What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. I remember my mother saying this to us as children – and never paying heed. Now as I sat here in this windowless room filled with regret for the lies I had told, I thought of her and finally understood what a wise woman she had been. What I had thought of as trite sayings had some truth to them: I had reached the point where I no longer remembered the details of the stories I had told. And now, when I had to be truthful, I was not sure those interrogating me would believe me.
© Colline Kook-Chun, 2015
(This story was inspired by Mondays Finish the Story. Each week bloggers are encouraged to write a story of 100-150 words based on a photo prompt and sentence starter)