Want Freedom? Work For It! (A Short Story)

Chapter 1

Weo-Weo-Weo! The sirens were piercing the air! Seven patrol cars came zooming down the dirt road, and came to a screeching halt in front of a small cottage. Two cops jumped out of each car and surrounded the house. Half of them drew their guns and entered the cottage by breaking down the door. Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed. Forty minutes passed. Finally, after two hours, four of the policemen come out dragging a teen, about 16 or 17, and garbage bags upon garbage bags of drugs, nicotine, cocaine, boxes of cigarettes and cases of whiskey. Following them, the others came out with their guns pointed at the young adult. The teenager is shoved into a patrol car, which speeds off. The rest then follow suit.

Chapter 2

Page# 1

            “Order in the court! Order in the court!” the Judge cried, while banging his gravel. “This court will now come to order! Will the accused please rise?”

          A teenager named Josh Santriso slowly stands up.

“Are you, or are you not Josh Santriso?” the Judge asked.

“I am, your Honor.” The young boy replied.

“And did you, or did you not have drugs and alcohol in your possession?”

“Yes, your Honor. But-”

“I did not ask for any further information.” The Judge replied. “You will answer what you have been asked and only that. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your Honor.” The boy answered meekly.

“Good! Now, back to where we were. You admit to having drugs and alcohol in your possession. Now, how old are you?”

“Sixteen, your Honor.”

“Sixteen. Wow! To young to smoke, yet you had packs of cigarettes; to young to drink, yet you had cases of whisky; and definitely to young to use drugs! Wow! Wow-whee! So, how do you plead: Innocent or Guilty?”

“Innocent.” The boy replied. “Your Honor.” He quickly added.

 “Innocent?! Why, I’m surprised! All the evidence proves you guilty, and yet you plead innocent. That takes a lot of guts.”

“May I speak, your Honor?”

“You don’t have much hope, but go on.”

“Thank you. Honorable Judge, Men of the Jury, and all those present. Do you want to see an innocent man rot in jail, for a crime that he did not commit?”

“What on earth are you saying?! If it wasn’t you, then, just, who was it?”

“Your Honor, I work in a McDonald’s and I have a ‘competitor’, who works in a Taco Bell, by the name of George Shaproe. This past year, I had a lot more costumers than him. So, naturally, George was mad. He vowed to get me back. Don’t you think that these objects were planted on me, so that my ‘competitor’ can get rid of me?”

“How many times did you rehearse that? Don’t answer me! It doesn’t matter! All in all, it’s a very far-fetched story. But it’s not up to me.” Turning to the Jury, he exclaimed: “Men of the Jury, you know the facts. You saw the evidence. You heard Mr. Santriso’s story. Now it’s up to you to see if he is innocent, and should be let free, or if he is guilty, and if so he’ll be sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. You are dismissed.”

The Jury takes leave of the courtroom.

Chapter 3

“Mr. Foreman?” the guard said.

“Yes?” he replied.

“If you need anything just knock on the door.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

The door closes and the click of the lock is heard.

The Foreman asked for attention.

“We were lucky not to get a case of life and death. But, that does not mean that we could take this case lightly. I think that we should start off with a silent vote.”

The Foreman then ripped up a large piece of paper into twelve pieces and handed it out to the Jurors.

“Please write your vote on the piece of paper, and pass it back up to me.

A couple minutes pass, with only the sound of pen on paper heard.

“Alright! Is that all of them?”

“Yep! I believe so,” said Juror# 7

“Good! Now, let’s see: Guilty!”

“Guilty!”

“Guilty!”

“Innocent!”

“Guilty!”

“Innocent!”

“Guilty!”

“Innocent!”

“Guilty!”

“Guilty!”

“Guilty!”

“And… Guilty!”

“Ok! It’s 9 to 3 – Guilty! What should we do now?”

Juror #11 spoke up. “I think that we should see why those that claimed innocent did so. But it’s just a thought,” he trailed off.

“I think,” said the Foreman, “that it’s a great idea! If nobody minds, all those that claim innocent, please raise your hand.”

Jurors #3, 8 and 12 slowly raised their hands.

The Foreman called on Juror #3. “Why do you say innocent?”

“Well, I for one believe his story.”
          “Now, what is this?!” yelled Juror #5. “We went into his **** story enough! He works in no McDonald’s! In fact, he doesn’t even work at all! Plus, there is no such person as George Shaproe. What kind of name is ‘Shaproe’ anyways?” he said with a sneer.

“Sorry mister.” Juror #3 replied.

Juror #12 put down his hand. “I had the same reason,” he said.

“Well,” said the Foreman. “Now it’s 11 to 1 – Guilty. So Juror #8, why do you say innocent?”

“Aw! Gee! I-I-I don’t really know. I mean, my conscience just doesn’t let me say guilty, and have a kid sit in a dark, dingy cell for 25 years.”

“But he told a stupid story under oath!” yelled Juror #2.

“I-I know, I know. But lying under oath is only five years, not twenty-five.”

“Oh! Shut it about you and your stupid conscience!” juror #2 started yelling. “Knowing you, you probably would let a murderer get off free, because you don’t want to make him go to the ‘Electric Chair’!” he sneered at him.

Then #7 got up. “What are you doing, you animal? He’s entitled to his rights as an American; and as part of this jury, he can claim innocent or guilty without being ashamed for it!”

Juror #2 sat down, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he grunted.

“Good!” said Juror #7. “Now, Juror #8, he does have a point. He’s guilty, all the way, and you know it.”
          “Yah…. I know. You’re right. I claim guilty.”

“Alright!” said the Foreman. He knocked on the door.

“Yes?” said the guard.

“We have reached a verdict.”

The Jury files into the courtroom.

The Judge bangs his gravel for attention. “The Jury has come to verdict. Mr. Foreman, if you please?”
          “The Jury proclaims the accused guilty, of all charges, your Honor.”

“It’s settled then!” the Judge said. “I herby sentence the accused, Mr. Josh Santriso, to twenty-five years in prison! Case dismissed!” He bangs his gravel twice.

All those present, file out of the courtroom. Josh Santriso is lead away, handcuffed.

Chapter 4

It’s 1:37 am, on Wednesday, December 7^th, 1993. All is quiet. Everyone is fast asleep. All that is, except for one person. A person in a dark, dingy cell, shared with the mice and the rats. A cell with only a small barred up window, a hard wooden bench to sleep on and a small doggy-door, where his daily ration of bread, soup, water, chicken and cheese come in. that person is none other than, our infamous Josh Santriso.

Seventeen years have passed. The 16 year old Josh we once knew, is now a 33 year old man. He wasn’t skinny, but he wasn’t fat either. He, of course, wasn’t married. In only 8 years he would be free. He’s been thinking about life, and he decided, that when he gets out, he’s going to get a real job. He’s going to earn enough money to support himself for many years to come.

But will he ever get out? Eight years is like an eternity. Sure, people come to visit, and sure, it’s not so bad, but it’s eight years! Maybe, he thought, that since he was good, he can bail himself out. But alas! No! He was to be in jail eight more dreadful years.

Chapter 5

^{8 years later…}

          Josh was in a very happy mood. He was getting out any day now! He was now 41 years old. He was getting some gray hairs already. Five days pass. Ten days pass. When was he getting out already?! After a month and a half, there’s a knock on his cell door.

The guard opens the door, and leaves it wide open. “You’re free!” he said. “You can go home!” Finally! The day he was waiting for, waiting over twenty-five years for, has come. He was free! He was going home today!

He quickly packed the few belongings he had, and walked out of the jail cell. He walked out into the courtyard, and for the first time in over twenty-five years… he passed the jail gates! Freedom! What everybody dreams about! How good it is to be free! How he won’t take advantage of something like freedom again!

Epilogue

^{25 years later…}

Page# 7

          Josh Santriso, a man of 66, now lives with his wife and five children in Los Angeles, California. He owns a pretty successful business. I am glad to say that Josh has learned his lesson very, very well. He also learned that you have to work for everything, even… freedom!

The Thief? (A Short Story)

“I can’t believe I just did that! How could I have done something so humiliating, like destroying his Bar Mitzvah?!” I thought.

         

Whoops! I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start with an introduction. My name is Chaim Dov Bloch. I’m in the 9^th grade of Yeshivas Mordechai Ha-Tzaddik in Chicago, Illinois. I was considered the head of the class, so to speak. Until the unthinkable happened.

          I thought it was going to be a great day, when I awoke on that tragic day of March 23^rd, 2006. But I was wrong! I was very wrong! From that day, my life started going downhill.

          It all started when I woke up at 7:15 a.m. and groggily reached for my watch. Now let me tell you something about this watch of mine. It was a solid gold watch, given to me by my great-grandmother ^ע"ו on my Bar Mitzvah. Only one month later, she passed away. All of a sudden, I sat straight up, wide awake. It was gone! My beautiful watch was gone! I turned the room inside-out an outside-in, but it was in vain. My watch was nowhere to be found.

          I-I-I was just devastated. I-I couldn’t believe it. Only a few days after Purim, the happiest time of the year, I lost my most precious possession. I was so careful with it and like that *^snap*, it was gone. I felt like crying. I was so upset that I felt sick all over. I dreaded telling my parents, who knows what they’ll do to me?

I went to school that day and asked everyone I could, if they saw my watch. They all said no. all of a sudden, I remembered that Yaakov Levin was playing with it yesterday, and even said that he wished he had a watch like mine. I immediately confronted Yaakov and demanded that he returns my watch to me. He said he has no idea what I’m talking about, he never took it. I screamed that he’s a liar. He answered back that I’m a *^beep*. At the end of the day, I didn’t have my watch back in my hands.

I went home so furious that I was sure I could melt an ice cube by just glancing at it. I had to get Yaakov back. But how? How to do it? It had to be the sweetest, most cunning revenge yet, I thought to myself while drifting off to sleep.

Shortly after Pesach, I got an invitation in the mail. Do you know whose it was? That’s right; it was an invitation to Yaakov Levin’s Bar Mitzvah! Now I had the greatest, most foolproof revenge ever in history. I will DESTROY his Bar Mitzvah! But how?

The next day in school, everyone was talking about Yaakov’s party. Now Yaakov Levin’s parents were, well, pretty rich. There was even a rumor that the party was going to be like, if not better than, a wedding! Everyone was asking each other if they were going. Then it clicked! I knew how to destroy Yaakov’s Bar Mitzvah! I had a plan! Boy, did I have a plan! He-He-He!!!

          All of a sudden, Shlomo came up to me and asked, “Hey Chaim, you ganna go? I heard they’re having a full-fledge band!”

          Then Moishy added, “Yah, I heard they’re having an amazing dessert!”

          And on, and on. Do you know what I did? I just gave them all a glare, a menacing glare. It was clear to them all that it meant explicitly this: ‘Whoever goes to the Bar Mitzvah will be rejected from the class, and humiliated like never before’. They were scared. They knew that everyone listens to me, and whatever I say is, well, law. Yet they wanted to go so badly. But they were stuck.

           The day of the Bar Mitzvah arrives. As Shuir was ending, Yaakov reminded everyone about that night. “Remember, tonight’s my Bar Mitzvah Party at Maachon La-Torah at 6:30 p.m.”. “We’ll be there Yaakov!” we all chorused. But in our hearts we knew not.

          At 12:15 Yaakov left for his shul, Maachon La-Torah, to help set up. If you would’ve walked in right then, you’d have gone nuts! His cousins were setting the tables; his aunts were getting the VCR ready for a production. And his mother?! Oh! I’d rather not say! She was hustling all over, calling the caterers and the bakers, making sure that the popcorn and slurpee machines were intact. The band was tuning their instruments to perfection. The Bar Mitzvah Bochur was studying his Maamer in Hebrew, Yiddish and English, as he’s going to be saying it in all three languages, so anyone who comes can understand. The caterers were trying to rearrange the foods the proper way. And-and-and-and it was just a full-fledge zoo!

          Comes 6:15 and some guests start to show up, yet no one from his class. He was, well not scared, but more like anxious, for normally classmates start to show up fifteen or twenty minutes early. But, he thought to himself, maybe they don’t have a ride or something. Comes 6:30, lots of great rabbis start to show up and respected people in the community, yet no one from his class. We-e-ll, maybe they’ll come a bit late, it’s not like them, but maybe.

          At 7:15 the Rav said a beautiful Dvar Torah on the Parsha that Yaakov read so fluently the day before. Then Yaakov, himself, said a Dvar Torah on the Haftorah. It was now 8:30. Yaakov said the Maamer by heart perfectly in all three languages. Still no one from the class showed up.

          Yaakov was heart-broken. Outside, he didn’t show it, but he was so hurt that not a soul from his class showed up. He knew that this was no coincidence. But why did this happen, he did not understand.

          The next day in school, Yaakov walks in downcast. He went over to Shlomo and asked him, “What happened last night? How come you didn’t come?” To this Shlomo answered, “I had an appointment which I couldn’t miss, I’m sorry.” Everyone had a different excuse: no ride, had to baby-sit, help their family, etc… etc…

          Then he comes to me. He said, “Chaim? We’re good friends. I was certain you’d be there!” Do you know what I did? I, in a nasty way, pulled up my sleeve, looked at my empty wrist and said meanly, “I didn’t have my watch; I couldn’t keep track of the time. It’s not my fault.” And I turned on my heels and left.

          Now Yaakov knew. He understood it was all my doing. All because I thought he took my watch. Yaakov ran home, crying bitterly.

          Chanukah passes and Purim is fast approaching. I decided to use my same costume as last year, Captain Scarface (the best pirate), only better. I went to my storage and found the Purim box. I opened it up, in the light, and I saw something glittering.

          I quickly dug through the box, and there I saw it. It was my watch! I couldn’t believe it! For the past year, I thought Yaakov stole it, and here, I just found it with the Purim box! Oy vey! What have I done?!?!

          The next day I found Yaakov, and in tears, I burst out to him, “I’m so sorry, I thought you stole my watch and I just remembered that I put it with my costume so it won’t get stolen by someone who’s drunk.”  And I’m crying and crying and crying. “Please will you forgive me for ruining your Bar Mitzvah, please?”

         

“Look”, said Yaakov. “I can’t forgive you so easily, I can’t.”

“Please, please forgive me!” I begged.

“No, I can’t. I’m sorry.” he replied.

I had to do something, I had to. But what? Then I knew. I destroyed his party, so I must make a new one, a better one, for his 14^th birthday.

The next day, I called together all the kids in the class and asked them to help put together a party for Yaakov’s birthday. They agreed. So for the next month, I was planning, ordering and shopping etc...

The day of the party arrives. I rush to Maachon La-Torah after school. My friends and I start setting up. Menachem is getting his piano ready. The mothers are helping with the food. I then get the VCR in position for a clip I put together about Yaakov. We worked for hours.

At 6:15 I call Yaakov’s house and ask him to please come to Maachon La-Torah right away. He said he’ll be there.

Yaakov came and we surprised him with a great party. At 8:15 I got up onto the podium and addressed the crowd.

“First of all, I’d like to wish Yaakov a happy birthday and many more. Now, um… I-I’d like to publicly ask forgiveness of Yaakov. For the past year, I thought he stole my grand watch. Not only that, but I destroyed his Bar Mitzvah, as well. Yaakov, will you please forgive me, for what I’ve done? Can you find it in your heart to forgive?”

Yaakov just said, with tears in his eyes, one word: “YES”.

Moral: You must (1) always be דן לכף זכות, judge each other favorably, and (2) You must always know how to ask forgiveness. With this in mind, let us beg מחילה from הקב"ה on this Yom Kippur. May ה' forgive us whole-heartily and bring משיח speedily in our days, Amen!

The Move

In Honor Of My Switching To A New School: High School

One day as you’re sitting at home, your parents bring the news,

“Honey we are moving this next Tues.”

You think, what about my friends, teachers and school,

We had so much fun at the mall and at the pool.

You come to the new place, with no friends with you,

You realize that you have to start anew.

On your block there’s someone your age,

But you don’t know how to even come onto that page.

Then it comes to you in an instant,

From now on you won’t be at a distance.

Chorus: Because there’s something in the air called Friendship,

All you have to do is grab onto it.

With friends you’ll play, laugh and sing,

They’ll be coming to your new house with a ding-dong-ding.

Don’t forget you can always write,

To your old friends, or even take a flight.

So don’t say good-bye, just see you later,

I’ll talk to you later, Alligator. (Chorus)

As the months go by,

You realize with a happy sigh.

You’ve made lots of new friends now,

You say: How can I leave here, oh how?!?!”

You spend time and time again with your new buds,

And without thinking you know it’s because:

There’s something in the air called Friendship,

All you have to do is grab onto it.

With friends you’ll play, laugh and sing,

They’ll be coming to your new house with a ding-dong-ding.

Because there’s something in the air called Friendship,

All you have to do is grab on to it.