Short Stories

The Courtroom – Friday Fiction In Five Sentences

Image result for image of courtroom

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

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