It happened in a blink. CRASH! The jar was now in a bunch of pieces on the floor. Mike's heart did a nervous dance in his chest. "Mike?" his mom called from the other room, "What was that noise?" 

Mike? What was that noise?

"Nothing!" shouted Mike. "Fido just knocked into a chair." As soon as the lie left his lips, something felt itchy. A thin red string appeared, tied tightly around his finger. Mike shook his hand, but the sting wouldn't budge.  

Nothing!

At school, the strings grew. When Mrs. Henderson asked for his math homework, Mike said," My backpack ate it!" ZIP! SNAP! Three more strings wrapped around his hand. They felt like heavy weights on his hands. 

By recess, Mike was a mess of strings. He tried to kick the soccer ball, but his feet were tangled. "Why are you running so funny, Mike?" asked Maya. "I'm just practicing a new dance!" Mike lied. THWACK! A thick rope of twine coiled around his ankles. 

Why are you running so funny, Mike?

All the lies Mike has told grew heavier by the second. Mike stood by the bench in the park, watching his friends play. The stings felt like a suit of armor made of knots and ties. Every time he moved, the knots got tighter. He felt heavy in guilt and loneliness. 

Walking home was a struggle. The strings caught on every hedge and bush he walked past. He was tied to the school, tied to the park, tied to the broken jar in his kitchen. His lies were holding him back. 

When he got home, his mom saw him struggling - though she couldn't see the strings, she saw his heavy shoulders. "Mike, you look like you're carrying the weight of the world. Are you ok?" she said softly. Mike looked at the empty where the cookie jar used to be. The strings around his throat felt so tight he could hardly breathe.