My eyes open and I find myself lying on the ground. It appears to be bright white marble, as if being shined upon by a spotlight. As I stand and look upward, I realize that it is a spotlight. I stand on a pedestal in the middle of seemingly endless darkness. I don’t really know how I got here, but I feel like I’m being put on trial. It turn around and see the shadow of what appears to be a council of judges. So I guess I am on trial.
Looking over them I can see that they are all wearing powdered wigs, although it all looks black and dark grey. As my eyes adjust, I can make out the robes, a gavel, and nine figures in all, but cannot make out any defining features. They all appear to be looking at me, but I wouldn’t be able to tell, as their eyes are all shrouded in darkness. I still don’t know why I’m here, but I do know that judges don’t really tend to like me.
Trying to figure out what is going on, I look down at myself. Everything seems pretty normal. I am wearing street clothes. A faded yellow shirt, a pair of ripped jeans, and a black hoodie, unzipped of course. It wasn’t cold, last I remembered from being in a real world. But as I look, something unsettling happens. My left leg disappears.
At this point I was quite startled, as you could imagine, now that my leg is gone. I fall to the ground, eyes wide and breath rasping. I feel like I just got hit with a bus, the wind completely taken out of me as I hit the marble, and try to think about what could have caused this. I look around, and despite all of this, the judges do not move an inch. I look to my left, and what I had not seen before was a walking staff, carved from birch, that had blended in against the frozen white of the marble. My stump leg is not bleeding and feels numb.
“Please rise to face judgement.” I hear the voice, a rolling baritone, from what I think is the head judge. The sound reverberates through the chamber, bouncing off of unseen walls, like an avalanche falling on me, an unsuspecting hiker. Startled, I grab the staff and attempt to steady myself with the walking stick. As I stand, I look up and see that most of the judges are looking through files, of what I presume can only be about me, and whisper silently amongst themselves.
“You have been deemed… unworthy, to live out the rest of your life by the council” the judge said, his voice like ice to my ears. Suddenly, it hits me. I was back in Brooklyn, I’m not sure where, and I was walking down the street, minding my own business. I take the crosswalk to get to the bank, walking next to a mother and her child. The memory stops.
“We think that… You are incapable, of contributing positively to society. Therefore, you will be sentenced to death. What will happen to you after that, we are unsure. But that is not our choice to make.” His voice is like a glacier, slowly moving forward and void of emotion. I take in the judgement, and slowly recognize what it means.
“That's not fair!” I sputter. “You don’t know me. How can you Judge me like this! Don’t I get a lawyer? Can’t, like, an angel help me out or something?” I look around at the shadowy figures, sitting still as statues. I realize this is the final judgement. These people will decide whether or not I die.
“Although your death was… admirable,” as the last words roll off his tongue, the memory continues. The little girl stops to tie her shoe, shouting about bunny ears, despite her mother berating her for doing it in the middle of the road. As I walk across the street, a bus rounds a nearby corner on two wheels, going way too fast to stop in time for the crosswalk, with me in the dead center. Not thinking, I dive on the kid, but do not get far enough out of the way to save my leg. I actually did get hit by a bus. How ironic.
“We have found, however, that it does not make up for your lack of moral character.” The flashback continues again, and i relive the moment of my soon to be death. As I fell on the child, pushing her out of the way of the bus, I feel something heavy and metallic fall out of my pocket. I feel the realization hit me like the Titanic. In the other pocket was the ski mask. I was going to rob the bank.
“But please!” I say, quietly, understanding the gravity of the situation. A more apt way to describe it would be a black hole. “I saved her life! Doesn’t that deserve something? An eye for an eye and all that, but in a positive way.”
“An eye for an eye leaves the world blind.” A second judges adds, in a rather nasal tone. I imagine him as having a rather large nose.
“But a life for a life lets me live!” I shout, desperate for a chance to not die. “What if I turn over a new leaf, huh? Get a new job helping the homeless shelter? Serving at the soup kitchen instead of just eating there?”
The judges appear to deliberate, a few seeming unsure about whether or not to make the verdict. I hear the gavel like a cannon shot, startling me, as the head judge calls for silence.
“If we let someone go every time we heard that promise, then hell would be empty” he grumbles, like mountains sliding against each other. “Our decision is final! You are not to reenter the world of the living!”
“Wait!” I hear a new voice. One coming from behind me. It was a man, shining with a radiant golden hue, almost as if he had a halo. He is wearing a tight pinstripe suit, with small wings on the cuff links. He is what I assume to be a modern day angel. Hopefully my guardian angel. He walks onto the platform in a casual manner, adjusting his sleeves. It appears that I have lawyered up.
He smiles from ear to ear as he addresses the court. “I know that you old windbags love nothing more than to send people to hell, but I’m afraid that I have to interject.” the judges all grumbled and shift uncomfortably their chairs. All except the head judge.
“You know the rules as well as I do, Angelo.” he said, not fazed by the intrusion. “The rules give me more than enough power to banish him.”
“But you are forgetting something, Guidice.” crooned Angelo, smiling as if about to reveal a machiavellian scheme. “You owe me one.”
“No, I don’t.” he said, looking like a bear swatting at a fly. “I let the last thief go on your account. You have no power over me.”
“Actually,” he said, a smirk dancing its way across his lips, “I used a loophole, not a favor on that one.”
The judge pounds the table with his two fists and stands suddenly. “Don’t play coy with me! You know very well that-” the judge paused from his violent outburst, looking up like he was remembering something, or just saw something that he hated on the ceiling. Then, giving a small, begrudging nod, he said “I… suppose that you are right, even though I still think he deserves to die. Very well. You can take him.”
I fall down on my knees, staring unbelievingly at the glowing lawyer who stood before me. “Thank you.” I gasp, head still in the clouds. “Thank you so much. I will never anything horrible again. I can’t believe this has happened.”
“Don’t thank me,” Angelo says. “I just think that every now and then, someone deserves a little bit of mercy.”