A/N: I don't ownzors squat.
-cough- In recent light of things, I should be busy with a certain fanfiction that demanded some serious attention, but considering the series isn't over yet as I expected, I'm taking a break from it. A REALLY long break. In the meantime, I have THIS. And I intend to complete it or so help me God. Oh there! I haven't sworn that one before so I'm sure it won't end up like aaaaall my other incomplete projects! XD
Disciplinarian of Truth and Laborious Writing: DISCIPLINE YOURSELF THIS INSTANT! -WHACK!-
Anyway, I bring you my very first installment of Phoenix Wright. Though granted, I was more of a reader than a writer anyway, but someone's gotta try. AGAIN. -sob- Yes, FEENIE x IRIS FTW!
On a sidenote, the events taking place during Apollo Justice never happened here. Why? Because my story would bite the dust if it did.
-x-s-x-
Ticking Turnabout
By: C.M. Kearney
Prologue
Secrets that stemmed forth from the shrouds that deceive and mislead…they emerge at their whim. The night the choice playground. Fewer ears, fewer eyes. The walls, they tell no tales. One may give ear, but many witness and speak none.
A light pounding on the window as the raindrops pelted the glass. A sprinkle barely heard over the crackling of the fire, the embers spitting and leaping to the cadence of the rainfall.
Accompanying this innocuous rhythm, the steady swings of a pendulum of oaken descent. The ornate vines that wove and beheld that smooth face, as it played the hands to a never-ending yet ever-changing loop. The moment nearing and the songbird should emerge. Strike the bell to its proclamation; the arm that points to the axes declares it. The chirper singing to the moment come and gone, then retreating into its wooden cage.
Three times the count, another to announce. The ambience touched upon by the utterance of sharpened light. That brilliant shine across the horizon, teeming with a spark that gave way to the peal of its brother. The conclusion to their match unknown.
The rainfall shied away to the overwhelming match. The flames licked the last of its kindling before returning to the vestiges of its origins. The moment had arrived, the cogs and the wires turned on their pedestals, and the singer came forward once more, to meet the hour.
Of tragedy.
"...Father…?"
-x-s-x-
A/N: End? Please don't laugh at the purpleness of my writing! I want the start to be kinda classical, I'm sorry! Ahem, R and R please, even if it wasn't enough to grab your attention to the story, and the next chapter will be up soon!