From his father, to the father of his father and the father to the father of his father…since time memorial the curse was handed down, imprinted in their blood and from the generation to the next it was passed. Living in mud huts, some the more grassed thatched huts handed down from millennials, accustomed to the notion set from conception that this was their life this was what it will ever be, imprisoned in the heavy shackles of poverty, a curse inevitable to all of their kin. Life revolving around taking care of cattle, farming wild fruits and natural edible vegetables, marriage, circumcision, all summarize under one roof, tradition it was what they had that truly belonged to them. Tradition was their compass, their map, the line that defines actions as good or bad, the judgement to all those who defied the customs and which spoke of the consequences. Yet amidst this enriched traditional inhabitance was a man whose luck outshone the others in the community, lucky to be baptized in
Teal blue, with a shady sky blue texture from a far it was more of teal than sky, nailed here his most prized possession which he held dear more than his family, to the far left nearing the edge, framed and an additional glass protector, his degree, bachelor of laws, visible signature from the minister of London to ascertain that he, holder of the degree, had completed his educational time frame and passed and a graduate of the University of Stamford. But this was only the beginning of his triumphant journey in the field of law, unsatisfied and eager to be more outstanding, he moved on to Manchester School of Law, where he proved yet again after four years that he was the stronger of the two. A hand distance from the first framed degree, another hang, the one from the school of law where he graduated and termed as the best lawyers in the law firm. Besides his fiery urge to climb the impossible steep mountains of law, he was into art, the more abstract kind of art to be precise. Some
Adopted from the ancient British law system, passed and instituted in almost every court located under the satellite, the symbol that represents justice, fairness it’s also implicated as, Lady Justice holding the Scales of Justice. It’s believed that this symbol unifies the court and ensures that every verdict passed across is truly by this symbol. But in some situations this scale is sometimes paused, held back, or muted if it’s preferable, and at that point the verdict may not be by the scales of justice but by that of man, selfish, greedy, and inconsiderate man. Unlike other court adjournments where there was no wig, this time the judge appeared with a wig, the bench wig it’s called, this meant business and in his black gown and white collar, this was no ordinary case, well not anymore. After the plaintiff, Mr. Zod Kong, and his attorney, Mr. Tim, implicated the act of article 42B, the court was in dilemma. They had come to a verdict that the defendant was innocent and the plainti
Three clear glass shatter proof shielded the equally circle windows on each side of the plane, three on each side, all could be seen, the sky blue as it was, clouds all puffy, dots of what could be assumed as houses, green everywhere were confirmed as the dense canopy thousands of kilometers below. Beige and cream decorated the inner walls, walking on brown fur carpet, four seats placed in two’s, one facing the other opposite sides one pair on the left another on the right, big dense white cushioned seats the more luxurious kind but not too classy just those comfy to give that comfortable feeling and absorb the stress. In between these seats, crafted to the wall of the soaring mechanical 4 passenger machine, hand craft furniture the more brown crystal but a little darker than the carpet, often acts as a hand rest for those fond of gazing through the window, it’s enticing connection with the décor of the wall made the space more peaceful, some positivity energy lingered monks may say.
Murder, that’s at least 50 years that’s first degree, third degree that’s around 40 years so doing the math that’s 90 years, adding public harm and government property destruction that’s around 5 million fine and 20 years jail time, so judging by the looks that’s 100+ years jail time. That was the verdict awaiting the new third party, Mr. Ben, in court that daunting day. Hell started when he step foot on his mother soil, and now it was just getting worse. Alone, with no attorney to stand up to him he sat on the assigned bench alone, cuffed, wrists aching, back sore as of the constant forward lean back at the station, in the cruiser, and here in court, but his physical problems were the least of his troubles. Dazed and confused like a shark flipped to it’s belly in subconscious mind still trying to draw the dots of the caging in barbed wires that were fatal to rip him to shreds, Ben just glared at the ceiling of the court, studied the embroidery of the judge’s bench, the eye catching
Tear down those curtains they are all dusty and peasant like!... You… I want those windows clean and I better find my car washed or else… who left the coffee maker uncovered!... Reinvention, old torn down, years in the making replaced, it was time for change and about time because this was historical embodiment of the Hitler reign, no more past crap it’s boring, predictable, time his own reign stood up. With the notion of remaking everything from the ground up, construction workers worked overtime day and night, taking shifts and 20 minutes break after every four hours, against the WHO health care program but within Brian’s turf throw that bullshit to the trash. Whereas the interior was renovated full time, clear expensive glass widows, digitalized security systems, modern automated doors, a pool wide enough for a trailer to park and depth sea divers are authorized, was in work outside. Simply put there was nothing short of the constant daily vibration of mechanical engines, the tox
No calls, no emails, not even a f*****g whisper in the air of just what the hell happened, it was just…silence… all communications were cut. Sure at this point they all drew to conclusions, he bailed on them, no he back stabbed them, no probably his sick or there is some troubled delays, both pessimists and optimists clamped in groups of two’s and three’s enclosed in the boardroom meeting room although with no furniture just broken woodwork, rotten timber and wrapped tangled bundles of rusted binding wire. They gave ideas each based on their base of view and surprisingly was no idea was not possible all had a chance that maybe it was true, so they murmured, threw insults to those who rejected and praises to those who said aye, to spice up they went the old fashion way, the old tradition hand count, “all in favor raise your hands…”, but unfortunately it was all short of time wasting and a premature child play because the man of the hour walked in. He walks over dead skulls, a mighty s
4 layers of concrete, a feet high, 3 walls, those on the side built and gave birth to more identical, the other faced the east with only a small high placed cube like hole with four smelted in iron bars each two finger sized thick, the entrance, a half foot wide automatic cell door, around 10 bars equally spaced with extra lead making it impossible to cut well unless you have a chainsaw. Now that’s one cell, from ground floor to around three more blocks up, and around 10 cells per block, add another four similar blocks that makes…yah that’s more than 50 cells and each cell has two inmates that’s more than 100 inmates. So the Madagascar Penitentiary State Prison houses all these and still incoming inmates and adding the staff members, wardens, doctors, the owner of this rehabilitation state, that’s around 200 people in this 100acre institution. Now imagine, all these inmates, 100+ to be rehabilitated members of the society, break out, mayhem, chaos to nothing short of insecurity and c