It is a thing most peculiar to have grown up being taught that secrets were poison from many of the same people who are now content to let theirs rot the system around us. Everyone keeps a few, of course, but money, apparently, can make you Dorian Gray. How is there a certain threshold of wealth above which you’re allowed to carry on with impunity? Is the biggest secret that we never admit that money matters more than the truth?
There's a little country cemetery at the village edge with a dozen or so graves, most names long ago effaced by weather, and moss cradling the dates it can no longer read. But the newest grave, soft, raw and dark, holds a different secret. The earth is not yet settled, and sometimes, in the heavy quiet of twilight, it seems to breathe — a slow, patient rise and fall, as if waiting for a name it already knows by heart.
Monty perched on the windowsill, tail flicking, eyes narrowed. Snow blanketed the garden like a shroud, erasing all signs of Rufin and Zippy’s wild zigzagging. The squirrels had danced for weeks, stashing treasures beneath leaves, under roots, behind the compost bin. Now—all vanished. Monty tilted his head. “Where did you put them?” he whispered. The silence held firm. Only the snow replied, hushing pawprints, concealing trails. Secrets, Monty thought. The garden is full of them. And I will find them.
It's no secret that I've been lied to. It's no secret that there's rampant corruption. It's no secret that buffoons are in charge. It's no secret that the mainspring is being tightened--tighter and tighter--until I duck and cover, for the bits of sharp metal that will come flying my way when it finally snaps. While these are not secrets, I've kept my mouth shut, waiting it out. The biggest secret, therefore, is that I might be the problem.
I have secret orders to kill a certain despot in a foreign country. I am getting my affairs in order for this particular man is well guarded. I will have to map this out perfectly.
He gets a manicure every week so I will aim for him there. He should be relaxed and lately, his bodyguards are getting their nails done, too. A sitting duck if there was ever one. Off i go to America!
Class had started, but Marcy had fresh gossip to share. “You can’t tell anyone. Kelly said it’s a secret,” she hissed at Leanne, who promised not to tell (with every intention of sharing the news with Justine, her best friend).
Marcy leaned closer, her breath hot on Leanne’s ear. “Kelly said that Amanda told her that her cousin Jimmy overheard Mrs. Applebaum talking to Tina’s mom about how Tina saw—”
“You know what,” Leanne interrupted. “I don’t need to know.”
With an evil smile on his face, the supervillain was getting ready to execute his latest nefarious plan.
There were superheroes who needed to be outsmarted, and a whole world that needed to be taken over.
But before all that could happen, he needed to figure out why his brand new supercomputer wasn’t receiving a broadband signal down here in his secret lair, when he’d paid for the top package… 💻😎💻
She hid them well secrets. She used sun screen, but winter wind whipped sands swept off the Hampton's beach. She escaped to Jamaica, bikini clad, rum ricky in hand and tiny top filled to the brim. Threw caution to the wind. Returned to NYC only to marry Russian-rich vodka powered man. They traveled to meet his Siberian mother. Then India, to camel ride, take pictures; baked desert sands and secret crevices that botox filled by hand in foreign lands.
If Ersev could keep Kareva close, build some trust, and eventually find a way to pin the death of the boy’s people on someone else, he could have an incredibly useful new tool at his disposal.
But of course, it was more likely that he’d have to kill him. He knew that.
80 mg of SECRETS
It is a thing most peculiar to have grown up being taught that secrets were poison from many of the same people who are now content to let theirs rot the system around us. Everyone keeps a few, of course, but money, apparently, can make you Dorian Gray. How is there a certain threshold of wealth above which you’re allowed to carry on with impunity? Is the biggest secret that we never admit that money matters more than the truth?
That is such a good one!
A lot of questions are raised by this in such a short amount of time!
Untitled
There's a little country cemetery at the village edge with a dozen or so graves, most names long ago effaced by weather, and moss cradling the dates it can no longer read. But the newest grave, soft, raw and dark, holds a different secret. The earth is not yet settled, and sometimes, in the heavy quiet of twilight, it seems to breathe — a slow, patient rise and fall, as if waiting for a name it already knows by heart.
80 words of Secrets - a new Monty Story
Monty perched on the windowsill, tail flicking, eyes narrowed. Snow blanketed the garden like a shroud, erasing all signs of Rufin and Zippy’s wild zigzagging. The squirrels had danced for weeks, stashing treasures beneath leaves, under roots, behind the compost bin. Now—all vanished. Monty tilted his head. “Where did you put them?” he whispered. The silence held firm. Only the snow replied, hushing pawprints, concealing trails. Secrets, Monty thought. The garden is full of them. And I will find them.
Thank you, Izzibella !
Every night, I fed the compost behind the house with bones, hair, teeth...
telling myself that eventually all would be forgotten.
By spring, the pile began to whisper my name.
Tomatoes grew with fingerprints in their skins.
When I bit into one, there was a scream as the blood seeped out, dripping down my chin.
I tried to burn the heap, but it just wouldn't die.
The swelling of flames roared higher, blooming with faces that remembered everything I had buried.
The voices, the begging...
80-word challenge: Prompt--"SECRETS"
It's no secret that I've been lied to. It's no secret that there's rampant corruption. It's no secret that buffoons are in charge. It's no secret that the mainspring is being tightened--tighter and tighter--until I duck and cover, for the bits of sharp metal that will come flying my way when it finally snaps. While these are not secrets, I've kept my mouth shut, waiting it out. The biggest secret, therefore, is that I might be the problem.
Ed tipped his esthetician well.
She dyed his gray mane jet-black. About as realistic as GI Joe.
Then, though unlicensed, she shot him up with off-market Botox, leaving him smooth and artificial as a canned ham.
She bleached his choppers giving him a smile as lifelike as a subway tile backsplash.
“I’m trusting you to keep all my secrets,” he whispered.
She pocketed the hundo thinking, “It’s not a secret if you scream it at the top of your lungs.”
I am the world's best assassin!
I have secret orders to kill a certain despot in a foreign country. I am getting my affairs in order for this particular man is well guarded. I will have to map this out perfectly.
He gets a manicure every week so I will aim for him there. He should be relaxed and lately, his bodyguards are getting their nails done, too. A sitting duck if there was ever one. Off i go to America!
Purely Fiction !!!
Thanks , Miguel !
.
Thank you , Jay !
Thank you , Bill !
Thank you , Scott !
Thank you , Brad!
Prompt: Secrets
Title: The Price of Fresh Gossip
Class had started, but Marcy had fresh gossip to share. “You can’t tell anyone. Kelly said it’s a secret,” she hissed at Leanne, who promised not to tell (with every intention of sharing the news with Justine, her best friend).
Marcy leaned closer, her breath hot on Leanne’s ear. “Kelly said that Amanda told her that her cousin Jimmy overheard Mrs. Applebaum talking to Tina’s mom about how Tina saw—”
“You know what,” Leanne interrupted. “I don’t need to know.”
PROMPT: SECRETS
THE SECRET LAIR
With an evil smile on his face, the supervillain was getting ready to execute his latest nefarious plan.
There were superheroes who needed to be outsmarted, and a whole world that needed to be taken over.
But before all that could happen, he needed to figure out why his brand new supercomputer wasn’t receiving a broadband signal down here in his secret lair, when he’d paid for the top package… 💻😎💻
80 Wrinkles
She hid them well secrets. She used sun screen, but winter wind whipped sands swept off the Hampton's beach. She escaped to Jamaica, bikini clad, rum ricky in hand and tiny top filled to the brim. Threw caution to the wind. Returned to NYC only to marry Russian-rich vodka powered man. They traveled to meet his Siberian mother. Then India, to camel ride, take pictures; baked desert sands and secret crevices that botox filled by hand in foreign lands.
well done!
Thank you!
I decided to take the first thing that came to mind for a story and just ran with it!
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Dent (80mg)
“Don’t tell mom and dad about this, you hear?”
“I won’t, but they’ll see the dent in the bumper.”
“Well, see if you can pop it back out.”
“What about the paint?”
“What about it?”
“I mean...”
“Just fix the damn bumper, okay?”
“If you say so.”
“Piece of lying, cheating shit, got what he deserved. You know, stay away from boys. They’re nothing but trouble.”
“So you hit his family’s mailbox?”
“Exactly. Now, hurry up before someone finds out.”
Taking the first thing is usually the way haha
WE BACK!
If Ersev could keep Kareva close, build some trust, and eventually find a way to pin the death of the boy’s people on someone else, he could have an incredibly useful new tool at his disposal.
But of course, it was more likely that he’d have to kill him. He knew that.
https://shieldbreakersaga.substack.com/p/holiest-of-cities-chapter-12
🥳🥳