Judgement Day by Bethany Pardoe (Grade Twelve Writing Competition Winner)
The judge Jam smeared and restless, the judge banged his gavel. “Order! Order in the court!” The agitated spectators filling the pews on either side of the aisle fell quiet. A few more bangs of the gavel because the judge liked the sharp noise. Time to bring out the accused. The courtroom was brilliant white. The walls and ceiling were the white of ivory chess pieces and gossamer angel wings. But the white of the judges glorious high chair was dirtied, tagged with sticky strawberry residue, cookie crumbles, and streaks of crayon. He pawed with pudgy fingers through a container of cheerios. He wanted every eye in the room to be on him. Wanted the air to be so fraught with anticipation they would all get headaches from the strain of it. He crammed too many cheerios into his mouth and some fell into his bib, lodged in the fleshy crevices of his skin, or stuck to the coagulated jam on his arms. When the quiet reached its most absolute he said, “Bring in the …