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The Trial

25m read

The Trial

by Shahar Bram Published in Issue #10
AdolescenceAgingChildhood
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 I touch now his despair

– John Berryman, Dream Song #145
‘The prosecution calls Mr. Fear to the stand.’
Mr. Fear, a tiny, stooped, reddish creature made his way to the stand.
‘Full name please.’
‘Fear. I have no surname.’
‘Your parent’s names please.’
‘Loneliness and Hollow.’
‘Well then, Fear, son of Loneliness and Hollow, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God.’
‘Of course I do, Truth is my loyal ally.’
A wave of agitation crossed the crowded hall.
‘Is that Fear?’
‘I would never have guessed…’
‘Yes, he looks kind of shabby, a pitiable creature.’
‘And that red complexion…an outcast…’
He looks like he has been cooked…’
‘But why is he here?’
‘He’s a witness for the prosecution; he was the kid’s best friend.’ 
‘Silence in the courtroom!’ The judge hushed the crowed in a hoarse voice. Endless sessions had exhausted him. He longed for the verdict, it didn’t matter what decision the jury would reach. His thoughts drifted to his white bed. All he wished for was an everlasting rest. In the meantime, red-faced Fear took his place at the stand, and the prosecutor approached.
‘Do you recognize this man?’ The prosecutor pointed to the young man in the first row.
Fear nodded and smiled shyly. His smile looked more like a grimace. ‘That’s the kid. He is my best friend…I mean, we were best friends but now he has no time for me…I think he only pretends though…anyway, at one time we used to hang out together…’
‘What do you mean: used to?’
‘When the kid was younger…I mean, he still is a kid in a...

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