Terror

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Greg’s mind was exhausted from the long hours. He was defending a client surely guilty of murder – but nonetheless he had to defend him well. He glanced over to the mother of the victim, a small dark-haired woman who looked devastated. She was supported by family and friends whose slumped shoulders and tears said it all. Greg wished he was not so very good at his job. 

Gunshots echoed in the distance – were they in the building? The doors to the courtroom burst open and machine gun bullets sprayed the ceiling. People ducked low against the floor, heads flat on the floor. What was going on? Are they trying to save the criminal? The men were dressed in black and ski masks covered their faces. They looked as if they were in the special forces - tall, strong and aggressive. Loud stomping echoed through the building; loud sirens reverberated in the distance; loud screeches emitted from the microphone:

“Greg, we need you, now!” 

Greg followed them and hurriedly jumped into the van. What could this be about? Greg was in desperate need of a drink to calm him. The driver slammed the accelerator down. They skidded here and there, and Greg was thrown to one side of the van and then to the other. He was bruised and bleeding. Why were they in such a hurry? Why did he go with them? What had he been thinking? As the van suddenly screeched to a stop, he peered out the window worriedly.

They were at his house! Something unusual, sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, sent shivers up his spine. What was going on? The men dragged him out and forcefully propelled him towards the chair, towards a decomposing body rocking back and forth. It was his mother!