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Anjoola's Website Short Stories The Morbid Secret

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.

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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