The Secret Keeper

For some time now, recess at Elmsworth High had felt too noisy for Margaret. The soft sunlight and the gentle shadows of large oaks should’ve provided a peaceful retreat, but not when Tessa was in her element, surrounded by their peers. Margaret was on the group’s periphery; Tom and Ben encircled Tessa, charmed by her gym class gossip. She wanted to tell these fools that Tessa wasn’t interested in any of them, that they served to help her ego and nothing more. But she stayed silent, offering a simple nod when Tessa requested it.

Margaret’s fingers brushed the pages of her Ancient Greek history book. She had told Tessa she hadn’t read the chapter for their next class, but truthfully, she had read it the previous night. 

“Seriously. You’re becoming boring, Margs,” said Tessa earlier as they made their way to their lunch spot, where the boys and another friend, Zoe, were already waiting.

Margaret and Tessa had grown up together; Margaret’s father was Mr. Montgomery’s lawyer and longtime friend. Their parents considered them inseparable, their childhoods intertwined like the branches of the old oaks surrounding Elmsworth. Mr. Montgomery owned Elmsworth Woodland Wellness Estate, the most private and luxurious resort and spa known to the rich and famous, nestled at the edge of the town surrounded by the thick, serene woods. 

We haven’t had anyone interesting stay in town lately,” said Tom.

“We have,” said Tessa, with a smile and eyebrow raised. “Our privacy team is just good at their job.”

The Montgomerys lived on the estate, giving them access to the celebrities and business tycoons seeking solace in the secluded haven of the estate. As children, the difference between Tessa and Margaret had seemed trivial, even exciting. Margaret had adored playing on the resort grounds; the woods surrounding the resort had been their magical playground, a place of endless adventure and escape.  But it had been years since they had played in the woods.

“Who?” replied Zoe. Zoe was the group’s newest member, approved by Tessa. She worshipped Tessa and coveted the many celebrities and stars with whom Tessa shared her home. Zoe craved any hint of gossip from the resort. “Like, how famous are we talking?”

Tessa paused, building up the tension within the group. Margaret refused to indulge her friend’s gossip and kept her eyes on the book. “Savannah and Lebron James booked out the entire estate last week. And we had dinner with Olivia Rodrigo and her family two weeks ago.” 

The group gasped, except for Margaret. She could feel Tessa’s gaze on her and seemingly smiled on the inside. For the group, Tessa’s life of luxury and celebrity dealings kept her at the center, but Margaret never felt more on the edge.

“Why didn’t you invite any of us around?”
“So you wouldn’t embarrass me.” Tessa spat, and Margaret laughed. She locked eyes with her friend, recognizing a twinkle of approval, which vexed her slightly. “Anyway, one of you was invited, but she had to study.”
Margaret nodded in agreement and returned to her book.

For the next twenty minutes, bits and pieces of the conversation around her filtered through, but Margaret’s thoughts lingered on the invisible threads fraying between her and Tessa, the differences in their backgrounds no longer charming quirks but rather feeling like paths diverging between them.
“I heard Jason bribed Coach Miller to get onto the soccer team,” sneered Tom, a lanky boy who followed Tessa around like a puppy. “Imagine having to buy your way onto a team.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Zoe asked, her brow furrowed innocently.

Tom leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s not a rumor; it’s true.”

Zoe’s eyes widened, “You can’t believe that, Tom. People don’t exploit others like that, even if they’re desperate.”

Before Tom could respond, Tessa interjected with a confident smirk, “Oh, come on, Zoe. It’s true. My mom heard it from Mrs. DeGraff last week.”

“See,” spat Tom in Zoe’s direction. “It isn’t just a rumor.”

“Bruh. That a bummer for Jason, ratted out by his mom!” Ben laughed.

“The Secret Keeper’s fees must’ve been too pricey this time,” said Tom. 

Suddenly, Margaret’s ears pricked up at the keeper’s mention, and a wave of uneasiness washed over her. It was always a spooky bedtime story – an old lady living alone in a hidden house, surrounded by ancient, giant trees that seemed to guard it like wooden soldiers. This old lady, the Secret Keeper, knew everyone’s secrets because people would tell her the things they didn’t want anyone else to know. The wind would carry the secrets far, far away. Margaret’s mother would always end the story about the Secret Keeper, saying, But you know Margaret, secrets are tricky things, and sometimes, they find their way back to you when you least expect it.

Margaret thought it was just a story to teach two kids right and wrong. But there was also something in her mom’s tone, perhaps a hint of lived wisdom, that always made Margaret question her disbelief. And that something nagged at her now. Should people mess with secrets? 

“Sarah Holt from our street went to her last summer for something. She swears by it. Of course, none of us know what the something was.” Zoe continued while she had the group’s attention. 

“That’s called marketing, Zoe. You’re feeding into the story, stupid,” snapped Tessa. Zoe’s lips tightened. No one challenges Tessa.  

“Everyone has secrets, and people do anything for money,” piped in Tom.

“But why? Secrets can’t just vanish into thin air,” Zoe said.

Tessa rolled her eyes, “The Secret Keeper? Please, Zoe. It’s just a local legend.” 

“Didn’t you tell me your mom takes celebrities to her?” Margaret interjected. It was a betrayal, but Margaret felt brave. 

The group settled into silence. Tessa closed in on Margaret.

“As I said, it’s good marketing,” Tessa responded.

“You shouldn’t mess with secrets. There are always consequences,” said Margaret. Her mother’s words fumbled out of her mouth, but as soon as they filled her ears, Margaret recognized it as truth. 

Zoe and the boys watched the showdown with intrigue. Tessa hadn’t lifted her gaze from Margaret’s face, nor Margaret from Tessa.

Suddenly, Tessa broke the silence, “But if you’re so sure about the ‘consequences,’ why don’t we go there? Test out your little theory.”

Margaret sighed audibly, marking her page, closing her book, and fidgeting uncomfortably.
Tessa’s challenging smirk lingered as she observed Margaret’s discomfort. “Alright, Margs. How about a little adventure? A dare, if you will.”

Margaret looked up, weary of where this was headed. “What sort of dare?”

“We visit the Secret Keeper,” Tessa proposed with a sly grin. “Both of us. We tell her a secret. If it remains a secret, maybe there’s something to all this. If not, it’s just a legend or great marketing.”

Margaret’s eyes darted to the side, contemplating. She’d grown up with the stories and felt the weight of the town’s superstitions. “I don’t know, Tessa. Some things are better left alone.”

Tessa leaned in closer, her voice soft yet taunting. “Scared, Margs? I thought you were above all these childish beliefs. It’s just an old woman, isn’t it?”

Margaret hesitated, torn between her reservations and the challenge presented by her oldest friend. “It’s not the woman I’m concerned about. It’s the idea of playing with something we might not fully understand.”

Tessa’s smile widened. “All the more reason to go, don’t you think? Face your fears and all that.”

Margaret exhaled, realizing that resisting might only push Tessa further. “Alright.”

“Perfect. After school, then. We’ll see what this ‘Secret Keeper’ is all about,” said Tessa, her eyes flashing with victory.

*

The afternoon classes dragged on for Margaret. Every ticking second of the clock and every drone of the teacher’s voice seemed to amplify her apprehension. When the final bell rang, she collected her books, hesitating momentarily. Would it be terrible to pretend she’d forgotten and avoid the dare altogether?

But when she exited the classroom, Tessa was already there, waiting with her signature smirk. “Ready for our little adventure?” she asked, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Margaret swallowed her anxiety. “Let’s get this over with.”

They walked through Elmsworth, their footsteps echoing against the backdrop of a setting sun. The town, with its colonial-style buildings and cobblestone pathways, seemed to transform as dusk approached. Shadows lengthened, and the tales of the Secret Keeper began to feel all too real for Margaret.
Surrounding Elmsworth were dense woods that isolated the town from the rest of civilization. The woods offered Mr. Montgomery the privacy and security his guests paid for. Yet, deep inside these woods also lived the town’s legend, the Secret Keeper.

Her cottage, situated in the heart of the woods, was easily missed. The trees surrounding it grew so tightly they seemed to hug and almost swallow the house, shielding it from view. It was old and shabby, its gray planks blending with the shadows. Green moss decorated parts of the roof, and wildflowers brought splashes of color to the ground. 

Margaret’s heart raced as they approached a narrow lane leading to a quaint old house. Rumor had it that the Secret Keeper had lived there for over a century.

“You sure about this?” Margaret whispered, her voice quivering.

Tessa shot her a confident smile. “Scared already? We’re just at the door.”

Margaret took a deep breath, mustering the courage she didn’t feel. “It’s not about being scared. It’s about whether we should be toying with things we don’t understand.”

Before Tessa could reply, the door creaked open to reveal a frail woman, her silver hair cascading down her back, her eyes deep pools that seemed to have seen eons.

“Ah,” she murmured, her voice raspy yet melodic, “I’ve been expecting you.”

Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Have you?”

The Secret Keeper gave a knowing smile. “Secrets can make themselves known, even before they’re shared.”

Behind the woman, Margaret caught a glimpse into the dim interior of the house; a twinkle, Margaret pressumed were fairy lights, danced light across the walls. 

Tessa, ever the brave one, took a step forward. “We heard you can keep secrets. Take them away. We’re here to—test that.”

The Secret Keeper watched them both, her gaze piercing. “This isn’t a game for children,” she said, turning her eyes towards Margaret and nodding.

Tessa started to shriek back, “I’m not…” but suddenly composed herself and began again, “I mean, we’re not children.” 

“Very well.” The secret keeper said, “But remember, every secret comes at a price. Are you both willing to pay?”

Margaret hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to leave, but Tessa’s determined nod made her stay put. What had they gotten themselves into?

The inside of the cottage defied its humble exterior, with rooms seeming to expand beyond natural possibility and the air tinged with an aromatic mix of herbs and a subtle metallic note—something Margaret couldn’t quite place. It was sweet yet foreboding, like the enticing scent of a carnivorous plant.

Margaret entered cautiously, her eyes darted around the peculiar room, while Tessa, despite her usually defiant demeanor, displayed subtle signs of nervousness beneath her confident stride. To Margaret’s astonishment, walls adorned with glass jars of every conceivable shape and size reflected the flickering firelight, creating a mesmerizing dance of shadows and light. In the middle of the cozy room, beside the crackling fireplace, stood an old oak table.

The Secret Keeper moved with a grace that seemed mismatched with her age, guiding them toward the table and fireplace. She gestured for them to sit, her gaze still inscrutable, and the girls obeyed, settling into worn yet comfortable chairs.

Margaret felt overwhelmed—fear, curiosity, and a strange undercurrent of excitement. Tessa appeared nonchalant, but Margaret detected the slightest tremble in her fingers.

The old woman finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it permeated the room with a ghostly resonance. “Secrets are heavy burdens. To release them, one must be prepared for the void they leave behind. It can be filled with something far weightier.”

Tessa, crossing her legs, leaned forward. “And what might that be?”

Margaret listened, her breath held, as the Secret Keeper looked into the flickering flames. “Regret,” she responded simply, “or perhaps a truth you were unprepared to face. But remember, dear ones, even in the stillness of release, secrets have a way of echoing through eternity, whispering through the leaves of the trees, winding themselves around your being, becoming the shadows that follow you unfailingly.” Her eyes, reflecting the lively dance of the flames, locked onto Margaret’s, who felt a shiver cascade through her. It was as though the Secret Keeper had peered into her soul. Margaret heard the gentle rustle of leaves outside the cottage window and a barely audible murmur calling to her. 

Tessa, however, seemed unphased, or at least chose to mask her apprehension: “I’m not afraid of truth.”

Margaret winced; she knew Tessa spoke true. Despite her cruelty and bravado, Tessa was never afraid of facing harsh realities. It was Margaret who feared, Margaret who hesitated.

Margaret finally spoke, her voice steady despite the tumult within. “Why do people fear you?”

The Secret Keeper shifted her gaze to Margaret, a gentle, almost maternal smile gracing her features. “People fear what they do not understand, child. And they do not understand the power of truth – the ability to free and to chain.” Margaret pondered this while the elderly woman continued, “In this space, secrets unfurl, truths are laid bare, and the soul is left open and vulnerable. To seek my help is to confront everything you have hidden from the world and yourself.”

The words hung heavily in the room, and Margaret felt them sinking into her skin, wrapping around her bones and settling into her very being. Her secrets, hidden fears, and unspoken dreams felt suddenly vivid, pressing against her consciousness and demanding attention.

Tessa, though noticeably paler, lifted her chin in that familiar, defiant tilt. “So, what’s the cost? Every secret has its price, right?”

The Secret Keeper’s eyes gleamed with an unreadable emotion. “The cost is something only you can determine, and it may not be apparent until long after the secret is taken. The question is, are you willing to pay it, not knowing what it might be?” Tessa hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty passing through her eyes while Margaret found her secrets whispering in her soul’s depths. “But I have an upfront fee of $50 per head.”

Tessa’s eyes widened, and the spell of the moment shattered. “$50? That’s practically robbery!” she exclaimed.

Margaret, silently grappling with her thoughts, leaned toward her ally. “Tessa, I…I don’t have $50.”

Tessa’s eyes darted towards Margaret, a flash of irritation visible, but it melted away almost instantly, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Sighing dramatically and fishing into her bag, she pulled a few crumpled bills and placed them into the Secret Keeper’s hand.

“Fine, but this better be the best secret-keeping service in the world.”

The Secret Keeper accepted the money, her eyes flickering briefly over the crumpled bills before they disappeared into the folds of her dark attire. With a heavy, echoing thud, the Secret Keeper dragged two ancient-looking jars from a hidden nook, placing them on the rustic wooden table between them. The jars were half filled with a silvery, viscous liquid that shimmered against the fire’s sparks behind her. She produced a sheet of parchment and a quill, its feather grey and slightly tattered. She nodded, gesturing for them to proceed with their secrets. 

Feeling a pang of unease, Margaret held back, her eyes glancing from Tessa to the Secret Keeper and back again. Tessa stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief and feigned innocence.

“My dad…he’s gonna lose his job at the store soon.” she declared, her voice steady, but there was a subtle quiver that suggested a hint of nervousness.

Margaret stared, her anger simmering at the blatant lie. She was mocking this woman and Margaret by association. Tessa caught sight of the storm brewing in Margaret’s eyes and offered her usual carefree smile and shrug; how she hated that smile. 

A familiar icy shiver ran down Margaret’s to the secret festering in the pit of her stomach.

Margaret glanced toward the Secret Keeper, whose expression remained inscrutable. Did she know it was a lie? The Secret Keeper leaned forward and whispered, “My dear, in trying times such as these, perhaps your father could seek your employment.” Her eyes flicked knowingly toward Margaret, then back to Tessa, who visibly paled, “After all,” she continued, playfully tapping the fold that hid the two $50 notes Tessa had handed, “it seems you might know of some opportunities.”

The Secret Keeper set about her work, scribbling down words onto the parchment. Margaret half expected her to hand the paper back to Tessa, but she unexpectedly screwed up the paper and placed it into her mouth, chewing on it like a cow. Both girls let out a nervous giggle, but the secret keeper was unphased. She continued to chew. Suddenly, she spat it into one of the jars containing the shimmering silver liquid.

Nothing happened—the paper simply sank, leaving the liquid unchanged.

Her throat dry, Tessa managed a smirk as if she’d conquered some formidable enemy. 

It was Margaret’s turn.

Margaret’s thoughts whirled as she sought a secret to share, but her mind stubbornly clung to her fresh anger toward Tessa. She wasn’t going to disrespect the ritual as Tessa did. Propelled by a surge of emotion, one secret enveloped her thoughts. She whispered it carefully into the Secret Keeper’s ear, far from her friend’s curious ears. Margaret leaned back from the old woman. Tessa searched Margaret’s face for clues, but it revealed nothing. 

Now, the Secret Keeper repeated her odd ritual, but when the secret touched the silver liquid this time, it swirled into a vivid green storm within the jar.

Still reveling in her perceived victory, Tessa was mesmerized by Margaret’s jar. She shot her friend a surprised look, but Margaret ignored it.

The Secret Keeper closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, locking eyes with Margaret. “Your secret is spoken, but remember, some truths linger in the shadows, whispering through the leaves and echoing in silent chambers long after they are thought to be gone.”

Margaret felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. She stepped back, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. She looked into the secret keeper’s eyes, hoping a flicker across to her companion wouldn’t betray the secret that had just passed Margaret’s lips.

But the secret keeper remained expressionless. 

“You both must leave now. I am to complete the rest of the ritual alone,” said the secret keeper. 

Margaret and Tessa emerged from the shadowy embrace of the Secret Keeper’s cottage. The air between them was tense.

Tessa turned to her, her face a blend of curiosity and concern. “So, what was your secret?” she prodded, brushing a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Margaret looked away as guilt passed over her face. “Some things are better kept secret,” she murmured, her voice whispering.

Tessa’s insistence didn’t wane. She edged closer to Margaret, her eyes searching. “Margaret, what did you tell her? I told you mine; it’s only fair.”

Margaret’s temper flared. “Fair? You call that fair?” she snapped, the restraint in her voice cracking like thin ice. “You lied to her face, Tessa. And you dragged me into this—this circus of yours!”

Tessa recoiled. “I… I just thought it would be fun. I didn’t think—”

“That’s just it, you never think!” Margaret’s words were sharp. “You never considered how I felt about any of this. It was always about you and your fun.”

Before Margaret could scold further, movement at the edge of the cottage caught their attention. With her cloak billowing behind her like dark smoke, the Secret Keeper stepped outside. “Let’s see where she goes,” Tessa whispered, a spark of her usual daring returning to her eyes. Margaret hesitated, the earlier unease still clawing at her. “Please, Margs. We used to do this type of stuff all the time. And this is the secret part of the secret. We can’t miss it!”

Margaret looked at her oldest friend as a pang of guilt bubbled to the surface, “Okay.” And the girls followed.

As the Secret Keeper’s form glided through the woods, Tessa and Margaret maintained a careful distance, stepping over roots and ducking under low branches. The Keeper moved with uncanny grace, her steps never snapping a twig or rustling the underbrush, as if the forest itself made way for her.

Without warning, the Secret Keeper stopped at a small clearing, where moonlight spilled through the leaves, casting a silver glow over the ground. In the middle of the clearing stood a small, shabby shrub. Here, she knelt, drawing from her cloak Margaret’s jar, the green illuminating the keeper’s face.  

“Where is my jar?” Tessa whispered in Margaret’s ear. Margaret bit back a retort, her patience thinning. The swirling green essence transfixed her. But Tessa would not give up. “I mean, she just dismissed my jar. Is my secret not important enough?”

Margaret hissed, “Tessa, you know you didn’t tell a real secret. And clearly, the Secret Keeper doesn’t entertain fibs.”

Tessa scowled. “I just thought…” She trailed off, shaking her head, the façade snapping back into place. “Never mind. It’s just unfair, that’s all.”

With a curt nod, Margaret conceded. For a fleeting moment, it was almost possible to overlook that Tessa’s tough exterior was just a shell of a young girl.  

As the Secret Keeper’s voice rose and fell, Margaret’s jar began to glow brighter, pulsing with a rhythm that matched the cadence of her song. Suddenly, she opened each jar and poured the contents onto the shrub. The swirling green essence inside came to life, casting eerie shadows as it made contact with the shrub. It seemed to hiss and pop like embers in a fire, and the shrub suddenly shimmered with a verdant light.

Tessa gasped softly, gripping Margaret’s arm. “What does it mean?” she whispered, her voice a mixture of fear and wonder.

Margaret could only shake her head, her heart pounding with a strange mixture of dread. The Secret Keeper looked up at the moon, her face serene, and then, as if sensing they were not alone, she turned her gaze directly toward where Tessa and Margaret hid.

In that instant, the forest around them fell silent, and the only sound was the Keeper’s voice as she finished her chant. “The secrets are bound,” she said, her voice carrying through the clearing, “sealed by the keeper, held by the earth, whispered by the trees. Remember, they are never gone, merely waiting to be heard.”

The ritual complete, the Keeper gathered the now empty jar and retreated into the night, leaving the girls alone in the clearing. They stood silently, the weight of the night’s events heavy upon them.

*

As they began their walk back to the edge of the woods, the silence lingered, unbroken except for the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot. Tessa, visibly unsettled yet trying to mask it with her usual bravado, kept throwing curious glances at Margaret.

“You’re quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?” Tessa asked, her voice tinged with a forced lightness.

Margaret didn’t reply immediately. She felt a strange sensation, like whispers brushing against the edges of her consciousness, too faint to discern. “Just thinking,” she murmured.

The further they walked, the more pronounced the whispers became. At first, Margaret thought she was imagining them, the stress of the night playing tricks on her mind. 

Tessa seemed oblivious to the sounds that now flooded Margaret’s ears. “You sure you’re okay?” she prodded again, her voice laced with concern and a hint of impatience.

Margaret shook her head, trying to dismiss the fear gnawing at her. “It’s nothing, let’s just keep going.” But with each step, the whispers grew. They were everywhere now, rustling through the leaves echoing from the trees. They surrounded her, relentless and suffocating.

By the time the lights of the town glimmered through the trees, the whispers were a torrent in Margaret’s ears. Tessa’s laughter and chatter became a distant hum as the trees seemed to bend closer, their leaves like lips to her ear, her secret repeated over and over in a relentless hiss.

“Tessa, can’t you hear it?” Margaret’s voice was a mix of fear and desperation. “The trees—they know.”

Tessa looked around, bewildered. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing, Margaret. It’s just the woods.”

Terrified, Margaret clutched her head in her hands, her knees buckling under the weight of the endless whispers. She collapsed to the ground, curling into herself as a scream tore from her throat.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the whispers crescendoed to a scream that matched Margaret’s own—a scream that ripped from her throat as she crumpled to the ground, hands clamped over her ears, trying to silence the chorus that only she could hear.

Tessa crouched beside her, panic-stricken and helpless, as Margaret’s scream echoed into the night. Above them, the trees swayed with the weight of the secret they now carried and whispered forever.