Prologue

An introduction to the impetus for this story, the truth of this book's birth.

   

  The Secret

Prologue

I, or my family, could be ridiculed for revealing this. I have a wife and daughter, so I’m not going to mention our names. Just call me, "Tex." Yeah, that’ll do. ‘til I think of a better one.

I told my daughter a shortened, modified version of the secret when she was just in grade school, because at the time, I didn’t really believe it myself. It did not seem possible, or important, and I thought it was kind of funny, so I told it to her because I knew it would make her laugh. But she took the secret to school, and she told her entire class on “show and tell day.” They all laughed at her! They pointed at her and called her names. Her teacher telephoned us and told my wife to come pick her up because she was so distraught. When she came through the door, she was steaming mad at me.

“You lied to me!” she screamed. “You lied, and e ...everyb...body laughed and called me names!” Tears streamed down her delicate cheeks. Then she turned on her heel, ran to her room, and slammed the door.

I didn’t know what to think. Our daughter was a bright, sweet child, liked by everyone who ever met her. She had never been angry with me before, or her mother -- and I learned she had screamed those same epithets at her, too. “Lor...nella,” my wife, walked in slowly, crestfallen and ashen. She looked at me, so sad! and big, fat tears rolled down her face.

“What the hell happened?” I asked quietly. I was pale, shaking with fear.

“ ’Zep...po’ said the teacher told her she had lied to all the children,” she said quietly.

“WHAT!?” I said, jumping to my feet. “I don’t believe it! She would never do that!”

“I know, R … uh, Tex. But I think she did it, too.” Her hands clutched each other in a death grip. “Sit down, You’re not going to like this.”

I slowly sank into my dark blue leather recliner. “Oh, my god, Lor .., uh. ‘Lor...inda,’ what did I do? What did I say to her? What lie did I tell her that would make her entire class ridicule her?”

So she told me.

Author's Note

This prologue tells the absolute truth. What follows is, well, not so much "truth," as it is ... um, what could come, perhaps. There IS hope that my "Secret" could lead to much more truth. And Truth, of course, is what we make it.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

There's a huge difference between someone reading your work, and hearing you deliver it live. You know kids can be cruel, probably because they haven't learned better. Hopefully, your daughter recovered.

[FlatDaddy]

Okay, what the hell are you doing here? Yes, she is fine. That was twenty-five years ago, so she's healed by now. But isn't this a bit off your "spare" turf? You're certainly welcome here, though.

[FlatDaddy]

And her encounter wasn't near as bad as I wrote it.

[Samuel Dickens]

Oh, so you exaggerated. Unbelievable! And I love spares. I even have a spare belly.

[FlatDaddy]

Me, too, and it just keep growing!