Prompt: Write about the secrets carved in the door.
The old wood was scarred with years of secrets. Words twisting, turning, and overlapping, covered every inch of the door until it breathed in the dim lights of the hallway.
The carved words spoke in whispers, in voices echoing their physical presence.Some smooth and quieted with time, some sharp and rough in desperation, others fresh and raw with pain.
All pleading,confiding, confessing, demanding- all carvings shared the deepest words of their writer’s hearts.
“I cheated on my wife”, “I no longer love my husband”, “I wish I never had a child”, “I’m in love with my best friend”
The door recorded hundreds of secrets from hundreds of hands. Love, hate, fear, longing, and hope- all recorded from the heart and into the ancient wood, with the same superstitious wish:
The the ancient oak from the sacred forest would bring peace to the faithful who bared with souls.
Bringing Mae Flowers 