Given current events, today’s #1lineWed theme of **REMEMBRANCE, MEMORIAL, HONOR** seems a bit ironic because the dead I choose to honor and remember? Well…anyway. I’m still angry so I’m redirecting it. The idea came to me Monday night as I was trying to fall asleep, the opening playing over and over in my head. So I sat down Tuesday morning and wrote this. I don’t know if I will ever finish this book but I can damn sure work on it when I need an outlet because the main character is angry too. I think you can get an idea of the set up from this snippet. And I can tell you that she will remember, memorialize, and honor her dead.
The courtroom erupted. First, a wave of sound—shocked gasps. Then shouts of disbelief followed by the judge banging his gavel. The defendants hugged and slapped each others’ backs before doing the same to their attorneys, all of them grinning. No. Smirking. A few jurors looking guilty, the others showing signs of smug relief. Through it all, the woman in black sat on the front row of the gallery, right behind the prosecution table. Her face remained blank but her eyes missed nothing.
The district attorney, who hadn’t showed in the courtroom until time for the verdict and had played no part in the prosecution of this murder case, turned to her. He opened his mouth but snapped it shut as her gaze pierced him. He glanced, nervous now, at the defense table. The defendants’ knowing eyes rested on him. He turned toward the bench, waiting for court to be adjourned.
The courtroom cleared, but the woman in black remained in her seat, hands clasped in her lap, her face still blank.
Six defense attorneys.
The bailiff cleared his throat. She didn’t look at him as she rose. She ignored the reporters flocking like vultures in the hallway of the courthouse, their shouted questions bouncing off the shield of her cold control. Outdoors at last, standing on the granite steps of this alleged sanctuary for justice, she paused. Her eyes flicked across the big man standing at the bottom of the steps, his hip leaning against the base of the statue depicting Lady Justice. Arms crossed over over his chest, he watched her.
The horde of sensationalism-seekers hounded her, crowding the steps she would have to navigate to escape. Turning her attention to the reporters, she looked each one in the eye with such intensity her gaze left them unsettled.
“I will honor my husband’s memory,” she began.
The doors opened behind her and the men who’d blown her world apart breezed out, laughing like they had not a care in the world. They started to hassle her but the ferocity of her promise shut them up.
“I will never forget.” She stared for a moment, fixating on each man. Then she turned, dismissing them, and stepped down. The reporters scattered before her regal descent.
“Gonna have to take care of that,” one of the men muttered. “The sooner the better.”
Not sure any of us are writing much these days but if you have words to share, please do. Crawling back into my writer’s cave now. I have a new release to prep.