My thoughts on a page.

We all have secrets.
Some are major.
Some minor.

Today is the day I have elected to reveal a secret I have kept for many years.

When I was nine, my younger brother was seven.
He was the cute one, the sweet one, the everyone loves, kind of one.
I was more the conniving, whinging, two steps ahead, kind of one.

My older sister had recently purchased a fountain pen.
It came with a bottle of ink to fill it with.

I had never seen such a pen.
I was fascinated by it.

One afternoon I was sitting on our bed (my sister and I shared a double).
On the bed was a lovely bright yellow bedspread, and about a million blankets under it.
Beside our bed on the locker was the fountain pen.

I sat looking at it.
It began to call me!
Just like a ‘caution wet paint sign’ I had to touch it.
I picked it up.
It was quite heavy.
I opened the lid and tried to write with it.
Nothing happened.
It obviously needed ink.

I picked up the ink bottle and gently unscrewed it.
As I did so I shifted my position on the bed.
This caused the ink bottle to tip slightly.
In slow motion I could see a drop land on the bedspread.

I froze.
“O God No….!”
Before my eyes the relatively small drop began to grow.
The bedspread acting like blotting paper.
In no time at all, an enormous ever increasing stain of lilac blue, was spreading far and wide over the bed!

I felt sick.
I couldn’t even imagine what the possible repercussions of this would be.

I stood back.
The spread had halted.
The stain was HUGE!

My mind was working fast.
What to do?
Throw it in the wash..no, my mom would see it straight away.
Run away… Maybe?

Just then I heard “Trish, where are you?”
My younger brother!
In seconds I had my plan formulated.

I pulled the bedspread into a heap.
My brother came in and sat up on the bed.
I saw him look at the famous fountain pen.
I sneakily pushed the ink bottle towards him.

As I thougt he couldn’t resist it.
“Oh be carefull” I say,”If even a tiny drop gets on the bedspread it will be ruined”.
He picks it up and as I knew he would he opens the cap.
“Dont do that!” I shout.
I then point to the bedspread with a look of fake horror on my face.
“Oh No, look what you’ve done!!

He jumps up.
For a moment he freezes.
I pull back the bedspread showing him the true magnitude of what “he” has done.
Slowly he begins to cry.
“Mom will kill me”.

I gently put my arm around him.
I say, “stop crying, its done now”
“What will I do?” he sobs”.
I look at him in that wise older sister kind of way and say,
“You’ll just have to tell mum straight away”.
“Don’t worry, I’ll come with you”.

And that’s exactly what I did.
I went straight downstairs with my little brother, and “helped” him confess to what I had done!

I have no recollection of what the punishment was.
What I do recall is going to bed on top of the world.

So there it is.
I confess after all these years, that I was the one who really ruined the bedspread.

And I’m still not sorry!

One more thing.
My brother doesn’t know about this blog!!

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/joshmaz/5555761164/”>JMaz Photo</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinksherbet/1950145389/”>Pink Sherbet Photography</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;