Category: Text

Flash: L is for Legality

Erin Penn

Photo by Tingey Injury Law Firm on Unsplash

Overweight, more of a ball than a triangle, and sweat gleaming on his bald head from the trek from the parking lot to the small lecture hall, Dr. Hawkins rushed in the room, instantly silencing those already there, filling the quiet with a slamming door. One quick sweep of the room verified all students for his special class on “Argumentative Law” were in attendance. “What has the Supreme Court done?” he asked while shoving his briefcase into the lectern. He wouldn’t touch it again until it was time to leave.

“Preserved the Sanctity of Life.” John jumped in first, like normal. Coming from a long line of criminal lawyers, he grew up breathing court talk over dinner.

“Fucking evangelical.” Lindsey muttered under her breath.

Dr. Hawkins beady eyes flew to her. “What’s the problem?”

She shoved her chair back. “You know.”

“No, I don’t. What is wrong with his statement?”

“Sanctity.” Monica said, breathlessly, her soft voice cutting through the classroom’s silent fear of the professor’s rage. “It’s sanctity.” The pleasure figuring out something finally strengthened her statement.

“Why?”

“America, first amendment includes separation of church and state. ‘Sanctity’ is a religious term, basically defining life, all life as holy.” Her dark eyebrow met. “And it’s not, it can’t be.”

“Good.”

Monica beamed at getting a ‘good’ for the first time this semester.

The professor nailed the boy next to her with his eyes. “Why can’t life be holy, Mr. Goard?”

“Well … um. Separation of church and state.”

“Ms. Hargate already said that. Do better. Mr. Fikes?”

“Crap, well.” Jacob stared at the ceiling a second. “Food. We kill all the time for food – plants, animals. So it doesn’t matter if life is sacred as a general thought, some life has other purposes. We don’t care about the religious quality of life. We have to look at the legal value.”

“Oh, oh. Right.” Jervin snapped his fingers thinking. “Pets have a different value from food animals which have a different value from men–”

“Which have a different value from slaves, children, and women.” Lindsey interrupted, her arms crossed. “Sanctity of life only applies to white men and unborn babies. Everyone else is just property.”

“Good point Ms. Mills-Jumper. We will discuss property if time allows, otherwise next Monday. Back to the ‘sanctity of life’. What are other issues? Mr. Northern?”

“The judges, by using a religious argument, invalidate their decision.”

“Keep that in mind. But there is a long history of using God-given rights for the common law. Expand.”

“Well, sanctity has no value in the court of law, any more than God-given rights.”

John growled beside Larry. They were roommates and president and treasurer of the Christian club on campus respectively. Larry lightly kicked his foot to the side to shut John up. Unlike John, a heritage baby with his last name on one of the dorms, Larry needed his grades high to keep his scholarship. Everyone in the class, being seniors, had Dr. Hawkins previously and knew his vindictive nature.

“Legal rights, humanity rights matter. While animals and pets have property rights in relation to their owners, humans have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

“Pretty, but not enough.” Dr. Hawkins leaned on the lectern. “That would get a jury’s attention, but not a judge. Moore? Mr. Moore?”

“Um, when does life begin?” Matthew asked hopefully.

Breanna, his girlfriend moaned, dropping her face into her hands.

“What, you can do better?” Matt snapped.

“Well, the question you asked is important, and that is exactly what the judges should have sent back in this decision. When does LEGAL life begin? That needs to be decided by the legislature. Until it is, life should begin at first breath as that is the common law definition.”

“Is it Crawford?” Dr. Hawkins pinned the woman with his eyes.

“Right, you would ask that. Okay, I take that back. Let me look.” Breanna clicked at her computer, talking all the while, the only one who dared research and talk in this class. ” … the common law defines death as when the heart stops beating, so it could mirror that when the hearts start beating, which a lot of the evangelical Christians talk about. But since legal life also impacts plants, that cannot be the only definition. According to Black Law Dictionary ‘That state of animals and plants, or of an organized being, in which its natural functions and motions are performed, or in which its organs are capable of performing their functions. Webster. The sum of the forces by which death is resisted. Richat.'” She smiled. “Life is the SUM of the forces by which death is resisted, not just heartbeat. Breathing by plants and animals is also an important aspect and modern science prefers to define body life as beat and breathing, but quality of life by brain function.

“In the mix is being ‘born alive’. A child is not considered a child unless ‘born alive’. No social security number will be given until a child is born. A birth certificate isn’t issued. They have no personhood. They cannot be considered a citizen until birth.”

“Exactly,” muttered Lindsey. Dr. Hawkins turned his face toward her again, so she spoke out. “Sanctity of life is bullsh– is an imprecise term. Yes, we should treat life, all life, as important, but we have long established that human life, in particular those who qualify for citizenship, life is more valuable than life of non-citizens and lawbreakers.”

“Damn.” Jervin’s statement carried.

“Very good Ms. Mills-Jumper. There is hope for you yet.”

“Can you be less misogynistic?!” Lindsy waved her arms at the rest of the class. “You don’t even call on the women in your class, only the men. If we didn’t speak up on our own, nothing would happen.”

“You aren’t going to get that special treatment out there.” Dr. Hawkins nodded at the door. “And yes, I am aware I only called on the men. This is our fourth meeting and we got twelve to go this semester. Question, how many men noticed I only called on the males?”

Jervin raised his hand slowly. The rest of the group heads swiveled around, looking at the others. The three female students all had their arms crossed, even Monica’s face had hardened.

“I’m assuming all the women noticed?”

The women nodded at the professor.

“Mr. Santinelli, you noticed, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Um, well, because…”

“When did you notice?” Dr. Hawkins stepped to the side of the lectern and leaned forward, putting the dark-skinned student on the spot.

Jervin whispered, “First class, about half way through.”

“Good on the observation, horrible for seeking justice.” Dr. Hawkins clapped his hands together. “We need justice for humanity, not just men, not just women. For humanity. Our job as lawyers is to help justice happen. That includes stopping injustice at home, in school, if you go into politics, in the legislature and on the bench, if you go into business, in the work world. Going forward everyone will be called on. And if I fall into old habits, I expect everyone in class to call me on it. And ladies, gents, stand up for yourselves. Lawyers run over everyone. Especially criminal trial lawyers. You will need to break the cycle OUTSIDE of the court. Inside court, you are sharks. Outside, you are human. Get the best researchers, receptionists, and law secretaries you can, you will need them because you are human. Treat these people well so you KEEP them. Nothing is better than a well-trained assistant.

“Now to conclude today. ‘Sanctity of life’ has quite a bit of meaning as it keeps being used in law decisions. Today you got some ideas of how to pull that apart or support the ideal, depending on your client needs. As Ms. Crawford indicated, the start of life is not clearly defined, though the start of citizenship is. The legislature should clearly define when legally protected human life begins and its value in comparison to adult citizen’s life. Common law until recently applied different weights to males and females; now it seems that inequality of adult life valuation by gender has resumed. It will be up to you and your generation to either strengthen equality between the genders or formally and clearly remove it. I would appreciate it not be the mess of when “adulthood” begins – drive, drink, sign contracts, inherit, vote – giving hundreds of breakpoints. But that is up to you. I will be in my office for the next hour. Fikes, Goard, I need your senior project outlines. Hargate, your first draft. Dismissed.”

(words 1,452; first published 4/14/2024)

Argumentative Law series

  1. L is for Legality (4/14/2024)
  2. M is for Monday (4/15/2024)
  3. O is for Options (4/17/2024)
  4. Editing Rant: Q is for Quorum (4/19/2024)
  5. Writing Exercise: Y is for Yoke (4/28/2024)

Flash: F is for First and Foremost

Erin Penn

Photo 16440074 | Tin Can String © Alexstar | Dreamstime.com

 

“The trackers on your phone. You don’t think your phone isn’t buggy?” I asked.

Cage’s bedtime voice rumbled from the cell beside my ear. “Enlighten me.”

“Sure thing shadow boy.” He asked for mansplaining, I can give him mansplaining. I stuffed my third pillow under my back and retucked the blankets against the winter chill. “First you got the basic GPS tracking which is necessary for cell phone pinging and has the benefit of helping with maps and finding services so most people just leave that on. Downside of that is companies ping cell phones, gathering meta data to sell things. Once I drove through Ohio and then next week a highway restaurant asked if I wanted to drop by. I was back in the Carolinas by then. All phones have this general privacy infringement, it is the cost of cells. With me so far?”

“Yes.”

“And, as television shows indicate, cell towers keep track of cell phones in their area. That is how they instantly connect phone calls even when you are traveling. You text, phone, or use a service, you are tracked. But you got a government-issued cell phone.”

“I do,” growled through the line. My toes curled. I could live inside his voice.

“Right, so you got all the basics of tracking everyone has, plus whatever Uncle Sam drops into his toys, and if I had the responsibility of keeping track of supers, I would load up everything I could. The phone would have an additional tracker, likely hardened against electrical bursts and other acts of quirks. I would also put in a repeater on all email messages and texts sent through the phone. Monitor website and social activities. Nearly all that is already built into phones today so you can pull up text threads excreta. And, of course, I would record all phone messages.”

“Of course.” The statement carried a question mark about the level of my paranoia, but there was a reason why I never registered.

“Yes, I would also put tracers in all the shoes because while someone might forget their phone, few people leave buildings barefoot. Your bosses likely line some basics into the uniforms including heartbeat monitoring, although those likely would need to be replaced often after battles between damage to the uniforms and energy powers.”

He chuckled darkly. “They are replacing my uniform right now. Gremlin’s mech suit shredded it.”

“Exactly. But even with the constant replacement, I would make sure the uniforms also have cameras, for the same reason police are required to have them. To protect citizens and the blue. Well, the supers in this case. Not all of this is just to keep you on a leash. Although that is high on the list. They also are gathering scientific information figuring out how our powers work.”

“And how to neutralize them.”

“Exactly, not everyone is going to march into a regional headquarters and sign up. A lot of people don’t trust governments. And people who run to the not-nice side of things never do.” My fingers start playing with my fur blanket, but I grip them into a fist. Nope, not another random whatever. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. “Not all of it is big brother government. Some of the monitoring is beneficial just like why they monitor firemen, police, and military – easier to direct in an emergency, keep track of your health, find you if something bad happens, do post action reviews, all of that. But,” I sighed, rubbing between my eyes with one hand,  “first and foremost it’s all about tagging and tracing supers.”

“Paranoid much?”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

He made a grunt-like sound, then asked, “Are you wrong?”

“Can’t say for certain, but…” I paused, turning things over through my gut. I don’t have precog or meta level knowledge some supers can claim. Still, just living as a human being in America who grew up during the Cold War gave me insight to just how controlling toxic my government can be. “I’m certain.”

“Yeah.”

Cage made some uncomfortable sounds on the other end and I wince in sympathy. Doc Peterson did some damage.

“So how are you stopping the tracing?”

“How do my powers work? Isn’t that a bit personal?”

“Um, well…”

“Kidding. My quirk,” I giggle at the term, remembering the pure joy my niblings had explaining me all the lore of the anime, “is connections. Creating them or breaking them. If you looked at the symbol I drew, the doodle is two tin cans with a string looping between them.”

“Fuck,” he grunted in surprise. “You’re right.” comes more quietly, like he pulled the phone away to look at the symbol.

“Of course I am. Just repeat after me, Vector is always right.”

He dropped his voice into his lowest register. “Vector is always right.”

“Oh. You’re good.”

“Except when I’m very bad.” The hero chuckled.

“Put a bookmark there. We are still on our first date.”

“Are we? We are, aren’t we.” After clearing his throat and raising his voice out of the bedroom levels, to my curled toes disappointment, he asked, “Where were we? Vector is always right … symbol of tin can. Ah, how does that symbol work?”

“Right now your phone and mine are connected like two cans with a string. We aren’t going through cell towers, no energy is being used. Your voice to my ear.” I swirl my finger in a circle, connecting beginning to end. My power adds a bit to the existing symbol. “Your battery isn’t being drained.”

I hear another “Really” and picture him pulling the phone away from his ear. “What do you know?” More clearly he says, “That’s cool.”

“I added a cloud of matching parenthesis around the outside so no one else will hear what you or I am saying either through bugs or eavesdropping. Always close your parenthesis so words don’t fall out.”

“Fuck, my apartment is bugged isn’t it?”

“What do you think?”

“I am much more naïve than I thought I was.”

(words 1,007; first published 4/7/2024)

Hold Me Against the Dark series

  1. I want you beside me… (12/31/2023)
  2. Someone who cares if you come home (3/31/2024)
  3. F is for First and Foremost (4/7/2024)

Spin-offs

  1. Bridesmaid (6/30/2024)

Flash: E is for Excellence

Erin Penn

Photo 262735099 © Oleksandr But | Dreamstime.com (Paid for)

He was a complete punk-assed angry child in a six-foot-five adult package mansplaining how I should do my job.

The angry worried me.

At five four, my breakability in comparison to his body weight meant caution.

Dealing with men-children was exhausting, and I was reaching my limit for the week and it was Tuesday. I accepted it teaching college students; kids between eighteen and twenty-two didn’t have their heads on straight. Adulthood and control takes learning, and very little of those skills developed in the classroom. Students buried in learning everything BUT adulthood struggled.

Professor Sanders was a co-worker.

“Did you explode like this on Monica?” I managed to get the words out in a breathless sweet voice that usually deescalated his tirades.

“What?”

I kept my voice low and soft, avoiding direct eye contact. “The student who you say I need to crack down on. Did you loom over her and yell at her?”

“What, no.” Sanders shook his head. “Of course not.”

“He so did.” Interjected Professor Moose, the third of our department. She was only a temporary, but her gray hair from age and a bank account from years of corporate work gave her the confidence of tenure. “I heard him in my office and would have come out if I wasn’t with a student.” She scrunched her nose. “I should have come out anyway.”

Not wanting to walk aground our male companion, I requested, “Alyssa, could you make sure the door is closed?” We had moved the conversation her office slash department meeting room when I realized how loud Sanders was getting.

“On it.” She stood, swayed a moment until her trick knee steadied, then opened the door, making sure our office area was empty, then closed it firmly.

I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Is it time? Monica’s face as I sent her off to the school counselor filled the dark. Right, this was a fight that needed happening. Opening my eyes, I looked up, directly at his face. “Sit.” I said firmly, pointing at his preferred chair, the only one big enough for him to sit in a long meeting.

When he didn’t move, I used my teacher’s voice, deepening it, code-changing like I was in a lecture hall.
“Now, Billy.”

He dropped, surprised.

“How dare you treat a student like that.” I leaned in now that he was at my height like he always leaned in on me when I was at my desk.

“I did–”

“Nope, I am talking now. You wanted me to be demanding of excellence, well here are my demands.”

(words 433; first published 4/5/2024)

Flash: C is for Cheerwine Christmas Courtship Choices

Erin Penn 6 Comments

Image from icecreaminspiration.com )

“So how about him?” I point at Randall from Sales where he ladled out the punch bowl concoction where someone had dumped Cheerwine, Reed’s ginger ale, a couple cans of adulterated pineapple juice, and some vanilla ice cream in a bowl. “Swipe left or right.”

“Oh, left all the way. I don’t date white boys.” Wanda responded.

“Well, that is racist,” I joke. Wanda and I worked the front desk at the company, covering twenty incoming lines plus all visitor badge check-ins. We judge everyone coming in that door. Not out loud, mind you, at least not when they are at the desk and we make very sure the mics on our headsets are on mute before comments start flowing. The politically correct boat sailed the first hour of me joining her at the desk, and had disappeared over the horizon by the end of that day never to be seen again. I recently got happily hooked up, the boyfriend promising me a ring at Christmas when we are visiting his family, so now I am working on matching her up for similar domestic bliss.

“Yeah, well, they always try and call the cops on me the first time I attempt to stab them.”

I choked on the punch, which actually is quite good, Cheerwine for the caffeine kick, Reed’s for the ginger kick, ice cream for the smooth, and the pineapple because fermentation. Someone in maintenance worked magic. “You stab your boyfriends often?”

“Only twice, but white guys just get so angsty when you threaten them with a knife or cast-iron frying pan.”

“So, you know how I said I was finally starting to understand black Southern culture after growing up as North White?” I rubbed shoulders with her. “Consider that statement retracted.”

“Bless your heart.” A sly smile crossed her face as she sipped the Pepsi-zero. Her diabetes limited her sugar intake.

“Hey now!”

We made eye contact and both fell into giggles.

“Well, if it isn’t the twins.”

Tyrone from accounting towered over us. CPA and thought he was god’s gift to numbers and the company ledger. Problem was, he was god’s gift to numbers, the company ledger, and sexy as hell.

“Left or right?” I ask out of the corner of my mouth. I may have been on my second cup of the punch. Maybe third. Who counts at the company mandatory holiday parties? Especially when you were the one who spent the day, being “only receptionists”, decorating the meeting room and entry way for the party, while still covering the desk and the phones. Yes, we are that good, but it was hot thirsty work and I was trying to rehydrate with the punch. Maybe not my wisest choice. My boyfriend will be picking me up after he gets off work, so not my worst choice either.

“Right.” Wanda said without hesitation. “In fact, right now. Hey Tyrone.” She stepped closer and pressed her arms against her sides, causing her cleavage to jump in her deep cut red blouse. Wanda both got it and flaunted it. Not normally, dress codes for a welcoming professional appearance being written by the HR sticklers, but today is for exceptions of all sorts of things.

I think Tyrone swallowed his tongue and I double-checked the floor as I took a step back, because his eyeballs had popped out of his head. Pity, they had been the perfect brown soulful set to drown in, when not hardened by the end-of-quarter recordkeeping. Oh wait, looks like he got them back because they managed to track up to Wanda’s face.

Good luck girl, I thought as I move away.

We, as the receptionists, had an unfair advantage for picking out dating material internally that Tyrone likely also had being in accounting. We know exactly what everyone makes.

Payroll drops off the paystubs with the envelopes at the front desk, claiming they didn’t have time to deal with stuffing them or handing them out and since everyone went through us anyway, and we were “only receptionists” it would be a perfect way to fill in all our free time. The results is we knew exactly who was being garnished for child support, who was putting money into their retirement accounts, who didn’t get regular raises, and who did.

Tyrone did not have any garnishments, put aside the max into his 401K, and got raises like clockwork. A good hard worker if obnoxious during the end-of-quarter accounting crunches. But at six foot, a regular at the company gym, especially for the inside running track, and no one regularly calling through the front desk asking to be put through to their “pudding” on his behalf, he had been always high on both our fishing lists.

If he didn’t mind being stabbed on the regular, Wanda just might be giggling beside me as we plan our weddings. I hoped he liked cast-iron frying pans.

(words 820; first published 4/3/2024 – text flash inspired by the FB meme of “I can’t date white guys. They’re going to try and call the cops on me the first time I try to stab them.”)

Flash: Call the Chasm

Erin Penn

Photo by Ian Cylkowski on Unsplash

In between the Elegug Stacks of Castlemartin and Flimston Bay is a chunk of headland that divides the two, stretching out into the sea. And in the middle of that headland is a massive chasm with a sheer vertical drop into the sea. Welcome to The Cauldron, what remains of a collapsed cave. As I was setting up this composition I couldn’t help but notice the climbers scaling the central pillar of the Cauldron. Madness. Rather them than me.

The Cauldron, Flimston, Wales; Published on 
***

“Where you going, Mable?”

Striding through the village, the older woman looked over her shoulder to see which of her neighbors shouted her way. It was Nell, the busy-body, as opposed to Virgil, the gossip, or Kell, the snoop. Her small community abounded with people who needed to know everything that happened outside their front door, but screamed bloody murder when someone looked in their windows.

Since it would be obvious in about five minutes what she would be doing, Mable shouted back. “I’m going to call the chasm!”

“What for this time?” Nell never could take a sparce spoon; she had to know the whole scoop.

Mable just waved a hand behind her, her long stride taking her beyond polite shouting distance. It wasn’t like her scream wouldn’t be echoed back.

Hopefully to the point of a mess of layered sound. Last week when Erndale shouted he wanted just one day without someone knocking on his door asking for help plowing, everyone had heard the Call loud and clear. The unusual clarity made sense. The point of Calling the chasm is to get a need granted. At some level, the pure determination of walking all the way to the edge of town to scream into the abyss gathered the power behind the wish and things happened more often than not. Usually the first step just set things in motion and no outside magic was needed. For example, with Erndale, no one bothered him for two days. According to his wife, the man slept like a stone, his snores shaking his house.

Mable came to the edge of their world. The void sliced down nearly a mile by the Mill-walk-by River. She turned left to walk to the red clay overlook where romance Calls worked best. Where she had screamed and cried for Jullian to be healed so she didn’t need to raise their children alone. No one answered that time.

No one answered when she had walked right to the striped rock overlook when she had cried out her frustrations of working her fingers to bloody tips to get money for food to feed her four.

No one answered when she cried alone in the new house her youngest had build her so she would move out and give him and his new wife the privacy needed to start their own family.

She didn’t expect any response this time either. Still she Called her emptiness. The one making her cry in the night. Mable didn’t know how to articulate what she needed, so she just screamed. She pulled from the ends of her toes, up her legs through her knees to her belly and lungs. She screamed so hard and long she dropped to her knees, tears falling into the clay dust as her voice cracked into nothing but a hundred thousand echoes of lonesome.

(words 476; first published 3/10/2024)