Tower Of Mistakes

Prologue

It was freezing as snow fell from the sky, blanketing the ground and trees. People were bundled up warmly as the cold wind blew snow right at them.

A tall building stood before the people, but it was dark and lifeless. At the top floor, a lone figure stood before the window, looking out to the cold world. This figure has shaggy chocolate brown hair with pale, freckled skin.

He wore thin framed glasses over his hazel eyes. The man was standing tall and stiff, like a soldier, then again, he was wearing a uniform. The uniform was a red turtle neck with a long blue coat with a symbol of horns on it, the Red Army.

On the uniform was also a name, Rodrick. The man sighed before turning around, looking at the empty room. This room had once been the office to Red Leader, who was now gone.

Rodrick shook his head a bit, he has no idea what had gone wrong, five years of work and it was now over. 'Red Leader wouldn't have just given up so easy, so why'd he do it?' thought Rodrick.

Red Leader was the bravest and toughest guy he'd ever met, he refused to believe he'd throw everything away. 'Five years, such a short time.' thought Rodrick.

Leaning against the glass, he closed his eyes, thinking back five years, to when he'd first met Red Leader.

*~* FLASSSSSSSSSSSHBAAAAAAAAAAACK *~*

Rodrick yawned loudly as he typed away at his computer, in a small cubicle. He was a writer for a newspaper firm and hated every minute of it. But sadly it was all he could do as nothing else has popped up.

He finished his piece to print it out and got up. With his story now done, it was time to go see the editor. Rodrick walks slowly, passing the other cubicles with other employees. T

hey all typed away at their computers, eyes blank and bodies hunched. No one here seemed to want to do anything exciting, this place was horribly boring. Rodrick came to his boss's door to knock loudly on it. "Enter." came his voice.

The man enters, seeing his boss's large office and grand window behind him. "Ah, Mr. Wheat, what can I do for you?" asked the editor. "Hello sir, I finished my story for next week's paper." said Rodrick. He hands it over for the editor to look it over.

"Rodrick, I must say this is some story, but it's not what the paper needs." said the editor. "Wha-but this story is on the random murders that have been happening, people vanishing and being found dead by the junk yard, who wouldn't want to read about it?" asked Rodrick. "This paper shouldn't get involved with stuff like this, what about the task I gave you?" asked the editor.

"You mean about that gathering of women with their cats, that's not news." said Rodrick. "It's what I gave you and you didn't follow, maybe you're just not meant to be a journalist." said the editor. With that, he tossed the story into the shredder, destroying it completely.

Rodrick was in disbelieve, it took him months to get the information, the sources, the frustration, getting denied by police, plus all the double checking. He'd checked the story over five times to make sure it was perfect, and in seconds, it was all gone.

"I'm sorry Mr. Wheat, perhaps it's time you found another employment." said the editor. "But sir, you know the employment is down, I won't be able to find another job." said Rodrick. "These are tough times, but I'm sure you'll find a new place of work." said the editor.

Depressed, Rodrick left the office to take a walk of shame to his cubicle. He was fired, and all because he tried his hardest to create a grand story. He put his heart into it, all his time, plus all the countless nights of no sleep and missed meals.