If you are happy telling yourself lies, then you must stay happy when others tell you lies.
Tag: Justice
The Courtroom – Friday Fiction In Five Sentences
My grip on the armrest was so hard that my knuckles must have turned white.
Anger boiled inside me like a witch’s cauldron barely containing itself and the loud voices of other people in the room sounded like a roaring babble in my head.
I refused to believe the verdict that had just been handed out, but the smirk on his lips and the sneer in his eye’s said it all as I looked at him with burning intensity.
Justice has just let the man who abused and violated me walk away free; in fact, the defense counsel tarred and feathered my image till I could barely recognize the strumpet that they portrayed me to be.
It’s not over! Not by half a mile! I have a plan and he won’t know what hit him like a ton of bricks.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Encourage me, buy my book
Silent Commune…
The bright light of the Sun
hurt his sunken eyes
even as his pupils fought
to adjust to such ordinariness
which was naked exposure
He felt nothing
no sense of elation
no sense of release
in fact a sense of dread
for he knew not where to begin.
Twenty-two years gone.
Committed for felony
he failed to commit
but criminal justice said it was
and so it has been.
Solitude became his companion
for that length of time
in a cell of total isolation
a short hard crib for a bed
four closing walls as his closest friends.
He clutches his head
for he knows nowhere to go.
He prefers to return
to the silence of his cell
where he communed in himself.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Solitude, The Daily Post Prompt
Image credit: Pixabay
The Last Confessions…Friday fiction in five sentences.
Odette’s body shook uncontrollably as she blindly read and re-read the note; a dying man’s last confessions and her tears brimmed over.
She had always known and believed that Joshua was innocent, but no one else believed him and justice jailed him on circumstantial evidence.
They had been too poor to hire a good lawyer and had to rely on the States miserable representation, which had been a pitiful fulfillment of obligation.
Now this! A note exonerating her husband after so many years of misery and when it was too late, since Joshua died in prison, a broken man.
In a desperate need to take a long walk, she left the note on the old wooden table, picked up her shawl and stepped out into the bitter-cold.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
a cooking pot and twisted tales 