Author’s note: This isn’t a typical story like others I’ve shared here. I regularly play around with different poetry forms just for fun and something to do. I wanted to share one today, a Kyrielle. This one isn’t directly a mystery, but it deals with something all too common in them — lies. As with the stories here, this is a rough draft. It follows a character through different times in his life, the different types of lies he told (playful fibs, lying to himself, and lying to someone who loved him) and the consequences when you don’t learn from mistakes and embrace honesty with yourself and those around you. This needs a lot of improvement yet, and I’d like to add two more verses — one when he’s an older child or teen, and one where he’s an older man reflecting on his life and lies. But this is the original draft just for the sake of sharing something different.

Lies Are Never Little Things

A little boy with golden curls
hid, with delight, his mother’s pearls.
He fibbed. She scolded, her brow furled,
that “lies are never little things.”

“I won’t amount to much,” he said,
as fears and doubts swirled in his head.
His passions buried, talents bled,
as lies are never little things.

Half-truths whispered, a story slips
so ever softly ‘cross his lips.
A love once bright is now eclipsed,
for lies are never little things.