The Gaze of Justice

There's an old superstition in our theater: never tamper with the life-sized bronze statue of Lady Justice in the foyer. Her eyes are sealed behind a heavy metal blindfold, and rumor says if she ever witnesses the true sins of the stage, she will demand a life in return. I was a street orphan taken in by the theater's director. Arthur, the senior lead, raised me like a brother. As I grew, my talent blossomed, and soon we shared the marquee as the company's twin stars. Opening night. I played the vengeful king. In the climax, I fired a prop pistol at Leo, our junior actor. He clutched his chest and collapsed beautifully to roaring applause. But when the velvet curtain closed, Leo didn't get up. He was dead. The crew whispered I was cursed, that the stage madness took me. Arthur tearfully shielded me from the police, swearing my innocence, but I was dragged away anyway. I was hanged for murder. Our director died of grief. Arthur inherited the theater. Exactly one year later, Arthur was found crushed to death in the foyer. The heavy bronze blindfold of Lady Justice lay shattered on the floor, and her cold, metal eyes were staring directly at his corpse.