Reiji-Edgeworth

He'd be the 'yes man' until she told him otherwise. "Tigre, could you come over here a moment?" "Yes'm." He nodded quickly, walked over. Glanced down at her, up at where she was staring. Rubbed his hands together. Sweaty. "You wan' me t'get that for youse?" "No A simple lift will do, thank you." A lift. She was serious. He gulped, nodded. He slipped hands around her, held her around her waist. Tiny, thin. He could snap her like a twig. Easy. Except not. He lifted her up, she opened the top drawer and took a jar out. A drab green vase. Could be where she kept the money. "You can put me down now." Right. He knew that. Nodded, set her back

Phoenix Wright, the great attorney, he yells objection to the court open the case files, present evidence. Take that. The judge needles out the steps, keeps those in court waiting, playing that guessing game. A xenolith of lies from the truth, It sparks the crowd murmurs, a Heated frenzy of whispers, shouting all call for attention to the name of the game. The piece eyed which doesn't fit. Another Yell flying out in court appeals and oppresses the prosecution's protests, unleashes the reality. Not Guilty, Phoenix Wright.

How fast does the world turn? Would you prefer gears of silver, bronze, or gold? How many squirrels have told you about the tiny man who's going to kill everyone? Who is the milkman? If an actor collapses in a forest, will a critic hear and write two paragraphs on the lack of use of expression? For mammals, do whales count because of their blow holes or teeth brissels? Are insects and snails counted in the same category as snakes? If you hear a hummingbird's wings beat, does the sound hit you as lawnmower or bumble bee? Are mosquito's friendly? Have you ever asked the girl scout cookies for their names, or do you just devour them mercilessl

Icy cold breath against my neck. I'm not sure where it's coming from, but it's there. When I turn to look, though, I can't see anything. And I'm starting to wonder if maybe it's me. Maybe it's something wrong with my mind that I can't come to terms with. I'll never know, I can never seem to catch that icy breath in the act. You need concrete proof in order to convict a felon. I'll find that concrete proof and shove it in their faces. That'll show them. ..What am I saying? I gave that up a long time ago. No, I've changed. I'm better than this. I can hold back that anger. It's nothing but a game of mind over matter. I'm past this. I can get t

PROMPT 2: Questioning my anger. I don't know why it made me so angry, it just did. Maybe it was all the years of holding back the yells. Holding back the tears. Holding back everything, even happiness, relief, and sympathy. Maybe it was how the fluorescent lights of the store were burning into the top of my head, the stark quiet of the store in the evening, so scantly populated for that time of day, and nothing more. Perhaps that's why I reacted so violently. Callously. No one to see me crack. And I shouldn't have. I was in the wrong. It wasn't even that big of a deal. It was just something small. But it did feel good to let go of all that

                                              One By One. One by one, she placed them down. Long white strips. On the floor. The orange floor. That was all. Just one by one. They would all have their place. Every single one. She had already laid out so many before the one she was gently placing down now. Meticulous. She had to make them absolutely perfect. Perfect. Her one worry was that the long white strips in her shoulder bag would run out. One by one. They would run out in due time, and she would have no more. Nothing. Nothing but the orange of which she lived her life in. No one else. Just her and the white strips. Slowly running out. O