Anjoola's Website 
Short Stories
The Morbid Secret
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Sally always receives good grades on her vocabulary
stories. But why? A brave young soul dares to ask her, and is aghast at
what Sally does. This boy, named Johnny, runs away in fear of his
new-found knowledge.
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Sally Mae
Worthington Adams fain walked home; as she had just received
an A on the fabulous story she wrote. Children gasped in
awe and emulation as Sally flashed her bright, red, capital
A at them. One curious child walked up to her, and with
much affability, asked, “Hey, great job on your story! How
did you receive such a good score on your vocabulary story?
I worked 8 hours on my story, trying to entreat my teacher
to giving me an A, but to no avail. What is your secret?”
Sally smiled, her expression crinkling her visage
with many laughter lines, “Why my dear child, it is
nothing special that I have done. Do you want to hear my
secret?”
That child, whose name was Johnny Doe Bobson replied
eagerly, “Yes, I sure do! Oh puissant and mighty writer
Sally Mae Worthington Adams, please do tell me what you’ve
done to get yourself such a good grade! I have been
slaving for hours thinking up a witty story, and yet all I
received was a lousy B+. What is it that I am doing wrong?
You must tell me now! I am covetous of your skills!”
And with that long oration, Johnny bowed low and went
down on his knees. Sally snickered, but then shook her head
and plastered a homely smile on her face. “Oh yes Johnny,
I do dearly want to help you, but let it be engrafted that
you cannot tell anyone else this secret!”
Johnny pounded his fist against the concrete sidewalk
(for they were still outside) and nearly died from waiting,
“Just tell me already! Or you’ll receive some
chastisement for taunting me!”
Sally, misconstruing his words as real, was glad that
she was accoutered with a stake sharpened at both ends; for
who knew what dangers were lurking on the streets. She felt
for the stake under her jacket, to make sure it was there.
Yet she thought about it for a moment, and remembered that
Johnny was a boy with no malice. He’d always share
everything with everyone with a huge winning smile on his
face. While these cogitations swirled through Sally’s
head, Johnny had an epileptic seizure.
With a sigh, Sally gave in as Johnny began foaming
out the mouth. Not wanting to augment his seizure by denying
him her secret, she finally said, “All right, I’ll tell
you my secret, but you have to come to my house.”
Suddenly the sky began to darken, and the cars
rattled as the roaring wind stormed and rushed. Sally, being
an augurer, knew this was an omen of something terrible to
happen. Johnny
and Sally ran home as the sky broke open and poured its
tears. Once in the house, Sally donned a mantle that kept
her warm as she grabbed two mugs of hot chocolate and two
donuts; for as she knew, donuts appertained to hot
chocolate; one could not go without the other.
She placed the mugs and a plate with the two donuts
on the table. Johnny looked at the food suspiciously.
“These aren’t envenomed are they?”
“No, no! Rather, this is my secret.”
Johnny stared at the donuts. His eyes had a fiery
blaze. This was an exigent moment; he either understood the
secret or he didn’t.
There was a small
ding! and Johnny
got it. He rose from the table, shocked. “You bribe the
teachers with donuts?! How base! I thought you’d written
something amazing, or had some kind of fantastic plot! To
think that you’d stoop so low as to bribe?!” He
snatched the story out of Sally’s hand (for she was still
holding it and she got all the food one-handed). “Let me
see your story! What did you write?”
Sally reddened. “You don’t want to read it… it
isn’t quite interesting.” She tried to take the story
out of Johnny’s hand, but he shifted his hands away. Sally
could tell the story had an effect on him. Johnny gasped,
and then his eyes widened. His mouth formed a small ‘o’,
and became a larger ‘O’. His eyebrows rose higher and
higher, and flew off his forehead.
“Why…” he started, “why this is a story of
what’s happening RIGHT NOW! How did you know all this was
going to happen? You’re not some kind of…”
Sally smiled inwardly, “A what? I think it
just so happens to be a coincidence that everything I wrote
is happening.”
Johnny
mused, “But what is to happen
to me after this conversation?” He scanned the pages and
screamed. His hands rose over his heads and his legs carried
him out the door. His mouth formed a large ‘O’ and his vocal chords made a large,
piercing sound. His legs carried him all the way down to a
shoe shop, where he asked the owner for a cheeseburger.
Sally raised her head and cackled. The storm raged
outside and the rain streaked down with such force that it
broke windshields.
Far
away, far, far away, a teacher named Ms. Ptelat frowned and
crossed out a B+ on a piece of paper, and wrote a bright, red F- instead. The paper
was entitled, “Johnny Doe
Bobson’s Julius Caesar Vocabulary Story”.
Here is Sally’s story:
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