The Liar

Source of photo: Pinterest

Dear Readers: I didn’t have a proper Halloween story so I am sharing a post about real monsters instead…


He has been lying since he was a little child.

At first, they were just little lies; meant to save him from being caught or from getting a spanking. But as he saw how good he was at lying; as he saw how much more people liked him when he told them exactly what they wanted to hear, it became a habit. Little lies soon became outrageous whoppers.

And because they blindly loved him, because they wanted to see nothing but the best in him, they all swallowed his lies: hook, line and sinker.

Now in his prime, the falsehoods flow so effortlessly off his tongue that as soon as they have been voiced aloud, he half-believes them himself. At least, he acts like he does. He is a consummate actor.

Over the years, his lies have grown in breadth and stature, oozing out of him and over everything he sees and touches; like a vile, toxic, rancid swamp. His lies have hurt the ones closest to him; they have hurt the countless people he has used to rise to the position of power he holds today; they have hurt the ones he considers to be his enemies and they have even hurt perfect strangers.

His lies have taken on a life of their own. His lies have made him great.

He is sovereign and untouchable now: and he is Legion. There are vile clones just like him in countries all over the world. His fearful servants shrink on bended knee before his terrible authority and his subjects -blindly believing every terrible word that he utters – adore him. They would kill for him if he asked them to. His soul is as black as the bottom of the ocean (there are some who would argue whether he even has a soul). It no longer matters that there are many who have always been able to see through the lies: he is so influential that the multitudes who do who swallow his fabrications give him all the permission he needs to continue.

Violently, if necessary.

Perhaps it’s because his parents weren’t kind enough to him when he was a child. Perhaps someone once hurt him in unspeakable ways. Perhaps he was just badly spoiled and pampered as a child when what he really needed was firm but loving guidance.

Or perhaps he is just a monster.

Patti Moore Wilson ©



Author: Patti Moore Wilson, wednesdayschild2

I write what I feel. And I rarely know exactly what I feel until I write. I have lived long enough to have known many joys and many sorrows. I have made many mistakes; I have forgiven myself for a few… I have learned that there are lessons in every step of this journey, if we only take the time to pay attention… I hope you will feel free to pick and choose the stories that resonate for you…

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