The Arrow Of Hypocrisy

The crush is back with a vengeance.
It originates in the brain and travels to the heart where not so gentle hands squeeze with the intent of creating unbearable pain.

Success.

My walls are at an unprecedented high.
I grind my teeth, clench my jaw and still manage to scream “Why?”

But I know.

Climbers of my walls are nearing the top.
When will they stop?
When will they fall?

With one, we have shared our trips
to Hell and back.
His eyes filled with sorrow and mine with tears.

I expected to hear the splash of him falling into my moat of tears, but he didn’t.
I never expected he’d stay through the years, but he did.

He’s saved my life without even trying.
Without even knowing, he’s kept me from dying.

I will never tell him.

With the other I hold my own
and trust;
I must.

I still wait for the splash.

I think about those
who have fallen
under the weight
of their lies,
drowning the sounds
from their cries.

Important is such an arbitrary term.

Occasionally, I give in to anger.
I draw the arrow with the same name from my quiver.
Through the peep-hole I aim with bulls-eye precision, and take pride in my decision.

To my surprise, this time, the arrow missed.
It boomeranged and loudly hissed its way back to me.
Before it punctures my pupil with bulls-eye precision, I see its name has changed to Hypocrisy.

The crush grins with delight as I writhe in agony from the smite.

Then I calm and realize.
Who am I to criticize if they intentionally or inadvertently pulverize my hurts?
It isn’t my place to put verdicts into vials
and to judge
without knowing
their trials.

I’ve made my own
climbs and falls.
I’ve scaled the heights
of others’ walls.

I’ve turned my back
in their times of need.
I’ve fallen into their moats
and began to proceed my climb.

Their walls are higher now.

As I apologize,
tears roll down my face.

I don’t expect to receive a response.

https://thematticuskingdom.files.wordpress.com/2015/10/87764-avengers15arrow.jpg
Image Credit: Unknown

no pressure

A series of interviews – an exercise in truth:

https://i0.wp.com/wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/80450F/wjon.com/files/2010/11/police_tape.jpg

If you want to play along, read the following statements given to a police officer and then answer the questions at the end.

“I saw the whole thing!  I was across the street talking with my coworker, Jim, and the car jumped the curb and hit the lady.  It was horrible!”

“I saw the whole thing!  I was out walking Measles, that’s my dog, and we turned the corner from Alpine onto Fifth, and this guy punched the lady, she fell backward into the street and was hit by a car.  It was horrible.”

“I saw the whole thing!  My husband, Tony, and I had just finished our meal at the little café at the end of the street.  The lady and man had walked passed our table arguing as we were paying the bill.  They were both shouting at each other.  When we left the café, their yelling drew my attention and I watched as she slapped him and he raised a hand to ward off the attack.  Then she tripped on a fire hydrant and fell backwards into the street where she was struck by the car.  It was horrible!”

“I saw the whole thing!  I was on my bike, Agnus, at the time, and we were on our way to make a package delivery uptown.  The congestion on the street forced me onto the sidewalk for a moment, yes I know the laws, and I had to stop because the lady and man were blocking my path.  They were arguing, which isn’t that uncommon, but then the lady slapped him and that really caught my attention.  Then she pulled out a knife from her purse and looked like she was going to attack him.  He grabbed her wrists to try and wrestle the weapon away from her and she tripped on the fire hydrant and fell into the street.  The car had no time to stop before it hit her.  It was horrible.”

“Oh my gosh!  Oh my gosh!  I was on my way to see my friend, Charles, who lives up Fifth, on the other side of Alpine, and …  And I just can’t believe this happened.  I was in the far right lane, almost up against the curb because the cars around me had just nearly collided.  Some jack-hole in an Audi was traffic weaving and nearly hit a minivan.  I… I don’t see that either of them stopped.  I don’t see them here still.  And then all of a sudden the lady was falling into the street.  I hit the brakes and swerved to try and avoid her, but there was nothing I could do.  There was no room to maneuver.  There wasn’t time to stop.   It was horrible!”

“I’ll tell you everything!  My wife, Gwen, and I were fighting over her brother, who has been staying at our apartment for the last couple months, ever sense he made parole.  I wanted him out because he is a bad person.  She wanted to let him stay because she thought she could help him turn his life around.  Things got pretty heated as we approached Alpine and she slapped me when I suggested that she was blind to the truth of how bad he truly is.  Then she pulled a knife from her purse to show me that she wasn’t that naïve.  She had confiscated the weapon from him that morning.  I reached out to her, to apologize, to offer comfort.  In that moment I knew we would figure out how to make it work.  I love… I loved her.  But, her heel caught in the air vents on the sidewalk as we turned to continue our walk, she lost her balance and fell over the fire hydrant into the street.  The car hit her before I could even react to try and save her.  It was horrible.”

Pertinent information:

The car is on the street, with dark tire tracks left in the road from brakes.  The lady was thrown several yards in front of it.  A knife was recovered near her.  The interviewees all appear visibly distraught.  An agitated crowd is gathering, and the longer you take to make a decision and clear the scene, the rowdier they get.  Half are screaming that the husband of the deceased needs to be arrested immediately for domestic violence, and half are screaming that the driver of the car needs to be arrested for reckless driving.

 ………………..

Which version of the events do you believe?  Which witness(es) do you trust?  Why?  What additional information do you need?

What do you decide to do?

Quick!  The whole nation is watching…

………………………………………………………………………….

Update:  In a couple discussions in the comments I remembered and brought up a video I had watched in one of my psychology classes in college that showed how unreliable eye witness testimony can be.  I went looking for it on youtube, and while this isn’t the study I remembered, but it is close enough: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rSzPn9rsPcY

Winning Stories

As promised, here are the winning entries for the writing contest.  You know, the one I didn’t win.  That’s the way these things go sometimes.  But, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.

http://www.isabelladogbiscuits.com/2014-writing-contest.html

bestdog makeoverdogI was tempted to close comments on this post…  But, curiosity is going to get the better of me, as is its way.  I would appreciate any honest feedback you have on my piece:  After reading the winning submissions, can you see something in my story I could have improved upon?  Something that might have turned the judges off?  Anything you can provide to help me with my writing?

perhaps I am

I will be absent today, as I have been called into Jury Duty…

dun dun dun

Am I the only one that queues the scary music when they see the summons in the mail?

Yes?  No?

I know it is my civic duty, my responsibility to show up, to do my part, to play the role.  But, I don’t want to.  I dread getting the summons.  I dread going.  And where does that dread come from?  It’s Partially because I believe the system is broken, partially because I don’t want to waste my time with the whole process, and partially because I don’t want to hold that kind of power over someone else.

So, if you are looking for me tomorrow I’ll have my nose buried in a book, hoping that my name doesn’t get called to go sit in a courtroom and see if they select me for a trial.  Fingers crossed, toes crossed, everything else crossed that should be, rubbing on a lucky rabbit’s foot, making sure not to cross paths with black cats, and following all other manner of superstitions to make sure my luck holds through the day.

I do not want to be a juror.

Does that make me a terrible citizen?

the sauce

Photo courtesy of Michelle Weber.

Roberto prepared to spoon on the sauce.

This wasn’t just any sauce, mind you, it was his special creation: the culmination of his years of experience and expertise, his signature dish.  But, it couldn’t stand alone.  It needed something to be drizzled over to truly be complete.  Thus, he waited.

Carlo carefully plated his own masterpiece.  He took his time to make sure the presentation was perfect.  It simply wouldn’t do to have a single item out of place.  Genius cannot be rushed.

The two brothers, Roberto and Carlo, chefs extraordinaire, were known across the land as the finest cooks one could ever have the pleasure of being served by.  Their restaurant, Intingolo, had started humbly enough with the two of them working every shift on a shoestring budget and barely making ends meet.  Over the years word of the food had spread and the customers and rave reviews had poured in, allowing them to expand, hire help, expand again, and finally look around and feel like they had made it to where they wanted to be: working on their specialty dishes and leaving the rest of the business in capable hands.

Life had been good.

Then famous customers had started coming in, politicians, actors, sports stars, and the pressure to create works of art, pleasing to all of the senses, mounted.  Roberto and Carlo scrambled to find something that would define them and their restaurant, something that would appease the masses but also appeal to the more discerning palettes of their upper echelon clientele.

It was Roberto who had stumbled onto the sauce, and its secret ingredient, late one evening after the doors had been closed and the last of the staff had gone home for the night.  Carlo had worked countless hours after that to create a dish to compliment the sauce his brother had created and he too finally stumbled onto the right combination of flavors and textures.  They combined their creations, and, voila, they gave Intingolo a dish that would be raved about, craved, obsessed over and sought after through the country.

Roberto was clamored with request after request to give out the secret of his sauce.  The public wanted to know.  His peers wanted to know.  The world wanted to be able to at least attempt to make the delicious gravy in their kitchens at home.  He always refused.  He smiled, a knowing, sad and tired, smile after each attempt at getting him to divulge the ingredient list, but as long as the brother’s continued to garner fame and attention, as long as their restaurant was the one on the tip of everyone’s tongue, as long as they were the darlings of the kitchen, Roberto knew he couldn’t share the secret of his sauce with anyone other than his brother.

Carlo knew the truth of it, of course, he had been there the night Roberto had created it.  Plus, they were brothers and they shared everything anyway.  Roberto would have told Carlo how he had come up with the sauce even if Carlo hadn’t been there in those fateful late night hours.  Just as Carlo had shared the secrets of his dish with Roberto once he had perfected it.

They knew the “how” and the “what” of each others’ signature creation but they never once attempted to make them.  They were a team, they each had a role to fill, and they were okay with that.  It was as it was supposed to be.

The years passed, the restaurant thrived, Roberto and Carlo were offered guest appearances on several cooking shows, were asked for critiques on up-and-coming chefs, and were afforded every opportunity to thrive and grow their business, but every afternoon they returned to Intingolo and made sure they were on hand to create their dish whenever it was ordered.  It was their passion, their calling, their true love.

Eventually the truth came out.  When someone, or two brothers to be specific, has a secret that other people want to know they will find a way to discover the truth of that secret.  Staff members at the restaurant were bribed, money exchanged hands, hidden cameras were set up to record the brothers’ movements and after several weeks of having to move the cameras around to capture the right angles and the right settings of every step of the process, the entirety of the steps and ingredients to create the sauce and dish were caught.

It took less than 24 hours for the news to go public, for the restaurant to get shut down, and for Roberto, Carlo, and a third, unidentified, man to get hauled off to jail where all three were held without bail for their crimes.  In hindsight it was a marvel that the secret had lasted as long as it had.  Expose after special after investigative report was thrown together to track how they brothers had gotten away with it for as long as they had and to ensure that other famous restaurants and chefs weren’t employing similar tactics.

Due to the overwhelming and damaging evidence, all three men plead “nolo contendere” to the charges leveled against them.  As first time offenders, despite the overall mass of their crimes against humanity, the brothers were only sentenced to ten years in prison.  The public was outraged that the sentence was that long as the two chefs were still generally beloved by all.  The third man, received his third strike, and was sentenced to life in prison with the first possibility of parole in ten years time.  Though it was still his third strike and the Judge could not overlook that, it was statements from the brothers claiming the man’s innocence as to the purpose of the drugs he had been dealing Roberto for the past several years that the court factored in to being slightly lenient on the man.

The drug dealer truly hadn’t known the mdma (ecstasy) he’d been selling the elder brother was being used in creating the world famous sauce.

……….

Word Count: 1,000

Written in response to the Weekly Writing Challenge.
“This week, tell us a story based on this photo”

Pictures truly are worth 1,000 words.