Bran
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Bran strode down the long, dark hallway of the court house. His unbuttoned overcoat flowed behind him, filling the room with a quiet rustling sound that seemed to complement the steady clicking of his footsteps. Accompanying him were two heavily built men dressed in suit jackets. They kept in stride with Bran and looked straight ahead at the doors they were quickly approaching.
"Sir, there are bound to be plenty of media personnel through these doors. Keep walking and let us handle them". One of them addressed Bran, who only nodded in return.
They flung the doors open and entered into a large square room which was the center of the courthouse. Immediately twenty or thirty people with cameras, microphones, and notepads rushed towards the three men. There were shouts of "Mr. Brychanson!", "Can we get a comment on the trial?", and "Do you feel your defence will win?"
Bran, his face a blank stare, kept pushing through the crowd. He tried to block out the noise.
He tried to bury his feelings deep inside. I have to make it to my limo, he assured himself. Just to the limo.
Slowly making their way through the horde of reporters, the three men left the courthouse and pushed out onto the street. There they were met by a loud clamor of boos and and screams that came from a large mob of people. Shouts of "Justice!" and "Demon!" filled the air. Some held signs of protest. Some just shook their fists and yelled in the direction of Bran. One sign read "The poor die. The rich go free".
Bran ignored the many angry, unknown faces and hurried to his limousine, parked at the bottom of the steps which led up to the domed courthouse. Scanning the crowd one last time, he stooped into the limo and closed the door behind him. "Drive on", he ordered, and the car slowly forced its way through the people.
"Sad". A voice spoke from the far side of the seat. "You would think that they would have something better to do than uselessly protesting".
Bran looked over to the man who sat across from him. "They have reason to protest. I utterly failed...".
"Bran! You had no way of knowing! Don't be ridiculous." The man replied in disgust.
"I wholly deserve anything that's coming to me. What they say about me is entirely true".
"Nonsense! This type of talk will get to your head if you keep it up." The man threw a
packet of papers to Bran. "Everything has been taking care of. Your name will be cleared by tomorrow".
Bran tossed a glance at the papers before closing his eyes. "Did you stop to think that possibly I didn't want this?", his tired yet strong voice addressed the man. "Maybe I, maybe we should let the world run its course".
"Don't be absurd, Bran!" The man sneered at the very thought. "Can you hear yourself?! You're losing your edge. It shames me."
Bran apathetically stared back at the man but offered no response.
The man continued, "No, this trivial matter will not cause the great to fall, and we will not discuss the issue any further".
They proceeded in silence until the man declared that his stop was just around the corner. The limousine soon came to a halt, and he stepped out. Before closing the car door, he stuck his head back into the limo. "You would be wise to stay low while you... ". He cleared his throat. "...regain your nerves". With those final words, he slammed the door and was gone.
"Sir, there are bound to be plenty of media personnel through these doors. Keep walking and let us handle them". One of them addressed Bran, who only nodded in return.
They flung the doors open and entered into a large square room which was the center of the courthouse. Immediately twenty or thirty people with cameras, microphones, and notepads rushed towards the three men. There were shouts of "Mr. Brychanson!", "Can we get a comment on the trial?", and "Do you feel your defence will win?"
Bran, his face a blank stare, kept pushing through the crowd. He tried to block out the noise.
He tried to bury his feelings deep inside. I have to make it to my limo, he assured himself. Just to the limo.
Slowly making their way through the horde of reporters, the three men left the courthouse and pushed out onto the street. There they were met by a loud clamor of boos and and screams that came from a large mob of people. Shouts of "Justice!" and "Demon!" filled the air. Some held signs of protest. Some just shook their fists and yelled in the direction of Bran. One sign read "The poor die. The rich go free".
Bran ignored the many angry, unknown faces and hurried to his limousine, parked at the bottom of the steps which led up to the domed courthouse. Scanning the crowd one last time, he stooped into the limo and closed the door behind him. "Drive on", he ordered, and the car slowly forced its way through the people.
"Sad". A voice spoke from the far side of the seat. "You would think that they would have something better to do than uselessly protesting".
Bran looked over to the man who sat across from him. "They have reason to protest. I utterly failed...".
"Bran! You had no way of knowing! Don't be ridiculous." The man replied in disgust.
"I wholly deserve anything that's coming to me. What they say about me is entirely true".
"Nonsense! This type of talk will get to your head if you keep it up." The man threw a
packet of papers to Bran. "Everything has been taking care of. Your name will be cleared by tomorrow".
Bran tossed a glance at the papers before closing his eyes. "Did you stop to think that possibly I didn't want this?", his tired yet strong voice addressed the man. "Maybe I, maybe we should let the world run its course".
"Don't be absurd, Bran!" The man sneered at the very thought. "Can you hear yourself?! You're losing your edge. It shames me."
Bran apathetically stared back at the man but offered no response.
The man continued, "No, this trivial matter will not cause the great to fall, and we will not discuss the issue any further".
They proceeded in silence until the man declared that his stop was just around the corner. The limousine soon came to a halt, and he stepped out. Before closing the car door, he stuck his head back into the limo. "You would be wise to stay low while you... ". He cleared his throat. "...regain your nerves". With those final words, he slammed the door and was gone.
