Hey Happy Internet folks... Yea so I Know, it's kinda been a while since I've been on this site... Sorry.. see, I was trying to finish typing up my manuscript when Microsoft Word decided to be a jerk and somehow uninstalled from my computer... Then, I tried using notepad (biggest failed app ever invented... so useless unless you want to print out a fancy grocery list), at any rate, I got so far with my manuscript, I was like [] that close to wrapping up typing, when THAT quit on me, and being to dipstick that I am, I didn't save any of my work for that day (about seven hours of typing) so all of that work.. poof.. gone into the vast nothingness of my computer, never to be found again... I pretty much had a mental snap after that. Not literally, but let's just say for the rest of the day I couldn't stop sobbing... My mom considered calling a therapist... It was bad. But then, after that, my mojo just sort of left me, and as a result, I haven't updated... Anything.. I tried writing little blurbs (that's what I call random popped-into-the-brain one-shots) and posted them on fictionpress, but fanfiction, was like gone... And I've felt bad about that.. I've gotten hate mail from people... (just kidding, but seriously you guys are persistent) And now I'm writing a one-shot from To Kill a Mockingbird... (WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?) Yea, well I'm working on my Orion post right now... Well not Right right now, but, you get my gist.. I'll have something from Orion posted by Thanksgiving or sooner. I promise. So anyway, I had to make a one-shot thing for English class cuz we're reading TkaM, and I decided to post it to get used to fanfiction again, and you know what, THEY CHANGED EVERYTHING on me! You leave for, six months and this is what happens... ugh... Sorry, I'm ranting and I think this is actually almost longer than my one-shot, so my apologies, I just felt that had to be said, yea, so... Um tell me what'cha think.

Btw, I want it well known, that Bob Ewell is a racist man during a racist time period, what I have him say in this fic does NOT in any way reflect my views...


"Mayella Violet Ewell-!"

I watched my disgrace of a daughter walk to the witness stand and swear to give the truth and nothin' but the truth. I glared at her carefully, she'd better give anythin' but th' truth, unless she wants that Negro to go free after what he done.

The judge began questioning her and she only answered one question before she broke down sobbing. She better sob. If we don't win this case she'll really have somethin' to sob about; the Negro loving whore. Atticus was watchin' her caref'lly .

Dang it, I forgot about that Negro lover. He be worse than Mayella; defending that Robinson Negro. He's gonna tear Mayella apart with his questionin' n'such. She better get the story I told her right, or she'll be in for a mess of trouble. We all will be.

She told her tale after Judge Taylor reassured her that Atticus wasn't going to try an' scare her. Her story matched up with mine, and the one I told Heck Tate.

Atticus began asking questions after that. They was pointless questions in my opinion: How many brothers and sisters does she have? Is she the oldest? How long has her mother been dead? I stopped payin' attention for a while and leaned back on my chair. Atticus ain't got nothin' useful to say. He'll never be able to prove that Negro innocent.

"Do you love your father, Miss Mayella?" I sat up and listened for her answer.

Mayella just looked confused, "Love him, whatcha mean?"

Finch was patient with his answer, "I mean, is he good to you, is he easy to get along with?"

"He does tollable, 'cept when-"

"Except when?"

Mayella looked at me; looked scared. She'd better give that Finch, the answer I wanna hear. If she lets it slip that I beat her an' the others once and a while when I get riled up on my hooch, the jury, will think I beat her that night. Finch already let the jury know I was left handed, I don't know what he was implyin' but I know it don't fare well for my side of the case.

Atticus asked her if I had ever beat her, and Mayella knew how to answer that, "My paw's never touched a hair o' my head in my life,"

I could tell that Finch didn't believe her, but the jury seemed sold on her story, so I let it pass. We were allowed a short recess after that.

When we came back inside it was the Negro's turn to give his testimony. I snickered when that crippled black couldn't even keep his left hand on the Bible to say his oath. Atticus began his questionin' and Robinson told the jury about how Mayella would ask for his help to bust up the chiffarobe, or to chop kindlin'.

He then started talking about what happened that night on the twenty-first last November; how Mayella asked her to get something off the chiffarobe, and how she had tried to kiss him, he told to jury and everyone else who had gathered to watch the trial that I had called my daughter a whore; how I threatened to kill her. Then he went on denying that he had raped her.

The jury wouldn't believe him though. Maybe if he were white, but it don't matter, he's black, and no matter how much he's telling the truth, he'll be convicted. When he finished his testimony, Mr. Gilmer stood up to make his cross examination.

Gilmer's questions weren't kind. He questioned Robinson quickly and without giving him a time to defend himself. I'm sure glad he's on my side. He asked the Negro why he'd done all that work for Mayella without bein' paid, and his answer was one that nearly made my blood boil.

"I felt right sorry for her,"

How dare that Negro say he feels sorry for her. Gilmer continued his questionin' and asked him if Mayella asked him to bust up a chiffarobe. Robinson denied it. Gilmer was tearin' the Negro apart. We was gonna win this case. No doubt about it.

The jury left the courtroom after Atticus made his closing statements. They was gonna vote on whether or not the Negro was guilty. Mr. Gilmer told me to get a drink of water, the votin' might take some time.

It was past nightfall by the time the jury finished castin' their votes. Quite a few people had left for home for the night. Atticus looked mighty tired.

Judge Taylor began counting the votes out loud, "Guilty... Guilty... Guilty..." I began chuckling to myself as I leaned back in my chair. I knew it. I knew there'd be no way that Negro would be able to win this case, not even with Atticus Finch defendin' him.

"The jury finds the defendant Tom Robinson, guilty."

We've won.