This 100 word story is for the purposes of The Friday Fictioneers Challenge that runs on a weekly basis. You can read the other entries for the competition by clicking on the blue froggy button at the bottom of this post.
Some people bury their secrets in the past, but not my mother. She buries her secrets in a jar of marbles. She doesn’t know I’ve seen them, and I’m not sure I’ll ever tell her, but up on the windowsill, next to the old candlestick and forgotten paintings she did long ago, sits her jar.
I’d noticed that someone had moved all the marbles round, so I’d stuck my hand inside. I’d seen the old photographs and crumbled drawings. Now, I feel almost ashamed; I feel like I’ve crossed some line somewhere and stumbled upon her soul.