The Secret Is…
So, you’re
reading this because you want to know the secret to happiness. Well, you’ve
come to the right place! Because I, my friend, will give you all the knowledge
you need to be happy in only 100 words! Sounds great right? You’re probably
asking yourself “how much does it cost?” Well, I can tell you that it costs
absolutely nothing! You can have the secret to happiness right now for free!
All you have to do is keep reading! It’s that simple! Now, listen closely and
I’ll tell you everything. Ready? The secret to happiness in 100 words is–
Frightened
Quick, light breaths, quiet on their own, but quiet loud together,
filled the dark cave. Occasionally, there was a cry from a child, but otherwise
it was silent but for the breathing. And the fear. The crowd watched the
ceiling of the cave, their eyes searching the dark stone for some sign of
change. Their fear was tangible. It could be felt, filling every nook and
cranny. It could be heard, in the ragged breathing. And it could be seen. It
was on the face of everyone there. They could only wait, together but alone,
their breath filling the room.
An Adventure in
Poorly Timed Conscience Development
“Who would have thought my life
would come to this?”
I looked at the morose English gentleman
sitting beside me, struggling not to roll my eyes.
“Here, take this.” I handed him a
loaded rifle.
He stared at the firearm like he had
never seen one before. “So not only am I to die hiding behind a camel,” he
said. “But you expect me to shoot this contraption?”
“If you don’t want to die, yes.”
He stared at the gun like this was a
difficult decision. I groaned in frustration. These people always chose the
worst times to develop consciences.
Aggressively
Inhaling
“What
do you have to say for yourself?” My boss looked like he had something hard
shoved up his ass in the best of times. Currently, his face was red and beads
of sweat dripped down his face. Being angry looked exhausting.
I
yawned and shrugged. “Well,” I began. “It’s a bit of a story.”
He
inhaled more aggressively than I would have thought possible. “Then you should
start telling it. Now.”
I
clapped my hands together. “Alright. Well, it all started with a false rumor, a
bad haircut, and a lollipop.” I paused. “Sit down. We’ll be here awhile.”
No
“No.”
He
trotted after me. “You haven’t even heard my plan yet!” he protested.
I
rolled my eyes. “I already know it’s stupid.”
“And?”
he asked expectantly. “Will you do it?”
“No.”
I kept walking, hoping he’d trip or something.
“Jonah,”
he whined. “Why are you always like this?”
“Like
what?” I dared him to answer.
“Stubborn.”
Of course he didn’t even notice my eyes shooting daggers at him. “You never
listen to my plans. And they’re good!”
I
stopped and turned to face him. “When has one of your plans not ended in us
getting arrested or almost dying?”
Failing with
Style, Part 1
At the top
of his paper was a massive, red, angry F. It was honestly impressive how angry
a single letter could appear. Connor knew his project had been shit. He’d
finished it in approximately 15 minutes at 3 in the morning while he was as
high as a kite. Still, the F seemed a little extreme. He could practically see
Mrs. Finley’s gleeful expression as she’d stamped it. Then thickened it with
sharpie and underlined, it by the look of it. It was truly a master class in
condescending hatred. He turned around and went back into the classroom.
Failing with Style, Part 2
Mrs. Finley
was sitting with her arms crossed and her feet up on the desk when he came in.
“Oh,
hello, Mr. Rogers.” she said. “Do you have a question?”
He
put the paper on her desk. “Yeah, why?”
She
shrugged. “It’s an insult to the trees to have a piece of paper with no effort
on it.”
“That’s
fair.” Connor examined the F. “You went all out this time. Is that glitter?”
She
smirked and put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone. I took it from the
preschool supplies.” she said.
Decisions Already Made
“This
is a crustacean.” the child said, pointing to a sand covered crab.
Sally
couldn’t help but laugh. What was he? Seven? The word crustacean sounded
hilarious in his childish lisp.
But
she smothered her laugh and nodded seriously. “Really?” she said. “How do you
know that?”
“Mamma
read me a book about them.” the boy said.
Sally
stopped smiling abruptly and had to turn away. She really had no right to be
hurt. Of course he didn’t know she was his mother. She’d made her own choice.
She couldn’t unmake it now. No matter how much she wanted to.
I’m Not Going
Anywhere
“I’m not
going anywhere,”
10
years later I still remembered that phrase. My mom’s career was stalled like
our manual transmission. I’d been an impressionable five-year-old who quickly
learned that her career was more important than me.
10
years of depression, messy relationships, drugs, and general shit later, she
sat on my bed while I sobbed. Her phone was off. Her eyes were on me. She held
me like I was still the five-year-old she’d left alone to go on auditions. She
wiped away my tears. Her face showed the
revelation she couldn’t put into words.
“I’m
not going anywhere.”
