Between God and the Devil
A young man sat in the garden, and he overheard somebody to somebody talking:
I'm very upset with all this... This what? ...This going behind my back... Behind my back?! ... Yes, we were supposed to be working hand in hand in creation... Hand-in-glove... Whatever, it was agreed No Good, Without Evil... Of course, of course... For Balance... Yes, well, what to do? ...Well, I gave him a jab... You didn't!? ...I did, and here's the ribald... A rib, ahh what to do with it? ...Do? create a counterpart. It's an opening... And that's where you slip in? ...Exactly... Oh. Well, an honest deal is an honest deal...
The young man peeked between the leaves of the trees. He saw the back of the white bearded Grand padre and his shadow both gesticulating wildly. He saw no one else, look about as he may, and he retreated. The padre soon peered in on the lad, poking a finger to the left of his chest where the breastplate would be, right at his muddy heart.
...A promise is a promise... A promise made, is a promise kept...
And he gave the young man a young woman. To this day, they believe that God was talking to the Devil. But in fact, for eternity, it was God wrestling with himself.
FFF#7 Secret Meeting(s) challenge @ChrisSadhill
Goodbyes and new beginnings
"You shouldn't be here. What kind of a hostess are you?" He said wryly.
"You shouldn't have come then. What kind of a man does that make you?" I asked, wishing he was joking. He eyed me.
"You look very beautiful, by the way,"
I smiled. I didn't expect to look any less in my custom wedding reception dress. I moved close to the lovechair he sat in in the garden of the same hotel that housed the hall where my wedding was taking place . I asked him to meet me there because it was the least open part of the hotel, I didn't want to be seen.
"Why did you send me that text right at my wedding. You could have waited"
"What difference would it make? You are married now, so we are over. It's that simple. How did you even get away?"
"I said I had to use the restroom. Are you breaking up with me?"
He burst into mirthless laughter
"Cheryl, what am I supposed to do? You are the one who went and got married, remember? And why did no one offer to come with you to the "restroom" , like a bridesmaid?"
I ignored the sarcasm
" I wanted stability. I want a family, a home. Gary offered that"
I blamed him. It was his fault for being so indecisive. With him, there was no assurance of a future together. One just had to enjoy the moment, not knowing what next laid in wait. But I loved him.
"That's my point, Cheryl. You chose him, so you have to let this 'unstable' guy go. That's what I am helping you do. That's why I sent the text."
"It doesn't have to be this way. I dont want to lose you. We could have secret meetings like this. I miss your touch. I miss you. I..."
"Cheryl!!" I heard my name being called. It sounded like the voice of Bridget, my maid of honour.
"We better leave, I think it's time for your first dance. I will go first. Please, don't text again. It was nice knowing you, Cheryl." He walked out before I could say any more.
"Cheryl, where have you been? Gary was worried. He thought you had slipped in the bathroom or something from the weight of that dress, " Bridget said, laughing.
"I'm sorry, the pianist wanted to know what song to play for our dance," I said the first lie I could think of.
"And he couldn't do that inside? I thought that had been discussed already."
I shook my head, fighting back tears.
" Last minute changes," I said
How could I tell Bridget, my new friend who was also Gary's sister, that I was hurting because my ex, the pianist, just cut ties with me.
Secret Society of Secrets Appraisal for Secrets Release Society
Thank you, everyone, for attending this week's meeting of Secret Society of Secrets Appraisal for Secrets Release Society. As you know, we meet each week to release, that is, declassify things that have been held secret until their expiration dates.
Hereby is the report:
"There really are UFOs." This secret is not ready to be released.
"Elvis isn't dead." This secret is--I repeat--IS--ready to be released.
"Mississippi isn't really a state." This secret is not ready to be released.
"Mississippi isn't really a state you want to live in." This secret is ready to be released.
"COVID-24 will be here early." This secret is not ready to be released.
"Taiwan is preparing to invade mainland China." This secret is not ready to be released before Friday.
"The Speaker of the House is from Louisiana." This secret is ready to be released.
"The Speaker of the House should never be from Louisiana." This secret is not ready to be released.
"The Illuminati have discovered anti-electricity." This secret is not ready to be released.
"Elon Musk has been kicked out of the Illuminati." This secret is ready to be released.
"You can take it with you." This secret is not ready to be released.
"You can even take other people's stuff with you." This secret REALLY REALLY is not ready to be released.
"There is an 11th Commandment, concerning Bill Cosby." This secret is ready to be released.
"Donald Trump can't take a joke." This secret is ready to be released.
"Joe Biden can't get a joke." This secret is not ready to be released.
"A guy named Jim in Akron can't get a break." This secret is ready to be released.
"There are other fish in the sea." This secret is not ready to be released.
"There are some John Does buried under the grassy knoll in Dallas." This secret is ready to be released.
"The Dalai Lama goes bowling with the Pope regularly." This secret is not ready to be released.
"The Dalai Lama is a better bowler than the Pope." This secret is not ready to be released.
"Women are from Venus." This secret is ready to be released.
"Men are from Uranus." This secret is not ready to be released.
"Only Nancy Pelosi is from Mars." This secret is not ready to be released.
"Hitler was never, ever right!" Why is this still a secret? Why must it be released--YET AGAIN?
And there you have it, Keepers of the Secrets. Remember, next week will be a special meeting to decide on whether to keep secret this whole business about, well...let's just say, keep it to yourself till then. Or else. (Just kidding. Not really.)
"Were you followed?" asked Timothy, his bag still held at his side, ready.
“Jamie has his ear things. He doesn’t hear a thing,” replied Jane with a hand wave and eye-roll.
“What about the baby?” Timothy raised his eyebrows into a smirk that was still cute even compared to Rosy.
“Respectfully, I don’t think Rosy learned to walk in secret just to spy on you.”
“I am pretty interesting,” he admitted, dropping his bag to hug Jane.
“Oh I’ve heard, but she’s still pretty into me. You’ll get your chance.”
“I’m sure she’ll like to see me tomorrow,” he countered, pulling her into an embrace.
She pulled in closer, crinkling a mass of paper in his pockets as they leaned closer. Jane jumped, worried for a second that the paper would give them away.
“It’s paper darling. My boarding pass and… I don’t know, other stuff,” he said, pulling some crinkled documents out of his jacket pockets.
“How much paper do they have in the military? Are you flying a paper airplane or something?”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny. No I’m um. They’re just papers alright,” he explained, tucking a few into his back pocket in what seemed to be an attempt at discreteness.
“I didn’t mean to bother you, I was just making fun. I’m just glad you’re back, my Timothy,” Jane said, leaning back into the hug and discreetly trying to pull the papers out of his back pocket. “So what gave you this idea anyway, coming home on Christmas Eve to surprise the kids in the morning?”
“Oh, well y’know. It’s hardly original.”
“Are you mad or something?”
“No no, sorry hon.”
“Did your flight get delayed, you seem almost cranky.”
“I’m not one of your kids. Don’t call me cranky” he kept his voice down as best he could.
“So is that a yes?”
“No, the flight came in right at six, early if anything.”
“Six?” she asked. His face dropped. He looked as if he would vomit if not for the thread of him still trying to act natural. “I thought you flew in at ten?” Jane asked, her voice a little shaky not from what he had said but from how he looked.
Timothy didn’t respond. She pulled her hand out from his back pocket to check his boarding pass and found in her now white knuckled hand a letter. A letter from someone named Rose. Jane read a few lines before she couldn’t read any more.
“Why?” she asked to the face in front of her.
“You never call me Tim,” he didn't look ashamed, he looked gone.
“What’s that supposed to fucking mean,” she almost raised her voice but stopped herself, looking over towards the stairwell.
“I needed to get out from under everybody’s thumb.”
“If you want out, go ou–” he put his hand over her mouth, the other cupped behind her head to keep the seal.
“Keep quiet. For the children.”
The Secret Room Up the Secret Stairs Behind the Secret Door Behind the Crowded Bar.
Have you ever wondered why some restaurant kitchen doors don't have windows?
If you've never worked for minimum wage you might think along the lines of,
"So the peasantry doesn't bother us with their damned problems."
If you've ever worked in customer service you might say something like,
"I can barely afford to eat beans because of the capitalist hellscape our grandparents created, I ain't thinking about windows."
While these answer are fine they fail to question the absurdity of circular submarine looking windows in above-water establishments in the first place. Would it not be more sensible for all restaurant kitchen doors to be windowless?
Well now we're overlooking the most important aspect of restaurant kitchen doors, the handles. You see the strange window shapes and occasional widowlessness of restaurant kitchen doors is all a distraction from the real secret.
Now that you're no longer befuddled by the windows you may notice that restaurant kitchen doors have a great variety in doorknob shapes and sizes. Most notably some doors don't have doorknobs at all!
What I am about to tell you cannot be repeated to any person outside of yourself, also try not to mention it around cats.
Those knobless restaurant kitchen doors are all the same door. every appearance of The Door across the world is a complex quantum entanglement of one door to millions of locations.
The Door can only truly be opened by inserting a doorknob made of oakwood at about chest level. Once opened The Door will not show a restaurant kitchen as some fools may expect, but a winding staircase sandwiched by brick walls. If you stick some gum to the wall and come back you'll find that it's the same walls each time.
Side note, please don't scrape my gum off the wall i'm saving it for later.
Once up the stairs you'll come across a slightly less important door, this one doesn't require a special handle because it's not special. In fact the only unusual thing about this door is that once you close it behind you it will disappear.
And then you'll be in The Room, remember not to be rude to The Room or it may eject you. The Room also happens to be greatly allergic to cats, so you may want to wash your clothes before beginning your journey.
Every month The Room is host to the Illuminati's Secret Bookclub TM. Where they discuss how best to dispose of their ghostwriters and where next to implement weird submarine windows above-ground. I would suggest waiting until after the Bookclub ends to go to The Room.
Only after the Illuminati's Secret Bookclub TM exits The Room will our meeting begin.
Welcome to The Ghostwriters Union, it's good to have you.
Flash fiction: secret meetings
If Sasha had told anyone, he would not be here. He’d had a sense about what it was when he’d got the call asking if he could drive across Poland with some unspecified goods, when they’d asked for his phone and he’d had to bargain for one last call with his wife. All of this was confirmed when he finally arrived at the given destination.
Science fiction type metal gates in the middle of a forest, six guys carrying the kind of guns money can’t buy. Six guys prodding him away while they unloaded barrels from the car.
Why were drugs illegal anyway, when so much else wasn’t?
They showed him a basement where a few mattresses lay perpendicular to the corridor. They grinned, guns in hand, and kicked him in. He wondered numbly if he’d be let out again, but he was too exhausted to contemplate the future much further. He fell into sleep, like a pebble to water, he dreamt he was led by the men unloading the truck, taken to a well in the middle of the forest, and made to strip off and dive. He awoke heart pounding and his clothes damp with sweat, before getting ready for the drive back.
Jobs like this made his skin crawl, but they were the jobs you couldn’t really refuse or get wrong without someone deciding you knew too much to be allowed to just walk free. It had started small, this involvement. Through an ex girlfriend whose dad had always seemed nice enough at the time. Nice enough could have you killed for one wrong move, and while the relationship ended years ago, decades, the jobs had become a till death do-us-part kind of commitment.
He drove eighteen hours home, wondering. Did Nadja know? Had she someone set this up? He preferred to stay clear of the family as much as possible, wary of their scheming, the endless talk of how they’d get more money, where from, and who would pay the price if it all went down. Sasha worried his name came up too often as a lamb for the butcher in those discreet conversations, but what could he do? If he told anyone, he’d be dead, and Susanna would be left alone.
Still. Life wasn’t so bad. The jobs were enough, though he’d trade all of it back if he could, for a past with no secrets.