Authors' notes: Just some idea for a story. This is only a prologue though, soon, more will follow.
Enjoy
Embers
I never tell a lie. Once, I believed in that statement, that philosophy. But now.
Now, not anymore, no. Because I found out that, when I stated it for the first time, in my heart I already knew it was a lie. A big one.
And yet, it was also the truth. I didn't lie straight forward. No, I told half-truths; or half-lies, whichever you prefer.
Before, I didn't consider this lieing, after all I was speaking partially the truth. But then again, if I consider it, it is lieing. A lie masked in a thin veil of truth. The truth but a lie nonetheless.
I still remember it. The very first time I lied. Not the half-lies I spouted, and still spout, everywhere and at anytime. No, not those. But my first true lie. The first lie I didn't cover up with a thin layer of truth. I tried to off course. But I think deep down they knew. They knew I was lieing. Even you.
Fifty-eight years ago. During the winter, on this exact same day, in this very house. It had been evening, just like now, and the wind had softly blown through the half open windows. The curtains swaying lightly because of it.
I still remember every detail. As if it is griffed in my memories. Not in stone, because carvings in stone fades, but in my very own core. In my soul.
I remember the storm that night had taken out the power-outage. How long, blue candles burned, giving a false sense of comfort and security. I remember the table, set with simple white plates and metal cutlery. The table had been placed in the middle of the dining room, just like now.
When I close my eyes, I still smell the cooking; roast beef with mashed potatoes, carrots and peas. Dessert had consisted out of coffee and ice cream. Simple but satisfying. Just like a meal should be. The food had been perfect. And the wine! It had been one of the most important factors of that evening. Without it, nothing would have happened. Not a single lie would have been told. Not a single heart would have been broken. But because of the wine, and other deciding factors, something had happened. I had told a lie and hearts had been broken.
That night, on the fourth of December, I broke my own oath. I never tell a lie.
Authors' notes: I know it is short, but it's just a prologue. Let me know what you think.
Review