The Secret

Flash fiction with the prompt "You can't tell anyone"

Certain memories are resilient to the passage of time. The events that transpired thirty years ago still play out in my mind with no loss of transmission over the decades.

I was thirteen. He was much older. I wanted to be his friend. He made it a point to ignore all of us. That made me more desperate. His aloofness was intoxicating.

My dad bought me a new bicycle. My first thought was to show it to John. My other friends said I was crazy to keep trying to make friends with John. They all avoided him. I couldn’t understand it.

He was standing by the abandoned house. I was sure he would be excited by the bicycle. “My new bike,” I stated when I saw him.

A smile broke out on his face. “Can I ride it?” he asked excitement gleaming in his eyes. “Of course!” I exclaimed. “We’ll ride together,” he added.

He easily straddled the bicycle between his legs and I sat on the hard metal bar. I didn’t care. I was too happy.

It was strange that he had a destination in mind. We rode out of town. He didn’t speak a word but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

We reached the graveyard and he stopped. “Let’s walk from here,” he whispered. “Where to?” I asked. “You’ll see,” he said.

I walked slowly behind him. He stopped at a grave. It was covered with nettles and weeds. I knelt down beside him as he turned around to face me.

“This is where they buried me,” his voice changed. His smile was different. “You can’t tell anyone”.