Courage to Write: A Storiiverse Flash Fiction by Ondrea Keigh

AI generated image of The Night Rider writing down the first copy of The Story.

Courage to Write: A Storiiverse Flash Fiction Story by Ondrea Keigh

A flash fiction prequel to The Night Rider Adventures

The words flow like cold molasses as if held back by some unknown force. No. Not an unknown force. I know it. I have lived with it for years. The force of darkness. I stare at the page before me. My quill is freshly filled, hovering over the empty paper.

I close my eyes and seek the memory. The one I refuse to forget. The part of my story I am most ashamed to include in this book. Instead, I see a different memory. Green eyes flash through my memories, reminding me of my prince and calling out strength from deep within me. A strength I am not convinced I have. Maybe I don’t. Maybe that is the point. Perhaps I don’t need more strength. Perhaps I just need him.

I let out a sigh. My hand lowers, placing the nib’s tip on the rough paper. I begin to write.

He stumbled back, the act of my dark deed pushing him away from the light of the King. The knife I plunged into his heart was still there. Then something changed. A thought? A feeling? I knew not what exactly. But something in me rang true, he had known all along that this would happen, and he had not run from me. Suddenly, I knew. I knew what I had done. I knew what I had become. And yet, in his eyes, there was nothing but forgiveness.

A tear splatters on the final word, bleeding the ink into the page and fraying its edges until it looks as though it will fly away. With shaking hands, I dab away the tear from the page, careful not to ruin the word any more than I already have.

That force of darkness grips my heart. My chest tightens until I cannot breathe. I place the quill in its stand and cover my tear-stained face with both hands. I cannot do this, I plead to the King. I cannot share this story. The story of what I destroyed.

Then come those eyes, breaking through the darkness of my mind. And with them a soft familiar whisper, “Tsahreyethah Meye”