23/09/2025
THE LITTLE LIE THAT GREW LEGS
When I was in secondary school, I once forgot to do my homework. It was such a small thing, but instead of admitting it, I told my teacher, “I left it at home.”
She nodded, but then asked me to bring it the next day. That’s when my little lie started to grow legs. The next day, I told her my cousin mistakenly tore it. She frowned but let me go.
A week later, she asked to see my cousin’s parents at school. My heart sank. Now my cousin’s name was dragged into my lie.
That evening, I begged him to support my story. He refused. I cried and told him, “Please, if you don’t help me, I’ll be punished.” Out of pity, he agreed.
But lies are restless creatures. Another teacher heard the story, got suspicious, and asked more questions. By the end of the week, my parents were summoned.
They discovered I had been lying, not once, not twice, but over and over to cover a single forgotten homework.
The punishment was heavy,not just detention, but shame. My cousin stopped talking to me for a while. My parents were disappointed. And I carried a reputation in school that I couldn’t shake for months.
That day, I learned that a lie never stays small. It grows legs, runs faster than you, and drags others into the mud with it.
The truth may sting for a moment, but a lie will chase you for a lifetime.
