Oddmanthefirst
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Day 2
“Nicholas Blood, your time has come,” announced the guard. With key in hand, the large disgruntled man tore open the gate. His cold eyes looked upon me with a hint of disgust. His grave complexion accompanied his job, jail guard. He threw me as if I were a rag doll, his own little pet, a puppet of some sorts. The man stood above me flamboyantly. The glee in his eyes was that of a small boy’s when he gets a new toy. To my dismay, there seemed to be no stop to the beast’s actions. His black shoe only cocked back once again to meet my stomach. I curled up more into a ball. I could feel the butterflies all rush out. I felt dismay as I went through another volley of kicks. I began to puke blood.
“I guess the name John Blood suits you,” the man laughed as he shackled my legs together and cuffed my wrists.
“My name is Nicholas,” I yelped in dismay.
The guard stared at me, confused. However, he snapped it away and said, “Nice try, John.” With that, he lifted a club from his belt and struck me at the side of my head.
I stood inside of a small claustrophobic room. The windows, barred, the door, locked. The room shook violently in a chaotic fashion. I scrambled toward the window, looking for any kind of view. I was moving! I must be in a carriage of some kind, I concurred. Yet, one question still persisted: why?
I remembered awakening to find my brother missing, his bags gone, not a trace of him remaining. Then, the door banged loudly. Hoping that it was him, I rushed to the door, neglecting to look through the peephole. As I opened the door, three Kievs tackled me to the floor, arresting me on site.
The carriage halted to a stop and the door flew open. A Kiev grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me outside. Awaiting me was a mob, hundreds of men and women screaming at the top of their lungs. Some screamed distasteful words at me, others threw objects at me. Regardless, the overall tone of the crowd was anger, directed towards me. Hopeless, I hobbled on the designated path that led to the building before me. On it, a giant sign hung, it read: “Courthouse”.
Good, I thought to myself, this matter will be resolved quickly. I stepped inside of the large room, facing myself with row upon row of man, each giving me a look of disapproval.
“Now that the defendant has entered the chambers, court shall commence,” hollered a man. His cold eyes looked me over, holding a sense of superiority. “Defendant, sit to the designated seat at the right.”
With two bulky guards behind my back, I obeyed the order without hesitation. I sat next to an old relaxed man, not caring about my life, my future, or whatever that it entails. He stared at me with a smile, an attempt of reassurance. “Just let me do the talking, okay,” he whispered to me. I nodded my head in agreement.
“Does the defendant, John Blood, plead guilty?”
“No!” I shouted, “My name is Nicholas Blood!”
Dispersed murmurs were heard throughout the audience.
“Silence!” ordered the Judge. “I will not tolerate this nonsense!”
And so, the trial continued. At least, what they called a trial. It was a complete mockery of any type of real jurisdiction; therefore, the trial was going, unfavorably, to me being convicted as guilty as charged through the use of criminal scenarios, which I allegedly
took part of, and witnesses, who I have never heard of. This was fixed, I am sure of it! I thought.
***
The trial was over. I was finished. The Judge looked at me, and reported the obvious: “John Blood is found guilty as charged.” He smiled. “Your sentence: thirty years in prison. Court dismissed…”
The people around left me in my sorrow. Once I was left alone, with the exception of two Kievs, I mustered up my courage and lifted myself from the chair. I gravely shook my head as I left the courthouse.
< Message edited by Oddmanthefirst -- 4/20/2010 19:09:02 >
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