Theadore Thomas.
1/1
The shot echos off of every wall, disturbing the once dead silence that blanketed the dark streets. The gun feels cool against my hand. The moon shines in the sky, illuminating the scene, A man, around the age of twenty-five laying still on the ground with a shot to the head. The culprit of such an obscene crime? The one holding the gun, of course.
I hear the sounds of sirens and car tires screeching up streets, coming closer and closer. The first police car makes a sharp turn up the asphalt, the lights bringing a new vibrance to the once dull walls of surrounding buildings. A man steps hesitantly out of his vehicle with a megaphone as if I wouldn't be able to hear him, it's a small street and it would be pretty easy to hear him without the blaring of his voice in my eardrums.
The device makes a horrible squeaking sound before words break through. His voice is low and graveling, I'm not quite sure if that's how he really sounds or if he's just tired, considering how late it is. "Put down the rifle and put your hands over your head or we will be forced to shoot."
I nod, understanding and calm as I bend over and put the handgun down. I am grabbed roughly by the arm and handcuffs were forced onto my wrists. While they drag me to one of the cars and the man's body was brought off to the ambulance on a stretcher in a body bag, I yelled "That was for you, Maria!" Just for good measure, why not give some newspaper reporter a front page story to write about some lunatic who killed a dude for some girl named Maria? If you see it my way, I just gave some poor schmuck a raise. I'm just thinking of the people here!
-
There was no Maria, I had never met anyone by that name, it was just the first thing that popped into my head. I could have said 'Sandy' or 'Gizelle', that's an interesting name, isn't it? Oh, well, next time maybe.
And for the record, the guy I shot? I had no idea who he was and didn't rightly care either. He was just some poor fellow who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. he probably had a family at home who can barely make ends meet as it is and now they have to have the family provider's death hanging over their heads.
It'll be fun to watch the media try and wrap their heads around that one.
My lawyer stands and states some points, trying in vain to win this case. It's no use, though, which is fine with me. He me keeps running his hand through his hair and sighing. he's not a very good lawyer, he's already giving up and we're only 5 minutes into the case!
He's a real downer too. I tried to crack a joke or two but he just ignored me. Yeah, sure, I killed a guy. But that's no reason to ignore me.
I see out of the corner of my eye some of the jury shaking their heads as they walk into the other room to decide my fate. I don't know why they bother, it's obvious what the verdict is: Guilty. There were witnesses, there was evidence, I even admitted that I killed him.
The jury comes back, gives their answer and the Judge gives my sentence and slams the gabble against his post.
"C'mon, crazy." A guard mutters, pulling me up from my chair and leading my to the door.
Maybe I should have said 'Fanny' as the girl's name. That would have been a hoot. Fanny.
I hear the sounds of sirens and car tires screeching up streets, coming closer and closer. The first police car makes a sharp turn up the asphalt, the lights bringing a new vibrance to the once dull walls of surrounding buildings. A man steps hesitantly out of his vehicle with a megaphone as if I wouldn't be able to hear him, it's a small street and it would be pretty easy to hear him without the blaring of his voice in my eardrums.
The device makes a horrible squeaking sound before words break through. His voice is low and graveling, I'm not quite sure if that's how he really sounds or if he's just tired, considering how late it is. "Put down the rifle and put your hands over your head or we will be forced to shoot."
I nod, understanding and calm as I bend over and put the handgun down. I am grabbed roughly by the arm and handcuffs were forced onto my wrists. While they drag me to one of the cars and the man's body was brought off to the ambulance on a stretcher in a body bag, I yelled "That was for you, Maria!" Just for good measure, why not give some newspaper reporter a front page story to write about some lunatic who killed a dude for some girl named Maria? If you see it my way, I just gave some poor schmuck a raise. I'm just thinking of the people here!
-
There was no Maria, I had never met anyone by that name, it was just the first thing that popped into my head. I could have said 'Sandy' or 'Gizelle', that's an interesting name, isn't it? Oh, well, next time maybe.
And for the record, the guy I shot? I had no idea who he was and didn't rightly care either. He was just some poor fellow who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. he probably had a family at home who can barely make ends meet as it is and now they have to have the family provider's death hanging over their heads.
It'll be fun to watch the media try and wrap their heads around that one.
My lawyer stands and states some points, trying in vain to win this case. It's no use, though, which is fine with me. He me keeps running his hand through his hair and sighing. he's not a very good lawyer, he's already giving up and we're only 5 minutes into the case!
He's a real downer too. I tried to crack a joke or two but he just ignored me. Yeah, sure, I killed a guy. But that's no reason to ignore me.
I see out of the corner of my eye some of the jury shaking their heads as they walk into the other room to decide my fate. I don't know why they bother, it's obvious what the verdict is: Guilty. There were witnesses, there was evidence, I even admitted that I killed him.
The jury comes back, gives their answer and the Judge gives my sentence and slams the gabble against his post.
"C'mon, crazy." A guard mutters, pulling me up from my chair and leading my to the door.
Maybe I should have said 'Fanny' as the girl's name. That would have been a hoot. Fanny.