The Truthsayer’s Confession
The atmosphere in the room changed quickly. Smoke covered the air thickly. Unable to see his face, the length of space, where honesty couldn’t be conveyed, at least not today.
A voice from within grabbed ahold of each word and sprung off the tip of her tongue, “What is truth, if you haven’t got proof? Where is the truth in life, beguiled by words, tongue slithering sly?”
“There is truth in the world, pure and untainted. Speak of it unadulterated,” he claimed, a preacher ordained.
“You’re being moralistic, without being realistic. And what is true? Explain, would you? Because truth is measured by lies written by people with status and education, mending their prophecies with inclinations. What’s true to me may not be true to you, despite that it’s been presented without further adieu. Close the curtain and turn off the lights. Allow me to surround you with my truth which are just beautiful lies.”
A maniacal laughter adorned in darkness emerged from within, “Let’s exchange truth for sin.”