These Are the Lies We Tell

Please wait...

🔎 Creepypasta Main Search
💀 Popular Creepypastas


🏆 Top-Ranked Stories
📅 Recently Published
📚 Category
📝 Author
📖 Title

📅 Published on July 1, 2019

"These Are the Lies We Tell"

Written by Micah Edwards

Estimated reading time — 3 minutes

The dog ran away today.

It’s an easy lie, a simple one. Believable. No one questions it. Everyone knows how dogs are. There’s some work to follow through on it, of course. Walking around the neighborhood yelling, whistling. Putting up posters. Fielding calls from people who claim to have seen the dog. Which they haven’t, obviously, but I have to play along for the kids. It’s sad to watch the hope flare and fade in their faces, but what’s the alternative? The truth wouldn’t make them any happier.

The dog ran away.

I’m cleaning the tools in the shed.

Barely even a lie, really. Omission, if anything. The shovel did need to be cleaned, and a dent hammered out of the corner where it struck a rock. And obviously the axe had to be sharpened. So why not give the other tools a once-over while I’m out there? It’s window dressing, but that’s important. Setting the stage appropriately stops people from asking questions, and that saves all sorts of trouble down the line. The less you say, the less you have to remember.

The stupid dog ran away.

I was out cleaning the tools in the shed.

Your mother and I aren’t fighting.

How can children understand adult relationships? Tension doesn’t mean two people don’t love each other. If anything, it means they love each other too intensely. It’s easy to shrug and walk away from someone you don’t care about. Much harder to see someone you love going down the wrong path. I am anything but distant, no matter her accusations. I am deeply invested in this family. I sacrifice to protect it. My honor, my self: I will give it all.

We’ll talk about getting another dog.

The lock on the shed is to keep you safely away from dangerous tools.

Your mother and I aren’t fighting, but she’s gone to stay with your grandmother for a little while.

Why do things get so complicated? Here, at least, is one designed to reduce questions. Everyone knows what “staying with her mother” is code for. Not the children, of course, but they still think that the dog ran away. Everyone else just sees me putting on a brave face. I think they respect me for raising the kids without her.

I didn’t want this. Everything I’ve done has been to protect this family, to keep it together. I don’t know why she couldn’t see that. I never wanted to be in this position. At least it’s winter and the shed won’t start to smell for a little while.

She’s taken the kids.

Condensing. All other lies fold into this one. There’s no one left to care about the dog, no one to ask about the tools. No one asks for details on this. It invariably gets a grimace and an awkward apology. Meanwhile, I can take a deep breath for the first time since the dog ran away. Funny how easily that line comes now. Even when I don’t need to say it, it’s just what comes to mind.

My time is my own again. Time to watch TV, time to work in the yard, time to dig holes without anyone asking why or what for or why don’t you pay attention to us. I pay so much attention! Everything is about you. Even this. Even now.

Isn’t family supposed to be about happiness and togetherness? We’re happier now, and we’ll always be together. She really was going to leave, you know. Tear this family apart. I couldn’t have that. I kept us together.

She got full custody.

That’s the dog’s grave.

Omission again. It is the dog’s grave. If you dig down, you’ll find the dog. I don’t know what kind of sick-minded person would dig into a dog’s grave, but you can never be too careful these days. People ask a lot of questions, stick their nose into other people’s business. So if you dig down, you’ll find a dog, and you’ll be ashamed of yourself and cover it back up.

Which means that you won’t dig a few more feet down to see what else might be there.

I’m not ashamed. I’m just not stupid. The world runs on polite fictions. These are the lies we tell.

Credit: Micah Edwards (Official WebsiteAmazonFacebookTwitterReddit)

Check out Micah Edwards’ collection of published anthologies and novella, now available on

🔔 More stories from author: Micah Edwards

Rate this story:

Please wait... is proud to accept horror fiction and true scary story submissions year-round, from both amateur and published authors. To submit your original work for consideration, please visit our story submissions page today.

Copyright Statement: Unless explictly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).




My Friend's New Sculptures Are Unbelievably Lifelike
Average Rating:

My Friend’s New Sculptures Are Unbelievably Lifelike

I’ve been friends with Alan since elementary school. We lived down the block from each other and basically grew up as brothers, with all ...
Read Now
She's Waiting in the Reflection
Average Rating:

She’s Waiting in the Reflection

I wasn't always alone. I used to have friends. Four or five, at least. Good friends, I mean, actual friends, the kind who matter ...
Read Now
My Grandmother Was Murdered For a Tea Set
Average Rating:

My Grandmother Was Murdered For a Tea Set

“I want to go to Zelotes.” It was tradition. Ever since my grandmother’s vision got too bad for her to drive, every Sunday I’d ...
Read Now
I Went To a Funeral That Was Supposed To Be a Wedding
Average Rating:

I Went To a Funeral That Was Supposed To Be a Wedding

I was supposed to be at my friend’s wedding this weekend. And the thing is, maybe I was there? Only I’m pretty sure it ...
Read Now
I Should Have Paid More Attention to the "Missing Cat" Poster
Average Rating:

I Should Have Paid More Attention to the “Missing Cat” Poster

MISSING CAT, the poster said. It had a black-and-white picture of the cat in question, a generic-looking animal with mottled fur and a bored ...
Read Now
I'm Not Myself These Days
Average Rating:

I’m Not Myself These Days

Late last year, I suffered a stroke. The doctors tell me that I was lucky, by which they mean I survived. On the whole, ...
Read Now