Like secrets, we all have baggage, but not the kind we cram under an airplane’s seat and definitely not one we want to go through security. For this prompt, imagine what you need to hide away from your loved ones. What secrets would you pack to take with you to the grave. What would hurt them—and you—for them to find?

Again don’t spill your secrets; for this prompt, keep that suitcase zipped up tight. Rather turn your secrets into objects—realistic or not— a complimentary hotel toothbrush perhaps or a magpie’s squawk, a paper knife or a blinking eye? Make us curious. What does this suitcase look like anyway? Is it a sequined handbag with gold clasp or a battered cargo trunk? What will you do with it? Drop it in the River Styx as you cross? Is there anyone or several people you would entrust to dispose of it? How would they? Bury it with you, drop it into a volcano or the ocean or wall it away in cellar? The inspiration for this prompt comes from Albert Goldbarth’s  “The Suitcase Song”; I hope you like it as much as I did.