Prompted Fiction

#1 - White Lies (Week 1 No.1)

There was a small tear in the fabric covering the arm of the chair. I picked at the exposed foam. I stared at my boss' desk, and not at my boss.

"I think you know why I called you here," She said. Her voice was strained, harsh.

I nodded, but still did not look at her. I focussed on the desk. There was a green pen beside her keyboard, three packs of sticky notes, and a letter opener, all laid out neatly.

She strode across the office, three steps from one wall to the other. "Look, I want to give you the chance to leave with some dignity."

"Dignity?" I asked, meeting her eyes for the first time.

"There's nobody from Human Resources here. Rather than firing you, I though I'd give you the chance to leave on your own terms. You can't stay, though. You know that."

I nodded.

"It's really a pity that Dave's son was supposed to have been in your class but had never met you. I honestly had no idea; you always seemed so knowledgeable. So smart." She turned away, looking out the window. "Why did you do it?" she asked, quietly.

"Why did I lie, you mean?"

"If you were going to make up a degree, why pick a school where your discipline only had twelve graduates in your year? Eventually someone had to know all of them."

I shrugged. "It matched my experience well. My background. It let me use the knowledge I had, and the school was suitably obscure. I thought my odds were good."

"So you haven't been to university at all?"

I picked at the chair arm again. "I have attended university. Several universities."

"So what happened?" my boss leaned towards me, as if to see me better. Her expression was not unsympathetic. "You flunked out? Got your final year but never made the degree requirements?"

"What? Oh, no. I finished my courses of study."

"You did?"

"Of course," I replied. I sounded firm, forgetting that she now thought of me only as a liar.

"But, then, why not be honest about your degree?"

I laughed. "Why, none of my degrees were in hydrogeology. Besides, if I told you what degrees I did hold, you'd never believe me."

"Try me," she said.

"I studied law at Bologna; theology at Paris; then there was -"

She held up a hand, stopping me. "Bologna? Paris?"

I nodded.

"When was this?"

"A long time ago. Longer than you think." I looked at her very seriously and took a deep breath, "I had to have my hair cut in a tonsure when I studied theology. Like a monk. We all did."

"A tonsure? That's – that's medieval."

"Exactly."

She burst out laughing. "Medieval? If you're going to make up lies, at least make up something half decent."

"Lies?" I said, looking serious. I picked up the letter opener, trying the point with my thumb.

"You're what, twenty-five? Thirty at the most? You're not a thousand years old."

"Not quite," I agreed.

"Why the ridiculous . . ."

She trailed off, watching me. I gently pressed the sharp point of the letter opener against my thumb, pushing until I drew a drop of blood. I plucked up one of the sticky notes, then smeared the blood across it. The bright blue fluid contrasted with the pale yellow paper.

My boss gasped, her eyes wide. "How could you . . . that's blue!"

I smiled. "Ah. I'm flattered. Sometimes I do forget that you all think I'm human."

Prompt: You convinced yourself that it was just a little white lie. Three months later, you've obtained your dream job, but people are starting to get suspicious about your true credentials. Now the boss has called you in for a private meeting. What do the two of you say to one another and why? Will you continue to lie to save your skin? Why or why not?

Source: http://www.build-creative-writing-ideas.com/desperate-times.html