Names, Tales and Quake
741 Words
“I… My real name is Lillian Carter,” Misty blurted out suddenly, her voice trembling. “I’m from Kentucky… You can call me that if you want, but I won’t respond! I’ve only answered to ‘Misty’ for years!”
Adrian shook his head slightly. This woman wasn’t as clever as she seemed. She hadn’t concocted an elaborate lie beforehand, nor had she thought of exploiting the “name deception” strategy on the spot.
No—there was only one liar, and Adrian knew it was himself.
If the others failed to see the flaw in Misty’s defense, Adrian realized he had a near-certain path to victory. He only needed to ensure that his own story was nondescript, unremarkable, and forgettable. To avoid suspicion, he decided to call himself “John Smith.”
Gale raised his hand, interrupting Adrian’s thoughts. “Hey, Suspicious One, how do we handle fake names? Does that count as lying?”
The Suspicious One neither nodded nor shook his head. “I will not interfere with your process. Simply write down your answers. Remember, ‘the rules are absolute.’ At the end, I will personally *judge* the loser.”
The word *judge* hung in the air like a blade, sending shivers down their spines.
“This proves I didn’t lie!” Misty shouted desperately. “If I were lying, I’d be dead by now, right? Even if it’s a pseudonym, my pseudonym is genuinely ‘Misty’!”
No one responded. It was a critical moment, and any misstep could mean their lives.
“Fine, my turn,” Jonathan muttered, exhaling in frustration. “If her story isn’t lying, then mine won’t be either.”
“My name is Gale. I live in Florida and don’t have a stable job. Before coming here, I was collecting a debt.”
Jonathan’s Southern drawl required the others to listen carefully.
“People these days are ridiculous. When they borrow money, they promise everything. When it’s time to pay it back, they act like victims.”
“They curse us collectors, call us demons, say we’re heartless.”
“But they forget that when they were desperate and no one else would help, it was *us* who lent them money. We weren’t demons then—we were saviors.”
Jonathan’s expression darkened. “And how do they repay their saviors? They cry to the neighbors about how pitiful they are, scream about losing two hundred grand, and paint *us* as the villains for trying to collect. We had a contract. The interest was clear. How is it our fault that they can’t pay?”
“Last night, I decided to teach one of them a lesson. I brought him to the rooftop of a tall building. I didn’t plan to kill him, but then the earthquake struck. In the chaos, he pulled a knife and tried to stab me!”
“Everything turned to chaos. He shoved me off the roof, and I crashed into a billboard. After that… I don’t remember.”
The group frowned, unsettled by Jonathan’s story.
Misty suddenly smirked angrily. “See? That’s why you were so eager to accuse me! It’s because *you’re* the liar!”
“What? What proof do you have?” Jonathan snapped, his voice sharp.
“You’re copying my story!” Misty pointed at him. “I’m from Kentucky, you’re in Florida. But your ‘earthquake’ and ‘billboard’ are exactly like my story. What are the odds of that?”
Jonathan scowled. “What does it matter? I *was* in an earthquake. Am I supposed to leave that part out just because it sounds similar? And billboards? You think there’s only one in the world?”
“You’re still lying!” Misty retorted. “Your job is scummy enough to make lying second nature!”
“Oh, and yours is so much better?” Jonathan shot back.
Adrian observed the heated argument quietly. The situation was becoming increasingly convoluted, but it was also providing him with the perfect cover.
It wasn’t about whether either of them was lying—it was the earthquake itself that raised questions.
Neither of them were from Kentucky or Florida, but rather from Pennsylvania.
Was it possible for an earthquake to span such a vast area? This quake seemed to have crossed half the country, affecting three separate states.
If they were both telling the truth, this would have been an unprecedented disaster.
- Writer
