He held his hand on the black book and he swore it was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help him God.
The schmuck. Of course he did it. Never trusted him. The whispers from the gallery, from the pious outraged faces, the grieving eyes, floated through the hot, thick air, whirled their mocking dance before resting in his ears. He reached up a manacled hand, scratched, glared upwards.
They didn’t know the truth. He was there, from the beginning. From the first days when he understood … how she swore her own truths, the lying bitch. Those bleak-eyed faces judging him. They wouldn’t know a truth from a picnic.
He did.
His truth was that he knew nothing until he came home to find the police flashing their red warnings on his lawn, and the ambulance men trying to revive her. He wasn’t there, was he? His truth. He knows nothing.
Yes, he swore it was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help him God.
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Sounds like a really nice type:
My contribution:
No one believed him, but he swore it was the truth.
He really had seen the Tyrannosaurus Rex, very much alive and kicking, at the local reserve.
Toby raced home to tell his mum, who just looked at him in her usual disbelieving fashion – another of his many tall tales.
“Mum, mum, I’m not lying,” he insisted. “I really did see it. It was taller than our house, with a huge mouth and giant teeth.”
“Don’t be silly Toby,” she scolded. “A Tyrannosaurus Rex is prehistoric. They died out 60 million years ago when an asteroid struck the Earth and none of them survived.”
“I know, I know. But I saw one and it roared at me before tramping off into the bush.”
Toby’s mother ignored his pleas. At 12 years old, he still had an overactive imagination and the exaggerated stories were a constant.
It didn’t help that he knew all the prehistoric animals by name, having collected them since he was very little, and by now had significant number.
Mum carried on cooking dinner and Toby chafed, distressed that his mother did not believe him.
His father arrived home from work shortly after and Toby raced to tell him the news.
“Dad, dad, guess what I saw in our local reserve. A Tyrannosaurus Rex, that’s what.”
“Sure, son, I’ll bet you did,” commented his father as he headed for the master bedroom to change his clothes.
Toby was becoming totally frustrated. Would no one believe him? He knew he was prone to exaggeration – but this time was different.
“I’ll show ‘em,” he thought, as he headed out the front door and back to the reserve.
By now, the light was beginning to fade and Toby wasn’t sure whether he would find the creature amongst the bushy trees.
Suddenly, he spotted a giant head peering over the treetops and fixing him with a beady eye.
“Come on, Tyrannosaurus, come on,” he yelled. “This way.” Gesticulating with his hand.
The monster roared and moved in his direction.
Toby began to run at full speed, with the reptile following close behind until they reached his house.
“In here,” he called, and burst through the front door.