[WP] A blackboard came into your possession. You discover that writing the name of a person causes an image to appear on the blackboard. Apparently it is an representation of something that person want to keep secret.

I found out what it did when I tried writing my own name. I'm a leftie, but I want to be ambidextrous, so I just needed a medium to practice writing with my offhand. Needless to say, the second I chalked my name in crooked letters across the top, things happened. A dusty image of a razor blade slowly percolated in silence, as if a ghost sprinkled the limestone powder on the small tile. Beneath the edge of the blade, an arm faded into view. The scars came last, matching my own.

It took me another month before I pulled the tiny blackboard out of my closet again, my curiosity overcoming my unease. I wrote my mom's name, and a smudged abstraction of a potato appeared. I tilted the chalkboard this way and that before I realized it was the image of a sonogram. In the corner, several numbers representing a date and time were barely legible. It was from before my parents got married.

I put my dad's name next, fearing what I might see but unable to resist. A vague outline of a woman was drawn by invisible chalk, but she had long hair where my mother had short hair. The image wasn't well-defined. Did that mean it was only a thought in his head, not yet reality?

I put the blackboard away for another week, struggling to digest these revelations. I didn't want for them to be true, but I asked Mom about it, and she confirmed, tears glistening in her eyes, that she had lost a child.

I don't know why. I really don't. But I picked up the blackboard again and shut myself in the closet, preparing myself for a long night.

My sister's secret was her boyfriend. I already knew about him, but Mom and Dad didn't. My brother's was a puppy with a bow around its neck. I smiled at that one, wondering who it was for. With Christmas drawing near, it could be anyone.

Butterflies began to churn in my stomach as I wrote Michael, the cute guy from my calculus class whom I had had a crush on since fifth grade. I watched enraptured as the chalk drew a masterfully detailed rendition of a young man--undeniably Michael--his head wrenched to the side as an older man struck him across the face. The butterflies in my stomach turned to queasiness, and I erased the image with my jacket sleeve.

This is wrong, I told myself, my hands trembling as I stared at the green slate. But there was a giddiness to it, as well, being able to see into someone's life from the safety of the sidelines. An odd sort of giddiness that itched in my brain, like a tickling sense of power. At the same time, it made the world feel even more hopeless than before.

I gazed at the dusty blackboard in silence, wondering if I should keep writing names. Or rather, which names.

I started scribbling the names of my classmates in school. Jeremy smoked cigarettes and drank his mother's whiskey. Serena threw up after every meal. Steven snuck into the girls' locker room to take pictures of the varsity teams. Darlene deliberately fed her sister's mice to her pet snake. Tyler hacked the school records to give himself passing grades each year. Liane cheated on her boyfriend with the entire football team.

Then I wrote Ashley, the girl who always bullied me at school. The image that began to appear so disturbed me that I scrubbed it away with my sleeve before it had finished forming, hoping against hope that that wasn't her father climbing into her bed.

I felt so emotionally drained that I dropped the blackboard on my knees and sat back, staring into space. Why had I even bothered? I already knew the world was so full of filth. Had I wanted to see something good somewhere tucked away? Well, there wasn't.

My phone buzzed, and I checked the name to see that my best friend Dan had texted me. I sighed and put the phone down, unwilling to deal with his stupid memes at the moment. Then I looked at the chalkboard, and a thought occurred to me. Shifting the chalk into my right hand for the hell of it, I wrote Daniel across the top.

The picture was of me. I was sitting on a stone bench beneath a tree by a lake--I recognized the popular picnic spot from everyone's social media photos. The image continued fading into existence, as if drawn from left to right. Next to me on the bench, Dan was brought to life, his arm wrapped tenderly around my shoulders, his eyes alight with joy.

I stared agape at the secret Dan kept deep in his conscious.

And I loathed him for it. I don't know why, but I detested him. How could he pretend to be my friend when he wanted to be more? How could he never tell me? How could he pick me? And if he cared so damn much, how could he not even see that I was hurting every day!?

I snatched up the blackboard and flung it across the closet. It cracked clean in half as it smashed against the opposite wall. The chalk piece crumbled into bits, leaving a puff of white on the wall. With a dry sob, I buried my face into my arms, wishing I hadn't found the stupid blackboard and wishing I hadn't discovered what it could do and wishing I hadn't been so curious in the first place and wishing and wishing and wishing I was dead.

I shook silently, holding my knees close, feeling the wretchedness of the world roll through me like waves in the ocean. I clutched my forearm tightly, the barely-healed scars aching beneath my grip. No matter how much I cut, I couldn't bleed out the blackness.

My phone buzzed again, and I grudgingly lifted my head. Dan. With a sigh, I picked up the phone and opened up the message. It wasn't a meme.

Dan: Wanna know a secret?

I snorted, unable to process for a second just how ridiculously ironic that was. I didn't want to find out another secret for the rest of my life. I responded gamely, though, for I had become quite good at hiding my own secrets.

Me: Idk, do I?

Dan: Prolly not, but you're gonna hear it anyway

I jumped as the phone started buzzing in my hand. He was calling me. A little uncertainly, I swiped the green icon and said, "Is it really this important?"

"No," Dan chirped shamelessly. "But it's funny, so I need to make sure you actually laugh and not the 'exhale briefly through your phone' lol."

I exhaled briefly through my nose, hoping he could hear the sarcasm.

We ended up talking for several hours that night, me huddled in my closet while Dan ranted about whatever new thing caught his interest, per the norm. I stared at the broken blackboard, thinking about everyone's horrible, horrible secrets, and how awful humanity was.

But my friend still made me laugh. In this moment, I could laugh.

/r/WritingPrompts Thread