Member-only story
HALLOWEEN FICTION
The Ghosts in My Eyes
Some NEW Halloween fiction in which an elderly hanging judge faces a harsh sentence
Stuart Miller was not a complicated man, in his opinion, during what he suspected, sometimes even hoped, were the last of his twilight moments.
He simply wanted to live his final days in peace, on his terms, with the television blaring if that was his wish, with a morning bowl of cornflakes sitting uneaten on the kitchen table, or not, with the kitchen sink full, or not, with the garden untended, or not, with grass erupting from the sidewalk cracks in front of his home’s door, or not, with a bit of mold blackening the bottom edges of his shower curtain, or not, with the toilet bowl perfectly tended, or not, with the monotony of unassigned time his to control and do with as he wished.
As one of the great criminal trial lawyers of this county, and perhaps the next, and later a judge whose appearance following the words “all rise” was an ominous portent for the hoodlums awaiting trial, he had earned this.
He was proud of his hanging judge reputation, even for the smallest of offenses. Few things in life had offered him a greater thrill than sentencing the woman who shoplifted a Black and Decker hand drill she had stuffed into a large purse…
