The Case of Rage v. Peace

By Virginia Nicole

The bailiff stood. “The day has come for all to rise before the judge, I fear. We know the reason we stand here.” When the highly honored and revered Judge Justice appeared, the court rose to its feet. As she sat, all sat with her, and the deliberations began. The prosecutor was the first to state his case. The defendant was Rage, a burly one, whose violent temper had earned him his place before the jury today. The prosecutor represented Peace, Rage’s brother, the murdered saint.

“Virtuous people of the court,” the plaintiff addressed the jury. “This case is a clear one, surely you can all see. Peace was but a simple man, one who sought out those in need. He helped Grief when she was poor. He fought against Greed. He taught Anxiety confidence. He taught Fear serenity. With all the good acts he has done, he has earned respect, plenty. I come here, however, not to tell you all he’s done in life. I’ve come to suggest that those works have earned him recompense for his strife.

“For here you can see”—the plaintiff pointed at the accused—“Rage has stolen Peace away, and because of that, we all lose. What I mean is, we are at a loss. There is no need to sway. You must see Rage for what he is and find him guilty today.”

With that, the prosecutor took his seat, and the defense rose. Nervous sweat dripped from her nose. “Actually, the defense will be skipping our deliberation today. My client”—she glanced at Rage—“has something he would like to say.” With that, Rage stood and walked to the jury to address them directly.

“I did kill my brother.” Rage sighed. The court gasped. “I’d like to say it was a mistake, but that would be a lie. I grew jealous of my brother, and for that, he had to die. It wasn’t in my mind that night to kill Peace right away, but Envy whispered in my ear, and there began my inner fray.

“So much I wanted to be like Peace, and at that moment I tried. I deliberated with myself. I argued. I cried. In the end, I’m pained to say, the rage won out. The peace within me died that night, never to return, without a doubt. I told Peace I needed his help, and of course, he came quickly to my aid. I waited with a knife, the trap already laid. The second he shut the door behind him, I lunged to commit the deed. My inner peace wished to drop the knife, but my rage wanted him to bleed.

“When it was done, and Peace was gone, Envy began to laugh. With her, I’d walked a dark road, a long chaotic path. She and her brother Jealousy often stoked my anger, and I daresay I would not be as dangerous without her. But on that night, she disappeared and left me to my fate. I did not know what to do, so I called my father, Hate. ‘Peace’s death,’ he had said, ‘was well deserved.’ But my mother, Hope, overheard. She asked what kept me up at this hour, why I’d not yet slept. I told her what I had done, and over the line, she wept. She told me then I must be fair, and Justice must decide.”

“Preposterous,” a juror interrupted.

“Sir, I have not lied,” Rage assured him.

“That I killed my brother is true, but I immediately regretted the act. Now, I have come before Justice to find the peace I now lack. For my crimes, I must be locked away. That is fine by me, Your Honor. I hope justice will bring my own peace today.”

The court fell silent, everyone struck with awe. Justice cleared her throat. “Then it is time for me to enforce the law. Rage, I do find you guilty of robbing the world of Peace. I do hope, however, your internal struggle does cease.” Without another word, the gavel banged.  It was decided that as punishment, Rage would be hanged, for a world with Rage and no Peace would be a world of war. An endless struggle would ensue, leaving everyone sore. The jury dispersed quietly, each to his or her place.

Rage went to the gallows with newfound peace and a smile on his face.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Virginia Nicole, an avid animal lover, videogame enjoyer, movie buff, and all around geek is a recent highschool graduate with plans to enter the field of forensic psychology. She is a big fan of the fiction genre, especially classical fairytales, and is partial to narrative poetry, especially those with great rhyme.