The Assembly Speech

Text 1: The Last Notice, by Mira Ellwood

An original short story extract.

Asha waited behind the curtain with her speech folded into a square in her palm. Beyond it, four hundred chairs scraped and squeaked. The hall sounded like a cupboard full of restless mice. Mr Cole leaned close. ‘Slowly,’ he whispered. ‘And remember to breathe.’

Her name came through the speakers, stretched thin and metallic. Asha stepped into the white light. For a moment, the page in front of her was only a blur. Then she found the first line. ‘Good morning...’ Her voice trembled, then steadied. One sentence. Then another. The hall began to settle.

Halfway through the second paragraph, the microphone clicked and died. Her next word fell at her feet. At the back, someone coughed. A chair knocked against the floor. Asha pressed the switch. Nothing. She pressed it again. Still nothing. The silence grew wider.

Mr Cole made a small circling motion from the side. Keep going. Asha lifted her chin and began again, louder this time. The first row heard her. Then the second. By the final line, she was no longer holding the paper. When the applause arrived, it did not crash over her. It rose, seat by seat, until the whole hall was standing.