PARADISE?

Prologue
The Liar

She was hysterical, and her tears blinded her vision. Her tires dug into the pavement as she swerved around sharp curves on the mountain road. Hard rock music blared from her speakers, coinciding with her hurt and anger.

Viciously she wiped at the tears shimmering in her deep blue eyes. Still they fell, and she rubbed at them again. In the moment she took her hands from the wheel that the car hit a deep pothole and jerked wildly toward the right. The front of the vehicle slammed against the guardrail, tearing through the metal with a loud screech; the car hovered in the air for a moment, but then it dropped. The woman screamed as she plummeted toward the creek bed far below.

She did not survive.

Which really doesn't matter as this story isn't about her—thank goodness. Though I must admit it would be entertaining to fall from such a height. At least, up until the part where one actually crashed into the water. That might not be so enjoyable. Unless of course one is a masochist, which, I hope, one is not. Or was not, seeing as how one is dead now.

Moving on...

Hi there; I'm Key. Pleasure. You're probably asking, ”What kind of a name is Key?” Trust me, you'll think it pretty normal by the end of my story in comparison with a few others... Of course my proper name is Jason Sterling, but I prefer Key. As do my friends.

I want you to know here and now: I am a huge liar. Nearly everything I say is a lie. (Though the fact I almost always lie could be a lie, and you'd never know. Especially since liars always lie, which means they lie about lying, but because it's a lie that doesn't really work, and you get all jumbled up trying to figure out exactly what I'm talking about and why. Not to mention why you are even attempting to understand the mind of a lying liar who doesn't not lie about lying or not.)

Now that we've covered that, I want to commend you. You obviously haven't stopped reading yet, and that means some twisted part of you actually gets amusement from reading what I have to think. I'm impressed you comprehend me, or at least, you're making a good effort.

My mom once said my favorite pastime, aside from lying, was making long rants that made very little sense. I could be lying. Maybe she didn't say that, but you can decide for yourself whether or not to disbelieve me. I don't mind either way.

I just want you to know one more thing. Read on at your own peril.

Shall we begin?


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The prologue to PARADISE? I think it rather sets the mood, but some people won't read it after this because they think it's too morbid—which I actually find even more amusing.