As a regular at the Flash! Friday prompts I look forward anxiously to Monday afternoon when the week’s current judges lay down their views on this weeks responses to our flash pieces. Being a competitive soul I both enjoy the prospect of being placed and grind my teeth at the utter injustice of not winning every week! I accept, fully, that there are those who have far more talent in the small than me; those who can capture an essence in a few words. But practice helps improve and occasionally I too am the subject of their benefaction. Like this passing week where I crept into the third runner’s up spot. To give it context there are regularly 50 plus entries and overall fourth is very pleasing. And it’s subjective too. And frankly it could be any one of twenty of the stories that win. And those that d are brilliant examples. Etc.
This week’s prompt was to have as the main character a lawyer and use the picture below as a prompt.
And this was my take
The Circle of Life
I’m shooting for the stars, on an upwards trajectory, flying high, boldly going…
Daily they watch me, cups stretched out. Knowing, judging.
I win. I always win. Against the odds.
They never speak, the death rattle of the coins in the cups, chains they’ll never shed, following up the court steps. Spare a penny. Spare me. Spare us all.
I’m there for everyone. All the hopeless cases, all the desperate people. The damaged and the guilty. I’ll get them off and let them slip back to rob, beat, cheat, abuse again. I don’t judge.
Their gaze never wavers. Eyes crippled by long forgotten battles for land, money, souls. Each hollowed out inside.
Today it is me, finally broken on the bar. Aspiration corrupted. Being judged and found wanting. Crashing and burning. Pilot of my own destruction.
Stripped bare, left to hang. Just the clothes I stand up in.
When I emerge, blinded by the light of relief, they part, heads bowed, those ghosts of my predecessors. They held vigil; they have always known how it would end and they do not gloat. There is nothing now but a space in line and my own cup, forever empty, its echo sounding in the ears of the next generation.