Category: 3.5 Pickaxe

Another Prisoner At The Bar

Posted onAuthorVan14 Comments

THE SCENE: A COURTROOM IS SET UP to make the inhabitant of the dock feel isolated and intimidated. Its positioning made somewhat of a lie of the legal concept of innocent until proven guilty. It is set as far from anyone else in the room as the space permits. In particular, it’s a long way from where its occupant’s defence counsel, sometimes their only friendly face, inhabits. It is positioned at the foot of the raised platform where the stern looking judge sits, looking down at them. Read More …

JUNE GETS EVEN: A SEQUEL

Posted onAuthorVan13 Comments

After being tied up for hours, I ran into the bathroom to relieve myself as soon as June released me. I knew I had to get out of there fast before my anger scorched me a path direct to prison. Passing through the bedroom, I noticed with some surprise, June at her nightly habit of writing in her diary. She looked exhausted but still she scribbled away, not even looking up as I strode past the end of the bed. The question of who or what manner of person writes in their journal after such a depraved event flashed through my head. At that point I had no answer. Read More …

BARBARA GETS SHELVED

Posted onAuthorCTC4 Comments

OKAY, I ADMIT IT, I’m a people watcher. Naturally introverted, I like sitting back, watching people, then trying to guess what they do for a living, what they’re thinking, etcetera. I do it more when I’m bored or trying to distract myself. It started when I was a kid and involved in a six-car pile-up on the Hume Highway. Luckily, neither I nor my grandparents were killed, but things got broken. Lots of things got broken, like both my legs, my wrist, my collarbone, a few vertebrae. The list goes on. Read More …

The Evisceration

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“Dave, what aren’t you telling me? The secretary of the diocese just rang. I’ve been asked to resign from all the church committees I’m on. I mean, not just give up the chairmanships, but get off the committees altogether. They wouldn’t say why. What happened Saturday night? What did I do after I drank too much?” Read More …

What’s the Worst?

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I lowered myself into my seat, cursing the faceless admin staff member who’d booked me a centre seat instead of one by the window or aisle. Mystery Lady had encountered no such issues and was seated by the window. For the umpteenth time I studied her profile, trying to tease out of my memory bank the knowledge of where and how I knew her. Read More …