Tell us your secret.
The words stood out from the aging wood of the trunk of an old oak tree. The branches of the tree drooped, leaving a gloomy appearance. I ran my hand over the rough, peeling bark, almost mesmerized by its beauty. That's when I realized it.
Whoever etched these words into this tree, meant for my eyes to read them. It was just one of those feelings, where there's no solid evidnece or proof, but you somehow know.
I had that feeling.
There was only one trivial problem. I had no clue what the secret was. Not even a glimpse of what it could mean. Of course I had my secrets, but nothing really seemed to pop out at me. They were all useless facts that was equivalent to about nothing in "the real world".
Maybe, I pondered, I'm supposed to figure out what my secret is. Perhaps, this message wasn't even directed towards me. But, what if it was.
After a while, I shrugged, turned my head and saw something I could not believe as I felt the wait of my heart drop to my stomach.