Prompt #66
I've Got a Secret
Deep breaths today. Good morning!
Do you remember the television show “I’ve Got a Secret”? If so, you are old! It ran originally from 1952 to 1967, and then was revived for three years in the early 70’s. (And now that I look at Wikipedia, it seems the show was brought back a couple of more times over the years.)
Anyway, it was a game show. The concept was that a guest would come on the show professing to have some kind of secret. Then the regular panel of three “celebrities”—which changed over the years—would ask questions and do their best to guess what that secret was. The show had some pretty amazing guests!
Some secrets were big. Some were small.
Get this: Pete Best was on the show in 1964! (Please tell me you know who Pete Best was!) Here’s how he revealed his secret: “I left my job two years ago—I was one of the Beatles.” Meanwhile, Boris Karloff professed to being afraid of mice.
We’ve all got secrets. I’ve got a couple of them buried way down there and NO ONE is going to dig them up. (Though I will say, one of them has to do with a certain car belonging to my dad… Sorry, dad!)
I’m sure you can guess where I’m going with all of this. Here’s the prompt:
TODAY’S PROMPT
Write a story about a character and a secret:
Your character may have a secret they do not want revealed.
Your character may learn a secret.
Your character may be hoping to learn a secret.
Your character may not know how to deal with a secret.
Your character may find out that someone has revealed their secret.
Your character may reveal someone else’s secret.
Or come up with your own reason for a secret in your story.
As always, post up to 400 words in the Comments section.
Special Note: If you want to read a short story about a secret, here’s a fascinating one by Albert Moravia that was printed in The Atlantic in 1958: The Secret: A Story.
The first time I trespassed had been out of absolute necessity. When I miss the bus, I’d normally catch the one eighteen mins behind, but late a third time as Reduction-In-Force-Day approached was simply out of the question. So I swear it was out of absolute necessity that I slipped through the little wooden door in your garden wall, dashed across your lawn, and vaulted out the other side.
Having determined that this trick worked, I came to rely on it. From bed, deep in a daily duel against gravity and warmth, I had no conscious intention of going out to violate your privacy or indeed to break the law. But in back-room negotiations of my mind, a party with the slogans ’stay’ and ’doze’ won every debate with this trump card. So it became regular that I left later, went straight to press my ear against the garden door, and sprinted through. Every time was to be the last, of course.
Hasty to be out, I barely had time to appreciate your garden. But by glimpses, I came to love the trellised wisteria, korean pots, the sundial, the pear tree. Two months passed. I saw spring ripen to summer. And though I always took care to minimise the time spent invading your home, I soon found that my little dash had detoured across the pond bridge, under the rose arch.
I admit, I started setting my alarm earlier. And I admit, I once or twice pruned the rose arch as I nipped through. And yes, I switched the bench and sundial so the bench now catches the early light and looks toward the goldfinches on the telephone wire. But why do you think your artichokes are doing better than last year? Let me tell you. It’s not because of that clay-crap you plant them in. It’s because I spend every night crawling around in the dirt and de-weeding. Who do you think repainted the window frames to match the blue slate roof? Who do you think bought the lavender that now lines your patio? I was at B&Q collecting it on Reduction-In-Force-Day this July. So yes! - I was fired. And yes! weekdays I bring a book to the bench (I’d go as far as to call it my bench) as I did on the day your son saw me and screeched and wailed.
A secret-secret-secret
As a child I hated birds. They were small and tweety, quick to move, seemed all jumbled up to me; flighty, scared at my smallest motion.
I was an adult when I started visiting Horicon Marsh. Every autumn I drove hours from Chicago to Dodge County, WI. Slept in the car, ate peanut butter sandwiches and drank warm water. I found a water fowl that I loved. No, it is not an albatross. AND that's my name, a secret still. Yes I'm called XXXXX by people who know me from that time of my life.