A sultan was beheading his brides. His wife had betrayed him, and in his devastation he came to believe that all women would eventually follow suit. Every night, he chose a new woman, and every morning he killed her. His newest bride was named Scheherazade, and she told him, “Before you kill me, may I tell you a story?” He granted this wish, and she began to speak. She spoke until the sun peeked its head above the horizon, but the story wasn’t finished. Every night she did this, for a thousand and one nights. On the final night, moments before the sunlight hit her face, she finished her tale and said, “You may kill me now.”  But the king could not kill her, for her words had bewitched him. And of course she knew this, and smiled a secret smile as the sky turned pink with the new day.

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QUESTION:

Someone once told me that some people write because

they love it and some people write because they have to.

What story do you have to tell?

 

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