Showing posts with label The Wordsmith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Wordsmith. Show all posts

Monday, 11 April 2011

Justice

Judge Wilson looked down at the huge stack of papers on his desk and sighed. Paper, paper, that’s all my life seems to be revolving around. His latest case was that of a mass murder. He shook his head when he thought about it. The defence had everything, proof against the crime, eye-witnesses disagreeing with what the prosecutor’s client saw, and above all, a staggering amount of money.

Something was bothering him though, he just couldn’t place his finger on it. He reviewed the file countless times, again and again, looking for something against the man who reputedly killed those 5 innocent people. Maybe they’re right, perhaps this is just a misunderstanding. People get confused, hell, I do more times than I can count. The case had lasted for weeks, Judge Wilson had done everything he could to extend the case, looking for clues that would tell him if the man actually did it… Action would have to be taken this morning, if not, the case would have to shut down.

Judge Wilson recalled the time when he was still a boy, his teacher questioning him on why he wanted to become a judge.

‘M-m-mister Scott, you wanted to see me?’

Mr Scott’s office was a large, menacing room, surrounded by dark, thick walls. Heavy wooden chairs sat next to the looming front desk. Mr Scott’ office was not a place most kids wanted to be.

‘ Ah yes, Jeffrey, please sit down. Now, don’t worry you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to ask you something. An interesting remark came on your report this morning. It was the career selection. Now, most kids your age chose rockstar, basketball player, racer, but you chose, judge. Why is that?’

‘ I-I want to put evil people behind bars, where they belong, sir’

‘ Hmmm… Well Jeffrey, answer me this one question, if all the evidence pointed towards a man saying that he was guilty, but deep down inside, you knew he was not, what would you do? Would you let him go free, or sentence him to prison?’

‘I-I would let him go free sir.’

Judge Wilson never knew if he had answered what his teacher wanted him to. Shaking his head once more, he headed up to the courthouse.

‘Order, order!’ Judge Wilson shouted. ‘The court is ready to continue the case of Dr. Mathew Parkman, the prosecutor, against Mr. Alan Flint.’ Time blurred past. Judge Wilson sighed. It looked as if the man was going to go free after all. Just as he was about to declare the case closed, he looked at the accuse murderer. The tantalizing smell of freedom dulled his senses, and for a moment, his mask slipped. At that moment, Judge Wilson saw the evil, the hatred, the deceit in that man. He thought he would just walk away, freely.

Judge Wilson knew the consequences of what he was about to do. He could lose his job, his life, his friends. Nothing, however, shook that sense of justice from his mind. He took a deep breath and stood up with a fierce determination in his eye. His hammer ringed down thrice, each strike resonating powerfully throughout the courtroom. ‘Mr. Flint declared guilty. Case over.’

Knots and Crosses by Ian Rankin

I believe this extract is the best, considering it has an oddly compelling and mysterious ring to it... It starts off in a sense of confusion, with no one knowing what's going on and what's happening, slowly being filled in, then the abrupt but resonating end... Fantastic piece of writing..

Monday, 14 March 2011

Love

How can love be interpreted simply?

Love is a fickle beast, arduous to tame

Love cannot be measured, seldom clearly

Love is mysterious, having no name

Love comes in various different forms

None of them clear enough to comprehend

Love is like a fire, blazing, bright and warm,

Love is like iron, and can never bend

Love is both a blessing and a burden

It leaves us yearning and begging for more

The heart is fragile, treated by surgeons

Love is a curious thing, opening doors

A man cannot be stopped, if struck by love

Love is love, from depths below to above

Sunday, 13 February 2011

Regret

Why did I leave behind my only home?

I left without thinking about those few,

Those few who made my hidden feelings roam,

Unique, unforgettable friends, so true

I left everything in the background,

Never looking at the bigger picture,

Innumerable tears were shed and bound,

Slowly falling, trickling, permanent fixtures.

Monday, 24 January 2011

Eagle

Majestic, surveying its wide domain,

Soaring upwards, ever upwards - shrieking,

From the plains of the States, to untamed Spain,

Screaming to all, an undying greeting.

Ireland

A powerful country, known for history,

From shamrocks to druids, full of mystery,

Gold-hungry and sly leprechauns,

The derbies at the crack of dawn,

Fiddles constantly strung,

Legends constantly sung,

Dear old Ireland,

Full of highlands,

Mystique,

Unique.