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Tonight at writer’s club, it was my turn to pick a prompt. I simply googled “Writing Prompts” and found a great picture. I couldn’t think through any story lines before I actually sat down at the coffee shop. I’m currently reading a book where the main characters are cops, so this might be where I thought of my plot line. It’s not too original, but it was fun to write. The “book” is called “Faithful Secrets,” and it’s about a con-woman who falls in love with a police officer. He is unaware of her life until she reveals her secrets moments before their wedding. Once he knows the truth, she flees the scene, where the story picks up. This writing is the actual ending (or ending-ish) of the “book” that is yet to be written. But like I said, it’s not too original, so no such book will probably be written.
However, enjoy the end of “Faithful Secrets.”
The lake had become sacred to her over the years. Nothing had been more constant, more promising, more real. Here, she felt alive. Here, she could reveal her true self, even if it was only to the sparrows and the weeds.
Her eyes caught Jack from a distance. Her heart pounded in her ears to make a decision. She withdrew her pistol behind her back. Looking away, she felt as vulnerable as she appeared.
He approached her slowly, noticing the glaze of her gown, the highlights in her hair, the tears tarrying on her cheek.
“Nicole. I need to know the truth.”
She did not waver. Her voice as consistent as the waves.
“My name if Faith. I like pancakes, and the color yellow. I stole from Jonas Harrington but I didn’t mean to kill him.” She slowly lowers the gun as emotion overcomes her.
The silence between them was only cut by the chilling wind in their ears. Jack’s eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. He stepped forward, almost able to remove the gun from her shivering hands. Almost able to touch her.
“We can do this, together… Faith.” he whispers, more to himself than to her.
Her strong eyes meet his, and she raises the gun yet again. “No… we can’t.”
His face is overcome with hurt and surprise. He cautiously takes a step back, hands raised high.
She holds the gun tighter than before, her finger ready to pull the trigger.
The gentle waves bob the nearby boat up and down. Suddenly, she realizes her fate. Standing at the very place she felt most alive, in the most beautiful wedding gown she’d ever seen, she’s holding a gun to a man that loved the worst parts of her without knowing it. She lets her guard down for a moment, blinking long enough to see what could have been. She must make a decision. A regretful tear falls from her eyes, maybe from her choices in the past, or maybe because she knew the choice that was to come.
A gunshot sounds the same to any ear. It’s the sound of terror, of heartache, of desperation. It’s the sound of a choice that was made. A split second decision. A gunshot is the sound of a secret released, an outpouring of the soul, directed at one thing.
She did not realize what had happened. Not until the white of her dress began to stain with crimson. The slightest gasp left her speechless. Jack’s hands did not quiver or shake while he lowered his gun, but he stood as empty as the wind. She collapsed onto her knees, and although they both knew she would live, neither felt relieved. She had faithfully kept her life a secret. But in time, just as the blood filled her dress, so his love for her would fill her new life again.
