An Impassioned Truth

The gavel pounded heavily with an resonating echo that seemed almost as if it were muted by walls of water. The sound would not cease and the chaos persisted. She leaned forward, clutching her head in her hands with desparation. A great weight bore down on her, and she recognized its familiarity as the gavel of injustice which had resounding throughout her life. The life of unspeakable villainy and oppression. "Order in the court! Order in the court!" boomed a voice, breaking through the barriers of madness. Heads turned to face the master of the voice, the Honorable Judge Macadeux. Eyes locked on the heavily built keeper of the peace and all attention was directed upon him. Macadeux's face was flushed red from the struggle to maintain order. The very order he sought so hard to keep was a hiprocrasy of the word. "Mr. Fraye, you may question the woman," spoke the Honorable Macadeux. "Yes your Honor," responded Fraye, and stood his feet. His eyes glistened with venom, and his vocal chords struggle to hold a level of civilness. "You alone entered the chambers of the Governess, is this correct?" "Yes," responded the woman quietly. She straightened her posture, but kept her head lowered. "And, did you or did you not take a knife hidden the Governess's bedroom cabinet and stab her with it while she slept?" Mr. Fraye's voice rose in a crescendo of fury with every syllable spoken. By the time her finished the sentence, he was practically roaring. The woman leveled her gaze with him, and her hard blue eyes pierced his own with such fierceness that he was forced to turn away.