Nicholas Vials: The Case Of Michael Vials

Emberline approached Mrs. Marshall’s modest brick home. Ivy clung to its walls, the thick vines seemed to intervene with the passageway but Emberline had always thought it charming, though she could not deny the decrepit look was certainly unpleasing. One would almost think that it would not be liveable but Mrs Marshall was always inviting people to fill it with noise.

She tightened her hold on the bouquet of roses, now slightly wilted. Emberline was not fond of flowers, that was never her niche, and she knew well she could not care for such a vibrant bunch. She had thought of tossing it away but for some odd reason she could not bring herself to throw away such a gift, even if its sender remained anonymous. She blushed so brightly at the thought of it, the curiosity bellowing in her. Emberline wanted nothing more than to know the name of the sender.

Before her knuckles met the door, the sharp bark of a man's voice startled her.

"Do you think the rules don’t apply to you, woman?" The voice was harsh and grating, cutting through the peaceful hum of the neighborhood. Emberline stepped back, her gaze sweeping the street to locate the source.

There, at the corner, stood Mrs. Marshall, clutching a basket of groceries, her frail frame hunched slightly as though the weight of the officer's words bore down on her. The officer, a tall, thickset man with a broad mustache and a glint of disdain in his eyes, loomed over her, his hand resting on the hilt of his baton.

"I'm sorry, young man," Mrs. Marshall stammered, her voice trembling. "I told you last week I will be sure to cut the trees—"

"Im not a young man," the officer interrupted, his tone dripping with condescension. "You think you can just do as you please because you're old? You're a nuisance on this street. Your vines made me trip for the third time this week"

Emberline’s blood simmered as she watched the man shout. She dropped the bouquet to the ground, her steps quickening as she approached.

"Excuse me!" she called, her voice sharp and direct. The man turned his head, his sneer widening as he took in Emberline.

"Who are you?" he barked.

"Who are you?" she repeated his question almost mockingly, her tone steady despite the fire igniting in her chest. She moved to stand between Mrs. Marshall and the officer, her eyes locking with his. "Mrs. Marshall isn’t harming anyone. You’re the only one causing a scene."

"I have warned this hag many times to remove her garden, the people walk these streets and she is too old to care for it—"

"That's no excuse to talk to her in this manner" she retaliated.

The officer chuckled, a low, mocking sound that scraped at Emberline’s nerves. "And what are you going to do about it, girl? You’re lucky I don’t fine her for her negliegence—and you, for that tone."

The slap came before the thought even formed fully in her mind. In a swift, ringing motion the officer was stunned, his hand instinctively flying to his face.

The silence that followed was deafening. Mrs. Marshall gasped, dropping her basket, while the officer's face twisted into a mask of fury.

"You little—!" he snarled, grabbing Emberline by the arm with a grip like iron. "You think you can assault an officer of the law and walk away from it?"

Emberline didn’t flinch, her gaze unwavering, it was as though in a moments time, she was stripped off her courage. "I think you’d better learn some respect for the people you’re meant to protect," she said despite her fear, her voice icy.

The officer yanked her arm, dragging her toward his patrol car stationed nearby. Mrs. Marshall reached out, her hands trembling. "Please, she didn’t mean—"

"Stay out of this!" the officer barked, pushing Emberline toward the cart. She stumbled but quickly righted herself, refusing to let him see any sign of weakness.

As he shoved her into the back of the vehicle, Emberline caught Mrs. Marshall’s anguished expression. "It’s all right, Mrs. Marshall," she called. "Don’t worry about me."

The car’s door slammed shut, and the officer climbed into the front seat, muttering curses under his breath. Emberline settled into the hard bench, her heart racing, but her expression calm. The weight of her impulsiveness began to sink in. If standing up for Mrs. Marshall meant facing trouble, she would have taken a calmer route. She wouldnt have gotten involved at all.

Her mind raced as the cart rumbled to life.