Keeping secrets is not all fun and games, as they say, but it does bring up interesting ideas for stories. Who knew that nice young man at the shop killed three people? Who knew that teenage girl lied about her teachers to get better grades? Who knew that grandma stole jewelry using her electric wheelchair as a getaway vehicle? And who knew keeping secrets could be so stressful?
The following short story deals with a secret. Enjoy!
“I Know I’m Supposed to Keep This a Secret, But…”
I’ve waited for this trip to Hawaii for a long time. Too bad my cousin was not available to go along with me. The beaches were supposed to be better than ours, so they say. The crystal clear waters allowed people to swim along with many sea animals. The wonders of nature were expecting one happy tourist.
I relaxed my head on the travel pillow I blew up while I waited to board the plane. My seatbelt was fastened, and the plane lifted off the runway into a crowded, clouded sky. This part made my insides tumble. Lift-off always did. At least the destination was free of complications, so the pilot states.
As the plane steadied itself, and the flight attendants did their thing, I took a deep breath for a nice long nap. That was until my neighbor tapped me on the shoulder.
“Excuse me.” The girl with peppermint glasses turned to me.
She had been watching the stewardess the whole time we got on this plane. This better not hinder the quiet.
“Yes?” I sighed.
She leaned closer, and whispered in my ear, “I know I’m supposed to keep this a secret, but I absolutely must tell someone.”
Oh, God. She’d better not say I reminded her of someone.
“This plane is not heading for Hawaii.”
“What!?!” I sprang from my seat, but the seatbelt restrained me.
“Sh, please, I don’t want to cause a scene.” She waved her hand.
“I’m sorry. A minute there I thought you said this plane was not going to Hawaii.”
“That’s right.” She licked her lips.
The sentence she dispersed from her lips hadn’t sunk in my brain. Her tight round face looked satisfied, as if her nuance halted some indigestion. However, she neglected to give a reason for the change. Why should I bother? She seemed a little tipsy. Yet, what if she’s right? Did I accidentally board the wrong plane?
“Well?” I asked.
“Where is this plane heading?”
“I’m not supposed to say.” Her eyes shifted. “I could die.”
Heaven forbid this girl to die!
“What are you trying to pull? You obviously need medical attention-”
A voice blasted through the speakers: “Passengers of flight 007. Welcome aboard! Please buckle yourselves up and allow us to transport you to dimension Westcorph. It was a lovely Earth, but it has outlived its usefulness. No need to become hostile. Just fasten those seatbelts and prepare for our stop in minus 30 seconds.” 30, 29, 28…
I looked back at the frantic passengers. The flight attendants put on gas masks! They held laser weapons in the shape of torpedoes. After an explosion that shook the plane and left vibrations in my teeth, the girl tapped me again.
“I told you so,” she scoffed.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels
Poetry needs as much revision and editing as novels, short stories, and articles.
There’s always something in the writing that could be better. That’s why you could find yourself rewriting many drafts before coming to a conclusion that it’s the best it could get before an agent or editor gets their hands on it.
Sometimes, we have to settle for the best instead of the greatest. And you know what? It’s okay. The important thing is to get through the process of polishing the manuscript. It helps make you a better writer, and that’s what readers want: better writing.
A poem I wrote titled “Seasons” is an example of a poem I would go back and revise. There are a lot of good images, but I feel it needs tightening in the Autumn section.
I’ve gotten a lot of good responses from a poem I wrote for Valentine’s Day called “Veteran’s Wish.” I hope you enjoy it.
You can check out “Seasons” in the Fall 2013, Issue 60
You can also see “Veteran’s Wish” in the Free Love, Issue 2 on
Here's my attempt at: In the middle of the night, I heard ___________ outside.
My first thought was to do something paranormal, but I stared at a children’s book, and got another fun idea. Here’s my attempt:
In the middle of the night, I heard a rasping sound outside. I immediately pulled my covers over my head to block it, but it didn’t work. My heart pounded with each terrible rhythm against the wall; there was no controlling it. The shadows from the moonlight didn't help, either. Gulping, I mustered enough courage to check the origin of the rasp.
I threw my covers on the floor and slipped on my shoes. When I had them on, the sound got louder. I was amazed that no member of my family had woken from its clobbering, but there was no time to find out whether they had.
I slid the window up and crawled out. I stubbed my finger with the rocks beneath and came face to face with IT!
Its eyes were large, brown bottle caps.
Its nose, wet with goo protruding out one nostril.
Its sharp, long teeth were white like a crescent moon.
Its wooly fur was messy.
Its breath was grueling, like onions mixed with ice cream.
I almost fainted.
And you know what that thing did?
It licked my cheek and jumped on me!
Maria A. Arana, Editor
Hi! Welcome to my blog where you'll find tidbits of interest to me and tips on writing.
Maria A. Arana2023. All rights reserved. Any unauthorized use and/or duplication of this blog’s material without the expressed and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Maria A. Arana and What You Missed Blog at Arana Editing Services with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.