"But your honor!" the litigant shouted.

"Mr. Crozbury!" The judge attempted to interject.

"That land is mine! I din't trespass!" Red-faced and haired Mr. Crozbury continued.

"SILENCE!" Finally Mr. Crozbury complied. "Good. I warned you already and I'll warn you again, sir that you are not to speak until I tell you. Do you understand?"

Mr. Crozbury nodded up and down.

The judge rolled his eyes. "You may answer my question with a yes or a no, for the record, Mr. Crozbury."

"Yes, your honor."

"Now. I was trying to tell you, before your interruption, that we are here today to determine whether your entry onto lands allegedly belonging to your neighbor Mr. Crump amounts to a violation of municipal ordinance such that the prosecution can assess a fine of no less than $25 and no more than $100 and an order of community service of up to forty hours. Do you understand the nature of the charges against you and the minimum and maximum penalties I can assess?"

"Yes, your honor."

"This proceeding will continue in a certain way, as has happened for over a thousand years hitherto and will likely continue for as long as there are courts and the rule of law. First the prosecution and Mr. Crump will speak, then you will have your turn, then the prosecution a chance for rebuttal."

"Yes, your honor."

"Good. Now, the Court being satisfied, the prosecution may proceed."

"OBJECTION!"

Another eyeroll. "Yes, Mr. Crozbury?"

"Mr. Crump is lying!"

"He hasn't even begun to put his testi-"

"I did not do nothing wrong! I was only there to pick some flowers!"

The prosecutor chimed into the fray, "Your honor, I believe the Defendant just admitted to the facts necessary to find him guilty by his last statement."

"Nuh-uh!" Mr. Crozbury responded.

"SILENCE!"

"No, I have to work, he's always had it in for me."

"If you continue, the Court will find you in contempt."

"Did you set this up beforehand? Are you and Mr. Crump friends? What do you know about the mafia? I object to this Court's jurisdiction! The prosecutor is biased, this is the wrong Court, I demand habeas corpus!"

"Bailiff, remove Mr. Crozbury. We will proceed without him, and I will address his behavior at the conclusion."

Mr. Crozbury received 20 days of community service and a $100 fine for the trespass charge.

Mr. Crozbury spent the night in jail and was ordered to pay $250 after being found in contempt of court and sanctioned.

Hello!

I liked your sweet and touching story!

For crit:

The descriptions felt a bit loose at times.

>Something about that library made me feel at peace.

I understand that you might be hiding the ultimate realization that the time with the grandfather made the library time special, but

>Sometimes, he would come in and peruse the adult section, but most of the time, he simply sat in the car.

So, it's really time alone among the books under the watchful eye of the grandpa, from what I can see.

That it felt like home was a bit odd considering:

>The library was my favorite escape.

I think it might feel like something other than home, like a home away from home.

You do end it with,

>giving me the independence and support to do the one thing I loved most in the world.

which matches the introspective and self-reflective anecdotes from the narrator.

>At the time, I didn't realize they were questioning if was bluffing on the number, I, childishly, thought they were amazed at my reading skills.

I wouldn't set off "childishly" with commas here. It's not an aside but directly modifying "thought".

The narrator's voice feels childlike still, which could be nostalgia, but there's something else there. Maybe it's that the grandpa is more a background character even with the dialogue, the narrator is the center of attention on all of it.

>Curled up in a built-in nook in the back, I would travel across worlds, solve mysteries, and discover love. I would march out happily, though no one could tell, the books towering above my grin as I carefully walked down the steps to the parking lot.

I like this a lot, and it shows growth for the narrator, and I mean it's a cute image of course! I'd like more focus on these things or that growth through books.

Overall, I'd recommend focusing in more on an aspect or two. You cover a lot of ground and some elements suffer for it, I think. The grandpa could use more characterization here, considering his importance to the narrator.

"I recall" is present tense where the rest is first person past.

I'm left with questions about this. The descriptions are there, the nostalgia is palpable, but I wonder more about things like where's the grandfather now? Why is the narrator returning here? What purpose are the recollections serving in the narrative?

All said, well done on the story and thanks for the pleasant read! I loved your descriptions and that setting.

Hi there! Cool framing device with the rounds of boxing! Loved the action even though you wrote the in between parts. Great job!

For crit:

"without a trace of leather contact" I'm not sure what this means.

"I can feel something from when" this feels a little awkward.

"This is the round he dominates coming up." A little unclear. I take it to mean, the champ usually dominates round four, but there might be a clearer way to say it.

"beginning to react" is vague

"eight-count I took" so the champ scored a knock down and it took eight counts for our boxer to stand up? It's a little unclear. Perhaps, "still reeling after being down for an eight-count" or something like that?

"but they say" who? the coach and trainer and cut man all? or some other group?

"swelling up" I thought it was already swollen because the doctor looked at it earlier and you gave the detail of the boxer still being able to see through it.

>For the first time in his career, in his reign, and for the first time in this fight, I'm not facing the champ. I'm facing a boxer. And I can beat a boxer.

Great stuff there, I think it captures a lot of what's going on in your story. You do switch subjects, but being that they are boxing pitting them against each other in the sentence is cool.

Overall, I think you should lean into the framing even more. It's interesting having descriptions of in between the fighting so each round you have the boxer looking back with the wounds and then forward with the strategy. I really liked that split.

So much so that I missed some more of the forward looking element at the end or in what would have been round 9. Without it, the ending is abrupt and the frame broken, which could be what you were going after, but even then I think there might be a better way to tie it up for your character and story.

Then, some of the sentences repeated structure and subject, i.e. "the champ keeps", "he never took", "he kept on", "he gives" from your first paragraph. Now that's totally fine but it does give the flow a little bit of choppiness or kind of like a monotone at times.

I found it hard to see what the boxer was trying to set up or exactly how the champ was blocking or how the fighting progressed. That might be by design as the boxer wouldn't be thinking that, but I am wondering a bit about those details. I like boxing, though, so it could just be me.

Hopefully something I've said helps! Well done and excellent take on the theme.

1 Radiance

Isaac winced at the bright sun as he stepped off the city bus in front of the university laboratory. Allowing the bustle to dilute around him as people shuffled like drones towards their destinations, the scientist wished he could sprout wings and fly away. He basked in the warm light for but a moment instead.

Cordelia, Issac's temporary partner, greeted him in the dull break room with a smile.

"What is it?" he muttered over a hastily prepared cup of coffee.

Her smile grew slightly wider and her eyes narrower but she said nothing in response.

"Did I forget something, what's wrong?" Isaac looked down at plain button up shirt, slacks, two matching brown shoes. Finding nothing immediately amiss, he started to pat himself down.

"No! It's actually about work for once!"

"Don't play games with me, I'll log in and find it for myself and spoil your fun soon enough. If there is anything more than another set of dead ends. The Doc loves when we have to take two steps back."

Cordelia shut her mouth but kept the smile. "You did it, we finally did it!"

"It . . . it can't be. How many times did you check?"

"Once. I only had to once. Look!" She shoved a tablet into her partner's hands. He scrolled through quickly.

"This has to be a mistake!"

"No, Isaac. You found the key!"

"I . . . I'm not sure what this means."

"It means we can measure brainwaves, see what people emit. To say this is a breakthrough isn't enough. We're going to be famous, Isaac. Published."

"You know the Doc will soak up any glory, and these results are still probably a false positive. I can't believe the madman was onto something all this time. What if he's right about more than this?"

"Well. There's two things I do know."

"Yea? What's that?"

"We have some sort of results, and results mean more funding, and more funding means our jobs are safe for now."

"Is that all you can think about? The Doc is practically a god in science fiction. Have you read any of his stuff?"

"Never." She looked to the tablet again and finally stopped smiling.

"He talks about reading people's brainwaves being only the first step into something greater. Imagine being able to see something like our souls, our ambient energy floating around us like a cloud. The civilization in the books undergoes a steady metamorphosis . . ."

"You're right," Delia responded, "It's nutty, but we're here to do the actual work, right?"

"I suppose. Doubt the Doc will tell me anything more than what we know, but I've been trying my best to puzzle out what he's up to in the long run."

"Are you now?" The Doc walked into the room wearing his lab coat as he always did.

Wide-eyed, Cordelia silently and unceremoniously took the tablet and surrendered it to her superior.

"Ah! Progress. Wonderful! Won't you come with me . . . Isaac is it?"

The younger man gulped and nodded in assent.

--

WC: 500. All feedback is welcome! I'm probably going to use these characters and their setting again. /r/courageisnowhere

It's a goddamned Wednesday. I'm at this shit clinic before school, bright and early. Well, not so bright, but definitely early.

My kidneys are failing. I'm on a transplant list, and don't know when I may receive such a blessing. For now, I go to the clinic three days per week, three and a half hours at a time. It's a squat, rectangular building behind a shopping mall, the inside lacquered with the stuff painted on so many waiting rooms, absolute mediocrity.

At least the staff are friendly. I know every nurse's name. Every technician. All of their shifts. They tell me these things, about their vacations and spouses and small things, things close to home. I just wish they didn't pity me so much.

So many times they've hooked me up to the machine that filters waste from my blood. My body won't do it. It can't. A machine has to suck it out and spit it back into me. Two pricks, two tubes, every single time.

Barely conscious, I still know the woman who entered the room where the magic happens wasn't a regular. She didn't move right, she didn't move like any of the rest.

"Hello, dear!" She said almost too enthusiastically.

"I don't know you." It probably wasn't the most polite I could have been, but like I said it was early and I had stayed up the night before anyway.

"I'm Nurse Ann."

"Alright, Ann. Nice to meet you I guess. Can we get on with it?"

"It's Nurse Ann, Miss." Fucking seriously. "Nurse Ann" None of the others had ever done that. We were all on a first-name basis.

"I'm no Miss, then, Nurse Ann." She looked at me and then back to the chart in her hand.

"Of course, of course young sir."

She did her job efficiently enough. I was pierced and ready to get my blood flowing.

Usually, the staff have better shit to do than sit with me, but that's just what Nurse Ann was up to.

"You fucking mind?" I asked.

"Language!" she cried. All I could do is twist my face and look at her in disbelief. Who the fuck is this woman? "You won't be speaking like that much longer, dear."

"The hell you mean by that?" I retorted.

"Watch," she instructed. She pointed to my arm, where the tubes connected.

I started sweating immediately. The blood coming out of me was tar black. My eyes widened and fixed on it. Coming back in it was red, but what was the black?

"You vile, vile girl. We'll make you right again." I had enough of this shit. I was old enough to drive my skinny ass out of there, and I meant to.

But she put her hands on my shoulders and I felt calm suddenly, like my discontent had evaporated.

"Are you happy now, dear?" Nurse Ann asked.

"Yes, Nurse Ann!" I reply happily.