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TRUTH STORY  
truth story comp  

Molly was a liar and a thief, she sailed without belief beyond the shadows. But painted bad by enemies, does not provide an identity you can trust. It was said that she preened herself, looking for the space between the errors and the rights, a reflection of delight that did not show the tainted self that she was feeling.

She became exhausted by the challenge never ending. So Molly found a way to climb the ladder of success and she broke each rung she stepped upon so no one could come soaring after. ‘So as you say my darling, if its the truth you’re looking for, then you’re gonna have to prove you really want it.’ Molly’s success was less than perfect, she stacked the deck okay, she could stick the dagger in but she did not have the sick to twist it. Unfit for the heights she was hurled out of the door and down she dropped to an empty place, crashed through space heading to be a gonner. What saved her back was the crowd, who were milling around, climbing, one upon another, each fighting to get a hold upon a step that was no longer really there.

Molly wished for good sometimes, she’d heard it said there was something named the truth which she may have passed but did not remember knowing. She was going on a journey to find if she could taste her tongue upon it, swill it round her palate, then spit it out or drink it. The way was long and weary, monsters to avoid, that sinned there sinuous tails around her sinking ship. There was much mischief on the beaches who tried to steer her wrong, promised to show the way if she would stay the night but truth never prizes lies, and truth was dancing everywhere but just not in the places she was seeing.

As Molly was, was she not, or what, steering for directions on the helm. Molly cried with love and tears, sobbing for a sound that only she could hear, was it love, was love a truth, could you say it was? She felt that in the past she had paid too dearly. Crossing seas Molly sees ahead a land without a soul, barren of all worth, her home.

She parked her vessel neatly and saw it was strung up, then limped to the place where she could forgive herself for failure. The man whose sins were written on his face was the only one she trusted. Molly sank to her knees. ‘I have failed, the truth I seek was not there for me to see.’ Eyes searched Molly, not finding anything that might be considered worthy. ‘Your truth,’ he said, ‘is carried behind your back, its with you wherever you may go, it weighs you down, it shivers without the light you take from it.’ Molly turned round swift, her shadow lagged, she picked it up and ate it. Tasted sweet but passing down it burned, it burned, every lie another log upon the fire. The lies she told to others hurt but it was the lies she told herself that really set the inferno blazing. Molly’s mouth a chimney belching the flames of her transgressions. Molly turned to cinders. He took the ash and spread it on the stone. With a pass of his hand he rained on them something you might call exoneration. Spent from her agony, Molly stirs, rolls out from the glowing embers, falling to the floor, burned through clean, seen a different lady, but the same old name.

The truth hurts they say, well that’s a lie, the truth does not hurt it tears you to pieces, its not a match to light yourself so lightly. God speed, we have need of it, but not so fierce, maybe more diluted, or we fall with open eyes, that watch with horror ourselves as we truly are.