America: That Bold and Beautiful Girl…Through the World’s eyes By Anastasia Momoh

In a courthouse down the street of Falah
sat the Judge, the Jury and the common people.
Stiff in their seats, faces grim as they waited
for their suspect to arrive. How could the suspect
be late? Does that not seal her own fate?
And in that moment she came storming in.

The Jurors looked on in awe.
Her lips were coated in a dark red, diamonds dangled from her ears
and her hair flowed behind her.
She wore a white gown and held a small shiny
toy gun in her left hand.

The Judge gestured to a chair in the middle of the room and she lowered herself in it, flashing her famous smile towards the common people.

Everyone admired her form and the brilliance of her teeth, they did not notice the cheap cigarette sticking out of the pocket of her gown and they were too far away to smell the rum on her breath.

The Judge gestured to her once again and she began to speak, her passion and wordily intelligence brought tears to the eyes of the common people. She began with this:
“It’s not like I planned for this too happen,” she sniffled. “Everyone has their bad moments so I shouldn’t possibly be condemned for this.”

“I just broke… you know? They took away everything I treasured: my phone, my car, my boyfriend!” she wiped her dry eyes furiously.

“I know none of you can understand after all you’re lucky not to have parents, being poor, world hunger…and all that. I mean you don’t even have air-conditioning.”
She ended with this:
“I’m not guilty of anything ok?” she slowly stood up and puffing out her chest, “A wise man once said ‘unto everyone’s life a little rain most fall’, you can’t punish me for rain!”

By the time she was through everyone was clapping and whistling. Hands moved forward to touch the bold and beautiful girl’s garments.

Some people watched her go with wishful thinking, they envied her perfectly sculpted hands and the fact that those dainty fingers had strangled her parents.

Others with dusty brown faces and upset eyes, sat on the pavements squeaking and quacking about the unfairness of her pale skin and the way the beautiful girl had treated their great-great-great-great grandparents. Badly. Indeed, she had.

Yet as the bold and beautiful girl walked on, her nose to the sky
she did not notice what she had left behind
in her footsteps that the world studied closely and tested in labs:
It was a muddy print, a slimy thing that could not be swept away.