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The Price of Injustice

Flashbangs and Fiction

“We first crush people to the earth, and then claim the right of trampling on them forever, because they are prostrate.”       – Lydia Maria Francis Child

What do you think of the quote?  Is this a pessimistic view, or is this a glimpse into a dark side of humanity that we try to ignore?  I believe strongly in justice, but I also believe that justice without equality isn’t really justice.  It’s something entirely different, something ugly.

Two separate incidents come to mind that paint a picture of the disparity that sometimes exists in justice.  Here are the brief stories of two young people – Ethan Couch and Cyntoia Brown.

Ethan Couch was only 16 when he crashed into a group of pedestrians, killing four and seriously injuring two.  The boy had stolen two cases of beer and was speeding at 70 MPH (with passengers) when he hit the pedestrians.  Ethan also tested positive for Valium and…

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Logan maneuvered the Wii controllers in unison, swinging his arms like a seasoned hockey player. The boy’s passion was obvious — rivaling that of the gladiators his game was designed around despite the disparity of size in his preteen frame.

The digital puck soared past a sprawling goaltender and into the net.

“Goal!”

Conner, Logan’s competitor, exhibited his own fervor as he chewed out the faux net minder. “What was that? Wake up and face the shooter. Stupid auto-goalie.” Conner was only a few weeks older than Logan, but already had sprouted seven more inches. He thought the added height would leverage him a scoring advantage in their rivalry, but his new friend proved to be resilient.

The boys met a couple of months ago when Conner moved into the neighborhood and over the summer they developed a healthy rivalry. Hockey quickly became their favorite battleground. They logged many…

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Papa’s gone.  And I’m alone.  Again.

As dusk is swallowed by night, I peer through the glass of the front door at a world that carries on without me. In the dirty, etched glass that serves as my window into the world I rarely enter, the reflection I’ve grown use to stares back at me. As the years have passed, I’ve come to realize the face is mine. But I know it’s not the one I was born with.

There’s a smell in the air. It frightens me…

Outside, tall oak trees cast long shadows across the road that snakes past our home — sharp fingers scraping the pavement, desperate to crawl away from the setting sun. Their branches are engaged in an ages old battle, pummeled by the invisible fists of a foul-smelling wind. Between the rustle of leaves, I hear the roar of the metropolis that lives around me…

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This is a true, twisty tale of horror. You know you need a terror fix!

Everything I once had is gone. It wasn’t a lone thief who’d snuck in during the middle of a single night to clean me out. It was instead a series of small burglaries, committed by an efficient team over more years than I recall. Their robberies began when I was just a boy and when, like most children suffering from few friends and social isolation, I spent most of my time alone — hidden away in my room, surrounded by the few possessions that made life bearable. I didn’t realize it then, but it was this solitary life that offered the opportunity for the shadows to begin slipping into the world of walls that I’d built…

————

When I awoke this morning, my sheets were wet with sweat. It may have been due to the nightmares that had returned with renewed fervor, or maybe it was only my body…

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Poor Stacey! Some days are . . .

Every day, never wavering, Stacey would go on her walk through the forest at the moment the sun started to burst through the ceiling formed by the tall trees. Virgin pines with broad branches of thick needles, they grudgingly fought the onslaught of the light’s invasion, resenting any intrusion into their domain.

This was Stacey’s chosen time to be alone and commune with nature. Even though hazards abounded in the deep woods environment, it was not enough to keep her out. She knew how to spot the signs of the denizens of the forests. This section had its share of bears and a few wolves, but she had never had any trouble with any of them. To be on the safe side, she carried a .38 sidearm and a 30/06. Couldn’t hurt to be careful.

From his observation post high on a tree along the trail, he watched her…

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Read what my friend and fellow member of The Damned has to say this week. Stirring, powerful, and true!

Blaze

Every particle of my being strains, rebelling against the knowledge flooding my veins. It’s not nature that lingers on the horizon, poised and on the verge of attack. This is something much worse, a force far darker than the world ever dared imagine.

It is the approach of death.

The economy has brought about its own kind of strain. People cave beneath the stress and pressure of everyday life. They turn on themselves and each other with the ferocity of rabid wolves. Nothing is held sacred anymore. The world pulses to the beat of frightened mortal hearts.

I’d like to say I feel pity watching humans suffer, but I don’t. If anything, they have it coming. Mortals are greedy, self-centered creatures too blinded by their own desires to realize the damage they have done. They think they are impervious to the fate that looms above them . . …

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Star light star bright
will I take my life tonight?
will I end this game I play
and stop this pain I feel today?

Twinkle twinkle little knife
through my wrist and take my life
bleed the blood and drain the heart
that broke the day that we did part

Mary had a little blade
who’s steel was sharp and fine
and every time that Mary sliced
the blood would pour like wine

Hickory dickory dock
the pistol I did cock
one bullet through the eye
to silence my cry
and my heart would finally stop

Humpty dumpty jumped off a cliff
smashed his face and died in a whiff
all the king’s women and all the king’s men
laughed at humpty once again

Hey diddle diddle
I slashed up my middle
and jump off the top floor
I fell to my death
and…

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