on a farm. I loved the farm. Each new summer day brought fresh carrots, strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries. Not to mention all the other foods like eggs, meat, veggies, fruits... you know, farm foods. Down at the bottom of the field is a little tiny creek. I used to go down there and play by the water for hours. I could bring my book and sit in a tree and read by the creek all day. I could catch frogs and watch the sunset. It was amazing.

Now living on a farm put us right near a forest, which created my daily routine. Grab my horse, Pepper, a bag of milk, and my bow and arrows. Ride to the forest, grabbing a fresh apple for breakfast as a passed the orchard. Stop at Old Sam's to give him fresh milk for the day, and continue to the forest to do some target practice.

"Morning Logan!" Logan is our stable keeper.

"Hiya Scarlett, looking for Pepper?" He asks.

"Yeppers! She better be awake." I tease.

"Don't worry, she is," Logan replies, "I fed her some breakfast already."

"Sweet! You're all good to go then, aren'tcha girl!" I babbled, rubbing Pepper's nose. I pop her harness over her head, grab my arrows and my bow, and then jump on, riding bareback as usual. Galloping down the laneway I hear "Wait!" from behind me. Turning around I see Logan waving his arms around.

"You forgot the milk, again," he chuckles, handing it to me as I run over.

"Thanks!" I shout as I'm running back to Pepper.

I gave Sam his milk and while I was chatting with him he started talking about The Choosing. This is when a lady from The Agency comes to Brekenville (the town I live near) and chooses someone. This may sound weird, but it gets worse. We never know when they are going to come, and you never know who they are going to pick. You never know anything about them. We only know that they are called The Agency. No idea what they do. Or who they are. Just The Agency. As Sam was talking about the last Choosing, I finally decided it was time to go home. I didn't even get time to practice shooting, but that's okay. It happens some days when Sam gets really talkative. Returning home, I told Dad about Sam going on and on about last Choosing when all the sudden Mom comes running in the door.

"What?" Dad and I say simultaneously.

"It's another Choosing! Right now!" She blurts out in a panic, "GO GO GO!"