The Peacock Key

The Trial

​The jury entered the courtroom early, before the crowd could push past the gates to enter the courthouse, hopeful for a day filled with the excitement of watching another one thrown into the wilderness.

This girl had been exceptionally annoying. She refused to bow, yet would toy with her keepers as if she loved them. Some of the poor lads had fallen for her, only to find that once they sought to release her from her predicament by making a proper lady of her through marriage—a generous act, considering the mess she was—she promptly turned down the offer and returned to her confinement, but not before handing the suitor a bill for the broken heart she took with her.

​The jury was filled with faces she'd known. Though she objected to this obvious disregard for the laws the men themselves had created, her objection was overruled.

​The bailiff guided her by her chains to the side of the room where she was forced to sit on the very chains she carried, which pulled her hair taut as she was told to sit straight.

​"Have you reached a verdict?" the judge asked through a speaker in place of the chair a physical body normally occupied.

​"We have, Your Honor," the jury's spokesperson replied.

The only woman on the jury had been selected to speak—typical of men who used righteousness as their platform. They make the rules but do not wish to explain their truths.

​"To the charge of treason?"

"Not guilty."

"To the charge of murder?"

"Not guilty."

"To the charge of s*x sins?"

"Guilty."

"To the charge of coveting?"

"Not guilty."

"To the charge of lying?"

"Not guilty."

"To the charge of thievery?"

"Guilty."

​Suddenly, the jurors began to act as if they couldn't breathe.

They grabbed at their throats and clawed at their skin, squirming in their seats and trying to climb stairs that weren't there.

Some began coughing up blood, spitting it at the others. The only juror unaffected was the woman, who stared at her fellows like a stone statue, her expression one of disbelief.

​"Order in the court!"

​The judge slammed the gavel on the table only once before his own hands were forced to his neck, his face turning a shade of blue that does not belong on a human.

Everyone was shocked to see a person now standing at the podium. The trial had begun with a virtual judge, as was tradition now that the elites had taken over the system completely.

​"Who the hell are you?" the speaker crackled.

"This is a court of law, sir. I suggest you take your seat if you know what is good for you."

​The man at the judge's podium was now impossibly tall and bathed in a celestial blue light.

The jury, too, had transformed into giant blue beings. They were no longer human; their faces were familiar, yet made new through this process that looked like a poisoned death.

​"I will not, for I am the judge here," the giant's voice boomed.

"It is my name written on the doorway. It is my name etched into the cornerstone that built this building. It is my blood that was shed to give life to the people here. It was my voice that gave form to existence itself. I will be taking over this case, you faceless box. I did not catch your name. What is it, so I can ensure you are properly paid for the work done here?"

​"Hahaha. Are you claiming to be Jesus Christ himself? That's been done before. We will not fall for that again. Bailiff, take this man into custody. We will deal with him later."

​"Uhh... sir?" the bailiff stammered. "That's not a man."

​"What do you mean, 'not a man'? I can hear his voice. Now do as you're told."

​"No, I mean it's not a human. It's a... well, I thought you see all, sir. Can't you see it's a giant?"

​"Of course I can see. It's just not to scale from my place in the... uh... clouds. You know?"

​Just then, the blue giant reached out a massive hand toward the officer. The bailiff screamed and fled the court, joining the crowd that had already taken refuge outside, terrified of the giants they had encountered.

​The girl on trial was not afraid. She simply looked up and watched the show play out, unfazed.

​The giant looked at her, examining her from head to toe. He tried scaring her with all the tricks giants used to frighten humans. When she did not flinch, he opened a large book he was carrying and began reading in a language no one could understand.

​When he finished, the girl stood up.

"I am the one of whom you speak. I am aware of my charges and of the verdicts read here. I cannot deny these things I have done."

​Everyone looked astonished.

She had not only understood the giant's language, but she was now admitting her faults and accepting a punishment sealed by fate.

​"Very well, child," the giant said, his voice softening. "Welcome home."

​The giants moved toward her, unbound her chains, and embraced her. They directed the others standing at the back of the courtroom to help her find clothes, a shower, and some food, and then to wait for the giants to arrive at the home she was taken to for further instruction.

​No one wanted to take the girl.

Finally, one man stepped up, not because he wanted to, but because he was tired and hungry and figured he would bite the bullet and deal with the brat long enough to get some food.

This man, unfortunately, had no home to speak of. He was broke and had no shower of his own. He hadn't thought things through before agreeing out of desperation.

​He got the girl in his car and started driving.

"So," he began, "we're going to my friend's house to shower, because I don't have one. And hopefully, they'll feed us, because I don't have any money."

​"Oh... well, we could actually go to my friend's house now that I'm out," she offered.

"I live there. You can shower there, too. I know there's food, and I even have a bed you can rest in. You look so tired."

​The man was shocked.

He hadn't expected this kindness.

He felt he was taking advantage of the situation, though he couldn't pinpoint where he had done anything wrong. After all, he was homeless and had offered to help. Even if his motives were selfish, he was the one with nothing who had tried to give her what he didn't even have himself.

​"Okay," he replied, a hint of relief in his voice. "Well, I guess I might have some luck on my side after all. My name is Jack."

​"Nice to meet you, Jack. My name is..."

​"I know your name from the trial," he interrupted.

"Everyone knows your name."

​"Yes, I understand that is a fact," she said calmly. "But what the courts called me and what my name is are not the same thing."

​"What? So you got away with faking your identity? How?" Jack replied, eager to learn a secret he could use for his own legal troubles.

​"Not faking it, exactly. I told them my name when they took me into custody. They refused to accept it, as it challenged their beliefs. Instead, they gave me their own version of what my name means and forced me to hold it, regardless of my constant objections."

​"So, you are not Peace River, then?" Jack asked.

​"Nope. Not even a little bit. My real name is Love Joy. I'm not from here. I came as a child to escape the forest I was born in after all the life there began to die.

My family tried to follow, but they were unable to get past the gate where the divide between worlds stands. We had never tried to get through, considering the sign clearly marked this place as 'Danger.'

Somehow, a few of us children were able to squeeze through a worn-out section at the bottom. Our parents gave us exact instructions:

run as fast as you can until you arrive at a hillside with a pink and blue well.

When you see the well, climb the hill and look inside the bucket.

There, you will find a heavy golden key.

It will take at least two of you to lift it.

Pull it through the grass on the other side of the well, straight down the hill, until you see a door in the ground with a peacock drawn on it.

Open the door with the key and call into the opening, 'Come out, come out, wherever you are.'"

​Jack steered the car through the blighted streets, his knuckles white on the wheel.

He glanced at her, trying to reconcile the absurd tale with the earnest woman beside him.

"What were you supposed to do then?"

​"I don't know. Those were the last instructions we could hear. After that, the gate started growing a mesh-like cover, and we couldn't see or hear our parents anymore. We tried to get back through, but nothing worked. It was like a thick, impenetrable fabric blocking us inside."

​"So what did you do?"

​Love continued, "For a while, we tried to break the barrier with sticks, lighters, our bare hands. We spent two days screaming and banging on the surface, but we couldn't break it or hear through it. The thought of knowing someone you love is on the other side of that gate with no way to reach them is heart-wrenching, especially for a child. We spent another few days just sitting there in defeat, building a little shelter with leaves and using the blankets our parents had packed for us.

​Finally, we accepted what we had to do. We wrote down, word for word, the instructions our parents had given us. We each got a copy, so if we got separated, we could all find our way to the same place. Then we got a good night's rest, planning to start at sunrise.

​The next morning was rainy. We woke up cold and wet but set out anyway. The bigger kids led, the smallest were in the middle, and the rest were at the back to keep everyone safe. None of us were dressed for the weather here, so over the months, we learned to sew together pieces of what we had to make new garments. I got really good at it; it became my job. Anytime someone had a challenge with their getup, I was called. I would listen to what they were experiencing, take what they had, and put together a new tool to help alleviate their pain.

For example, if the soles of their shoes were too thin for the terrain, and I found a pair of thick leather gloves in their belongings, I could use the leather to add another layer to their shoes. I would take the items, make something new, and show them how to use it. I learned how much I enjoy solving things for people. It's my gift, and it's how I love."