Day 325

Some secrets aren't buried under dirt and stones.
Some secrets remain in our minds until age and decay rot them to a putrescent mess.
The mind is the safest place to store secrets, even more so when the holder can't speak.

You never know the lengths people are willing to go in order to keep it that way.

Every now and then you can tell when such secrets are spilled.

The signs are subtle but they are there.

Lips stained red, speechless, glazed eyes and hands bearing one white line through the palms.

There are those who are lucky to only bear the marks, others are found where their secrets left.

Secrets are uniquely human.

Something that we say that can cost us everything we hold dear.

It's such a shame that we live in an age where secrets can be shared globally in a split-second.

We've gone full circle now, the old hiding places are the safest.

Under old bridges where deep river currents render any writing illegible within minutes.

Soon-to-be demolished buildings and subways where the rubble is too dense to move.

In the still-living torso of your closest loved one, to remain there til rot takes their flesh completely.

The oldest hiding places are the safest, trust us.