I was an innocent until I met him. Somehow he took the shimmering white love I felt for him and twisted me into something hard and green-black. I couldn’t go back. Down I went, deeper each month, into a free fall of pain and want. Sometimes I see pictures of the things I did, I hear the lies that glibly dribbled from my lips. I know I am forgiven, so why am I haunted? I have too much time for thinking, too much introspective emptiness that my mind can fill with muck.
I will die. You can bury me with the lies I told, but see how they are broken. Once I am gone, they can no longer spring whole in my mind to torture me. They will lay like scattered pottery shards in some ancient dig, quiet, hiding their stories forever.
Copyright ©2026 Lisa Paul. All rights reserved.
This is a fictional prose story.
Here’s how to take part in the Prosery Prompt:
• Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose up of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line from the song lyric:
Bury me with the lies I told
A Little Bit of Everything, With Love 
Lisa, that was deep. I feel bad for your MC, who feels she can release these things only through death.
I look at:
Somehow he took the shimmering white love I felt for him and twisted me into something hard and green-black. I couldn’t go back.
I’m reading Clarissa Pinkola-Estes’ book, Women Who Run With the Wolves, and the first 2 chapters deconstruct the Bluebeard fairy tale. I would say to the woman in your story, you can find your way out of that pit.
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Yes, I feel like she gave up hope. Thank you for this thoughtful comment. The book sounds interesting!
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You’re welcome, and it is!
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Powerful read, Lisa. Very good.
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Thank you, Nancy!
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To me this is schoolbook example of being gaslighted into self blame…. just hope that seeing the lines would put the beam where it belongs.
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Thank you for your kind words. You are so right
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A very poignant story Lisa.
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Thank you so much, Sadje.
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My pleasure
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I loved this. You have tapped into the soul of this character and brought her to life for us. I can feel her pain. Her frustration, her release.
Excellent!!
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Thank you, Nigel. Your comment means so much.
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Its my pleasure, Lisa. You’re welcome.
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A deep dive into the guilt that haunts, tortures. I love the first-person narrative voice that mediates that truth, Lisa. This sentence leapt out at me: “Somehow he took the shimmering white love I felt for him and twisted me into something hard and green-black.” Such beautiful prose.
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Thank you, Dora. It happens too often, I think.
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I really enjoyed your take on this line. The guilt is ever present- even forgiveness can never erase it.
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It is true. Thank you, Violet.
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