1001 Nights Cast

‘You deny these allegations, Miss Stephens?’ The Lawyer spoke eloquently, strolling around the courtroom like it was his own lounge room, finally coming right up to the dock, leaning on the railing, licked his lips and grinned at the defendant, teeth gleaming.

Miss Stephens smiled gently, the sort of smile a mother gives a child when they’ve said something utterly stupid but because they’re just a child wouldn’t have realised how stupid the thing was they said. ‘I deny nothing.’ Dressed in a rich purple dress, she saw what everyone else, apart from the Judge, did not. The Lawyer’s teeth were all incisors, angling down to jagged points. The Judge, whose pupils had thin yellow tendrils spiralling into their centres, was staring, unblinkingly at her. His yellow upper teeth were even longer than the Lawyer’s, protruding out and over his bottom lip. His tongue hung slack from his open jaw, spit dripping from the tip forming a puddle on his desk.

The jury sat mesmerised. They saw the Lawyer as a devilishly handsome man in a stylish suit, exuding authority in every action. The five women went all gooey when he frequently smiled in their direction. The seven men nodded in agreement with each point the Lawyer made.

The Lawyer continued with a flourish of his hand and a wink to the jurors. ‘So you admit it!’

‘I admit nothing.’

The Lawyer leant disquietingly close, and sniffed her. Under his breath, he spoke. ‘You can’t win.’

The Judge made a wet choking sound that was perhaps a giggle.

Miss Stephens sat unperturbed, whispering back. ‘I’d be calling for a mistrial, if I were you.’

The Lawyer tipped his head back and chuckled. ‘Such bravura.’ He seemed to float and actually did a dancer-like twirl on his heels, toes up, as he approached the jurors. ‘Ladies,’ his voice low, eyes of a strange, almost neon green darting to each woman, then continued in a more masculine countenance, grabbing his lapels firmly, ‘and gentlemen. Miss Dawn Stephens has been accused of demonic witchcraft involving, excuse me ladies, unnatural sexual acts and blood rituals of the sickest permutations!’ The jurors gasped as if struck in the face by a loved one, a few turning to each other to affirm their shock. ‘Yes, my friends, I do not mean to startle or offend any of you, but there is no other way to describe Miss Stephens’ actions.’

Miss Stephens sat quietly, passively. The Judge continued to stare at her like a dog staring at a piece of meat just out of reach, uninterested in the Lawyer’s argument. As the Lawyer continued his line of reasoning, peppered with gracious smiles, physical embellishments, and even the occasional dance step he found himself becoming aware of something unsettling about Miss Stephens. Perhaps the stillness of her long black hair, or the atmosphere surrounding her that reminded him of ice. Her answers to his questions were noncommittal, and neither did she become flustered under his onslaught. Try as he might, with all his expert knowledge of deception, he was unable to produce a contradiction or confession.

‘You’re Honour, I believe the defendant is being unreasonable and should be treated as a hostile subject.’

‘I agree, counsel.’ The Judge voices sounded like sewer water plopping out of a stor-water drain. ‘The defendant is ordered to respond to the questions in a proper manner.’

‘I have answered all the questions I am going to.’ Miss Stephens rose from the dock. ‘Now, as they say, it’s time for me to go.’

Holding up a finger with a sharpened nail, the Lawyer stepped quickly across the room. ‘We are not finished with you, Miss Stephens.’

‘But I have finished with you.’

The Lawyer stepped back. Miss Stephens had suddenly grown in size. She weaved her hands in the air, interlocking her fingers strangely then pulling them apart, a heavy purple mist formed between her palms which slowly expanded shrouding her whole body. A voice like concrete scraping against concrete, and several octaves lower than Miss Stephens’ emanated through the vapour. ‘You’re reputation as a master orator is well founded, Lawyer. There is no doubt I am guilty of the crimes. But there is no chance of prosecution in this court.’

In an instant the mist evaporated revealing a shape that while still humanoid, in no way resembled Miss Stephens. The skin of her now nine foot tall body shone black and undulated from the writhing of hundreds of worms briskly slithering just beneath the surface. Her vein-covered belly was distended, the face was a horrific massacre that seemed to be constantly wounding and devouring itself. There were no eyes, just oversized gaping, hollow sockets that oozed thick blood.

The Judge’s eyes widened.

The Lawyer stumbled back another couple of steps in awe and terror, feeling like he was about to be snap frozen. ‘There has obviously been a mistake.’ He raced to his desk, rummaging through papers, pushing many to the floor. ‘I don’t understand…’

‘I like your work. So I’m not going to kill you. Take my earlier advice.’

Suddenly, the atrocity disappeared. Miss Stephens again sat still and passive in the dock. Avoiding her acute gaze, for several minutes the Lawyer shuffled the papers on his desk. ‘Uh, your Honour, I, um, have just had some…new information come to hand which means the prosecution cannot proceed with this case in its current form. If it pleases your Honour and the court, I would like to call a mistrial.’

The Judge answered almost too quickly, ‘It does’, and banged his gavel so hard the handle snapped. He studied the broken wood for a moment as if the breakage was a personal attack before snarling at the confused jury.

‘Case dismissed.’