Justice

By J.E. Sharp

This thought-provoking, entertaining, and sometimes amusing collection of short stories by J. E. Sharp explores such life issues as confronting the past, family, child abuse, going home...and murder. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Dec 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638375616

J.E. Sharp

J.E Sharp is happily retired and divides her time between Ohio and Florida. She remains very active in her community and is involved in local and national politics. She attended OSU and Columbus Community College, where she majored in journalism. An avid reader and writer, she loves to share her literary creations with her friends and family.

Book preview

JUSTICE

"God destroys no man. Everyone who is destroyed will

have destroyed himself."

Spirit of Prophecy, COL 84

_______

The little girl with the dirty, dull hair and tattered dress was seldom seen by the Outsiders who peddled their literature throughout the backwaters of the bayou. If they did see her, she would be sitting alone in front of the dilapidated shack that was her home. They would shake their heads in disbelief at the maternal neglect and squalid conditions in which she lived.

The child was approximately seven years old, estimated because the swamp society into which she was born did not track such things. They saw very little difference between birth and death, neither of which were of much consequence. In this particular case, even if vital statistics had been of any import, the mother would have been too bitter to validate the child's existence, for the father, an alligator hunter by trade, had spurned them both.

When he lost his life and limb to the predatory creatures he preyed upon, the jilted mother believed her lost virtue to be vindicated, an eye for an eye so to speak, so she named the child Justice. It was only right, she reasoned, that the man who had wronged her should die in such a way.

From the onset, the bastard child's presence was a constant reminder to her mother of the uncontrolled lust that had branded her a sinner. Once a spiritual, God-fearing woman, she was now a lost soul whose warped idea of righteousness bordered on madness. It was the consequence of her weakness, the mother mistakenly rationalized, that she bore an idiot child whose afflictions she could not abide.

For the little girl named Justice could neither speak nor hear. In her silent, hostile world, she often withdrew, willing herself invisible as a defense against the brutality and pain inflicted on her by an unbalanced mother who had come undone.

It was after her mother's cracked coffee mug was accidentally broken that Justice began to disappear from reality. Unfairly faulted, she fell victim to the heavy whacks of the broom handle, her mother's favorite weapon against the transgressions of her handicapped daughter.

Without thinking, and in keeping with her usual reaction to such severe punishment, Justice fled to her place of solace under the makeshift bed in the corner of the shack, knowing her mother could not follow.

It was at that moment, cringing under the bed in her comfort corner, that Justice first heard the voice whispering in soft and soothing tones. It was as if the one speaking did not want to further frighten the little girl who lived in constant fear. When Justice strained to listen, the voice grew fainter until it could no longer be heard.

She remained in her hiding place under the bed until after dark. When she was sure her mother was asleep, she crept outside to sit on the wooden stoop. The murky fog that every evening enveloped the marshland provided a blanket that hid her from the Outsiders, except for one, the one who emerged from the edge of the bog.

Do not be afraid, Justice. My name is Angelos, I am your friend. She bent down on one knee to examine the damage inflicted by the broom handle. At the sight of the numerous welts, Angelos became beet-red angry and very vocal, swearing in a most improper way.

In the days that followed, Angelos was a constant companion and self-appointed protector of the abused child. The two of them would spend their days together and Justice felt for the first time the warmth and affection of a kind and caring soul.

Sometimes, the two of them were too noisy. Justice jabbered to her friend, unaware of the guttural sounds she made, until her mother could stand it no longer and would thump her on the head, yelling at her to be quiet. Angelos, in an angry display of defiance yelled back. Justice was relieved to note that her mother ignored the vitriol of her daughter's new friend.

Angelos was a gift to Justice, for she could read. She read to her from the Bible picture book that had been placed on the front stoop of the rundown shack. The two of them would spend hours on the floor, Angelos reading chapter after chapter while Justice studied the pictures.

Look, Justice, in Matthew it says, ‘Let the little children come to me, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.’ The words comforted her and she fell asleep, dreaming of a place called Heaven and the promise that she would one day live there.

Early one morning, as the mother slept, Angelos, determined to complete her mission, opened the Bible book to Genesis and pointed to the illustration of two people standing in a garden. They were looking up, watching a serpent that had wrapped itself