Reverend John Hale slowly got to his feet, stormed his way through the cream linen walls of the courtroom where loud chatters and gossips disrupted to a sudden stop. He strode by the judgemental looks that arose by a cluster of people on either side piercing Hale’s skin with ice. He staggered to his feet, unable to stand amidst the room where deadly whispers echoed where his mind is tormented with negativity. The wooden floor creaked echoing as Hale stood amidst the room with his heart in extreme grief as dark and deep as the sea. Guilt swirled him like dark black, smoke that had tainted in the air as a tangible presence in the room. He smelt and felt it wafting over his exposed skin, raising gooseflesh and pain sucking his life into the bleakest.
Last updated: April 24, 2019
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