Write about an overheard remark or secret that you were not supposed to have heard.
The men left for work in the mines that morning, like every morning. They'd stay and work for several nights, as they always did. And then they'd come home to rest on the Sabbath, weary and grimy and breathing.
"Mind little Anne, there's a good girl." Mummy was baking a wee cake. A special cake of eggs and buttermilk for dipping in honey. It was Anne's birthday, and Anne did love cakes and honey.
She pulled little Anne along to fetch a new doll.
There was a terrible shiver, a jolt that sent the world flying and left little Anne crying as her arm was wrenched in a sudden jerk. The world was crumbling, black and deep, swallowing...it crashed, naturally. It hurt. Her stomach was all in knots.
It wasn't hers to see, but she saw it, and she didn't understand a bit. And Mummy was angry, and little Anne was crying. The words wouldn't work, and the images wouldn't go away. The next morning, she could taste the blood and ashes.
"Seeing things is an affront to the Lord, child. Only he's supposed to see anything before it happens."
She went to confession, of course. She saw the darkness descend in the confessional booth. Wrapped in red, with needle-teeth.
But it was a secret. If she didn't say anything, maybe it would stay a secret. Maybe she wouldn't know. Then she could be good again.