Day 6: Flash Fiction Adventure
The letter arrived without a stamp, postmark, or name — just folded into a clean white envelope that had somehow slipped through under her front door. Alina stared at it, heart skipping. The handwriting was unmistakable. It was his.
She hadn’t seen Raj in five years, not since the accident that took her memory of that one rainy evening — the evening he disappeared. Doctors said trauma blocked it out. She only remembered waking up in the hospital with a scar and silence where a story should be.
Hands trembling, she opened the envelope. Inside was a single line: "Look under the piano."
Alina dropped to her knees, heart racing, unsure what she was chasing — truth, closure, maybe ghosts. Beneath layers of dust and forgotten sheet music, she found it: an old cassette recorder. A note taped to it said: “Press Play. Trust yourself.”
She clicked the button. Static. Then a voice, warm and familiar: “Alina, if you’re hearing this, it means the memory is starting to return. The truth is dangerous — not because you forgot it, but because someone made you forget. I never left you. I protected you the only way I could.”
Her breath caught as a sound echoed from the recording — rain hitting a rooftop, a door creaking open, her own voice crying his name. Then the scream. Then silence.
When the tape ended, she sat frozen. The scar on her temple pulsed. And for the first time in five years, her mind cracked open. She remembered the shadowy figure standing over Raj, the struggle, the fall. She had fought back. She had survived. But someone had taken more than her memory — they had taken her story.
Not anymore.
Alina rose, gripping the recorder tight. She didn’t have all the answers yet, but she had a beginning — and this time, she was ready to follow it through.
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